I cry at the same time every week,
As precise as a clock ticks away the hours.
These tears will continue to fall,
So I am training them to drip down my cheek
Like the tick of a clock.

Society:
You have stolen my identity.
I used to know who I was,
But you fill my every waking moment
With an endless list of tasks,
Leaving me stressed, anxious, exhausted,
Broken.

It has been oh so long!
Since I had time to do something for me,
Something that I want to do,
That I do not now know
What I would do.

Addressing you thus,
My list of tasks has increased,
I must leave--

Comma:
I don't know where to put you.
I use you as if you're part of my nature,
But then you clutter my page
Until the reader is out of breath
Due to your numerous pauses.

But you have so many rules
That in the end my head spins
Either from lightheadedness from your pauses
Or from trying to understand your bureaucratic laws.

I can't live with you,
But I can't live without you.
I only know I can use you before "but" and "which!"

I am addicted to you
And still you surprise me
With your convoluted intellect.
You will always fill me with awe
And humble me in my ignorance.

The unshaved man with the ripped shirt and dirty fingernails
Is at the library again.
He picks up cigarette buts that were ground into the dirt
And relights them,
Hoping for a taste of tabacco to relax him.
Rejected from society yet forced to view it everyday.
No glass separates him from "normalcy,"
But there is an invisible barrier.

The people see him and move away--
To avoid the smell.
For the passersby, it's as if he doesn't exist,
A mar on a clean dish that everyone ignores.
He is lower than a ghost,
Who can at least solicit emotion.

By ignoring him, people deny him his
Humanity.
However, those who ignore him are more
Inhumane.

(Originally written Wednesday, October 3, 2007)

Hola a todos!

Well, this is my 6th week in Alcala. Things are starting to settle down. I am
used to being able to buy alcohol and drink in bars, which means the shock of
returning to the US will be even worse. I'm joking; drinking here is very
different from the US and I only go out a few times a week now, not every day.
Since I'm on the subject, let me talk about night life.

Primero, I'll tell you about general nightlife. Since Alcala is in the
autonomous community of Madrid, it has quite a few bars, most of which I
haven't even seen. There are some bars dedicated to foreigners, which are the
ones I mostly know about. There is an Irish Pub on the main street, which has 2
for 1 drinks on Tuesdays, so a lot of people go there on that day. It's a lot to
drink for me (I don't need that much alcohol, as many of you know) so I will
usually share with someone else. As I said, the drinking here is different.
Drinking is mostly social and you will see very few Spaniards actually drunk.
Wednesdays we usually go to Cafe Antiguo, where I will be going in 2.5 hours
:). I don't remember if there are any drink specials today. Usually there is a
discount on beer before 11pm, but I don't drink beer, so I don't pay much
attention (I know, I need to learn to appreciate it. It's a long-term project).
The atmosphere in Cafe Antiguo is pretty laid back, the music comes on at 11pm
and usually the Americans will start dancing. The Germans rarely dance, unless
they have had a few drinks, and Spanish men mostly just watch. With guys
watching, it's much easier to dance after having had one drink, but sometimes I
just talk to my friends and sing along with the songs. Thursdays there are 2
bars. Nate, one of the guys from AZ, his host dad co-owns a bar, so we go there
about midnight and when it gets really busy, 1-2am, we will switch to Can-Can.
They switch between free beer and free sangria every Thursday until they run
out. I really like going there because there is a dance floor and there are so
many people that no one can usually see me dancing. :) The only thing that I
don't like about the bars is that people are allowed to smoke inside them, as
well as restaurants. So at the end of the night, the smell is on my clothes, in
my hair, and I can smell it when I go to sleep unless I shower before going to
bed.

That's roughly the night scene in Alcala thus far. I think we will start trying
out new places soon, and I will let you know how they are. Now, I'll take you
to a disco in Madrid: El Kapital.

