Ganga

ganga = bargain

I learned this word in Creative Writing today. Our professor asked us to write poetry using a list of random words people had written before class, and "ganga" was one of them. Then he asked us to write a poem that rhymed, and used "bufanda, ganga, and cucaracha." Here's what I wrote:

La sucia bufanda
Ya está de ganga
Porque en su lana
Vive una cucaracha

I thought I was funny. No one else did.

He also asked us to write a few sentences about our impressions of Sevilla thus far. I was at a loss for words. I get asked this question a lot by just about every Spaniard I meet, and I never know how to answer.

I know why they ask me. They want to hear the awe-struck way everyone describes the Andalusian city: maravillosa! Every report I've ever heard of Sevilla has been of a romantic and charming city with the scent of fresh oranges in the air and a constant soundtrack of children's laughter. But this just describes the tourists' Sevilla; the ideal city of that Amazing Week in May.

The orange aroma that floats in Real Sevilla is mixed with the smell of churros, car exhaust, dog shit, expensive perfume, and fresh rain. The noises of children's laughter is often supplemented by the chastising "Coño!" of madres, car horns, dropped s's, and foreign tongues. I realize I have ended my honeymoon phase; I no longer feel the need to photograph every traffic sign or pig's leg hanging above a bar. I've entered a phase in which I see the real Sevilla for all it is, benefits and faults, but rather than idolize them as quirks, I am beginning to live with and appreciate them. This place is really starting to feel like home.

But, as for the aforementioned question, the one every person who studies abroad is asked, I don't think it's possible to answer in a few sentences. Sevilla is so many things: picturesque, rainy, accommodating, sleepy, musical, unintelligible, expensive, friendly, creepy, y mucho más. It's hard to articulate in English, let alone Spanish.

So how do I respond?
I laugh nervously and say, "Me...gustan... las...palmeras" (I like the palm trees).

Coger

coger = in Spain, "to take" (classes, for example) or "to get". In Latin America however... I'll let you look that one up.

Classes in the university have started this week, and that's literally been the only thing on my mind since then. I am currently "shopping" for different classes, trying to find interesting subject matter taught by professors who speak clearly and who do more than sit at their desk. Easy, right? Hah.

Before I get to the professors, I'd like to describe the university. One of the coolest things about Cornell is how old some places are. University of Seville blows it out of the water. (That photo is of a fountain in one of the many courtyards). The History/Philology departments are in the old tobacco factory, which was built in the 18th century and is the setting for Bizet's Carmen. History oozes out of the cracks; it's remarkable. But don't worry, I shan't "confuse the smell of old buildings with learning." (BryanPoints to whomever can name what I am quoting)

That also means that it is impossible to navigate. Rooms are eclectically numbered with a mix of roman numerals and regular numbers. Asking directions is usually fruitless:

“Perdón, dónde está aula XXII?”

“lmvadfnwdocmgwedfinhgytzjnxop” -intense gesticulation-

“Repite, por favor, con más despacio”

“LMVADFNWDOCMGWEDFINHGYTZJNXOP” -more intense gesticulation-

Most people don't know how to slow down their speech. But (un)luckily, I stumbled into a high-security area and the security guard--after patting me down like a potential threat--pointed me in the right direction.

Now, on to classes. I have visited: Escritura Creativa (keeper), Historia del Cine (maybe too hard), Lope de Vega (definitely no), Espana Actual (not this section) , America Prehispanica (way too hard), Historia Contemporanea de Andalucia (unbearably awkward), Espana Actual (better professor), Historia contemporanea de Iberoamerica (maybe), Antropologia de la Salud (not sure), Relaciones Internacionales del siglo XX (really boring)

Yes, that is a lot.

Just a note: the professor for Prehispanic America (which is really interesting--aztecs and incas and such) speaks way too quickly. So quickly that even he admits that he talks fast. To understand what I mean, turn on Univision. Press fast forward once. Now imagine them talking without saying any s's. Welcome to that class.

One really interesting thing about some of these classes are the students. Most Spanish students are unbelievably cliquey (they have known these people since kindergarten, after all), but I have met a bunch of people from other European countries. I bonded with this French girl in my America Prehispanica class over our non-ability to understand fluent Spanish. It's cool how the only way we can communicate is through a language neither of us has completely 100% mastered.

