Mining under a New Moon

Today the University of Oviedo didn't have class. Instead all of us students had to drag our tired behinds to the library at 9am for cultural presentations. The professors of the University presented information to us about the region of Asturias, the hidden treasures of Oviedo, the scenic landscapes of surrounding cities, blah, blah, information, blah. It was a nice presentation, really, but that was not nearly to coolest part of my day. After that informational gathering we had the option to go to a nearby mine museum, which of course would include a tour of a mine shaft. That's right- a mine shaft.

Just twenty minutes from the city we got off the bus and headed into the mine museum. Half of the group went down a mysterious elevator while the rest of us waited around the museum. I poked my head around, looked at old stuff, saw some giant machines, and ran on a human hamster wheel (it was actually a thing for retrieving water). Then it was my group's turn to descend in the mysterious elevator. Once we all packed into the all too tiny device, a very loud alarm thing went off. You know how you see mine workers on TV/movies and there's that bell that goes off when rocks are falling or something? Well that bell went off right in my ear. The seemingly long elevator ride was dark and disorienting (kind of like the Disneyland Haunted Mansion one). Once we got out our tour guide directed us toward a large wall of hardhats. YES. I was pumped. I rocked a white hardhat that was all too large for my head and felt like a true miner. As we continued on the tour I didn't understand what the guide was saying, so instead I daydreamed. Throughout the shaft I thought "man I'm glad I come from the gold mining state and have already had experience with mines and panning for gold. I'm also glad I watched that Bonanza episode where Pa gets stuck in a mine shaft and the Cartwright boys have to bail him out". I snapped out of my daydreams once we got to a small stairway and I actually had to do something concerning my beloved hardhat. We had to climb up these narrow, dark stairs with overhead log beams. I'm not sure how people of a normal height did that. Since we climbed up, we eventually had to climb back down. At this point we were given a choice: 1. go down regular stairs. 2. go down a steep, slippery, laundry-shoot-shaped, true miner's passage. I was wearing a hardhat, so in my mind I didn't have a choice: it was mining time. I went down the slippery one and almost ate it about ten times, nearly taking the rest of the adventurers with me. After that adrenaline rush we circled back to the exit. The exit took us up one flight of stairs. Turns out the elevator ride at the beginning was a big hoax. We were only about 20ft underground. That place was awesome.

Now for the New Moon part. The second movie in the Twilight Saga was released in Spain yesterday. A bunch of other girls and myself disregarded the fact that it would be in Spanish and decided to go see New Moon today. It. Was. Awesome. Imagine the mania of Edward Cullen-loving American girls unleashed on a Spanish movie theater. I can almost guarantee that some people in that theater think less of Americans now. We couldn't contain our girlish squeals of excitement every time a new character came onto the screen. I can't wait to go back home and see it in English.

Additional note: tomorrow night (Friday) I'm heading out with two friends to travel to the Spanish wine country. We'll be staying in a hostel, possibly go wine tasting, visit some vineyards, and see the scenery. Some of our travel details are a bit fuzzy, so any prayers for us would be much appreciated. Hopefully it turns out to be a fun weekend. If nothing else it'll make for some good stories.

Also...today marks one month left in Spain!

L-L-L-Leon

This past Saturday I was supposed to go to Gijon with some friends. That didn't end up getting planned. Friday night this dialogue happened:

Host mom: "Are you going to Gijon tomorrow"

Me: "No we decided not to go"

Host mom: "Want to go to Leon tomorrow?"

Me (not wanting to ever be considered rude): "Sure"

Host mom: "Ok, we'll leave at 8:30am"

Me (my internal voice): "Oh crap"

Leon is a province in just south of Asturias (the region Oviedo is in). My host mom was taking me to her "pueblo" in Leon where she grew up. I was under the impression that I would see Leon, see the house my madre grew up in, eat some food, and then return to Oviedo promptly. Wrong.

Here's what really happened:

8:30am- beep, beep, beeeep. I lazily rolled out of bed after just five hours of sleep the night before. I slammed some breakfast as my host mom rushed me out the door excitedly. I got dressed, we packed up our stuff, and loaded Samy the dog into the car.

8:50am- we hit the road.

9:00am- we make a pit stop on the way out of town. We stop to pick up a Brazilian/African man. Random? I thought so. Turns out my host mom pays this guy with food and conversation to work on her family house. She told me he was Brazilian, but then I asked him and said he was from an African country. He spoke French, about three English phrases (How are you? Where are you from? How do you feel today?- that last one is kinda odd), and some Spanish.

10:00am- awkward silence in the car on my behalf.

