A Break from Spain

A few weeks ago, I jumped on a plane and headed to Germany, the land of my ancestors. Wait, or was that Switzerland? Let’s go to mom’s side. Painter… sounds pretty English to me. And didn’t Grandma say her Grandmother was from Sweden who may have had a child who married an Irish man? And there were some Germans in there somewhere I think. Well this whole identity issue just got more complex.

I think we Americans with European roots are kind of funny about the whole land of our ancestors thing. We usually pick one country to identify with often leaving out another 5, 6, or even more that in reality could be given equal weight. “We’re Swiss.” “They’re Norwegian.” “She’s Italian. You know how Italian girls are right?” No, I don’t know how Italian girls are. I’ve never met one. Furthermore, the girl you’re referring to is American. And my all time favorite: The Irish. It’s always amazed at how many full blooded Irish-Americans I meet on St. Patrick’s Day.

I know some people can trace these things back better than others, especially more recent immigrants. It’s also true that some immigrant groups hold on to their group identity more than others for various reasons. I’m not trying to say it’s totally ridiculous to seek you ancestral past out. I would follow my family’s tracks from the beginning of human history if the data were readily available. It’s just the oversimplification of it all that bugs me.

Most of my life I thought about my European roots in this way. My family’s last name comes from a German speaking part of Switzerland so I have always thought about my ancestors as being Swiss-German. It doesn’t help that every time I have been abroad I have been mistaken for a German at some point. In my Afrikaans language course I took while studying abroad in South Africa my teacher mistook me for a German more than half the semester. I imagine this was one part appearance, one part cultural. When she finally realized I was American she told me I was the quietest American she had ever met. Most recently here in Spain out our introductory meeting for this program, one German girl asked me where I was from in the process of seeking out German companions amidst the mounds of English speakers. She told me I looked very German but in the end my extremely American Chiefs sweatshirt kind of gave it away.

Although I’ve grown to think more critically about ancestral roots in the past few years, I still couldn’t quite help myself from thinking I had some connection to Germany, or at least this region of Europe. And I do. But to me, it’s more about understanding the social me than the personal me. Certainly, being of Swiss-German descent has affected how I have existed socially as a white person in the United States of America with our history of racial discrimination in the paths most important for social mobility. It probably has less to do with why I like Bratwurst so much.

Ok, now to why you really clicked on this blog. The pictures.

I flew into Frankfurt friday afternoon and met my friend Elisabeth who I met while studying abroad in South Africa. We then took an hour long train ride to Marburg where she studies. My first impression was a less than steller-looking train station. Elisabeth told me it would get better. She was right. Here is historical Marburg with the castle on top of the hill.

 

We went out that night with a bunch of her friends. Fortunately there was plenty of good english among them. To get to the old part of town you actually take an elevator connected to a car garage 15 or so flights (or take the stairs). I had my first German beer. It could have been in my head, but it was probably the best beer I've ever had. Here are some of the German christmas festivities in the town.

Ah, bratwurst.

Visiting the Castle.

I once read in one of my classes about how the children and grandchildren of immigrants view their identity. The first children born in the new country (or those brought over as young children) often try to break with their ancestral identity to assert themselves as members of the new land. The next generation, however, becomes so fully assimiliated (this model was probably based on industrial immigration in the U.S., not all immigrants assimilate) that they actually seek out the customs and language of their ancestral past in order to assert their own uniqueness amidst the masses. I think many of us with European roots are stuck in the phase. Maybe we cling to these identities for the same reason third generationers do.

Jaénsgiving!

I knew this year's Thanksgiving would be a little different. It would be the first away from my family and country. Other than having my 21st birthday abroad in South Africa, this would be my first major celebration/tradition  away from the homeland. I did miss seeing my family but I was fortunate enough to have a video skype conversation with my entire immediate family and grandparents.

