BREAKING NEWS UPDATE

It's no secret that last week when Kate Byron moved into a room decked out floor to ceiling with dolls, her initial reaction was naturally one of fear and revulsion. "I won't be able to sleep in here, these dolls are too creepy!" Byron told our sources. But it seems that gradually, a change of heart has occurred. Recently, we reported astonishing rumors of an increased fondness for the little devils, but we now have confirmed a shocking new development: "This room is like a childhood dream come true," Byron publicly declared in all earnestness. "I like the dolls and it really feels like home when it's messy."

Scientists are now working diligently to verify the reason behind Byron's apparent brain abnormality. There is heavy speculation about probable cause from demasiado fiesta. In the meantime, the general consensus is that there must be something in the water.

The Story of Our Lives

Well folks, you asked for it! A glimpse into the daily marvels of our lives in Valladolid. As we have been here for a week, we are comfortably settling into place. Our routine goes as follows: Katarina and I awaken, shining gloriously into the day, and prance like glimmering gazelles into the living/dining room. Merthedes gives us these great muffin things, orange juice and some sort of magical, mysteriously creamy coffee (breakfasts by Merthedes are straight up awesome) which we elegantly consume. We brush our teeth in harmony, gather our books, and skip leisurely to school.  

Once there, we are locked up in a tiny room with bars on the window and engage in the learning process from nine to eleven. 

Help me

Our profesora,  Patricia (or Patrithia as it were), is great. Her English is not terribly extensive but that matters not as she speaks mostly Spanish to us and makes all these great noises while teaching. Really, the sounds she makes are previously unknown to humankind; they vary from rhythms and little songs to sounding like an animal is being ripped from her chest. We get a break from 11:00-11:30 and basically everyone goes to this grocery store/bakery down the street  to emerge with the ever-popular baguettes and various pastries (chocolate napolitana, por favor). We go back to learn for two more hours then are done with class for the day. 

Katarina and I go home to eat lunch with Merthedes about 3 (more about food issues later). After lunch, a great deal of CSBSJUers go down to the beach. Katarina and I lucked the heck out when it came to locations as we live about three minutes from the school, maybe five from the beach, and ten from the center of the city (some people have to walk over half an hour to get to school, which really would not fly with our natural propensity for tardiness). Anyway, the beach: 

The beach towel my host mom gave to me. I think it's pretty indicative about what's acceptable in Spanish culture (hint: almost everything)

La playa is on a river that was severely contaminated so we aren't allowed to actually go in the water or we'll get sick and die, but still has sun, volleyball/basketball courts, and what looks like a playground but is actually this curious outdoor gym thing. I have not yet used it but see many ultra fit-looking Spaniards exercising on the pretend play equipment. When we drag ourselves home from the beach, we either start our homework (me) or fall asleep for a few hours (Katarina). Merthedes comes home from work about 8 (she works like10-2 and 5-8 because everything in Valladolid closes for a few hours during siesta) and we eat dinner at 9 or 10 which is very typical here. Dinner is an interesting time because this is when Katarina y yo try new foods (!!!) and heartily attempt to make some conversation in broken Spanish. Merthedes patiently tries to understand us but realistically, we sound like children who haven't been taught linking verbs or more than two tenses (because that's what we are).

In America, this would be about time to start winding down, but not in Spain! Either we hang out at home (as Katarina and I don't really see enough of each other when we're together every waking moment: every meal, sitting by each other in class, walking to school and the beach, exploring the city, doing homework, plucking Kate's eyebrows, Kate taking naps in my bed for no reason, Kate taking naps on my knee, rubbing Kate's head, etc) or we engage in socialism. And by that I mean walk past permanent political encampments to go socialize. 

Spanish hippies

Our group currently dominates a bar called La Negra Flor near the Plaza Mayor. The bartender, Carlos, loves rascally Americans like us and does our bidding. On weekdays, CSBSJU folk are really the only people in there, recently joined by a few people from Texas who are also doing the language courses at University of Castellae. 

Before we go to sleep, Katarina and I reflect on what a wonderful life we lead while looking fondly towards the next day. With the stars in the sky shining brightly down on the city, Kate departs from my side to go dream in the Land of the Dolls. 

She tells me she grows fonder of them with each passing day.

Fin.

Spanish life lesson 14

Days it takes to become completely desensitized to "toptional" beaches: 3.

Attempting Tora y Brownies

Sunday's plan: a group excursion to Tora. Meet at school at 1. Take the bus at 2. See sights. What fun!

How the day went: Wake up comfortably rested, look at the clock. 12:55PM (Spanish life lesson 12: invest in an alarm clock). Hop out of bed, frantically try to communicate with Merthedes that despite what we told her yesterday about the group meeting at two, we found out that the group meets at 1. Wake Katarina, scramble to get dressed, wolf down the breakfast lovingly prepared even though it's huge because we don't want to be rude, aaand it's about 1:15. Sprint to school. No one is there. Go to a local shop, try to ask about a bus to go to a city that no one knows exists, run home, grab the map and try to explain to Merthedes, Run to where we think is the bus stop. Continue running looking for other bus stops. Realize attempts are futile. Relax and spend a nice day visiting plazas and walking around the perfect ciudad de Valladolid. Baile baile. Later, Katarina and I decide it is time to make the brownies (bizcocho de chocolate y nueces aka sponges of chocolate and ) we brought for Merthedes. As it turns out, Merthedes' oven does not work so we attempt to make them stovetop, then with the microwave. Results vary but are overall delicious and likely a little too sweet for her. We successfully joke in two languages that this is the reason why Americans were overweight. Spanish life lesson 13: Food brings all peoples together, be it in the preparation or consumption. Awwww. 

