Senderismo

Oregon is not my home state, but my love for this state, that evades definition, abounds. As I continue to settle into Spain, echoes of what who I am, what I do and why I love it so much continue to resonate with in me. I could be having a perfectly lovely day, but then a treacherous thought of a previous Spencer’s Butte hike will sneak up on me, raining, figuratively of course (we aren’t in Eugene), on my sunny Sevilla day. Though I continue to miss Oregon and the amazing friends and fun I have there, I have found a bit of a remedy to my predicament of homesickness, that being “senderismo” or hiking. I have only been on two hikes in the nearly two months I have been here in Spain, but they have managed to lift my spirits more than I can describe. The first hike was in an a national park near Huelva, a region southwest of Sevilla. The 8 mile hike followed small paths used by animals, ancient Roman roads and cobbled streets through the towns we traversed. As we passed through a dry forest, my friend Hannah and I could not stop exclaiming to each other how much it looked like Oregon, how it smelled like Oregon, how it evoked the sensation that the next turn we took might just lead us to Eugene. Though no road turned into a street aimed for Eugene, the roads did reveal an astounding amount of history and culture of the region. One of the guides explained the changing culture of Spain after the Roman roads, that we were currently walking on, were constructed. He also explained the culture and lifestyle of rural living. He pointed out special gutters where water flowed, feeding cisterns when blocked with a stone. We tasted fruits and were warned off others, such as the dreaded “tapaculos” which essentially translates to “butt blocker”, a little berry that would make you constipated for a week if you hazarded a bite. At the half- way point, we stopped to devour our bocadillos or sandwiches prepared for us by our señoras. The little village we stopped in was described as very hippy, “aquí fuman mucho cannabis” (here the smoke a lot of weed) and was currently having a market for seed exchange, maybe we had, somehow, stumbled into Eugene! We continued on our journey, winding up steep roads and absorbing the fresh, crisp air that surrounded us.

            The Sierra Norte was the second region I visited to go hiking in. This hike was with my interest group, so rather than having fourty loud Americans traipsing through the idyllic Spanish countryside, there were only about fifteen of us, those of us who had not come down with a mysterious illness at three o’clock in the morning, the night before… After a two hour bus ride, we arrived at the trailhead. The guides reminded us to put on sunscreen, asserting that red is not the same as tan and that skin has a memory. After walking through shady trees by a cattle pasture, we found the trail, originally train tracks that have since been paved over. This hike was similar to the last hike, the guide explaining the fauna around us, me attempting to pretend I was in Oregon. My friends and I chatted in Spanish with our group leaders about differences betweent the United States and Spain, which language was harder to learn and other random topics that always faciliate conversation between people. We stopped and attempted to talk to some bulls and made our way off the path to rest by a waterfall for a while until we finally made it to the town where are bus was waiting. All in all and en enjoyable day spent in the sun, practicing Spanish in an environement that makes me happy. Hopefully the hike coming up in two weeks near Cádiz will be as enjoyable and informative as the past two.

Oasís en la frontera

Students sneak in one last cigarette as others chat and joke around before the bell signals them to start their day at Instituto Ramón Carande. Upon entering the institute one is greeted with signs that encourage sharing peace and camaradarie between themselves and the world. The halls are silent and empty, awaiting the presence of the 565 students that attend this school that Encarnación Quiroga, the school psychologist and academic coordiantor describes as existing in “the border between the city and las Tres Mil Viviendas”.

            Many of the students at Instituto Ramón Carande come from Polígono Sur, known also as las Tres Mil Viviendas,  a housing project conceived by the government of Sevilla in the sixties to provide housing to the marginalized, an attempt to avoid the creation of shanty towns. What has evolved from these intial efforts is a neighborhood surrounded by barriers.  Train tracks border the south,  a “wall of shame”lies to the east and the old River Guadaira lies to the west, creating a neighborhood described by Professor Ibán Díaz Parra as “vertical shanty towns.”

Physical barriers have geographically isolated the neighborhood while social barriers, created from delinquence, violence, drugs, and stigmas of Polígono Sur  lead to problems of marginilization and social exclusion. Yessi, a sixteen year old student from Las Letanías at Ramón Carande explained that she thinks that the United States has less delinquence becuase the “police are stricter”, preventing what Almudena, a 15 year old student from Los Amarillos at Ramón Carande described as “shootings in the street at people who were not to be blamed.” When asked about problems with drugs in her neighborhood, Jessi simply replied with an emphatic “Ufff” before continuing  with her description of her world. Though they hail from a marginalized neighborhood, where circumstances may prevent their success, Jessi and Almudena look to the future with hope. Jessi wants to work as an employee in a prison while Almudena wants to work in a daycare.  Both dream of visiting New York, iconic for the possibility it represents.