Despite missing my normal Thanksgiving, I couldn't have asked for a better one given the situation. I met in Baeza with what I believe are the nearest Americans (two hours away by bus) as well as a host of Spaniards, a Scot, and one from France. I first showed up to Mary Ann's (the Scot) apartment where they where cooking one of the turkeys. Mary Ann is on the left and Anna, one of two Iowans present, is on the right.

In a nearby apartment, Megan, another english teacher from North Carolina, was cooking some classic Thanksgiving dishes and desserts. Green bean casserole and pumpkin pie topped the list for me. It was great to have those tastes of home for a night. It made Jaénsgiving taste a bit more like Thanksgiving. After all the cooking was done we headed to one of the local bars where we would be eating. The end result looked something like this. There's Dave, an American from Colorado (who also become know as "Davy Gravy" at some point during the night), behind the counter pretending he was the master chef.

Here's the whole group sitting down enjoying the meal.

Of course it wasn't a completely American Thanksgiving. Mix Andalusians, food, drink, and a guitar, and you're bound to hear some flamenco at some point. The First Thanksgiving, at it's best, is a story of multicuturalism, right?

Well, that was my Jaénsgiving. Thanks to those who made it taste a bit like home.

Granada

I have a confession to make about Granada. I’ve been unfairly holding a small grudge against the city for some time now. It started when one of my college classmates who had studied there openly declared Granada the most beautiful city in the world. At the time, I had just gotten back from South Africa and had been quite taken with Cape Town. High off my own recent experience, I wasn’t open to such bold assertions.

Since arriving here, I’ve heard numerous Spaniards tell the story about the time Bill Clinton visited Granada and called the sunset from the Mirador de San Nicolás in the famous Albaicín neighborhood the most beautiful he had ever seen. The first few times I heard this I responded by reminding the person that Bill Clinton was not only a politician and therefore skilled in the art of dancing around the truth but that he was especially talented even by his occupational standard. However, I later admitted to myself that my response was clouded by my own contempt, however small it was. Furthermore, I had no real way of proving whether he was being genuine or not. I mean I’m fairly certain he did inhale that Marijuana cigarette and he did have sexual relations with that women but who knows, maybe it really was the most beautiful view he had ever seen.  

So that brings me to my trip. I went with a group of about five teachers from both Spain and the U.S. who all live in a nearby town. It was a good combination of people seeing the city for the first time and people who knew the landscape well enough to help those who hadn’t seen it get the most out of the trip. Having Spaniards there also prevented me from speaking English the entire weekend, which is always a good thing. Saturday we headed out to Albaicín, the historic neighborhood that holds the famous view that Clinton raved about. The hike up to the vista was done mostly on narrow cobblestone streets like this one below. 

We finally arrived to the Mirador de San Nicolás. Breathtaking, spectacular, and awesome were all inadequate to describe this view. It was the most beautiful combination of a human construction and natural backdrop I had ever seen. This photo doesn’t do it justice but it still may give you some idea of what I was looking at. La Alhambra is the main centerpiece seen here.

A little background on Granada: It was the last Muslim stronghold in Spain. Fernando and Isabel completed the reconquista here in 1492 and forced the last of the Muslims out of the country after 700 years of reign. La Alhambra (aside from being a great Spanish beer) was a palace and fortress built by the Moorish rulers of the Emirate of Granada in the 14^th century and was thus done in Islamic architecture. It was amazing to be in Europe and at the same time get to see such an incredible monument representing another civilization’s culture. Because we toured at night and my camera takes horrible night photos, I don’t have a lot of good ones. However, I will be back at some point to do a day tour. Here are some examples of the kind decorative display on the walls and ceilings throughout the complex. I often associate this kind of detail on such a large scale with renaissance Europe but La Alhambra was every bit of that, just in a different way.