Dance, dance, dance

Spanish life lesson 11: "Vale" which sounds exactly like "baile" is a uniquely Spanish term for "okay" and has nothing to do with dancing.

A Day For Life Lessons

Katarina and I planned on meeting the group at 7:45PM for mass. We had gone to the Plaza de Mayor (major plaza) during the day for orientation, and had passed San Benito's at some point; however, as we had passed a quite few churches and church-looking things, we were not sure exactly which place it was.

One of many culprit lookalikes

Also, it was not marked on our map. We got considerably off target as we ran around the city looking for San Benito's until a man on the street saw how baffled we looked and took pity on us. He was French but spoke decent English, and directed us back to Plaza de Mayor. Props to you, French man. We found San Benito's and walked in at approximately 8:42. At 8:46, the cantar finished and mass was over. Spanish life lesson 5: don't leave late if you don't know where you're going in a foreign city.

Other life lessons of the evening:

6: Though still delicious, it is preferable to order your papas fritas without heaps of mayo.

7: Political protests and sit-ins are neat! Stop to take it all in.

8: Just because you're American does not mean you have to shout. PLEASE. Break that stereotype.

9: Watch out for sleazy Spanish men in clubs in the night (thankfully a lesson learned only vicariously)

10: ALWAYS HAVE YOUR MAP because you never know when it'll be 1AM and your instincts are broken.

Land of the Dolls

Kate and I meet Mercedes (pronounced Merthedes in the accent de España), a very nice lady who starts speaking to us immediately en español. For some reason, I had assumed I would know an acceptable amount of Spanish by the time I got to Spain. I don't know why I thought this, seeing as I had not practiced (Spanish life lesson 2: at least attempt to learn a language before you live in that country). Communication looks grim. We introduce ourselves and Kate becomes Katarina. We walk a short distance from the beautiful Plaza de San Pablo to Merthedes' apartment on the fifth floor and walk into a room rife with trinkets. 

Trinks on trinks

The apartment is very compact but comfortable. I take the room that's primarily blue (my hue of choice) and Kate takes the pink one. However, as we step into Katarina's room, we see that it is full of dolls. Dolls on the floor, dolls on the shelves, dolls on the walls.

A small sampling of the room

Merthedes gives us a meal at 4 which I think is an early dinner but is actually only lunch. It is a mix of good and weird foods (more on the meats to come) and I have a newfound appreciation for watermelon (Spanish life lesson 3: better to be queasy than rude). Katarina dumps her salad on my plate when Merthedes is out of the room. We meet her daughter, Reyes, another very nice lady about 35 who is married and does not live with Merthedes. A tv is always on with a mix of news and celebrity gossip, heavy on the latter. We make limited conversation about Enrique Iglesias ("Muy guapo," Reyes speculates). Katarina and I go to sleep for three hours, and awaken to explore the city. First, Merthedes takes us to our school, which is only about a block and a half away. Next, Kate and I go on our own to the beach on the river. We discover how to deal with the typical zippy traffic (Spanish life lesson 4: get out of the way unless you want to die because drivers will not wait for you). We explore a bit more and Katarina brings us safely home. We eat dinner with delicious papas fritas and an odd pink--I don't understand how it was so pink but still clearly cooked--mystery meat patty, and then we sleep.

"Lo Siento Para La Spanglish"

Greetings, loved ones.

A brief synapses of the trip to Valladolid:

Minneapolis/St. Paul airport, 10:30AM

The trip starts with the grupo de Americanas en la MSP airport. I arrive with Leah, her dad, a suitcase, carry-on, and two hours of sleep. I am the epitome of crustiness, wearing glasses throughout this whole ordeal. We encounter some troubles in security when bags (not mine) are too heavy and Kate nearly sounds the alarm for international terrorism by having numerous bottles well over 3.4 ounces in her carry-on. The PSA officer interrogates her with questions such as, "If I open your bag, will anything poke me?" (answer: "Maybe, there's a tweezers") but the bag is eventually checked, sparing the Aveda contents. Spanish life lesson 1 (follow airline regulations and don't try to sneak in things you know won't get through): learned.

After a jaunt to Philadelphia in which Kate and I spend the trip studying a bit of Spanish (me for about the first time since tenth grade or so), we pair up again on the flight to Madrid. After failed attempts to sleep, we watch such sure to be cinematic classics as "The Tourist" (a movie confused about its genre) and "Adam". Throughout these seven hours I have a great desire to sleep and aid it with medication that acts as a mild sedative, but for some reason it decides not to kick in until about an hour before the flight is over. In a very disoriented state, I get my bags, hop on a bus to Valladolid and gather for the meeting of the moms.