As I believe I mentioned earlier, it’s been rather chilly here recently, although what I call chilly, the sevillanos call cold. And even when it’s cold, I can deal with cold; it hasn’t been intensely, terribly cold. Inside the houses, it’s been freezing, often colder than outside, which is annoying when I would like to go inside to warm up. But what has been bothering me, and what my title this time refers to, is that it has been raining almost non-stop for the past two weeks. Which is especially annoying when I have to trek across the city via foot, bus, and tram at least twice a day, usually more, to get to class, and when my socks and jeans don’t dry inside because it’s colder inside than outside, and Carmen doesn’t have a dryer. The sun showed his lovely face a little yesterday, but he is hiding again.
You may be thinking, “Christy, you are in Spain. Stop complaining.” A valid point. However, not only is this much rain highly unusual in this area of Spain, it is proving rather harmful. There has been a lot of flooding in several cities, including Granada, I think, because they are not constructed to cope with this much precipitation. So while all this rain is just a thing of discomfort for me, as I would like to have dry shoes, it is much more than uncomfortable for many families in Andalucía. So hopefully it will stop raining soon, and start getting warm.
Onward to other topics.
I had heard that classes in the Universidad de Sevilla start off very slowly, but I was not prepared for just how slowly this would be. We spent the first three days of my Lope class going over the syllabus. Granted, it is a long syllabus. There is a list of 9 or 10 obligatory readings (plays by Lope), and then a list of extra books she thinks she should read, which are mostly biographies or commentaries or histories of the Siglo de Oro. But she went over every single work on all of these lists in detail, telling us a little about the work and the author, and how important she thought it was for us to read it and where we could get it . . . on and on. Kerry and I, and the English girl Laura, couldn’t help laughing a little, because we’d spent so much time on this syllabus. I don’t think all the classes are like this. I went to the first day of the Cervantes class I couldn’t take, just to see what it was like, and the professor handed out the syllabus, went over it a little, remarked that we could read it on our own, and then jumped right into a crash course of the history of the Golden Age. It helped that I’d studied the Golden Age before in my Theatre of Spain class, because he talked much faster than my Lope professor, with a very strong Andalucían accent, and was much more difficult to understand. There were also some times that he would ask the class a question, and I knew the answer, but no one was answering. I was quite tempted to raise my hand and answer, but as I knew I wasn’t coming back, that felt silly.
Anyway, back to Lope, I think maybe the slowness of the class is more related to this professor. There are some copies we are supposed to buy from the university copy center. I went in on Monday to get them, but I was told that she hadn’t turned in the pages to be copied yet. Also, last Wednesday, she asked us to read a sonnet and write a commentary about it, saying she’d pick a few students to read their commentaries on Monday. Accordingly, I read the sonnet and wrote a commentary. On Monday, she reminded us that she had asked us to do it, and asked that we have it for Tuesday. On Tuesday, she didn’t say anything about it. On Wednesday, just when I thought that it had gone by the wayside, she asked us to pull it out, because she wanted to have some of us read it. She said that first she’d pick a Spanish student, then un extranjero (a foreigner). Nobody was forthcoming in volunteering, except some fifty-year old guy, who before reading his commentary, had to comment rather smugly how he volunteered before any of the rest of us. After he read his commentary, she began looking for another volunteer, and we all squirmed in our seats. She then asked us if we’d done it, and about three of us, including me, raised our hands. She asked the guy sitting behind me to read his. Just when I was thinking I was off the hook, then, she asked me to read mine as well—gaarrr! I am so super self-conscious of my accent, and a couple times when I talked to my professor after class I think she had some trouble understanding me, and here I was, having to flaunt my gringa accent in front of the entire class. But I sucked it up and read my commentary as clearly as I could. I suppose, on the bright side, that may have earned me some brownie points towards that 7.5 (aka, B) that I am hoping to get.