After the trip to La Alhambra, we wanted to go out and experience the nightlife of Granada. However, it was still quite early to be going out by Spanish standards (it was only 10:30 or 11:00 if my memory serves me correctly). So we went out and had a few drinks and tapas before experiencing the real nightlife. In the process we ran into these people (seen below). I heard a few different takes on what exactly they were all about. The first person told me they were students who liked the university life (partying, going out, etc.) and never wanted to leave so they supported this existence by playing music for money. I then talked to another person from our group and was surprised to find out he was a former member of this group as he seemed very ambitious and driven. He told me that they play for events or upon private requests (say you had a girl you were in love with and you wanted to impress her). The second conversation doesn’t necessarily negate the first, but it did change my perception of them a little bit. Either way, they made for a great time.

Granada lived up. It was a great weekend with great people. And although I'm still partial to Cape Town, Granada is a close number two. Lastly, it wouldn't be a blog about Spain without a cathedral picture. Granada's cathedral was the grandest I have seen in Spain to date. 

Castilla y León (part 2)

Have you ever been to an old war battlefield? Actually being there is about the closest you can reasonably get to understanding that particular battle and time period on a personal level. But in reality, there’s only so much you do there. You can only hope for an interesting and informative museum to help you experience it more fully.

When I read the short history about Valladolid in my Lonely Planet Travel pdf that I purchased online (I forgot the actual book back home – grrr), I was intrigued. It was the place where Fernando of Aragón and Isabel of Castilla formed the super-marriage that would later unite Spain under internal rule following 700 or so years of Muslim conquest and domination. Valladolid was also expected to be Spain’s capital but was moved to Madrid in the mid 16^th century. Fray Tomás de Torquemada, Spain’s most famous inquisitor who symbolically put Jesus himself on trial was from here. Cervantes wrote part of Don Quijote while living here. Columbus died here…Ok, bored yet? Well not me. I felt like this was in many ways where Spain’s golden century started, and I wanted to experience part of that history firsthand.

But when I started to look for things to do there, there weren’t many museums or historical sites that reflected the things I was interested in. There was nothing to see involving the inquisition. It’s understandable I guess. It wasn’t exactly the brightest moment in Spanish history. There was a museum dedicated to the history of Valladolid but it was unfortunately closed the day I was there. I wasn't all that interested in seeing Cervantes's house...So for me, on this particular day, Valladolid was starting to resemble an old battlefield. I knew the history was there, I just didn't have a tangible way to really experience it. Finally, after doing some research, I came across a highly recommended Christopher Columbus museum that I hoped would satisfy at least part of my intellectual thirst for this city.

However, I still had a whole day to burn. Fortunately, when you travel you almost always run into cool things you weren't expecting. One of these was an art museum that I was told was the most important museum in the city. I can do art museums for a short time but I find that I end up spending around 75% of the time reading and contemplating the descriptions of the art as it relates to its particular historical period and only the remaining quarter actually looking at the art itself. I can only image what many of these artists would think of this. “Hey, it’s not like I spent years of my life on this sculpture or anything. Go ahead and spend all your time pondering that description someone copied from Wikipedia.”

Another surprise was the city’s Plaza Mayor. The Plaza Mayor in Valladolid at night stood in stark contrast to that of Salamanca’s arresting golden glow. The dimly lit shades of orange were warm and welcoming yet cool and laid back. It was a no-pressure date. I spent an hour just sitting and enjoying the pleasant tone of the night.

The Columbus Museum was both informative and visually appealing. I was pleased to see that a lot of effort had been put into making it above average. Unfortunately no pictures were permitted in the museum. However, I did snap a few good shots of the city throughout the day.

  La Plaza Mayor at night

Same location during the day

 

 One of the many cathedrals in the city

La Plaza de Zorrilla - best shot of the day

Castilla y León (part 1)

 I awoke in the darkness of the night once again. This stop, however, felt different. A sense of purity arose from the dimly lit, well-kept streets and buildings. The conversations around me now seemed a bit more mellow and clear. Minutes after we left the station a familiar yet breathtaking sight emerged: the city wall of Ávila. I was struck by the grandness of it all. I had seen the wall before on my last trip to Spain, but in an instant, I was reminded that places like this do exist in the world. Of course, most Spaniards don’t live behind massive city walls or in castles, but still, they DO exist, and they are jaw-dropping when you see them in person. I didn’t think to flash a picture, but I have this shot from my first visit here.