Almudena and Yessi are like any other girl in secondary school. They enjoy hanging out with their friends, spending more time in their house as the weather cools, and at times like to sing flamenco.. Like true sevillanas, they had an opinion about la Feria and Semana Santa, Almudena assuring me that though “Semana Santa is sad, this is what makes it beautiful.” They speak with a true andaluz accent and speak with their hands at times more so than with words, but theses two girls, Almudena and Yessi, have to battle stigmas that might cloud their  future plans. As described in an article from the Diario de Sevilla, “When the people of the neighborhood look for work, they never say they live in Polígono Sur.” Encarnación Quiroga gave another example of social exclusion due to these stigmas when she said that “some parents from la Oliva reject that their children go to school with students from las tres mil viviendas.” Aware of this, Quiroga helps to fight this stigma, saying she “works for coexistence”, helping students to adjust to their background in context of beliefs and opinions held by others. Quiroga facilitates an environment of coexistence with the other programs she coordinates such as orienting students to the university system, keeping track of their absences, identifying their areas of weakness from previous cycles of mandatory education and overseeing diversification groups or “remedial school”.  Diversification groups, where Quiroga instills her ideals of coexistence, are composed of students, including Almudena and Yessi, who are “good kids that have a lot of motivation” who may have some learning disabilities caused by gaps in their education, perhaps a lack of appropriate primary schooling. Gaps grow in the educational system due to schooling in poor neighborhoods and lack of motivation to learn. Gaps that cause half the students to drop out before they have finished their ESO, contributing to the dismal statistics of Polígono Sur where the illiteracy rate is high:  14.8 percent son analfabetos, 10.8 percent no han terminado ESO and only a small portion, 0.7 percent have finished their baccalaureate.

            Though the overall statistics do not show rapid improvemenet in housing developement, eradication of drugs, decreases in violence, unemployment or schooling rates, Instituto Ramón Carande offers hope. Though it resides in the “barrier between the city and las Tres Mil Viviendas” it serves as an oasis that fosters coexistence, peace, camaradarie and education. 

Aquí estamos contigo, Sevilla.

In my element.

I consider passion to be a plane of existence where one loses perception of the present, where the present becomes your passion, whether it concerns love, grief or any other entity. As many of my friends and family know, soccer or football, depending on your geographic location, is my passion. I do not follow one team specifically or hold loyal allegiance to a club or player, but rather the game is my passion. A couple of weeks ago, on a cool Thursday night, I attended my first European soccer game. Sevilla Fútbol Club were to play their northern opponent, Racing Santander, a team that my brother assured me would be no trouble for Sevilla. As we entered the stadium I got the goosebumps I always get before going to a professional soccer game, I just cannot help it. I know that soccer is just a game and that these professional players are not demi-gods to be worshipped, but they display an artistry on the field that never fails to amaze me. Not only do these players possess the endurance to run the distance of short marathon during each game, but also possess a dancer’s grace and the power of a sprinter. As we found our seats way, way up at the stadium, I observered the crowd that came to support their allegiance to a club that determines who your friends are from the beginning of pre-school. Mostly men in the crowd, not surprising there, many with a bocadillo (small sandwich) and a pack of cigarettes at the ready. This pack of cigarettes for many came to be a life saver (please, note the irony) for their nerves as Sevilla struggled to capitalize on any offensive momentum they gained and as they struggled to  recuperate and maintain an organized defensive back. After a sluggish twenty minutes or so, Sevilla was awarded a penalty that Negredo converted into a goal. Though not as impressive as a goal created through clean passes and a decent strike, Sevilla’s fans did not hesitate to roar their support for their club. Sevilla had several more decent attempts on goal that proved fruitless, until a break in their defensive line allowed Santander to slot in a decent goal in from a chip shot. At this point I would describe the stadium as resembling a chimney, due to fans nervously puffing on their cigarettes as the time ticked on. With 15 minutes left, Luis Fabiano, a Brazilian footballer who showed a remarkable ability to score goals at the past World Cup, came on to the pitch and attempted to spark Sevilla’s offense that was missing another dangerous offensive player, Jesús Navas, to an ankle injury. As the last minutes ticked by, fans began leaving the stadium, resigned to the fact that their club was destined to a tie. I, not being spoiled by having football so readily available to me, stayed with my group until the last second. Though not the result that many fans wanted, especially Nacho (a group leader) as far as I could tell by the interesting choice of words he chose to describe certain players skills and their mother’s reputations, I was more than satisfied to have had this experience. To be surrounded by an equally passionate football fans after weeks of encountering cultural differences was welcoming. Next stop, is a visit to Real Madrid’s stadium. Though I do not claim allegiance to any team, I follow Barça with more fervor then I ever could follow a team with Cristiano Ronaldo as its resident pretty boy. For now I will content myself with playing pick-up soccer near my house, until the next chance I get to enter the stage of my passion.

