BenDerico.com

Welcome, post 2 of the day. Yeah the week was that eventful. I’m dedicating this entire post to the 36 hours I spent in Porto, Portugal this past Tues-Thursday. Vale. Empezamos?

Well, as I sit here writing this blog post I feel like I should get you into the mood I am in. In my room in Spain, I am sitting with the window open, a luxury I am almost certain at this point you are not capable of having, my apologies. Over the speakers the light samba stylings of a certain Seu Jorge fill the room with warm guitar strokes, but more importantly his signature voice, in Portuguese of course. Perhaps he is even a good example of Globalism, something I have been given the task of writing about for 4-6 pages in Spanish. Eww. A brazillian artist guitarist sets the mood for my piece on Portugal. No matter. Vamos.

On tuesday afternoon I packed my things for a trip that had crept up on me much quicker than I had anticipated. Almost a month back, a friend and I decided we should take advantage of the fact that our program has Wednesdays off, book a trip somewhere close, and enjoy our day off. We proceeded to look for the cheapest flights on RyanAir, Easyjet, etc. and stumbled onto a flight to Porto, Portugal for somewhere around 30 Euro. I know amazing. Originally after seeing this price I had tried to go the week of February 17th, the week in which Arsenal was playing against FC Porto, however I confused the dates which the team would be coming to play and missed it all together. So without the incentive of an Arsenal soccer game on the table, we decided to take the first wednesday in March. After spreading the word to our friends, we were met with no takers. Eventually one other friend signed on and this became a trio, which turned out to be the perfect number.

I can’t even begin to describe the beauty of this city. Located in the northern half of Portugal, the landscape of this oceanside city reminds me of what I have seen and heard of Spain’s Galicia region in the northwest of the peninsula.

Upon exiting the plane, directly onto the runway, because that’s how Ryanair does it, I could immediately feel the ocean. It’s crazy how you can just feel the difference between an inland city and one on the water. By no means were we close to the ocean itself, but it’s presence could be felt all throughout the city. The next thing I noticed was how green it was, mind you it was dark out, so it was even more incredible to me that I could see the color of the grass and moss all around me. Perhaps this interested me too much, and I may have gone on about it a little bit. My apologies to my fellow Porto travelers.

The next step was to find the hostal, an always interesting adventure. We boarded the train to the city proper for a mere 1.45 Euro, took a seat, and watched as the rain coated the stout buildings, feeding the moss clinging to their walls. A few Portugese tios overheard us speaking some English and decided to try out their skills on us. This is something I have really found interesting since being here. Once both parties are aware of each others’ place of origin the language practice onslaught can begin. Having jsut also arrived from Madrid we spoke a bit in English with these fellow travelers and were on our way. We departed the train and began our walk through the city. Yes, it was still raining, but yes we also had written directions, so nothing could go wrong, right? Let’s take into account that this is the first time I have really been a tourist in the sense that I had no idea about the culture, language, or country itself. All i knew was that I wanted to see the city and not to be rained on.

Following the directions as they were written we realized that we were not really going where we though we were. After a bit of debate we decided that Luis should go inside and attempt to get us directions, considering he speaks the most Spanish it just made sense that he could handle our first foray into Portuguese. Well, I guess we were not clear on what was expected of him after his entrance, because I burst out laughing as I watched him enter a Pharmacy and without saying a single word, no “hola”, or hell even a “hello,” he proceeded to just point to the address, look at the man, back at the address, and then to us. Like one would expect, this guy looked at us for a few seconds like we were crazy and then like every European I have met so far he uttered those fateful words, “Do you speak English?” Damn it. Every time they know. I dont get it. Do I have a sign on my back that says “over 1 billion served” or “As a matter of fact I am carrying a loaded weapon,” because they know every time. Whatever. The man gave us pretty good directions, actually no, perfect directions. So good infact that I was expecting him to follow it up by reciting a shakespearean sonet or explain to me the difference between direct object and indirect object pronouns…He spoke english well.

As we found the street, named after some horrible conglomeration of syllables, clicks, and winks in Portugese that I can’t even attempt to describe to you, we rang the bell to the hostal, Yellow House, and entered. This place was awesome. We were met by a charming, grey-haired Kiwi named….drumroll….BEN, who invited us to enter and dry off a bit. With a warm smile and an accent so welcoming that it could convince me to do unthinkable things, we followed our new BFF. Yes, our best friend because within seconds of meeting this man Andi and I, (not Luis because he has no soul), both fell in love with this eccentric world traveler. Mind you we never asked him about his traveling experiences, or life up until this point, but rather just assumed and built a background story for him the same way you do when you enter a movie half way through. You have a pretty good idea of the specifics, but at the same time enough room to make wild assumptions about their personality and life happenings and still follow the story. In this case, Ben was, in my mind, an accomplished rock climber, avid follower of Creedence Clearwater Revival, and admits completing his dissertation on the impacts of surfing on the global market. He was a badass.

As we followed him down the hall, lined with what I soon learned were typical Porto tiles, we passed a common room with a few kids on computers, and a stairwell decorated with cat painting on the walls. We entered the kitchen a juxtaposition of old v. new, retro v. modern. On one wall lay a 10 x 10 painting of a mutton chopped man with what i can only assume is his next of kin, some sort of bulldog, at his side. However, almost as if to say “get outta here old timer” the opposite wall held a modern kitchen made entirely of stainless steel, full of overly zealous and confident IKEA kitchenware, dotted with flashy containers of whole wheat and bran cereals. It was really cool. Ben signed us in and walked us up to our room, which we would be sharing with about 7 other people. Yeah, I was a little weirded out at first, but whatever.