El Kapital is a 7 floor disco in Madrid. It costs 20 euros to enter, which
includes one drink. If you get hard alcohol with a mixer, it's worth it. Don't
make the mistake of ordering a beer. Water, oddly enough, costs 5 euros inside.
So I left very dehydrated. There is only one full floor. There they play techno,
which is terrible to dance to, and have professional dancers that are basically
half naked. After every song, a huge spray of white mist shoots down and blinds
you, but also cools you down. Although it felt good to be slightly cooler for a
few seconds, it's probably unsanitary and the reason I was sick the following
week. Did I mention that El Kapital is an experience? The top floor didn't have
a ceiling, and the fresh air was wonderful. Being in the city, it was too bright
to see stars. I haven't seen stars in a while now. I wonder if they still exist.
At any rate, all of the other floors are about half that size and have different
themes. One had Spanish music, but mostly they all played techno. There was a
kareoke spot, but the microphones didn't work. It also wasn't the best
environment because of the cigarette smoke and everyone was incredibly drunk
and ridiculous. My friends and I didn't really want to pay 10 additional euros
to buy more drinks, so we were sober most of the night. Also, rule #1 when
you're a girl in a disco: do NOT talk to any boys that you don't know. EVER. Be
rude, they're so drunk that they won't remember you 2 minutes later. That was my
mistake, but I won't go into that. Luckily, Nate, the only guy to come along
with the group, made sure that the guys didn't get fresh with us girls. We left
El Kapital at 5:30am.

Two weeks ago was Noche en Blanco in Madrid. It's an event that goes to a few
major cities in Europe, such as Rome and Paris. It is supposed to be an all
night event, but most of the museums and gardens are closed by 3am at the very
latest. We should have planned it better so we didn't have to wait in lines,
but what can you do? The Prado, Palacio Real, the botanical gardents, and other
museums were open and free. Unfortunately, the lines were so long that we only
ended up going into the Botanical Garden, which had music and poems read
throughout. All in all, there were one million and a half people walking the
streets of Madrid that night. That was the most amazing thing to see. Except
for the fact that the moon was out, you would have thought it was rush hour,
but with a lot more people. We left at about 5am, pushing our way onto the one
bus back to Alcala. To get our way to the bus station, we had to ask Spaniards
for directions. I am happy to say that I talked to about half a dozen people
and understood them perfectly, and they understood me. Finally all of the years
of Spanish classes are actually helping me!

So, I know I said I would talk about Barcelona in this blog, but it's already
pretty long. Therefore, I will make you all wait in agony until the next
installment. Go relax in a cafe or bar with a beer, or sangria/tinto de verano
and watch the people walking by. It's amazing how time passes when you do that!

(Originally written Thursday, September 27, 2007)

Hola a todos!

Wow, can you believe that I've been here 5 weeks already? And, true to form,
I've gotten pretty busy (can you tell?). So, if I haven't responded to your
emails, I'm sorry. I have read them, I appreciate them, and I hope you will
keep sending them. Next week I will try to be better.

Let me start with some general things about Spain, something I happen to love:
food. Before arriving, I heard that Spanish food isn't very seasoned and not
too tasty. While it lacks the spiciness of Mexican food, and spices in general,
the mixture of the actual elements is what adds the flavor. For instance,
tortilla espanola. It's like an omelet, but will less egg, lots of potato, and
some onions. It is amazing! Obviously, salt and olive oil are added. I think
that olive oil is part of every dish. The salad dressing is usually salt and
olive oil, maybe a little vinegar. Sometimes it's simply mayo, which isn't as
bad as you think. My "mom" has also made broccoli soup, white asperagus, which
is amazing, pasta, which is mostly cheese and a little sauce, and a double
layer tuna sandwich. There is another Spanish dish that I love, but I don't
know the name. It looks like a big tater tot, but inside is very tender meat.
It's deep fried and probably very unhealthy, but that's another reason to like
it, right? Surprisingly, I don't eat much dessert here. "What?!?" I can hear
you asking, "what have they done to our dessert fiend?" Well, I'll tell you why
I don't eat dessert everyday. My favorite dessert here is an ice-cream cone that
is lined with chocolate inside and out, and filled with chocolate frosting. It's
so overwhelming that you don't want chocolate for the next few days. There's
ice-cream, which is nothing compared to Italian gelato, but it's still nice,
and then there are tons of cream-filled or chocolate-filled pastries. If you
want a real treat, get the marzipan from Toledo. Absolutely amazing. So, I
usually only eat dessert twice a week or so. Since they cook with so much olive
oil, I always feel full, and therefore don't snack at all. I have a cafe con
leche in the morning, lunch at 2:30pm, and dinner at 9pm. Looking at the times,
it seems impossible that I'm not hungry, but so it is. Although I could talk
more about food, I should continue.