Cádiz

La Catedral de Cádiz

 Two Sundays ago, I traveled to Cádiz, a coastal city popular for its quaint beaches and beautiful cathedral. After a bus ride made short by reading the beginning of a Stieg Larrsen novel, we began our tour of Cádiz led by (I might as well be honest) our very attractive guide, Alejandro. Before beginning our tour, my group had to question Alejandro whether he enjoyed Lady Gaga's song, Alejandro...he didn't for some reason. The tour through the city was enjoyable, learning the history of Cádiz as the eventual port of the Americas after it moved from Sevilla, the popularity of the city's Carneval festival and general information about the history of the architecture within the city.

How did people throw euros all the way back there?

 After meandering through the streets, we stopped in the plaza in front of the cathedral to "tomar algo" (a coffee, tapa, or pastry). After enjoying a crispy, buttery croissant that made me question my allegiance to healthy eating, we began our climb to the top of the cathedral. After ascending a cork-screw type tower we arrived at the top of the tower. The sights that greeted my friends and me were quite simply breath-taking. The tower offered panoramic views of the white-washed city against the turquoise blue of the Atlantic Ocean. After taking too many pictures, I stopped to enjoy the fresh sea breeze that swept through the ancient tower, appreciating how lucky I am to be in Spain. After our cultural excursions we bee-lined to the beach where cool gentle water and warm sandy beaches awaited us. After hours of wading in the water, basking in the sun (while doused with spf 70 sunscreen) and strolling back and forth along the beach, we got back on the bus to head back to Sevilla. A break from the hustle and bustle of city life was just what I needed.

So you are saying this building is older than my country?

Light illuminates the soaring interior.
La Catedral de Sevilla

These past two weeks, I have been taking an intensive language class called "La Historia Cultural de España" or the Cultural History of Spain. This class is essentially a crash course in Spanish History seen through the architecture and city planning through-out central Sevilla. Wandering through the streets of a city seeing buildings that have been around since the 12th century and pillars that were built by the Romans really puts in to perspective for you how ancient Sevilla is. About three blocks away from the CIEE Study Center, where my class is located, is the Plaza de Salvador. It appears to be like many a European plaza, housing a delicious gelato shop, Mamá Guay, several cervecerías and a big dusky pink church. This church that I pass by everyday on my walk to school, something as I have viewed as beautiful but especially breath-taking was originally the first mezquita (mosque) in Sevilla, built in the 12th century. This church like many of the churches and buildings in Sevilla demonstrate the passage of time and the combination and duration of certain cultures. Buildings appear unassuming until you learn how long they have been around, and the vast amount of purposes they have served. Another church, the most impressive to me is La Giralda, connected to El Catedral. La Giralda serves as a type of rock core sample, showing when certain religions appropriated the building for their own. La Giralda built in the 12th century by the North African Almohades who were residing in Sevilla at the time was an alminar, or a building used to call Muslims to pray. In the 14th century, during the Reconquista (reconquering) of Sevilla, Christians added on top of it to make it a appear more church like. In the 16th century it was once again added on to during the Renaissance period.

La Giralda viewed from the courtyard

         Every single day in class, I get more amazed with the wealth of history in this town. Visiting different sites that add into the identity and the culture of Sevilla only makes me happier that I am staying here for the year. Though a year is only a moment in the context of Sevilla’s past, I hope to make some sort of impression on this vibrant city.

NO8DO

My friend Fran (Hola!) informed me this was more of a legend of Seville, rather than fact.