Anyway, I am going to try to take Neuroethology (possibly the only class that can earn me some useful credit) tomorrow, which is in a completely different building and requires a bus to get to. Wish me luck.

Viejo Verde

un viejo verde = a sketchy old man

They are everywhere. And girls aren't the only ones who have to watch out for them!

A couple weeks ago, a few friends and I went out for the first time in Triana, my barrio (neighborhood). We went to a bar and got a few beers. So, after I ordered, we stood by the bar and this old man who was sitting there eating peanuts grabbed my arm. I looked at him, and he said, in Spanish:
"You! You're from around here, not like your friends!" -spits peanuts at me-
"No..."
"Then where are you from? Madrid?" -more peanuts-
"No, the United States"
"But you look so Spanish!" -even more cacahuetes-
"Thanks..."

Then I walked away.

20 minutes later, he walked up to us again, and we had the same exact conversation. Then he began to tell me how pretty my friend was and other stuff I did not really understand. One peanut shower and many awkward laughs later, we left.

I guess I do look sort of Spanish. I am short and dark-haired, after all. Wait until they see me with my long hair. But I don't know...You'd think my big Jew Nose would give me away! A lot of Spaniards mistake me for a native. I get stopped on the street by people wanting directions twice a day, and they always look surprised when I talk to them like a three year old. Some talk to me in English, but I just ignore them and pursue in Spanish.

El botellón

botellón = a big pregaming session that takes place on the streets. You usually bring your own alcohol and just drink with everyone outside.

Yes, I went to a botellón this past weekend, and yes, it was pretty fun. I wish there had been more Spaniards there, though. Practically everyone was American; I don't know how to escape them! The most contact we had with a drunk Spanish person was when some belligerent guy came up to me, hugged me, and garbled some intelligible Spanish in my face. Then he proceeded to take a full wine bottle from one of the girls on my program and smash it on the ground.

The night life here is pretty crazy. Firstly, people don't go out until midnight, at the earliest. You can usually start the night off at a botellón or a bar. As the weather gets warmer (it's already pretty warm--60 degrees every day and about 50 degrees at night), more and more Spanish people seem to come out of hiding. And everyone gets a drink in a bar and hangs out in the street. You can go bar-hopping too, if you wish.

After you get tired of the bars, or sometimes the bars close, you can head over to a discoteca and dance forever. People usually stay out until 7am and go to breakfast afterwards! I can't handle that yet. Once it hits 5am, I transform into a sloth, and need to head home. (Although, churros con chocolate are amazing at that time too.)

I've been having trouble meeting Spanish people. My total count of young Spanish people I've met is: 3. Oscar and two of his friends. Wooo. I'm sure this will improve once University classes start next week. (!)

El brasero

el brasero = a heating device placed underneath a table, underneath blankets. When the blankets are lifted, you can put your feet near the heat and warm yourself up. My "madre" (the woman whose house I'm living in) uses it frequently.

Why?

Because the homes here do not have central heating and are designed to stay very cool to make the summers tolerable. As a result, it is always colder inside my house than outside... a weird sensation in the Winter. I'm forced to wear pajama pants to bed and slippers when I walk around. If I had a bathrobe I'd pretend to be Hugh Hefner.

My apartment is nothing like the Playboy mansion, however. Shocking, I know. It is anything but. A euphemism for it might be "quaintly crowded." It consists of two bedrooms: one for me and my roommate, the other for my madre and her 22-year old son, Oscar. Yeah, they share a bedroom.

Then there is the tiny bathroom that we all share with a 2-square-foot shower and a pull-chain toilet. There is also a modest kitchen, a living/dining room, and a TV room. Each room seems smaller than it actually is because they are cluttered with items--broken computers, old flat screen TVs, frames of family photos, clocks that have long since run their course, tacky trinkets from who knows where, worn-out books, and more.

I think Oscar may have had a job fixing computers. Now he just sleeps all day and plays video games all night. He is part of the "generación ni-ni," which means he "ni trabaja ni estudia," or doesn't work or study. It is something like 15% of kids ages 16-25. Most are not motivated to get a job or go to school, so they live at home with their parents. (It is actually very common for Spanish people to live with their parents until they get in a serious relationship or get married, so it could last a while...)

Curiously, "Generación ni-ni" is also the name of an MTV Real World-esque show. I haven't figured out what it's really about yet.