 I was glad to have woken up when I did, but I hadn’t come for this. I was going to Salamanca, the city in which I studied for a short time a few years ago. I got there around 11:30 p.m. friday night and had left La Puerta de Segura at 6:00 that morning. It’s not normally that long of a trip, but visa appointments and waiting for buses made it so. By the time I got there, tiredness and hunger were had fully set in. I checked into my hostel and quickly headed towards the central city. After a day like this, I needed something that was certain to satisfy. I love trying new food, but occasionally, new food lets you down. Not tonight. There was one place in town that would for sure end this exhausting day the right way: Burger King. A double bacon cheeseburger, fries, and a beer later, I felt like refreshed and ready to experience Salamanca once again. The city at night of course was stunning. I still haven’t seen much of Spain, but Salamanca’s Plaza Mayor (seen below) has to be one of its most impressive sights.

The next morning I decided to be a tourist. A felt a little silly going to the tourist center of a place I had previously lived for a month, but it was the only way to be sure of seeing some things I hadn’t the last time. First, I decided to see el Convento de San Esteban, a former convent of Dominicans. This particular group, while created in the 13^th century, dealt extensively with the issues involving what Spain considered the new world during the time of Columbus and later the expansion of Spain’s empire (late 15^th and after). Columbus spent time here (although this exact building had not been constructed yet) with Diego de Doza, a famous religious figure who helped introduce Columbus to Ferdinand and Isabella. The messages on the walls portrayed a commitment to democracy, eradication of poverty, and ethical treatment of indigenous peoples among other things. However, I couldn’t help but wrestle with the knowledge that Spain’s colonies, starting with Columbus, were not exactly centers for democracy and have struggled with it through their births as nation-states. Furthermore, Doza later became one of Spain’s more famous inquisitors in the effort to push all Jews, Muslims, and other non-christians from the country. I guess the fundamental question I was trying to figure out was whether this convent was providing religious justification for the expansion of an empire or  challenging the various unethical dimensions of the expansion based on religious principles. I still don't quite know that answer. I imagine there was some of both. There were references to genuine voices from this convent challenging human rights abuses in the Americas.

                                                    From the inside of San Esteban

Next, I went to meet up with my host family that I stayed with a few years ago. Out of all the host families that other students had that summer I can safely say I had one of the best, if not the best. I heard stories from some other students about families that did the bare minimum of their requirements. But Mari (seen below in our recent visit) did everything within her power to make my experience great. It was nice this time to actually be able to have a conversation with her. My spanish was far from conversational in 2008.

  

After our visit I strolled around a bit more. An art museum, a civil war museum, and this; the picture I never got the last time I was here. The old Roman bridge over el Río Tormes that runs along the southern edge of the city. Originally constructed in 89 A.D., 15 of the original arches remain today.

Beaches and Sheets

Think they have nothing in common? Think again. Now think grammatically. The long e sound right? Even though Spanish has a similar sound, native Spanish speakers sometimes have a little trouble producing the long e sound in English words usually sounding more like a short i. So today in my lesson on Halloween, when we got to the part about what people who dress up as ghosts wear, it was clearly time to clear up this little mispronunciation. Imagine a classroom full of 13 and 14 year old girls enthusiastically repeating back to you in unison; Shits! “No, sheeeeets” I reply to stress the sound a bit. “Shiiiiits” I hear. So the English teacher for that period asked me to explain the difference. Next, I took a comparative listening approach. Pointing to each word on the board I carefully annunciate, “Sheet, shit, sheet, shit.” They soon join. “Sheeiit, shit, sheeiit, shit.” I decided that was good enough progress for today.