NO8DO is a symbol one sees everywhere in Sevilla. The number 8 represents a skein or coil of yarn or a “madeja”. If you say out loud No Madeja Do, it translates to the saying “No me ha dejado” or “It (Sevilla) has not left me”. These first four days have reminded me of a lot the people, places and habits that have not left me. Illinois and my wonderful, close-knit family has not left me. 
The morning walks with my dad and dog, Delilah, have not left me. Oregon has not left me. Nor have all the amazing friends I have, or the experiences I had there, have left me. Every so often, I remember I am here for ten months, and the thought makes my stomach flip. I also remember that after these ten months I will have made new friends, whom I have shared new experiences with. I will have lived in a new home for ten months and I am sure that in the future I will firmly represent NO8DO. This week has been a combination of exhilaration and frustration. Exhilaration because I have the opportunity to live abroad for a year in a beautiful, ancient city. Frustration because, though I have been studying Spanish since 8th grade, I can understand only about eighty percent of what is spoken to me and convey about fourty to fifty percent of what I want to articulate. I have hope. I know that if I keep on speaking Spanish and am studious with my classes I can reach fluency.  This week I have gained knowledge of the city on foot. It is amazing how new surroundings, a new culture, and the high probability of getting lost makes the blocks fly by. I live about thirthy-five to fourty-five minutes away from the school I attend, about a 1.5-2 mile walk. I have currently walked this route about 3-6 times everyday. Coming from an American culture that is car-based, especially in Bloomington, it is refreshing to enter a culture where walking, biking and public transportation supercede the car within this dense city. Some of my friends and other students have been complaining about all the walking, and I won’t say I have not thought longly of my Honda Civic, but the things one miss while driving is amazing. I treasure all the little interactions I see between people on the street, the near collisions I have with mopeds (sort of) and generally the feeling of well-used muscles. I currently live in Triana which is a neighborhood south of the Río Guadalquivir that passes through Sevilla. My host mother, Maria, and my host father, Antonio, are really lovelly people who welcomed me into their home. Maria makes amazing food that she is always urging me to eat more of, though I know no amount of walking will allow me to eat that much food, though I may want to. Yesterday, Maria made a tradational Spanish tortilla for me for dinner which consisted of eggs, cheese, ham and potatos all cooked to perfection on top of the stove. Antonio usually sits and watches TV during the day, programs that consist of the U.S. Open tennis tournament, soccer games, and badly dubbed Walker, Texas Ranger. Yes, you did read correctly, Walker, Texas Ranger (insert Ricky Bobby quote…). As if I could not take Chuck Norris seriously in the past, now I get to watch it with a dubbed over Spanish-version. I love it! It is hilarious! Today I did a bit of exploring, also known as, purposely getting myself lost in order to better acquaint myself with the irregular streets of Sevilla. It really is astounding how quick you can familiarize yourself with a city just by walking and taking the time to survey your surrounding, and of course grabbing a scoop of mango gelato to boost your spirits. Tomorrow my group is going on a three hour walking tour of Sevilla. Anyone know a handy cool weather dance that I could perfect and perform before tomorrow morning?

The Great Path Finder

Whenever any member of my immediate family: dad, mom, brother and sister, go to a new place, we like to strike the pose that we have dubbed “The Great Path Finder”. “The Great Path Finder” pose is reminiscent of a still shot off a sixties disco dance-off, with one arm akimbo and the other pointed off in at a forty-five degree angle to some glorious unknown. The pose has become a personification of my last week or so in central Illinois. Just as one holds the pose for the picture to be taken (it’s a family thing) my life has taken on those qualities. Time has slowed in Illinois as my friends and family return to school but I am still here until the day I head for Spain to seek new paths-linguistically, culturally, gastronimically and geographically. I am heading to Sevilla, Spain, located in the southern region of Spain, called Andalucia, for ten months. Ten months to explore a city where Jewish, Muslim, and Christian influences clashed and mingled, a city that houses the legend of the infamous seducer Don Juan, a city that showcases the art of bull-fighting and flamenco…to name a few. I want to explore these monuments that give Sevilla such a rich and beautiful history, but I do not want them to steer me from my own path, a path to find my own comfort and knowledge of a city that is to be my home for ten months. I keep repeating that to myself, ten months. I should be more nervous than I am, moving to Spain for ten months. I know I am going to struggle with my Spanish at first, I know I will experience culture shock, doubt my reasons for coming and experience a whole round of tumultuous feelings, but still I maintain this assurance that a lot, not everything, is going to work out. As my last week in Bloomington ticks by, relishing moments with my family, saying good-byes to old friends and generally haunting the library for new books, the only real fear I have is….How am going to get all my shoes to Spain?