I suppose, also, I shouldn’t be too worried about my accent in that class, as there are a lot of foreigners, mostly Erasmus students. Aside from Laura, I’m pretty sure I’ve heard some others with British accents, and I think there’s a German girl, as her computer had something that looked like German, and a Canadian girl, as she had a notebook that said “Canada.” There is also a Brazilian guy named Gustavo with whom I talked a little today. He’s really nice, and his Spanish is really good. He asked Kerry and me how long we’d been in Sevilla, and when we said “three weeks,” he told us our Spanish was very good. What I said was “Gracias.” What I was thinking was “YESSS!” I get really excited when people tell me in an earnest, not just polite sort of manner that I am speaking well, because I think maybe my accent isn’t so bad after all, and my grammar isn’t so bad after all. Even though he is Brazilian, and Portuguese is his native language, he probably hears a lot of Spanish living in South America, and I believe a lot of Brazilians learn Spanish, as it’s just handy to know.
I met my intercambio last night. His name is Aleix, and he looks to be about in his mid-twenties. He works for a business that makes small films for other businesses, as well as some of their own small films. But his aspiration is to write scripts for films. He loves the movies, including a lot of American movies. He asked me what kind of movies I like, and when I said I like Disney movies, he said he loves Pixar, and when I mentioned John Lasseter being my hero, he expressed a similar appreciation for John Lasseter. He’s very nice, and kind of artsy, which is cool, and with his appreciation for movies (especially Pixar), we should have a fair amount to talk about. His English is better than my Spanish, but he also told me my Spanish is pretty good. Actually, what he said is “Your Spanish is better than I expected,” because I have a lot of trouble speaking Spanish over the phone, and the first time he called me, he realized I was having trouble and switched to English. So I guess his comment was a compliment. But he also has a bit of an accent, although it’s quite easy to understand, so that makes me feel better about my accent.
And now, a tangent. We had a really interesting discussion in my language class today about some of the cultural differences between Spain and the U.S. There are several things on which I might like to comment, but for now I’d like to comment on the culture of food here. As I believe I mentioned earlier, eating takes a long time, and waiters in restaurants, or even coffee shops, tend to leave you alone for a long time, and when you need to go, you need to ask for the bill. In general, I think this is a better attitude. Food should be enjoyed, not scarfed, as it’s healthier that way, because your brain has time to process that you have eaten, and you miss out on the pleasure of good food if you are just shoving stuff down your throat so you can move on to the next appointment on your agenda. It’s also nice that mealtimes are such a communal undertaking, and that even just a cup of coffee is valuable as a shared experience. That being said, sometimes one is just hungry, or in need of caffeine, and one just needs food, and needs it quickly. I blush to admit I have now been to Starbucks here twice (something else I never thought I would do), because there have been times between classes in which I needed a quick snack, emphasis on “quick.” At Starbucks, you pay at the cash register before you get your food, meaning you can leave as soon as you are done eating. I have also learned that if you want coffee in a paper cup, so you can take it with you, you need to ask for “un café para llevar” (a coffee to take away). If you don’t, you will get it in a ceramic cup. Moreover, food here is just not made to be eaten quickly or on the run. I’ve had to ask for sack lunches a few times from Carmen, as I haven’t had time to return for lunch, and I get a sandwich and a piece of fruit. Usually, I’m still kind of hungry after eating this, especially with both lunch and dinner being eaten so late. But there’s not really anything else I could ask for. She doesn’t have baby carrots, chopped veggies, granola bars, or yogurt cups I could ask for. When one goes shopping in Spain, one buys ingredients for what one is going to cook that day, and possibly the next day. One does not stock up on little snacks to be eaten quickly. And I don’t really want to ask her to buy snacks especially for me. I guess I’ll keep going with what I’ve been taking, and if I find myself really really hungry, maybe I’ll request something.