10:30am- we arrive in her pueblo. It was quite far out of the way of any other civilization. At first I thought it was a ghost town that we'd pass through. All the houses were within about a half mile radius. The tiny town was in the cradle of rolling mountains. Every house was adorned in cobble stone and surrounded by greenery. It was quite picturesque.

11:00am- after getting a tour of easily the oldest house I've ever been in, the madre & the man get to work around the yard. I decide to go for a walk around the town.

11:03am- done with the walk. Just kidding. I made the walk last at least 45 minutes. I snapped pictures around every corner as I stumbled across hidden bridges and obscure farm life.

11:45am- I return to the house for some relaxing time before lunch. Once I got back in the house I was freezing. And I don't just mean a little chilly. I mean freezing. The weekend before it had snowed all over Leon. I swear it was cold enough to snow the day I visited. My host mom even made the comment that she thought it was colder inside the house than outside. Great.

12:00pm to 4:00pm- I read my book. That's right. Four hours of reading. It was nice to be able to really relax and enjoy my book...until I finished it. Then I started going crazy. My host mom and the man were working in the attic while I sat in the kitchen and twiddled my thumbs. At one point my host mom came into the kitchen to find me huddled next to the old school portable heater with two jackets on. She then informed me that if I wear my jacket in the house I would get sick the next time I went outside because my body would be used to the temperature of two jackets. I was forced to shed a layer. Just dandy. I sat there, one jacket less, and waited for lunch or some excitement to come along.

4:30pm- lunch time. Yummm. We ate these white bean things (an Asturian specialty) in a hot stew with plenty of bread on the side.

5:00pm- ok, I thought, it must be time to pack up and head back to the comforts of Oviedo. Not so much.

5:30pm- my host mom tells the man to take me up the mountain by her house while she cleans. It was awkward. His Spanish was lacking, my Spanish was lacking. Neither of us really wanted to walk up a mountain together. It was okay though, the mountain turned out to be a slightly elevated hill that only took five minutes to get to. It was a beautiful view from the top.

6:00pm- the madre, the man, Samy the dog, and I go walking around the town waiting for Samy to "hacer caca," which literally means "make poop". I've never wanted something to poop so badly in my life. I just wanted to go home.

6:15pm- we go to a very, very, very old lady's house. She was a family friend of my host mom's. She seemed really sweet but I had zero idea as to what she was saying the entire time.

7:00pm- we leave the pueblo!

7:30pm- my host mom decides to stop at a gas station and clean her car in the car wash.

8:00pm- as I'm dozing off to sleep in the back of the car my madre asks how I'm doing. I tell her good, but tired. She told me I could sleep in the car- she didn't mean it. She then proceeded to say things to me every five minutes just as I was beginning to hit dreamland.

9:00pm- home, sweet, home. Or, well, Oviedo.

It was really neat to see where my host mom grew up and what her childhood must have been like. It was also cool to see a true Spanish pueblo. The tiny town was beautiful. With that said, this day was probably the day of my worst homesickness. As I sat in my madre's family home I couldn't help but to think how much I wanted to be in my family home. That was rough.

Also, I want to formally retract my statement in my last blog post about becoming anywhere close to conversational in Spanish. On Saturday I sucked it up in terms of attempting to speak/understand Spanish. I didn't understand 98% of what was said that day and I was only able to reply to everything with "si".

The language of Spanish: 1

Kate: 0

Why do the streets smell like pee?

Spanish joke for you: why do the streets smell like a sack of urine hit you in the face? ...Because everyone pees in them. Oh, wait, that's not a joke. That's a fact.

I may have exaggerated a bit. The streets don't wreak that much and not everyone takes a leak where they please. But there is an occasional ally (or a public park) I'll stumble across that has an undeniable urine stench. And I've seen four children, with parental assistance, relieve themselves out and about where others are walking.

Even though people pee freely (I.P. Freely- isn't that the end to an actual joke?) Oviedo is a very clean city. Every night these truck things come by and spray water all over the place, despite the fact that people may be walking there. Minus the failed attempts at dodging the water, it's a nice feature to the city. I read somewhere that Oviedo is the cleanest city in Spain, and I'd believe it.

The other day I was walking down the street and realized how comfortable I am in Oviedo. I know the city pretty well, I rarely get lost, and I don't tense up in a state of panic when someone speaks Spanish to me anymore. I've even had three people ask me for directions to landmarks, so I can't look like too incompetent of a being.