The weather here, at least in the Madrid area, is very similar to Tucson,
Arizona (thank goodness because we all know what a desert rat I am!). It's a
semi-arid grassland, so it's dry and hot. Until a few days ago, the high was
about 37 Celcius, which is about 98 degrees Fahrenheit, with the morning
starting at 17 Celcius, which is about 70 Fahrenheit. So it's almost a thirty
degree temperature change (in Fahrenheit) everyday, just like the Old Pueblo.
It's also a dry heat, so my hands are just as dry as they are back home.
Unfortunately, the weather changed yesterday or the day before. That means I
walk to school when it's 10 degrees Celcius (I don't even want to calculate
that one!) and the high is about 25 Celcius, or 75 Fahrenheit. I'm glad I
brought warm clothes, but it's not even October yet! I don't even want to think
about December! So, let's change the subject.

Bull fights. I promise this is the last time I bring this up. If you want more
information after this, I'll email you personally. Last Sunday I want to a bull
fight in Madrid, Las Ventas: the bull fighting capital of the world. I got in
for 10 Euros because it turned out to be a novillada. Regardless, it was in
Madrid and these toreos-in-training were better than the real toreos I saw in
Alcala, which is still in the province of Madrid. Hemingway said that you will
see the matadors shaking and that the kills won't be very good, which will lead
you to appreciate a real corrida. Well. He was partially right. Of the 6 bulls
killed, only one was a bad kill, which means that the toreo had to try to stick
the sword in more than once. And these guys weren't shaking. They had trouble
keeping their feet glued to the ground when they were doing the "ole" (I forgot
the real term), but they would just take a few steps. The best guy was from
Ecuador, but he only killed one bull because he got so close that he was
knicked. That was entertaining. He was right next to the bull and the next
thing you know, he was on the ground. Luckily the bull was attacking his cape,
so he got up, finished tiring the bull out, and killed him cleanly. He didn't
even dance around from nerves. It was very impressive. The second best was a
guy from Sevilla, who was 21 years old, and he killed 3 bulls. He did a good
job, but no tricks and tired the bull out almost too much. The last guy was 24
years old and from France. He did the one bad kill. What can you do? I wish it
had been a real corrida, but it was still better than the corrida in Alcala.
There is one last one October 6, if anyone wants to go see it. I might. I'm not
sure yet. I still maintain that it isn't absolutely terribly violent. It
originated from a pagan sacrifice, which is why there are the bandilleros, the
picadores, and the toreo. However, as Hemingway states, different people react
differently. Seemingly prissy girls can love bull fights, whereas the most
macho men cannot stomach them. It depends entirely on your disposition. If
you're going to go, keep an open mind. If you plan on concentrating on the poor
bull, you will hate the corrida, I guarentee it. But if you think about the
toreo, facing death straight on and how difficult it is to get so close and not
jump away, a toreo trying to perfect this art, then it really is beautiful.
Regardless, I will not be able to convince you one way or the other.

Well, like usual, my email has rambled on for a good while now. I am going to
Barcelona this weekend, so you lucky people will be able to hear all about it
next week. I will also cover nightlife in Spain, from Noche en Blanco, to the
seven floor disco in Madrid, to the bars and discos in Alcala.

(Originally written Thursday, September 20, 2007)

Hola a todos!

I don't know about all of you guys, but time here is passing way too quickly for
me! It's lucky for you I'm an English major, otherwise I'd probably stay another
semester. So, let me back track and fill you in on things that have happened a
while ago, but that I didn't have room to tell you about.

My first week here was Orientation, which was rather worthless. Learning that
cough drops are only in a farmacia, where to buy notebooks, how to send
packages, and all of the other important stuff was left out. Well, it made for
interesting conversations here. Anyhow, one nice thing about Orientation was
that they took us to Madrid on Friday. After the "official" tour was over, one
of our teachers, Edgard, took us on another. We walked all over Madrid and
ended up at the Royal Park, which I still haven't completely seen. As you might
imagine, you can't cover Madrid in one day, so he took us back on Sunday. All of
the museums are free on Sundays, so that first Sunday, we went to the Prado.
It's so big, I don't think I even covered half of it, and we were there three
hours. To give you an idea, there isn't one book on the Prado that you can buy,
only sections, and each book is about 200 pages. However, Edgard knows his art
history, so it was like having a personal guide. Las Meninas was my favorite by
far. It's so surreal to see something in real life when you've seen it in books
so many times. Like everything in Spain, Edgard compared it to Don Quijote, and
how you can't pick the center of the painting, similar to the book. Anyhow, I'm
planning to go back to the Prado this weekend. Saturday night is Noche en
Blanco, which is when Madrid opens all of its museums and sets up booths with
goods and EVERYONE goes out from 11pm until 7am. I cannot wait!!