Something I had observed, and that was commented upon in our class discussion today, people here do not eat while walking or in the streets. I had noticed a few times that if I was eating an apple or a sandwich between my classes at the Center and my university class, people would give me strange looks. Today in class, Prof. Dorado said that it is considered somewhat rude to eat while walking, and it’s something parents will teach their children not to do. Apparently, there’s a myth that if you eat in the streets, you won’t get married—oops. So I will try not to eat in the streets unless it’s an absolute necessity, because I certainly don’t want people looking at me and thinking I’m crude. But I find it odd that when one is both hungry and in a hurry, one cannot multi task by eating and walking.
This has been long—sorry about that. I suppose if I wrote more often, I would not write so much each time. All for now.
Showing posts with label universidad de sevilla. Show all posts
Showing posts with label universidad de sevilla. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Friday, February 19, 2010
Oreos y Mantequilla de Cacahuete—Day 17, February 19, 2010
This may be kind of a short entry, as I don’t have too much to talk about, but there are just a few tidbits to update you all on.
Yesterday was one of our field trip days. My group went to La Itálica, the ruins of a Roman city that housed some of their soldiers during the Punic Wars. In the center was a giant gladiator ring. The professor who was guiding us told us how these gladiator games weren’t just entertainment, they were sort of religious sacrifices to appease their gods of war, and that people attended these games with a sense of reverence. Unfortunately, it was raining while we were there, so we didn’t stay long, but I actually kind of liked it in the rain. It seemed to fit with all the memories and the history of the place (ok, now I’m waxing silly and pseudo-poetic; I shall move on).
You may be wondering about the title of this entry. We (Kerry, Alicia, and I) decided that we were extremely craving a few American type foods, namely, Oreos, peanut butter, and chips. Most of the food here in Spain is very fresh and unprocessed, and when you go grocery shopping, generally you go to the frutería to buy fresh fruit, and the carnicería (butcher shop) to buy meat, and the panedería (bakery) to buy bread, and rather than shopping for a week’s worth of food, you go every day or too. If you want to buy something packaged and processed like Oreos, or peanut butter, which, as in Scotland, hardly even exists here, you have to go to a supermercado, which are rather less common than all the little specialized stands. So, we ventured once again to El Corte Ingles, because we knew if any place in Spain would have such distinctly American foods, it would be El Corte Ingles. And sure enough, we found them, although it took some searching to find the peanut butter. When I checked out, my purchase consisted of a package of Oreos, a jar of peanut butter, a package of Snickers bars, and a bottle of Diet Coke. My blood pressure wept at the purchase, but my taste buds rejoiced.
A random side note here: I have been having to come to terms with the fact that I am probably going to have to kiss my academic virginity good bye. TU requires that language majors who study abroad take a class at the local university; accordingly, I am taking the class on Lope de Vega that I mentioned earlier. However, European university class structure and grading are very different from those in America. Rather than giving you homework assignments throughout the year, the only grades are a final exam and maybe a final paper at the end of the semester. The students are expected to pace themselves, and study and do the reading as needed to be ready for the final. Furthermore, they grade on a scale of 1 to 10, with a 5 being a passing. Most Spaniards consider it a huge accomplishment to get a 6. It’s not exactly that American grading is inflated, but while an A is considered good but totally attainable in the U.S., here a 10 is almost unheard of. The problem is, that a 6 translates in an American grading system to a C. Michele Duran, the academic director of my program, said once they had a student who worked really hard at his university class and got a 7.5, and the professor wrote “excelente” on his final paper, and it was the highest grade they have ever seen—but a 7.5 still only translates to a B. Michele explained that anyone who looks at a transcript and sees that someone got a B from the University of Sevilla will know what that means, will know how much work that cost, and furthermore understand that it was work done in a second language. And I understand this. But still . . . I really like my 4.0. A lot. And although I know that’s not the most important thing for life or even for getting into grad school, I am rather upset about losing it. Because it seems impossible that I will get a 9, which is the minimum to translate to an A. It’s extremely frustrating knowing that no matter what I do or how hard I work, my beautiful, unsullied little 4.0 will become after this semester a 3.8 or .9 or something. My only hope is that TU might have a different system of translation, and adjust a 7.5 differently, but I have very little hope of that. If this is the price I have to pay as a language major to study abroad, then it is definitely worth it. My semester here in Spain is worth far more than 0.1 GPA point. But still . . . sigh.
