El último día perfecto

Yesterday I spend the last day of my program in Salamanca. Thankfully I will be returning in one week with Zak to show him around the city and to say my goodbyes to friends and Candelas. But my experience of IES Spring 2012 in Salamanca, as of today, is officially over. 

I spent part of my last IES day in Salamanca paddle boating with friends on the Río Tormes. Right now, I'm not really sure what to say, so I'll let the pictures do most of the talking. 

Gorgeous view of the Cathedrals and the Iron Bridge

Yours truly happily sitting in front of the stunning city that I now call home

Un abrazo fuerte (a big hug) 

Abigail

¡Mucha mierda!

Hola!

I want to share a few of my favorite Spanish expressions with you all today. One thing that's so funny about these expressions is that they require a lot of explanation/background information, even though people say them all of the time. This round-about, sort of delayed aspect seems aptly Spanish to me.
Okay, here we go:

1. "Él/ella no tiene abuela" - This literally translates to mean "He/she doesn't have a grandmother" but is used to refer to an immodest, egotistical individual. You might rightfully ask why. Well, Spanish grandmothers (and I'm pretty sure this is universally true of all grandmothers) are famous for showering their grandchildren with constant complements. Ex: "Ayyy Paula, you are sooooo beautiful!! The most beautiful girl of all! Ayyyy!" and on on and on. So, the logic of the expression goes that someone who doesn't have a grandmother has to complement him/herself!  So there you go: someone who is always going around and telling themselves how wonderful they are = alguien que no tiene abuela.

2. "No estoy muy católico/a hoy" - Yep, it translates to what you think...."I am not very Catholic today."
So here's the story - Spain is an extremely Catholic country, has always been, probably will be for a very long time. When someone is having an off day they can say "no estoy muy católico," implying that they aren't feeling quite right/something is just missing (aka JESUS)

3. ¡Mucha mierda! - literally translates to "A lot of shit!" This expression has a special place in my heart as it is the Spanish equivalent of "break a leg" in the theater/arts community. If you're wondering why (which should be) the reason dates back to the Spanish Golden Age of Theater, about the 16th century. During this time, the theater troupes would arrive by carriage. The longer the play was successful, the longer the horses would stay and, naturally, the more crap there would be! So this is where the expression of "mucha mierda" comes from. And I'm really glad that I knew what it meant. Last night the theater workshop I have been participating in all semester had its end-of-the semester performance. Before we started and the house lights went down, the directors came back and wished everyone "mucha mierda." If I hadn't learned about this expression beforehand, I would have been a tad bit confused.

These are my three favorites. I hope you've enjoyed them as well.

Que vaya bien (Be well)
AB

A Candelas - Día de la madre

Buenos días!


Today is Mother's Day in Spain and I thought now would be the perfect opportunity for me to tell you a little bit about my incredible host mother, Candelas Días Casillas. Not only is she is an amazing cook and master seamstress, but more importantly, she has taught me some of the most valuable life lessons I have ever learned.


Candelas was born in 1948 in a small village in the province of Salamanca called Horcajo Medianero. Her father was a farmer and as such, she says that her family lived relatively well because they were able to keep enough of what they needed to sustain themselves. Her father raised hens and pigs and sold them for meat and he grew wheat an many other things. From a very young age Candelas learned all about pig anatomy and how to make chorizo. I too now know more about pigs than I ever thought I would. She says that her family ate very well, especially compared to some very poor people in the village who, sometimes when her father went to harvest potatoes, would come and scramble for the tiny ones that fell out of his basket or that he left behind.


At the age of 9 or 10, Candelas began working on the farm. Her father, although affectionate, was quite strict and instilled Candelas with a strong work ethic from a very young age. She describes how she would ride a donkey out to the pastures to her father and the workers. She says that she was raised to work from such a young age that it’s what she’s accustomed to…that the work she did when she was younger seems much more taxing than the work she does now. She attended school until the age of 14 when she left to help her mother and father on the farm full-time. Looking back, she says she never even entertained the idea of going to University, let alone finishing high school. She says that she would have loved to go to school to study fashion design or business, but that under the fascist dictatorship of Franco (my words, not hers) and the hardships her family would later face, the thought never even occurred to her. 


Every Sunday, there was a village dance  that you had to be 16 years old to enter. Candelas was anxiously awaiting her 16th birthday so that she could get a new dress and go to the dance. Sadly, she was never able to attend. Shortly after she turned 16 her father suddenly passed away and her world was turned upside-down. Without her father, they could no longer afford to keep their property in the village. They had to move to the city of Salamanca and Candelas had to work as her mother's work alone was not enough to support her and her two younger sisters. At the age of 16 she began cleaning the residence halls of the Pontificia University and she hasn't stopped working since. 