Last Friday, we went to Toledo. Oh my gosh, I fell in love without setting foot
in the city! There's so much history, it's impossible to tell you everything I
learned. One monastery has the real shackles of Spanish slaves hanging on the
outside. We went into the house of Samuel Levi, a prominent Jew in the
fifteenth century or so, who was treasurer. He has a synagogue in his house!
Then we went into the Cathedral, which is the 4th largest in all Europe and
took 300 years to build. If you go inside, you'll understand. It's so big and
there's so much art work; I could spend an entire day only there and still not
see everything! Art history students have written their theses (plural? Sorry,
no hablo ingles) only on one of the doors. Basically, it's incredible. Toledo
is known for its knives and marzipan. Toledo is amazing, too amazing to convey
in an email, so if you ever come to Spain, I would give Toledo at least 2 days,
and it IS a must-see!

Now onto classes. Mondays and Wednesdays I have 2 classes. My first one is
Espanol Superior, a class that's already gotten my mind spinning with grammar I
thought I knew already. Next I have Cervantes y su obra. Who comes to Spain and
doesn't study the demi-God Cervantes? Especially in his birth place?!?
Seriously, Quijote is huge here and has influenced basically every part of the
life here. FYI, 'quijote' is armor that protects the thigh muscle. That's only
one funny thing in the story. Tuesdays and Thursdays I also have two classes. I
start with a speaking, writing, and listening course, which is basically
grammar, phonetics, reading, and speaking, and requires a second cafe con leche
after class is done. I finish the week off with 20th century Spanish writers,
which is actually my favorite class. We read Unamuno earlier this week, and I
was so impressed by the portion of Niebla, a great modern novel, that I bought
it and am starting to read it. I've been really good about not buying books,
actually (amazingly!). It's the first fun book I've bought. A cool thing about
the teachers here is that we'll see them at the bars that we frequent. It's
quite nice, actually. Most people drink in moderation, and it's nice to know
that teachers have normal lives and go out and party. It's also nice that the
drinking age is 18 here :) Don't worry, everything in moderation; my parents
taught me well.

Although I said I was going to cover food and weather in this blog, I'm afraid
it's already too long. Here's what's up for next week:

-food
-weather
-El Kapital (7 floor disco in Madrid that I went to last weekend)
-Noche en Blanco
-Madrid bullfight
-nightlife in Alcala

Love you all! Hasta luego!

Lily

"Your conformity explains nothing. Act singly, and what you have already done singly will justify you now."
--Ralph Waldo Emerson

"Anyone who proposes to do good must not expect people to roll stones out of his way, but must accept his lot calmly if they even roll a few more upon it."
--Albert Schweitzer

"Difficulties increase the nearer we get to the goal."
--Goethe

"I know nothing about sex because I was always married."
--Zsa Zsa Gabor

"Any poet, if he is to survive beyond his 25th year, must alter; he must seek new literary influences; he will have different emotions to express."
--TS Eliot

"Just don't give up trying to do what you really want to do. Where there is love and inspiration, I don't think you can go wrong."
--Ella Fitzgerald

"The only thing better than singing is more singing."
--Ella Fitzgerald

"Better to do something imperfectly than to do nothing flawlessly."
--Unknown

"To be stupid, selfish, and have good health are three requirements for happiness, though if stupidity is lacking, all is lost."
--Gustave Flaubert

"War is a series of catastrophes that results in a victory."
--Georges Clemenceau

"Oh! do not attack me with your watch. A watch is always too fast or too slow. I cannot be dictated to by a watch."
--Jane Austen

"Love is never lost. If not reciprocated, it will flow back and soften and purify the heart." Washington Irwing

Recently in one of my English classes, my professor mentioned that one year her entire class could not think of an insult that did not trace back to women. For instance, "mother fucker," implies disrespect to one's mother; "bastard" refers to a baby born out of wedlock and therefore the loose morals of the mother, and the list goes on.