Along with my comfort in the city, I've realized I'm also becoming more confident in my Spanish skills. I talk much more freely with my host mom, I ask questions in class, I don't mind talking to waiters, and I can even joke around a bit. I'm by no means anywhere even remotely close to fluent, but I am much closer to being conversational. It's been a nice change of pace.

This whole post has been pretty random, so I think I'll keep up with that tone.

The other day I was watching TV with my madre when the Jonas Brothers came on. There was a segment about them and I got far too excited. I asked my madre if she knew of them. Much to my disappointment, she hadn't even heard of them. I brushed that off and proceeded to tell her my friend's uncle works for them (Wendy/Bryant family shout out) and that I really like them. She thought that was nice, but didn't seem too interested. After the Jo Bros there was a segment on the Twilight Saga. I told my madre I was reading one of those books. I then explained the plot of Twilight to her (good thing I just learned the word for vampire in one of my classes) as well as the phenomenon of Edward Cullen in the US.

That's enough random rambling for one day.

Half Way Point

Someone informed me that this most recent Sunday marked the half way point of my excursion. That is just pure craziness. My experience has been chalked full of awesomeness thus far and I can't wait to see what the second half has in store for me.

I have yet to discuss my classes much. Why don't I let you in on my school life.

First there's vocabulary. It's pretty much your standard Spanish vocab class. I learn about things relevant to my lifestyle. The units we've had so far covered cities/towns, nationalities, body parts, physical and emotional descriptions, and games. My teacher for this class is a young twenty-something woman. She doesn't speak any English and we all speak very little Spanish, so she's become very good at drawing on the chalkboard and using sound effects.

Grammar. I really dislike my grammar class. The teacher is a middle-aged man who is very hilarious and good at relating things to us students. His sense of humor, however, does not make up for our general incompetence in grammar. We go over our class time nearly every day and barley scratch the surface of whatever the daily topic is. I've come to the conclusion that grammar is just hard to teach (good luck with that Nicki).

Art History. This is an interesting class, but also my most difficult to focus in. It's neat because we learn about Roman architecture or Greek statues and then are able to visit them in real life. It's not so neat because it's still history, which means lots of miniscule details and countless dates that I cannot remember for the life of me. Also, did you know that Spain is OLD? I mean, in theory I knew that, but once you go from studying the history of baby US to the gigantic history of old school Spain it's challenging to say the least.

Translation. I saved the best description for last. I really enjoy translation. In this class we translate Spanish to English and vice versa. It has a lot to do with sentence diagramming and many underlying linguistic themes. As a recently self proclaimed language nerd, this is all very fascinating to me. We translate texts from The Simpsons all the way to When Harry Met Sally. The class is teaching me a lot about both Spanish and English grammar. I'm diggin' it.

Oh, I lied. That wasn't the last description. I also have an Intercultural Class, which is put on by AHA (my program). It's a class to help us learn about the Spanish culture. We mostly just talk about our daily experiences the whole time. It's kind of a joke class, that's why I nearly forgot to mention it.

Overall classes have been fairly easy on a week-to-week basis. I've had maybe three homework assignments. Oh and we don't have textbooks. We get a packet at the beginning of each new unit, which contains all the lecture material as well as activities. Even though the classes are light on the work load, it doesn't necessarily mean I'll pass them with flying colors. Between last week and this week I've had three of my four midterms. They've all been surprisingly more challenging than expected. Despite the pleasantly light work load and shockingly difficult tests, I'm still learning and enjoying my classes for the most part.

Additional note: in the classrooms we have chalkboards, which means the teachers use chalk, which of course means they consistently manage to get chalk remnants in hilarious places. My very composed translation teacher usually has a chalk hand print on her butt by the end of every class. The hilarious grammar teacher has had chalk in ever nook and cranny imaginable, thanks to his flailing hand gestures. And my art history teacher walked around with chalk on her face on a rainy day while taking us on a tour of the local cathedral (which is no where near a chalk board). Conclusion: chalk is funny.

The Dinner Of Champions

Ok so I literally just posted my blog about my three day weekend (see below if you avid readers have yet to look at it), but on Tuesday night after my three day weekend I had a crazy dinner experience and I feel like sharing about it. Hopefully you feel like reading about it.