I suppose with that somewhat emo note I am done for now. Tomorrow I am going to Córdoba, and a week from tomorrow I am going to Morocco—so super excited!
Yesterday was one of our field trip days. My group went to La Itálica, the ruins of a Roman city that housed some of their soldiers during the Punic Wars. In the center was a giant gladiator ring. The professor who was guiding us told us how these gladiator games weren’t just entertainment, they were sort of religious sacrifices to appease their gods of war, and that people attended these games with a sense of reverence. Unfortunately, it was raining while we were there, so we didn’t stay long, but I actually kind of liked it in the rain. It seemed to fit with all the memories and the history of the place (ok, now I’m waxing silly and pseudo-poetic; I shall move on).
You may be wondering about the title of this entry. We (Kerry, Alicia, and I) decided that we were extremely craving a few American type foods, namely, Oreos, peanut butter, and chips. Most of the food here in Spain is very fresh and unprocessed, and when you go grocery shopping, generally you go to the frutería to buy fresh fruit, and the carnicería (butcher shop) to buy meat, and the panedería (bakery) to buy bread, and rather than shopping for a week’s worth of food, you go every day or too. If you want to buy something packaged and processed like Oreos, or peanut butter, which, as in Scotland, hardly even exists here, you have to go to a supermercado, which are rather less common than all the little specialized stands. So, we ventured once again to El Corte Ingles, because we knew if any place in Spain would have such distinctly American foods, it would be El Corte Ingles. And sure enough, we found them, although it took some searching to find the peanut butter. When I checked out, my purchase consisted of a package of Oreos, a jar of peanut butter, a package of Snickers bars, and a bottle of Diet Coke. My blood pressure wept at the purchase, but my taste buds rejoiced.
A random side note here: I have been having to come to terms with the fact that I am probably going to have to kiss my academic virginity good bye. TU requires that language majors who study abroad take a class at the local university; accordingly, I am taking the class on Lope de Vega that I mentioned earlier. However, European university class structure and grading are very different from those in America. Rather than giving you homework assignments throughout the year, the only grades are a final exam and maybe a final paper at the end of the semester. The students are expected to pace themselves, and study and do the reading as needed to be ready for the final. Furthermore, they grade on a scale of 1 to 10, with a 5 being a passing. Most Spaniards consider it a huge accomplishment to get a 6. It’s not exactly that American grading is inflated, but while an A is considered good but totally attainable in the U.S., here a 10 is almost unheard of. The problem is, that a 6 translates in an American grading system to a C. Michele Duran, the academic director of my program, said once they had a student who worked really hard at his university class and got a 7.5, and the professor wrote “excelente” on his final paper, and it was the highest grade they have ever seen—but a 7.5 still only translates to a B. Michele explained that anyone who looks at a transcript and sees that someone got a B from the University of Sevilla will know what that means, will know how much work that cost, and furthermore understand that it was work done in a second language. And I understand this. But still . . . I really like my 4.0. A lot. And although I know that’s not the most important thing for life or even for getting into grad school, I am rather upset about losing it. Because it seems impossible that I will get a 9, which is the minimum to translate to an A. It’s extremely frustrating knowing that no matter what I do or how hard I work, my beautiful, unsullied little 4.0 will become after this semester a 3.8 or .9 or something. My only hope is that TU might have a different system of translation, and adjust a 7.5 differently, but I have very little hope of that. If this is the price I have to pay as a language major to study abroad, then it is definitely worth it. My semester here in Spain is worth far more than 0.1 GPA point. But still . . . sigh.
I suppose with that somewhat emo note I am done for now. Tomorrow I am going to Córdoba, and a week from tomorrow I am going to Morocco—so super excited!
