The Roads Are Like Sidewalks for Cars

I saw Harry Potter 6. It’s called “Harry Potter and the Mystery of the Prince.” A horcrux is horrocruxo in Spanish. It’s weird.

This session’s program organized trip was to Valencia. Valencia is in the southeast on the Mediterranean coast. The language they speak there, in addition to Castellano (Spanish), is Valenciano which is really close to Catalán. It’s a romance language, so like most romance languages, I can read it decently but aural comprehension is practically nil. Valencia was amazing, but so is everywhere I’ve been in Spain. We visited a beautiful cathedral as well as a few other interesting historical places on our tour. Typical food—by that I don’t mean the locals eat it all the time but rather something you should try while you’re there—typical food in Valencia is horchata (or orxata) and paella. Horchata is like the liquid squeezed from some kind of nut that’s been soaking in I think it was water. I’m not a huge fan. I’d drink it if someone offered it, but I don’t think I’ll buy it again. Paella Valenciana is paella (cooked rice…probably more complicated than that, but I don’t know) with chicken in it. It seemed like the exact same thing as chicken fried rice from Great Wall or somewhere. I’m probably offending someone by saying that.

Something I don’t think I’ve mentioned before is the Spanish norm of having three course meals at restaurants. Many times, restaurants don’t have menus like we would think. They have “the menu of the day” which I guess could be called the special except a lot of times, they ONLY have the menu of the day and that’s it. Other restaurants will just hand you a list of what they have for first course, second course, dessert, and drinks. Everything is the same price (6-12€ at the places I go) and includes everything no matter what you get. What I’m trying to say is that one of my friends was sick so I ended up eating probably four and a half courses.

Something else I don’t think I’ve mentioned before is the Spanish norm of botellón. Botellón is the Spanish equivalent of the American pre-game…only far superior. You basically get cheap wine (I usually go for the .79€ stuff) or liquor and meet all of your friends (and enemies) in a park. Common botellón drinks: tinto de verano (literally ‘red wine of summer’ but is like wine with Sprite or 7-Up) and calimocho (wine and Coca-Cola). Sometimes, we never end up going to a bar because there are so many people in the park that you wouldn’t gain anything at a bar besides music. It’s so much more fun than pre-gaming because no one cares that you are loud and you don’t have to worry about bothering anyone. Well, I guess that isn’t true. In Valencia, we were having a small botellón with just Americans in a park that had some sweet looking ruins when we were yelled at by this homeless man who was trying to sleep. It was a public park, but it was also his bedroom so we decided to relocate. We found a better spot where, judging by the litter and arrangement of rocks for sitting, botellóning was common. Fun, fun night.

Valencia used to have the Ebro River going through the middle of it, but it kept flooding the city so they re-routed it. The riverbed is now a long, river-shaped park full of gardens and playgrounds and fútbol fields and what not. We came across a rehearsal of Grease down there. It was in Spanish. “Summer Nights” is better in English. We eventually got to the Ciudad de los Artes y Ciencias, which is a group of museums and the second (?) largest aquarium in Europe…or the world. It’s apparently amazing and therefore cost 30€ to get in. We didn’t go. The area was really cool, though.

One of my favorite touristy stops was the Fallero Museum. I really should have wrote this all down right away because I can’t remember the names of everything and I don’t feel like looking it up, but The Fallas Festival is in March and looks totally awesome. I’m coming back for it. It started out as a competition between the barrios of Valencia. Each group would make this huge sculpture thing and then at the end of the festival, they burn them. They are really complex, gigantic, and impressing whether they are on fire or not. The stereotypical resident of Valencia loves noise so there are a lot of fireworks both during the day and night. My mom’s been and she was telling me that it’s like a city-wide party. She didn’t know about any of the other places in Valencia I was telling her about because she only saw the city at night because she was there during festival time. The videos they showed and the parts of some of the winning fallas they had in the museum really made me want to go. It’s art, culture, and a party. What else could you want?