Last week was my friend(Kelly)'s birthday. As a nice gesture her host mom allowed her to invite friends over (if you read my latest post you'll note that inviting friends over is a BIG deal in these parts) to join in on a birthday meal. The night was hilariously baffling. Three of us went to our friend's apartment for the celebration. It was neat to see where Kelly lives, how her room is set up, and it was especially neat to meet her host mom. This woman literally looked like a witch. Just picture a witch with the cackle to match and you've got her pinned. She was upbeat and spunky and greeted us with dos besos and open arms. Shortly after we arrived, a boy who lived with the witch woman last year and currently attends our university came to the apartment for dinner. His name is Adam. He's from California and spoke both English and Spanish perfectly. Later in the evening Kelly's host brother came home. The host brother is German and is studying film at another university in Oviedo. This guy is huge. I don't mean to be rude, but really, he's huge. Apparently he used to have a giant beard to match his large physique. The host brother, Gabriel, spoke some English and nearly fluent Spanish. Once everyone had arrived, all seven of us youngins sat down for drinks and appetizers. Kelly's host mom served us sangria with peanuts, olives of both colors, hazelnuts, and peanuts to nosh on. After some sufficiently awkward conversation in mixed Spanish and English, we sat down to a delicious meal of fajitas- which is a Mexican meal btw, not Spanish. That part was fairly normal. It was after the food when things got weird. Kelly's host mom brought out a beautifully decorated cake with a gigantic rose candle on top. We all sang and while Kelly thought up a wish and blew out the candle. It was oddly similar to US bday traditions. Then her madre brought out more candies, a bottle of liquor, and two jugs of some kind of homemade moonshine. She urged all of us to drink her concoctions, but lucky I conjured up enough Spanish to politely turn her down (the drinks were peach and orange liquors with a plethora of mystery floating bits inside). Somewhere between the cake and the moonshine, Gabriel, Adam, and witch woman all started talking about marijuana. I have no clue how that happened. Before we knew it Kelly's madre was pouring out her past experiences with many, many different kinds of hard drugs and swapping bad trip stories with Gabriel. Gabriel knew far too much about drugs, he was an expert. He even offered to get Adam any kind of drugs if he ever wanted some. At one point in the convo the witch woman got up grabbed a sketchy looking box. We were all sure she was going to pull out some weed. But no, turns out she just wanted to offer Gabriel and Adam paper for rolling joints. All of us girls traded baffled looking and had mutual thoughts of "is this really happening right now". After the drug talk things continued to be obscure as all get out. Once again I'm not sure why/how this happened, but Gabriel pulled out his laptop and started singing "Desperado" at the dinner table. That kind of randomness happened all night. After the bday celebration of confusion, befuddlement, and stifled laughter all of us guests headed home to reflect on the craziness that just went down. I'd say it was good night, and I plan on doing it again.

Oh, funny extra tid-bit: Gabriel was talking about gay people at some point and referred to them as "coming out of the wardrobe". Man language barriers are funny.

Galacia, Santiago...and someplace else

Everyone here, including myself, has come to the conclusion that we never have school. This past weekend was yet another three day weekend. That meant our first overnight excursion. Friday after class we packed up our things and headed to Galacia on a five-ish hour bus ride. It was long to say the least, but I of course enjoyed it because I was raised on seemingly endless drives.

Once we got to Galacia (which is in a northern harbor type part of Spain) we settled in to our cozy hostal. This was my first ever hostal experience. It was pretty much the same as a hotel, but with a common area, a variety of differently decorated rooms, and an adorable old couple who ran the place. Staying in the hostal turned out to be super fun because every night was like a sleepover. (Cultural note- in Oviedo, or maybe all of Spain, it's very uncommon to have friends, neighbors, and sometimes even family members come over to your house or apartment. So since we can't normally hang out in each other's homestays, this weekend of sleepoverness was awesome). Driving and hanging in the hostal were the majority of Friday's activities.

Saturday the AHA group explored Galacia. I should mention that the AHA group wasn't actually chaperoned by any AHA officials. The only consistent "adult supervision" was an art professor from the university, the visiting professor from OSU, and our bus driver. But I guess we're all in college and technically don't need supervision. Anywho, Saturday was kicked off with a trip to a beautiful lookout point. The look out point was cool, but I got distracted by a playground in the area. This playground had the most legit teeter-totter I've ever played on. It was huge, spun, and had a giant spring in the middle so you bounced as you whirled round and round. There was also a giant hedge maze. With five minutes left to spare at the lookout point, four of us decided it was a good idea to attempt the maze. Bad idea. We ended up getting intensely stuck inside for more than ten minutes, which forced the bus driver and our fellow students to wait for us as we fought our way out. Oops. After that extravaganza we all headed to El Torre De Hercules. It was a giant tower, maybe a lighthouse at one point, along the ocean front. We climbed our way to the top and were able to see for miles. After venturing back down the tower we were let loose on the city. Some of us decided to check out the local aquarium. It was awesome. I love aquariums. This one had a huge room dedicated to 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea. There were sharks, eels, stingrays- the whole shebang. Although I must say it was nothing compared to my favorite aquarium, The Monterey Bay Aquarium.