Candelas has lived a hard life, but what I find to be even more inspiring about her is the way she faces the difficulties that come her way. She is honest with herself - sometimes in the morning when we've finished eating breakfast she says, "Bueno, a la lucha diaría" (Well, to the daily struggle). She recognizes that life is a battle and with a smile and a sigh she faces it each and every day. She is optimistic - always talking about how lucky she is to have her health, her family and everything that she needs. She is emphatic about shouldering her own burden - she works every morning cleaning houses in the neighborhood and then cooks two meals a day for me and my housemate Nora. Sometimes her two grandchildren come to eat with us too because her daughter works long hours at hard job and cannot afford to take off work for lunch. Whether Canelas is cooking for 2, 5 or 9 people, whenever we offer to help her set or clear the table, the answer is always the same: "No hija, no, no! No te preocupes! Yo soy acostumbrada a trabajar" (No, daughter, no no! Don't worry! I am accustomed to work). And despite everything, she is always in good spirits - when she cooks or cleans she sings songs to herself and she will certainly be the first one to crack a joke, especially about her younger sister Manuela. 


To me, Candelas embodies the essence of everything Spanish. She is stubbornly set in her ways, humble - when it comes to anything except her grandchildren - incredibly hardworking, conservative and frank, yet affable and full of life. She has taught me so much about sorrow, love and life over these past few months. I will miss her terribly when I leave Salamanca and although I do not know if we will see each other again, I will always carry the fondest memories of her with me. 

At the final mandatory meeting w/IES they announced the winners of this semester's photo contest.
There were 5 categories - orientation, IES excursions, social life, academic life and family life.
This photo of me and Candelas in the Plaza Mayor on Palm Sunday won 1st prize for family life!

One last thing: Not only do I feel incredibly lucky to have Candelas as my host mother, but also to have Dena as my real mother. Sitting with the two of them by my side was a very special moment for me this semester. 

I feel so lucky to have such wonderful mothers!

Feliz día de la madre a todos! (Happy Mother's day, everyone!)

AB

Experiences in Spanish Education

Hello all! 

I apologize for the increasing sparseness of my blogposts. With my weeks here really starting to wind down and final exams approaching, it's been more difficult to set aside time for blogging. Fortunately, today is one of Spain's many many MANY festivals for which all of my classes are cancelled, so I've found a nice window of time to write. 

This post is something that I've been thinking about for a long time, mulling over ever since classes began at IES and then at the University. I knew that my academic experience studying abroad would be drastically different from mine at Barnard. I'm still not exactly sure how much of what I've experienced is typical of studying abroad and how much of it is unique to education in Spain. 

First let me start by saying I have had some very positive learning experiences in Salamanca  - most notably in my IES Class called "Reading the City: Art and Literature of Salamanca." Although this was the pilot semester for the course, I certainly wouldn't have been able to tell. My professors Javier (Literature) and Laura (Art) worked closely together to help all of us see Salamanca through different eyes by the end of the semester. Their work certainly paid off. Now, whether walking to class or wandering around with friends to bars, (see photo below) I run into symbols in the city that I am only able to identify because of this class. Reading the City in some ways reminded me of my summer on EIE in Israel. We would read a work of literature in class or learn about an architectural style and then go see it with our own eyes. The fact that this class made Salamanca our classroom completely changed the semester I had here and enabled me to forge a very personal relationship with the city. 

Walking around with IES friends, we often find statues that we have
discussed in our class, "Reading the City."
This is a statue of Santa Teresa de Jesus -
She was a nun, mystic and poet who passed away in a village of Salamanca
(and we got a point of extra credit for the photo!)

Although Reading the City has been a positive academic experience, unfortunately I cannot say the same for all of my classes. In particular, and this might be a bit harsh, but I even hesitate to classify my two University of Salamanca courses as academic experiences.

In my Comparative Literature, the professor reads...his...lecture...notes phrase...by...phrase...so...that...students...can...copy...down...exactly...what...he...is...saying!
Even with this painstakingly slow method of lecturing, students still interject that he is going too fast, asking him to go back and repeat the sentences that he just spoon-fed the class moments ago. I'm still not sure which surprises me more - the fact that he presents his lecture this way or the fact that the students can't keep up.