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Miércoles de Ceniza—Day 15, February 17, 2010
¡Uy! Sorry it’s been so long since I updated. Homework and school kind of attacked. I will try to update you on everything important that has happened in the interim. I can’t believe I’ve been in Sevilla for two weeks now.
Saturday morning, Alicia, Kerry, and I went for a walk around the barrio of Triana. Alicia has a book of neighborhood walks that point out historical sites and various points of interest throughout neighborhoods in the city. Triana is on the other side of the river from Nervión, where I live. It’s famous for its ceramic factories, where they make the beautiful azulejo that I love. Now, most of the actual factories where they fire the pieces have been moved outside the city to reduce the pollution in the city, but a lot of artisans still have shops where they paint ceramics in Triana. We visited several, and I bought a couple pieces. We also saw the Mercado de Triana (the Triana Market). The building in which it is housed is fairly modern, but there has been a market there for generations. Inside, it was filled with walled off stands, each one with a specialized product, like fruits, meats, fish, cheese, etc. I really liked it because it seemed that the people who worked there were really into their work. It wasn’t the sort of place where the employees just scan barcodes and countdown the hours until they get off. The butchers knew meat, and the fruit sellers knew fruit, knew how to recognize good products from bad products, and enjoyed sharing their knowledge.
On Sunday morning, Alicia and I went to mass in a smaller church close to where we live. It’s the church where Carmen usually goes, and her brother was a priest there. Grand as the Cathedral is, I liked this church a lot better, because it was a lot smaller and more personal. But they used a lot of incense in the mass, which made my throat extremely dry.
Sunday evening, a group of us went out to celebrate Laura’s birthday. We went to a tapas bar near the Cathedral that had vino de naranja (orange wine). There is actually a place a couple doors down that is more famous for their vino de naranja, but it was pretty small and crowded, and there were six of us, so we opted for the larger one. I tried a glass of the vino de naranja. It was very thick and quite sweet, almost like a desert wine. I was able to drink it straight because it was so sweet, but it kind of had an aftertaste like orange flavored candy. I’d like to try the vino de naranja from the other bar, where it’s famous, but I don’t know that I liked it enough to get it again otherwise.
On Monday, my class at the Universidad de Sevilla began. I was not able to get into the Cervantes class I wanted, but I am taking a class about Lope de Vega, one of the foremost playwrights in baroque Spain. The professor is very nice, but she talks much faster and with a heavier accent than my professors at the center do. They all know to slow down for Americans, but Profesora de los Reyes can’t really cater to foreigners. There are, however, several foreigners in the class besides Kerry and I, including an English girl named Laura, with whom I’ve talked a few times. She is in this program called Erasmus, which is a European program for people studying languages at the university level. She said that all students studying a language have to spend at least one year abroad (a year in one country if they’re studying one language, or a semester each in two separate countries if they are studying two languages). She’s been here for a semester already, and she is teaching an English class at the university. She’s really friendly, and I love love love her accent. I kind of want to tell her how much I like it, but she would probably find that weird.
As a side note, there has been some confusion with the end date of the university class and my program, and I will be coming home about a month earlier than originally planned. I don’t want to go into details here, just wanted to let it be known. I’m a little miffed about it, but I still have three and a half months here.
I do however have some very exciting news—I am going to Morocco a week from Saturday! I am so stoked. I had been hoping to be able to make it down there. There is a group that CC-CS works with to send students to Morocco, but those trips are all four days at the least, and I didn’t want to miss a day of school. But a found a program called We Love Spain that sends students there for three-day trips. The girl working at the office when I booked said it’s a really good length of time to get a taste of Morocco, figure out what parts she might like to visit again.
And now for a few more assorted ramblings and observations:
In my language class, we were discussing vocabulary that has to do with non-profit organizations, and my professor told us that there is a group here in Spain called Clowns without Borders (Payasos sin Fronteras). They go to hospitals to entertain ill children. I think this is really cool.