Thanks to the wonderful internet, I learned a new word today: "himbo," which is a male version of a bimbo. Now there is a word that means an attractive man who uses his looks to his advantage, but is really unintelligent. Interestingly enough, I am not sure if I fully agree with the creation of this word. On the one hand, we now are on the cusp of an era where insulting words are equal between the sexes. That is to say, that there will be as many insulting words for men as there are for women. Feminists only wanted equality; this includes equality through language.

On the other hand, is it right to have such words to begin with? Should people be judged and insulted because nature did not grant them intelligence? Should people be judged because they openly worship the body of the opposite sex? Should people really be judged at all? Judgement prevents people from feeling comfortable being individuals and therefore, we now have a world full of clones.

However, at least western culture has a foundation of judgements. Thanks to organized religion, we have a set of laws and rules and those who don't abide by those rules are punished and judged. This is not necessarily a bad thing because without rules, everything would be chaos. Yet perhaps it would be best not to judge each other as harshly as people tend to do nowadays.

Oh, the ethics of language. Always changing, a wonderful thing to study. :)

(Originally written Saturday, September 15, 2007)
Hola a todos!

Life here has become more like home, but has not calmed down at all! Every
weekend there's another city to visit, another bar/disco to go to, and since I
don't have that much homework, I have plenty of time to do it all!

Many of you emailed me about the bullfights and why I find them fascinating.
Well, I'm going to one in Madrid tomorrow night (the capital of bullfights in
the world) so next blog I will go into that in depth with a new fight in mind.
As for the cruelty, what about wrestling and all of the human violence on TV?
Also, there have been 2 student deaths at the U of A these past few weeks and
everyone here is desensitized to that. Isn't that sad? What I mean to point out
is that violence is part of life in America these days, which is terribly sad,
but we've all adapted to live with it. As such, the only difference with the
bullfight is that the bull actually dies and there are no special effects.
However, I'll talk more about this and the art form in my next blog.

Another question was my family here. Arita is 46 years old and separated from
her husband. After they separated, about 4 years ago, she started hosting
students from around the world. She's absolutely wonderful! She does my laundry
once a week, cooks three meals a day for me, and gave me the biggest bedroom in
the flat. I'm particularly lucky because my room has AC, a double bed, I can
get internet, and I have a TV, though I haven't turned it on yet, go figure.
Arita is an amazing cook and takes cooking classes every morning, not that she
needs to. She makes all the traditional Spanish dishes: paella, tortilla
espanola, etc. A strange thing here is instead of salad dressing, they'll use
mayo and that's it. I was surprised, it's not that bad. She has a son who's 16
years old, Daniel, and he's okay. He's hard to understand because he speaks
quickly and in one pitch, but I'm slowly adapting. He's your basic teenager and
doesn't talk to me much.

People also wanted to know about language barriers. I've been taking Spanish now
for 8 years, though I feel like I should speak better than I do, given the time
spent learning. Before coming here, I considered myself advanced. Now that I'm
here, I'm basically fluent. Yes, I do make grammatical errors when I'm
speaking, but that's only when I'm using the preterite or subjunctive. I
understand everything people say and always make myself understood. As of yet,
I have not experienced the language barrier. Luckily, I learned about the
"club" situation before making a fool of myself. A club is a whore house, a
bar, pub, cafe, or discotec are the terms used for places to go out at night.
So, when in Spain, unless you want to get an STD, don't use the word "club."

The men here. As of now, the only Spanish men I've spoken with are old, but fun
to talk with. They tell me that olive oil is the key to good cooking. Let me
tell you about Spanish fashion. To begin with, they seem to be stuck in the
1980s. The stylish male hair cut is the mullet. Men wear capris, have man
purses, and wear pink shirts a lot. The girls dress in all of the latest
fashions, which so far seem to coincide with America. Unfortunately, the jeans
that go up past your belly button are coming into fashion here, but I think
I'll pass on that one.

Church. Last Sunday, Kristen and I went to a Catholic Mass in the Magisteral.
Kristen goes to the U of A and is from Minnesota. The mass was beautiful: they
used incense and the songs were nice. Unfortunately, my Spanish isn't as good
as I'd like and I only understood about half the mass because of the echo. It
was beautiful inside. An interesting note, only about a third of the people
took communion, compared to about 97% in America.