Maybe part of the reason why they have trouble following is because of another trend I have noticed in University courses. Pretty much no matter what the professor is saying or the volume at which he speaks, students in the lecture hall talk over him constantly. To me, this seems to signal that students are not taking these classes seriously...

... And perhaps with good reason. In both my Comparative Literature and Introduction to Spanish Theater course, there have been multiple times in which professors just didn't show up to class. With no warning, and certainly without any follow-up, many days we waited in class for 20-25 minutes and no professor appeared. I am once again unable to decide which surprises me more - the fact that the professors fail to attend their own classes, or the fact that when this occurs not one student seems to be the least bit surprised.

Sometimes I wonder if these have just been fluke experiences, if perhaps I am being too critical.
My good friend and Columbia suite-mate Maria, who is studying in Barcelona this semester, shared the following anecdote with me yesterday that causes me to think otherwise:

"I was supposed to give a 2 hour presentation that I had spent weeks preparing for my 5 person GRADUATE STUDENT seminar and my professor just didn't show up...an hour and a half later we found him in his office, and he claimed he forgot what time our class started. HE ISN'T OLD ENOUGH TO BE SENILE! Spain."

The more people I talk to who are studying in Spain, the more it seems as though these academic trends are commonplace. Spain is famous, or infamous - depending on how you look at it - for its "no pasa nada" attitude. This phrase literally translates to English as "nothing is happening" but it is used to mean "don't worry about it." People say "no pasa nada" ALL OF THE TIME and in many ways I think that this motto captures the casual, laid-back lifestyle of Spain.
For me, this semester of "no pasa nada" has helped me to challenge myself to worry less, and in this way I think it has been part of a positive cultural experience. But the question remains: what are the consequences when this essentially "whatever" attitude carries over into the realm of academia?

I'm still not sure I have an answer to this question because while I have experienced many negative aspects of "no pasa nada" academia, some times it has been a total blast.

Exhibit A: Each department of the University of Salamanca has an anual festival day that falls on a Monday. Yesterday, 4/30 was the festival of the Facultad de Filología, department of language where most of my university friends study English. The tradition of these anual fiestas is that the Thursday preceding the festival date, students dress up in ridiculous costumes and have a party all day long in the area surrounding their department.

Fiesta de la facultad de filología - and the party was just getting started!
Students gathered outside of Palacio de Anaya, the 15th century building
that is the headquarters of the language department. 

Plaza de Anaya was quite a scene. It was hysterical to see cross-dressed students, other elaborate costumes and large quantities of alcohol consumption with the 16th century Cathedral as the backdrop for the action. Everyone was singing and cheering, celebrating being part of the filología department. I met up with my friends who dressed as pirates and disguised a shopping cart as a pirate ship where they cleverly stored important food and drink supplies. 

I was just getting ready to leave for my 1:00pm class (the party began around 11:30 am...) when my IES grammar professor whose class I was about to attend exited Palacio de Anaya. All of my friends went wild. As he works in the department filología, he was not only my professor but theirs too. Everyone started shouting "Carlos! Cabrera! Carlos! Cabrera!" and he came to take a picture with us. I'm sure he was as shocked to see me there as I was to see him. At this moment my IES and University worlds collided.

Fiesta de filología - with my friend Claudia and her pirate-themed friends who study English.
Carlos - the bald man in the back who I'm standing next to (on the right) -
is both one of their professors and also my IES grammar professor!

I somewhat begrudgingly left my friends and the fiesta to attend Carlos' class where we talked about grammatical issues of reflexive verbs. My thoughts were certainly still back at the pirate party... 

That day I was thrilled to take part in the fun that can accompany "no pasa nada" academia. But it left me wondering more than ever what my academic life would have been like if I studied in Salamanca. While I'm sure that some benefits stand to be gained and I will miss having a more casual attitude towards school, I am looking forward to returning to a more challenging academic environment in which students' opinions are valued and we are pushed to reach our full potential. 


This has been quite a long post, but more importantly the house is starting to smell strongly of paella which means that it's almost lunch so I've got to dash!

Saludos, 

AB

Lunes de Aguas

Hola! 

For my 21st birthday, I got a surprise visit from my mother! I am completely confident in saying that this was the best gift EVER. Plus, her timing couldn't have been better. We were able to celebrate a uniquely Salamancan tradition together - Lunes de Aguas. 