We learned a phrase in my language class that is basically the equivalent of “Go jump in a lake.” It’s “véte a freír espárragos,” which literally translated means “Go fry an asparagus.”
It has rained almost every day this past week, and I am very ready for the sun to come out. My socks and shoes and pants get extremely wet, and with the houses as cold as they are, they don’t dry very quickly. This rain, however, may be a very good excuse to go buy a new pair of rain boots, as my old ones broke.
I am getting more comfortable with Spanish, but at the same time, language fatigue is definitely starting to set in. I can understand it pretty well, I’m getting better at using subjunctive verb forms, and I’m finding myself incorporating the words I learn in class in my everyday speech. But there are times where my brain just does not want to speak Spanish at all, and I start making elementary mistakes I don’t normally make. Hopefully that will pass soon.
That’s all I can remember for now. Buenas noches.
Saturday morning, Alicia, Kerry, and I went for a walk around the barrio of Triana. Alicia has a book of neighborhood walks that point out historical sites and various points of interest throughout neighborhoods in the city. Triana is on the other side of the river from Nervión, where I live. It’s famous for its ceramic factories, where they make the beautiful azulejo that I love. Now, most of the actual factories where they fire the pieces have been moved outside the city to reduce the pollution in the city, but a lot of artisans still have shops where they paint ceramics in Triana. We visited several, and I bought a couple pieces. We also saw the Mercado de Triana (the Triana Market). The building in which it is housed is fairly modern, but there has been a market there for generations. Inside, it was filled with walled off stands, each one with a specialized product, like fruits, meats, fish, cheese, etc. I really liked it because it seemed that the people who worked there were really into their work. It wasn’t the sort of place where the employees just scan barcodes and countdown the hours until they get off. The butchers knew meat, and the fruit sellers knew fruit, knew how to recognize good products from bad products, and enjoyed sharing their knowledge.
On Sunday morning, Alicia and I went to mass in a smaller church close to where we live. It’s the church where Carmen usually goes, and her brother was a priest there. Grand as the Cathedral is, I liked this church a lot better, because it was a lot smaller and more personal. But they used a lot of incense in the mass, which made my throat extremely dry.
Sunday evening, a group of us went out to celebrate Laura’s birthday. We went to a tapas bar near the Cathedral that had vino de naranja (orange wine). There is actually a place a couple doors down that is more famous for their vino de naranja, but it was pretty small and crowded, and there were six of us, so we opted for the larger one. I tried a glass of the vino de naranja. It was very thick and quite sweet, almost like a desert wine. I was able to drink it straight because it was so sweet, but it kind of had an aftertaste like orange flavored candy. I’d like to try the vino de naranja from the other bar, where it’s famous, but I don’t know that I liked it enough to get it again otherwise.
On Monday, my class at the Universidad de Sevilla began. I was not able to get into the Cervantes class I wanted, but I am taking a class about Lope de Vega, one of the foremost playwrights in baroque Spain. The professor is very nice, but she talks much faster and with a heavier accent than my professors at the center do. They all know to slow down for Americans, but Profesora de los Reyes can’t really cater to foreigners. There are, however, several foreigners in the class besides Kerry and I, including an English girl named Laura, with whom I’ve talked a few times. She is in this program called Erasmus, which is a European program for people studying languages at the university level. She said that all students studying a language have to spend at least one year abroad (a year in one country if they’re studying one language, or a semester each in two separate countries if they are studying two languages). She’s been here for a semester already, and she is teaching an English class at the university. She’s really friendly, and I love love love her accent. I kind of want to tell her how much I like it, but she would probably find that weird.
As a side note, there has been some confusion with the end date of the university class and my program, and I will be coming home about a month earlier than originally planned. I don’t want to go into details here, just wanted to let it be known. I’m a little miffed about it, but I still have three and a half months here.