Last weekend I went to Alicante, a city on the Mediterranean. We took a midnight
bus and arrived at 5:30am. It was a little scary walking through the empty
streets in a strange city, but luckily the 2 hobos we past didn't follow us and
we made it to the beach just fine. It's illegal to sleep on the beach, so we sat
on benches and watched the sunrise. Alicante has a medieval castle on a huge
rock, which was simply beautiful. It takes a half hour to climb up the stairs
(the elevator was broken). Well, the stairs were under renovation, so we
couldn't go up, but we tried. The water was beautiful! The waves were mild and
there was so much salt in the water that you couldn't help but float. There was
so much salt, that when you sun-dried, the salt crystals would appear on your
skin. Without even getting in the water, your skin would become sticky with the
salt from the air. It was incredible!

There is still so much to write! For instance, two weekends ago I went to the
Prado, and yesterday the program sponsored a trip to Toledo. However, since
this email is so long, you will have to wait for the next installment.

Besos,
Lily

(Originally written Wednesday, September 5, 2007)
Hola a todos!

Spain does not slow down! The quality of life is important here, so Spaniards
have to work just as hard as Germans and the English, but they also go out at
night and have less time to sleep. The earliest I've gone to bed since I've
gotten here is 1:30am, and that is early for some people. Unfortunately, the
siesta is a tradition sliding into myth. Only the American students take
siestas. The Spaniards can sometimes take one on a Saturday afternoon, but
that's about it.

Now to tell you about other Spanish Traditions. Let's start with the Catholic
Church. 90% of Spaniards are Catholic and the majority of their kids go through
Catechism until their first Communion. After that, they basically drop out of
the Church. Only the most devout go to Church every Sunday, about 30% of
Spaniards. The churches are so beautiful here I wonder why they drop out, but I
suppose they're used to the heavenly settings in which they worship. Here in
Alcala, we have a Magistral, one of two in the world, if I understood the tour
guide correctly. This means that the priest has to have gone to the University
of Alcala or is enrolled there now. I have not yet gone to church here (I know,
I'm bad) because my first Sunday here I went to a bull fight.

Many of you may not have expected me to go to a bull fight, much less enjoy it.
If that's the case, then you're in for a surprise. Not only did I like the bull
fight, but I'm going to another one in Madrid next weekend. I don't think I
would have liked it had I not read Death in the Afternoon by Ernest Hemingway
(my dad's recommendation) before I left. Even if you're not planning to come
visit me in Spain, though I recommend it, you should read this book. If you
live in Tucson, it's easy to hop down to Mexico and go to a bull fight there.
I'm thinking about going during Spring Break. It's an unorthodox decision for
vacation, but fun. I could fill you in about all there is to know about bull
fighting, but it's all covered in the Hemingway book. Unfortunately, the
matadors I saw were old and not the best. Of the 6 bulls, only two were killed
correctly. The first two were stabbed incorrectly, causing blood to pour out of
their mouths and nearly make me sick. Two others were not stabbed hard enough
and the sword fell out, so you know those bulls did not have an easy death. The
picadors were the most impressive. They have to stick sharp sticks in the bulls
shoulder without hitting the horns, and then run away as the bull charges them.
No human got hurt (to my dismay. Only the best matadors are gored). I sat midway
up, above the arches, which is a good place to sit if you want a good view of
the entire ring, but you're close enough to see blood and not smell it. I took
pictures and video. Let me know if you want to know more about bull fighting.

Now that las ferias (the fair) is over, La Plaza Cervantes is pretty quiet.
After school starts, everyone, excepting Americans and other foreign students,
buckle down to study. Spaniards will go out for a drink during the week, but
they are home by midnight or shortly thereafter. There is no more music in the
plaza and the streets are not filled with people, though there still is
nightlife.

Vale. Until next week,
Yours,
Lily

(Originally written Wednesday, August 29, 2007)

Hola a todos!

Don't worry, I'll keep this blog in English. I am in the middle of my first week
in Alcala de Henares, which is 40 minutes east-ish of Madrid.

I flew into Spain on Sunday morning at 8am. None of my bags were lost, and the
university was waiting for me as soon as I got my luggage. Outside the town
walls, which still enclose the old part of the city, I met my host mom, Arita
Casado. We walked to her apartment, which is 10 minutes away from the school,
la Plaza Cervantes (a common place to meet people), and to a grocery store.
There are four bedrooms and two bathrooms. For this week, I have a temporary
host sister from Hungary named Fanni. My first night here she took me to las
ferias, a fair that is in town this week. We drank sangria and coke mixed
together, which is different, but apparently common in Spain. Since I was
jetlagged, I came home early at 1:45am.