Lunes de Aguas, which literally translates to "water Monday," traditionally occurs the monday following Easter Sunday. During the 16th century, Philip II decreed that the prostitues of Salamanca (of which there were PLENTY as it was an all male University town...) be sent to the other side of the river Tormes for Lent. Organized by the University students, Lunes de Aguas celebrated the return of the prostitutes to the city of Salamanca. The students organized huge welcoming parties where they enthusiastically helped the priest who was in charge of transporting the prostitutes, in crossing them over the river. The rest of the day was spent eating, drinking and celebrating along the banks of the river. 

Hornazo - traditional Salmancan food for Lunes de Aguas.
The dough is stuffed with pork loin, chorizo and egg.
It is eaten especially during this festival because the indulging by
eating tons of meat/pork products harmonizes with the celebration of the
imminent indulgence that comes along with the return of the prostitutes... 

Today only the second part of the tradition remains. Everyone goes down to the river for a picnic and spends the day lazing about in a state of joy and merriment. The hilarity of this holiday - for which businesses in Salamanca actually close, mind you - was one of my favorite experiences here. I'm incredibly glad that my mom was here to share it with me. 

The University scene of Lunes de Aguas -
down by the river Tormes and Roman bridge 

The Plaza Mayor

Holaaaa,

When learning about baroque architecture in my Salamanca art/literature class my professor said something along the lines of the following:

"For many centuries, the Plaza Mayor has served as the central meeting place and hub of activity in Salamanca."

Here are just a few snapshots of the truth of that statement as I have lived it over the past few months -- 

1. Meeting new friends
Through language exchanges, the local theater group I participate in and meeting friends of friends, I have been very fortunate to make several Spanish friends throughout my time in Salamanca. Almost without fail, we make plans to meet up under the clock of the Plaza Mayor. As my host mother Candelas says, "Todos de Salamanca se reúnen debajo del reloj en la Plaza Mayor... ¡TODOS!" [Everyone from Salamanca meets under the clock of the Plaza Mayor...EVERYONE!]

Nos quedamos en la plaza, debajo del reloj
[Let's meet up in the plaza, under the clock]

2. Protests of the General Strike
This past Thursday, all over Spain general strikes took place in protest of the government's austerity measures. Although the protests in Salamanca were relatively calm (especially compared to cities like Madrid and Barcelona) the Plaza Mayor was packed with protesters throughout the day. Signs reading UGT and CCOO, two of Spain's largest labor unions, flooded the Plaza.

Main protest -- General Strike of March 29, 2012 

3. Semana Santa Processions
Today I went with Candelas to watch the first processions of Semana Santa (Holy Week). At first it struck me as ironic that just a few days ago I stood in the Plaza packed with protestors/strikers and today it was almost filled to capacity with spectators of the religious processions of Palm Sunday. Then I realized that this exactly is the point of the Plaza Mayor, that it is truly meant to serve all purposes of the community.

Domingo de Ramos (Palm Sunday) children's procession

Domingo de Ramos -- Procesión de la Borriquilla

 4. Meeting old friends
If you're lucky enough and you happen to be in Salamanca at the right time, you just might find a special someone who you know way from the other side of the ocean waiting for you in the Plaza Mayor. Here's to meeting old friends in new places!

Carol Platt and I reunite in the Plaza Mayor
(Photo courtesy of Dylan Keller Benson)

Un abrazo (a hug!)
Abby 

Istanbul, not Constantinople

Merhaba, arkadaşlar! 


That's Turkish for 'Hello, friends!' I feel incredibly lucky to be writing this entry about my trip last weekend to Istanbul where I reunited with Zak and was honored to join his family (father - 'the other' Brad,  mother - Lori, older sister - Jessie and younger sister- Carrie) on their vacation. My participation in this trip would not have been possible without the Wainer's generosity and I cannot thank them enough for including me. 


The city of Istanbul was utterly thrilling, unlike any place I have ever visited, and I believe it to be unlike any place in the world. Before I went, I didn't actually realize that the city itself, by straddling the Bosphorous River, is situated both in Europe and in Asia. The reality of its geographic location was most striking when we took a 20 minute ferry ride across the Bosphorous to have dinner in Asia and then came back to Europe.


Okay, so the city itself is on two continents, and Turkey is considered to be the only secular muslim state of the Middle East. Despite this secular identification, there are over 3000 mosques within the city limits of Istanbul and each one broadcasts 5 live calls-to-prayer daily. Yet, according to our tour guide, only 10-15% of the city's population identifies as "religious" and Islam seems to be much more of a cultural way of life for many people in Istanbul. I saw women covered from head to toe in burkas walking near women wearing miniskirts and high heels. Prostitution is legal in Turkey and alcohol is sold, although it is more expensive because it is forbidden according to the laws of Islam. It became clear from the beginning that  Istanbul, in many ways, is a city of paradoxes and contradictions. 