I do however have some very exciting news—I am going to Morocco a week from Saturday! I am so stoked. I had been hoping to be able to make it down there. There is a group that CC-CS works with to send students to Morocco, but those trips are all four days at the least, and I didn’t want to miss a day of school. But a found a program called We Love Spain that sends students there for three-day trips. The girl working at the office when I booked said it’s a really good length of time to get a taste of Morocco, figure out what parts she might like to visit again.
And now for a few more assorted ramblings and observations:
In my language class, we were discussing vocabulary that has to do with non-profit organizations, and my professor told us that there is a group here in Spain called Clowns without Borders (Payasos sin Fronteras). They go to hospitals to entertain ill children. I think this is really cool.
We learned a phrase in my language class that is basically the equivalent of “Go jump in a lake.” It’s “véte a freír espárragos,” which literally translated means “Go fry an asparagus.”
It has rained almost every day this past week, and I am very ready for the sun to come out. My socks and shoes and pants get extremely wet, and with the houses as cold as they are, they don’t dry very quickly. This rain, however, may be a very good excuse to go buy a new pair of rain boots, as my old ones broke.
I am getting more comfortable with Spanish, but at the same time, language fatigue is definitely starting to set in. I can understand it pretty well, I’m getting better at using subjunctive verb forms, and I’m finding myself incorporating the words I learn in class in my everyday speech. But there are times where my brain just does not want to speak Spanish at all, and I start making elementary mistakes I don’t normally make. Hopefully that will pass soon.
That’s all I can remember for now. Buenas noches.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Visitas y Paseos—Day 9, February 11, 2010
Yesterday morning, class ended two hours early so that we could go on tours of a few different sites in Sevilla. We were divided up into three groups, each with a professor or two as our guide. My group went to the Cathedral, so I was able to see it in more detail. I took some pictures, but there is no way they can possibly convey how giant and grand this place was. It used to be a mosque, but after the Reconquista, los Reyes Católicos turned it into a cathedral. But there are still remnants of the original mosque, including La Giralda, which is the giant tower and the tallest building in Sevilla (although the very top part is not original, as there was an earthquake that knocked the original top off) and the Patio de Naranjas (Patio of Oranges) with the fountains where the Muslims would wash to purify themselves before worship. The Cathedral itself has elements of Gothic, Baroque, and Renaissance architecture. Also within the Cathedral is the tomb of Christopher Columbus. Apparently lots of different places claim to have the real remains of Columbus, but, according to my professor, these are the real ones (of course, my professor may just be biased in favor of Sevilla). I’ll try to post some pictures here, when I have internet that’s more reliable.
That afternoon, after my dance class, I went with a group from our program to take a short tour of one of the buildings of the University of Sevilla. The university is divided into facultades, which are like the colleges in an American university. But they are not located together one campus. Rather, the buildings are spread out all over the city. We went to the Facultad de Filología, of humanities, which is where I will be taking my literature class. It used to be a tobacco factory, and is actually the tobacco factory in which the opera Carmen is set. The building is gorgeous, with many interior patios with fountains, and shiny marble floors and marble statues of naked men in the staircases. I must say, it was extremely intimidating. Not like American universities, which do all they can to make visitors feel welcome. There was just this sort of cold face to the University. In Spain, students don’t generally live on college campuses, and they usually just go to the university in their home city, so going to college isn’t the same sort of undertaking as it is in the States. We got a lot of odd looks, as we were a group of fifteen to twenty Americans, taking pictures. I felt like a prospee (prospective student), but I imagine the Universidad de Sevilla doesn’t exactly get prospees.
After the University tour, there was an open-air market going on in the Plaza Nueva. Kerry, Alicia, and I poked around for a bit, and I bought a scarf for 5 euro. There were a lot of different things, like scarves and hats and jewelry and food. I also bought some honey roasted (or some such thing) cashews to munch on, which were thoroughly delicious. I haven’t had a lot of nuts since I’ve been here, so I enjoyed them a lot.