This week is orientation, so we are learning about money, public transportation,
safety, activities, sports, and culture. We also got a tour of la Universidad de
Alcala, and on Friday we will have a tour of Madrid.

August is the month of vacations for Spaniards, so many people are not here
right now. Instead, they are at the beach. So, about 13 of us are going to stay
in Madrid on Friday, go to a club, and then go to the beach in Valencia on
Saturday/Sunday. The schedule here is very different from the USA. You have a
small breakfast, which is usually coffee, juice, and bread, with lunch at 2pm.
Lunch is the big meal of the day. After that, you take a siesta. Most Spaniards
only sleep for 30 minutes to an hour, but since students stay out as late as 4
in the morning (or 3am on Monday night for me), the siesta can last 2 to 3
hours. Dinner is at 9pm or 10pm, and then people go out.

If you are 2 months old to 80 years old, you will be out with your friends from
10pm until 1am, or 3am. Everyone goes out and stays out late. It was unusual to
see 5 year old kids staying out as late as teenagers, seemingly not tired at
all. Having a high quality of life here is important. Needless to say, students
from U of A have been enjoying themselves immensely.

Since I will be telling you all about life in Spain, I would love to know how
you are all doing. Please email me telling me how life is, etc, so I can keep
up with everything and not be confused when I come back in 4 months. Also, if
there's something particular you want to know about Spain, tell me and I'll put
it in my new blog.

Vale (okay). Until next week,

Lily

They say a definition is simply the description of the opposition.
I am not defined by my sexual organs.
I do not appreciate condescending behavior.
I do not waste away the hours on a sofa
Mindlessly taking in electronic impulses.
I do not enjoy watching a potato sprout
And grow roots.
I do not like staring at the sky as soon as the sun has set,
Wondering where all of the beauty has gone.
I do not like looking at the stars
Contemplating how minute I am in this world, this universe.
I do not like reading great poetry
Knowing that mine is a misuse of the power of language.
I am not the sum of my parts.
I am not a blooming lily,
But I am the scent of one.
And after all of this description of the opposition,
I still am not sure of who I am.

Oh wait,

I'm nobody--
Who are you?

Last fall your devoted writer decided to study abroad in Spain. I already had what I thought was a competent level in Spanish, and it served me well the first three months there. My grammatical errors and misunderstandings didn't occur until my last month.

It's the middle of November, much colder in Madrid than it is in the desert, and many people started getting colds and stuffy noses. I'm sitting at the dinner table with my host mom and brother when she suddenly states, "Estas constipado, hijo." I was in the middle of chewing my food, but I stopped and my eyes bulged. I knew that I had fit into the family well, but to talk about her son's constipation at the dinner table? That might happen if it were only them, but definitely not with me around. They proceeded to have a conversation about it and I just silently sat by, eating, thinking that maybe the cultures were very different after all.

The next day, I tell my Spanish friend about the night before. It turns out that I had run into a false cognate, a word that has a very different meaning in English than it does in Spanish, though the spelling is similar. It turns out that "constipado" means to have a stuffy nose, or congestion. There was no bathroom talk after all.

Speaking of false cognates, if you want to talk about preservatives in your food in Spain, never use the word "preservativo" because that means condom. However, that would make a very interesting conversation. "Conservantes" is the correct term to use and it could prevent a funny situation should you ever decide to go to Spain.

Hasta la proxima vez!

Dear Reader,

In this day and age, after so many great writers have lived and written masterpieces, it seems unlikely that there is anything left to write. All of the stories have already been told, one variation at least. So why are there so many blogs out there? Let's face it, Chaucer's stories are a little outdated. Not only are the contexts wrong for the modern reader, but the language is antiquated. People are still writing his stories, for instance, but making them more modern, more accessible to readers today. And there's always a plot twist or another element from another story. Chaucer is wonderful and his stories are timeless, but writers today keep writing because they have different voices and different environments. There are some stories that have to be retold in one era, but forgotten in another. These stories contain ideas that stick with people long after the book has been laid down.

I hope that the antidotes from my life can at least make you think, or perhaps inspire you in one area of your life. I hope you find them entertaining and relevant.

Sincerely,

Your devoted writer