A. Our Neighborhood: 
We stayed in an incredible apartment in the neighborhood of Karakoy/Galata which is on the European side of Istanbul. The neighborhood had a very local feel to it. Istiklal street, one of the largest pedestrian walkways in the world, was only a few hundred meters from our apartment. About 90% of the traffic on Istiklal Street are locals --- about 3 million people pass through this street every day. Walking on the street was overwhelming and by far the most people I have seen in one place in my life. I felt very much like an observer as the crowd bustled around me, almost as if I were a salmon swimming upstream.

Galata Tower -- just a few hundred meters away from
the apartment where we stayed in the neighborhood of
Karakoy/Galata

View of Istiklal street, one of the largest pedestrian walkways
in the world and just a few hundred meters from our apartment.
Shout out to Braid Wainer in the bottom left corner of the photo :)

B. Turkish Delight -- Spice Bazaar: 

I loved wandering through and getting lost in the Spice Bazaar. As the crowd carried us along, we heard entertaining shouts of choice English phrases - "Hello! Hello! Chicago! New York! Yes, yes yes! America! Come buy here!" and "Hello! How can I help you spend your money?" Zak and I purchased some delicious spices to season the fish we bought from the local fish market and then attempted to cook on our own. In the Spice Market, people would offer you samples of Turkish delight, the most delicious of which was the pomegranate/pistachio flavor. There were giant trash bags full of naturally dried teas, all different flavors of nargilah (hookah) and more dried fruit than you can possibly imagine.   

Delicious spices and teas at the Spice Bazaar

C. Hagia Sophia -- is that a mosque, a church or a museum? 

So many ancient empires utilized Istanbul as their capital city -- the Byzantines, the Romans, the Ottomans, just to name a few. Istanbul truly was a melting pot for so many different cultures and religions. The history of the relationship between Catholicism and Islam is particularly interesting because it is visible in sites like the Hagia Sophia Museum. The current structure was actually the third rendition of the Great Church. In 532 BC, Emperor Justinian commissioned the new basilica and it was constructed in just 5 years and remains the most impressive example of Byzantine architecture in the world. The walls and gigantic basilica of the church, which spans 250 ft across, are covered in exquisite mosaics depicting Virgin Mary, Jesus and various saints and emperors. When the Ottomans conquered Constantinople in 1453, the Hagia Sophia church (along with many other churches in the city) was converted into a mosque. According to the laws of Islam, one cannot pray in a room where there are human images or idols. Because of this, when the church was converted into a mosque, the detailed mosaics were covered with plaster and leather and then painted so that the building could be used for worship. When Ataturk ordered the mosque to be converted into museums in 1935, the plaster covering the mosaics was removed. Restoration efforts are still works in process today and bring full circle the diverse histories of this incredible site. 

View of the Hagia Sophia Museum through an archway
of the Blue Mosque

D. Jewish Istanbul

Today there are 20 active synagogues in the Istanbul area and we visited three of them. All of them were very inconspicuous -- if you weren't looking for the synagogue you probably wouldn't even look twice at the building. Below is a picture of Neve Shalom which was built in the late 1930s as a response to the increasing Jewish population of the Galata district. Since its existence, the synagogue has suffered three terrorist attacks, the latest of which was the Al-Qaeda attack of 2003 in which 23 individuals were killed. Despite the tragedies it has suffered, the synagogue continues to serve the Jewish community of Istanbul.  It was a wonderful feeling to be greeted with "Shalom!" in Istanbul and to hear Zak's sister Jessie who is a first year rabbinical student speak Hebrew with the staff. In the first synagogue we visited, a man asked if anyone spoke Spanish! His mother was from Spain and he is a sephardi Jew. It was quite bizarre to be speaking Spanish with another Jew in a synagogue in Istanbul. This just goes to show you the incredible diversity of the city. 

Bimah of Neve Shalom Synagouge. 

E. Now it feels like a dream
I've babbled on for quite a while and I think it's time to end this post. But it's true, my adventures in Istanbul with the Wainers now feel almost like a dream. I can't really believe that I was there, that I experienced so much culture, change and emotion in such a short period of time. For now, all I can think about is how lucky I am.

Adios,
AB

I leave you with one last picture:

View (from left to right) of the Blue Mosque and Hagia Sophia Museum
from a ferry crossing the Bosphorous River
from the Europe side of Istanbul to the Asian side.