Valencia is on the Mediterranean coast so we naturally went to the beach. This beach was absolutely amazing. The water was much warmer than in Asturias/Cantabria and the waves were bigger and more fun to swim in. There were definitely some characters lying out around us. Other than the usual topless women and nearly naked men, there was this boy COVERED in sand running around in his underwear and floaties while his “parents” seemed to be enjoying some PG ménage à trois. We also witnessed a handie and plenty of dry-humping. I’m sorry if saying that is offense or you find it inappropriate, but life is apparently full of inappropriate Spaniards.

That night we were planning on going out to see the city, watch fireworks, or find some theatre to go to, but we ended up staying in a talking about music and editing pictures for about 3 hours. I didn’t expect to find such good friends here, but I’m starting to actually like these dumb Americans. =] Oh, and when I got back to Alcalá, I walked into our empty house only it wasn’t empty. There was a dog inside. We don’t own a dog. Good thing I’m pretty much a dog whisperer or else it would have been weird.

One of our last botellóns in Alcalá was one of the best. I had a slightly awkward situation with my family when I left but that’s going in my personal journal. We met a huge group of Spaniards in a park and did the whole, typical sharing of drinks that makes me feel all warm inside (in more than one way, I guess.). I was really proud of the fact that I found a two liter of pop for 29 cents. This time we made our way to a bar we frequently went to called Can-Can. It’s a basement bar that’s always full of smoke and music and dancing and creepy Spanish men. The girls I was with made friends with an Argentinean who kept giving them (and me by the distributive property of shot giving) shots. I don’t even think he worked there but he took them behind the bar and gave them soooo much alcohol. Then Laura and I did something completely awesome that I can’t tell you about. It was a good night until my nose started bleeding suddenly. No one in the bar had napkins or tissues, the bathroom was out of toilet paper, and I was gushing everywhere. The only thing I could find was…a tampon. I used it. Does that really surprise anyone?

My family was leaving that morning for vacation at around 530am. I wanted to eat breakfast with them before they left. It was about 545 and I was in the process of giving someone a piggy back ride home. I ended up dropping them and sprinting home. Oh, man. I know some of you in IC know what it means when you see someone running at night. Siiigh. I got home in time to say goodbye and everything. I’m kinda sad that I’m just now getting really comfortable with my family and good enough at Spanish that I feel like I can connect with them and base our relationship on something other than the fact that we share a house. For example, my sister hates Hannah Montana. I don’t know if she realized how happy this made me. Her, her friend, and my mom all commented on how much better I am at Spanish. Again, I don’t know if they realized how happy this made me.

Anyway, the real interesting thing happened the next morning. I woke up in an remarkable situation, which I don’t feel comfortable sharing via internet. It’s a good story, though, if you want to hear it in person.

This morning I climbed out my window and up to the roof of our building to watch the sunrise. I’ve been wanting to do it since I first got here, so I finally did.


Funny things I’ve learned in Spain:
The word for corkscrew is ‘sacacorchos,’ which I learned after asking the store worker “¿Dónde están las cosas para sacar corchos?” That’s about the same as saying “Where are those things for screwing corks?” She answered, “…..¿Un sacacorchos?” “….a corkscrew?” Me, “Eeeh, sí.”

I get much better at Spanish as a botellón goes on.

Laying in the grass with a friend is great no matter which hemisphere you’re in, especially when surrounded by rose bushes. Greatness.

My shadow looks good.

The roads are like sidewalks for cars.

You only live once apparently sums up my personality, at least that’s what I was told. Meow.

“Yeah, that’s how it starts, Justin, then next thing you know you’re kidnapping children.”

Spanish locks are confusing. I wanted to go out the other night. I couldn’t figure out how to open the door, so I stayed in.

My little sister is a figure roller-skater, a pretty good artist, wants to be a vet, hates her English class, and has more patience for me than anyone. I think I’m bad luck for her, though, because two of her birds and a kitten died while I was there. Her Guinea pig was fine though.