Those that cannot be dubbed

In general, I dislike dubbing over other languages in TV or movies. For me, this is true of any language. I would much rather listen to any foreign language with English subtitles than listen to it dubbed over in my language. The same is true for Hollywood’s habit of presenting films in English set in foreign countries. I would much prefer to see the movie in the given country’s own language, but that’s just me. My taste in film tilts towards linguistic and cultural accuracy over high action, special effects, and the presence of Hollywood megastars.

When it comes to dubbing, there’s not only the obvious annoyance of not getting to hear your favorite character’s voice. It seems like the people doing the voice over can’t quite match the emotion that the actor or actress is displaying. In Spain, you can get a lot of American TV shows, all of which are dubbed in Spanish. Although artistically I dislike dubbing, in this case I can’t deny that if these shows were presented in English, I would lose out on a lot of listening practice. TV is a great tool for learning another language. That being said, I still have my limits when it comes to dubbing. There are some characters on TV or in movies that just need to be heard for themselves. Here are my top five characters I’ve seen on Spanish TV that just can’t be dubbed.

5. Rachel from Friends (Jennifer Aniston)

Ok, I mainly put this one here so I would have five instead of four. I really don’t have many issues watching this show in Spanish. However, I’m sure to any hardcore Friends fan all 6 characters would have made the list. But, I will say that out of all the voices on the show, I seem to miss hers the most.

4. Steve Urkel from Family Matters

At this point it was still more amusement than frustration. However, I’m still trying to figure out if Urkel sounds more like a seven-year-old boy or a 93-year-old grandmother. I'll let you decide for yourself.

3. Homer Simpson from The Simpsons

This is where it really starts to get hard to watch. The Spanish voice of Homer is simply far too dignified to match his actions. How can you show up to a high school reunion with a plunger on your head and not sound the part?

2. Horatio Caine from CSI Miami (David Caruso)

Can he at least say his one-liners in English? The people here just don’t know what they’re missing.

1.  The Dude from The Big Lebowski (Jeff Bridges)

           

This one made my ears bleed a little. I was flipping through channels and saw the movie was on. I immediately changed the channel to avoid the inevitable botching of everything great The Dude represents. But my curiosity for the obscene got the best of me. I don't have anything catchy to say here. It was as expected, truly disturbing. I'm sure The Dude would not abide.

Introduction

I know. Just what the internet needs. Another 20 something American in Europe with little to no adult responsibilities babbling on and on about Spanish tapas. But more on those later.

I know some people have taken a mild interest in what my life is like here in Spain and this seems like a great way to provide a little insight. From October to June I will be teaching English in a Spanish high school. I'm not exactly and official teacher. I'm a "cultural and language assistant" for teachers of English or other bilingual classes such as science, P.E., and music. I plan small activities, help with things like pronunciation, and generally just try to communicate as much as possible in english so the kids can have as much exposure with a native speaker as possible.

The program is done through the Spain's Ministry of Education. They accept around 2,000 recent college graduates a year from mostly from the U.S., Canada, and the U.K., and to a lesser extent from other European countries who will assist in teaching their given native languages. When applying you're given the option of choosing three preferential regions (basically like states), an urban or rural site, and whether you would like to work with younger or older kids. I was given my first choice of working in the region of Andalucia (the southern most region) and was able to work with older kids. My actual teaching site, however, is very rural. It's a small town of around 2,500 people (nearly 6,000 using the metric system!) in northeastern Andalucia called La Puerta de Segura. At times, I would definitely prefer something a little bigger where there are more things to do and I could be a bit more anonymous. However, everyone I've met has been very friendly and willing to help me with whatever I needed. All and all, I'm happy to be here.

That's it for now. Don't worry, I'll get to tapas soon enough.

If there's anything you would like to know about, leave a comment and I'll try to work it in to a later blog.