On Sunday we bused it out to Santiago. Santiago is an ancient city with some neat significance. The coolest part of Santiago is the cathedral. People make pilgrimages from all over Europe to The Cathedral. There were people inside attending mass adorned in hiking gear with giant packs on their backs. It was really neat to get to see all these people at the end of their doubtlessly long journeys. I only felt slightly guilty for having taken a bus there. Not only did we get to go inside of the cathedral, but we also got to go on top of it. That's right, up to the roof. It was flipping awesome. At first our tour started out pretty normal. We went through some old rooms, learned some stuff, blah blah blah. And then things got crazy. We went up some stairs that headed to a door, and beyond the door was the cathedral roof. Then we got a sky view tour of the rest of the city from the bajillion year old roof, no big deal. I felt like a BAMF for sure. Oh, I almost forgot to mention that it was pouring down rain that day. This wasn't any normal I'm-from-California-and-don't-understand-the-concept-of-rain kinda storm, it was so crazy that even Oregonians appreciated it. Umbrellas were breaking left and right. I loved every drop of it.

On Monday we made the trek back to Oviedo. At some point we stopped and saw a Roman style cathedral in some city, but I couldn't tell you what cathedral it was or which city we were in, so enough about that. All in all it was a good first overnight excursion and I'm looking forward to the next one.

Bread & Salsa

Who's ready for some random stories?

Bread.

The other day I was sitting in my room doing some homework when my host mom yelled "mi madre!" and continued to freak out a bit. The worst had happened- she forgot to buy bread at the store. (Cultural note: bread is freakishly important here. In a Spaniard's mind, in order to live you need to breathe and consume bread. On national holidays everything is closed except for bread shops). I poked my head out of my room to see what all the commotion was about. Mistake. My madre looked at me, looked at my feet, saw that I still had shoes on, and then got a magical glow in her eyes as if a light bulb had ignited in her mind. She was dressed in her house clothes- an oversized orange velourish sweat suit- and since I still had regular clothes and actual shoes on she pleaded me to go out to the store and buy bread. Before I knew it I was out the door with a piece of paper with the type of bread I was to buy scribbled on it and a euro in my hand. Confused and Non-native, I found my way to the bakery counter in the grocery store. I showed the lady the piece of paper with my order on it and she spat back a bunch of unidentifiable Spanish at me (they don't teach you bakery bargaining lingo in Spanish textbooks). I told her one moment please, and then walked around the store for a bit trying to decipher what she said and figure out a way to not look stupid and purchase my bread. I bucked up, returned to the counter, and was ready to complete my bread mission. I told the lady, with more authority this time, what kind of bread I wanted. She then held up two loaves and told me something to the effect of "here's the one you want, but here's the one you should get". Touché bread lady. I took "the one you should get"...which was a bad choice. When I returned home my host mom not only questioned why I took so long at the store, but she also informed me that I bought the wrong kind. The kind I bought is made with more water and is too airy. The kind she likes is dense and more flavorful. I haven't heard the end of it since. I might go in the kitchen right now and down that loaf of bread just so I don't have to hear about my bread ignorance any more.

Salsa.

For the past three weeks my Irish friend from school has been trying to get everyone from our program to go Salsa dancing at a local club. It's not real Spanish Salsa dancing. It's actually a couple instructors who teach mostly exchange students a few basic steps. Thursday night several people from my AHA group met up to check out this Salsa deal. We started with a group of about ten guys and girls, but somehow only four of us made it to the Salsa place. When the clock struck 11pm the instructor came out and nearly physically forced the six people in the club to dance. The first dance of the night was Merengue. (Neither Salsa nor Merengue are true Spanish dances by the way, feel free to Wikipedia this for further info). It started out with simple forward and back steps and a few hips swings for flavor. Then came the partner moves. This was when hilarity ensued. I was paired with the teddy bear of the AHA group. And by teddy bear I mean grizzly bear because this guy is easily 6'3". With me standing at a small 5'2" you can imagine what a sight we were. As the dance steps got more complex our laughter only got louder. We both chuckled off our lack of dance skills and embraced our humorous height difference. After that the dancing turned into some kind of circular deal where you trade partners time and time again, which got too intense for me. I slyly traded myself out of the dancing circle and called it a night. All in all it was a hilariously fun experience in which I successfully did not learn how to Salsa dance. Oh well, there's always next week!