Tonight, Tiffany, a friend from TU who is spending the full academic year in Granada, came into Sevilla. She is heading to the Carnaval in Cádiz this weekend (sort of Spain’s Mardi Gras), but she’s staying in Sevilla for a few nights. She, Laura, Kerry, I, and our roommates went out for tapas. We went to a place that the manager of Tiffany’s hostel recommended called Taberna Colonias. The prices were fairly cheap, with good portion sizes, and our waitress was extremely friendly. Among the dishes we tried was patatas a la brava, which consisted of fried potato coins with a spicy red sauce and a white sauce that can best be described as being like ranch. I really liked this one a lot. It also had no pork, which was definitely a plus.
I am starting to feel more integrated into the culture here. On Thursday, my group returned from our visit before Alicia’s group, and since I wasn’t sure when she would get back, I went ahead and headed home. Walking alone through the streets of Sevilla gave me this thrill, because I felt like I fit in. I wasn’t yapping in English, I knew where I was going and didn’t have to pull out a map, and the public transit didn’t faze me at all. I felt like someone could look at me and maybe mistake me for a sevilliana. Although, according to one of Carmen’s neighbors, I have a very English face. Not exactly sure why, and I don’t think I could recognize an English face, but I’m ok with looking English.
All for now. ¡Hasta luego!
That afternoon, after my dance class, I went with a group from our program to take a short tour of one of the buildings of the University of Sevilla. The university is divided into facultades, which are like the colleges in an American university. But they are not located together one campus. Rather, the buildings are spread out all over the city. We went to the Facultad de Filología, of humanities, which is where I will be taking my literature class. It used to be a tobacco factory, and is actually the tobacco factory in which the opera Carmen is set. The building is gorgeous, with many interior patios with fountains, and shiny marble floors and marble statues of naked men in the staircases. I must say, it was extremely intimidating. Not like American universities, which do all they can to make visitors feel welcome. There was just this sort of cold face to the University. In Spain, students don’t generally live on college campuses, and they usually just go to the university in their home city, so going to college isn’t the same sort of undertaking as it is in the States. We got a lot of odd looks, as we were a group of fifteen to twenty Americans, taking pictures. I felt like a prospee (prospective student), but I imagine the Universidad de Sevilla doesn’t exactly get prospees.
After the University tour, there was an open-air market going on in the Plaza Nueva. Kerry, Alicia, and I poked around for a bit, and I bought a scarf for 5 euro. There were a lot of different things, like scarves and hats and jewelry and food. I also bought some honey roasted (or some such thing) cashews to munch on, which were thoroughly delicious. I haven’t had a lot of nuts since I’ve been here, so I enjoyed them a lot.
Tonight, Tiffany, a friend from TU who is spending the full academic year in Granada, came into Sevilla. She is heading to the Carnaval in Cádiz this weekend (sort of Spain’s Mardi Gras), but she’s staying in Sevilla for a few nights. She, Laura, Kerry, I, and our roommates went out for tapas. We went to a place that the manager of Tiffany’s hostel recommended called Taberna Colonias. The prices were fairly cheap, with good portion sizes, and our waitress was extremely friendly. Among the dishes we tried was patatas a la brava, which consisted of fried potato coins with a spicy red sauce and a white sauce that can best be described as being like ranch. I really liked this one a lot. It also had no pork, which was definitely a plus.
I am starting to feel more integrated into the culture here. On Thursday, my group returned from our visit before Alicia’s group, and since I wasn’t sure when she would get back, I went ahead and headed home. Walking alone through the streets of Sevilla gave me this thrill, because I felt like I fit in. I wasn’t yapping in English, I knew where I was going and didn’t have to pull out a map, and the public transit didn’t faze me at all. I felt like someone could look at me and maybe mistake me for a sevilliana. Although, according to one of Carmen’s neighbors, I have a very English face. Not exactly sure why, and I don’t think I could recognize an English face, but I’m ok with looking English.
All for now. ¡Hasta luego!
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