He locked our things in our lockers, headed downstairs to ask for a good local place to eat, and headed out. Ben sent us to one of the only remaining places that was open, Big Ben’s (awesome right), where he told us we could get handmade portguese burgers with a side of fries and a pint all for 6 Euro! PORTUGAL IS SOOO CHEAP! Let me tell you something, this was one of the best burgers I have ever had. The egg on top kinda freaked me out at first, but it was such a nice touch. In fact, I went back for another!

Full both in our stomaches and our wallets, we headed to a local store to pick up a bottle of Port wine to bring back to the hostal. When we arrived home we sat down at the large kitchen table which I can only assume was owned by a king, queen, or duke at sometime, and began talking. To summarize, we ended up meeting a few German students who had been living in Sevilla and spoke Spanish very well, along with a dude from Milwaukee who was also studying abroad in Germany. It was a great night and we all really enjoyed ourselves. For the first time in my stay here in Europe I really felt like I was having an adventure. No time restraints. No ideas as to what was going to happen. Nothing. Just good company.

We woke up to find a city that was far more expansive and beautiful than we had expected. To be totally honest not a ton happened, maybe that’s why I loved it so much. From about 12-2 we walked. Just walked in any which way felt right, stopping every so often to take some photos or take a little break. Eventually we found our way down to the Ribera, river, which was amazing. Lined with almost cliche colorfully painted building, smashed into the hills that surround the riverbasin, it felt like I was about to walk into a film set, or into the pages of a F. Scott Fitzgerald book. Fitzgerald right? I have no idea.

After taking a bit of a rest on the river walls, we decided it was time to go to the beach. We got on a bus and took about a 20 minute adventure ride through some of the most diverse and constantly changing terrain I have ever seen. Mind you we are on a bus, a full sized bus, full of people. Ok. Got it? Cool. The bus driver easily thought he was driving a Mini because he was driving this thing like it was one. We flew through the tiny streets with little regard for the people walking, biking, and absolutely sharing them with us. We passed through huge fields dotted with farm houses and villas. We traversed the tree lined residential areas on the outskirts of the city. Finally, we ran into what resembled a resort area, and could see the water, so we departed. Off came the shoes, off came the socks, and on came the sand. We spent about 2 hours on that beach. Taking pictures. Running around. Playing on the rocks. Looking for a place to eat. It was amazing.

When we finally did decide on a place to eat, we determined that this meal we were gonig to eat something “Portuguese.” Relying on our only other attempted methodology, we pointed at the pictures on the menu. However, this time we added a twist and mumbled broken Spanish at the mustachioed man who called himself our waiter. After only a few moments of waiting with our drinks the man brought out a massive plate of meat chunks, flanked by the smallest, palest, and easily the world’s most embarrassed tomatoes ever. As we divided up all the food and began to dig in, we all slowly started to notice how really “rare” this mean was. See what i did there? It was rare. Unusual. But also, the meat was not cooked. I mean not even a little. This man was trying to kill us. I’m very certain a med   ical doctor and lawyer alike would agree with me that what were participating in was not only unhealthy, but probably illegal. He received no tip.

We boarded the rollercoaster back to the city where we spent the rest of our night walking, exploring, and doing absolutely nothing. I honestly have nothing more to say. We bought some snacks, got back on the train to the airport, and found a place to sleep for the night. Our flight on Ryanair, the flying commerical, departed at 6am, we were back in Madrid by 830 and in class at 1130.

It was a great midweek trip and an even more incredible experience. Here’s the rest of the photos

Next up, my first trip to a European Soccer match.

Hasta luego,

Benja

P.S. this rascal was adorable

I can’t help but think of the song “Two Weeks” by Grizzly Bear while I begin to write this post, the first in, well, two weeks. And let me say, it is not for personal reasons that I have left my post for a few weeks, nor is it for a lack of substance/things to talk about. I’m in Spain, there is always something to talk about. I think perhaps the beginning of classes, entry into my first full month here abroad, and a cavalcade of other obstacles over the past few weeks that have kept me for posting. However, that break has come to a, albeit slow, but nonetheless wonderful close.

Lets head back, back into the past. Back to a day when the calendar read 1/2/2010 (European way is backwards…i know, lame).

After the high of hitting up the French capital, my enthusiasm to head back to the Iberian penninsula was mounted and about to explode. I was full of Crepes and ready to displace that with Napoletanas.

Oh, you don’t know what a Napolteana is? Well guess what? You haven’t lived yet, becuase these things are amazing. I’ll be the first to admit that in my first month here I haven’t been too explorative in terms of cuisine. Perhaps it was the food poisoning from Paella on day 2, or maybe it’s just me, but i haven’t indulged in too much Tapas, Wine drinking, or any of the other Spanish cliches. However, what i have found myself participating in, almost excessively, is in the consumption of Napolteanas, perhaps the world’s greatest single pastry/creation. A Napoletana is essentially a medium-sized, chocolate-filled, buttery, flakey, and heavenly pastry topped with sprinkles. You may say. “Hey Ben, get off your high horse, a chocolate-filled pastry, seen it done before.” To that I say, leave, because you are no longer my friend. I don’t need to explain myself to you, punk. These things are amazing, I eat them every day and I enjoy every last bite of it. Kicker: only 75 cents at school. BOOM

Moving onward. The past few weeks have been filled with lots of news. I began my schooling at La Universidad Complutense on the first of Februrary. My classes, all of which are taught in Spanish, are pretty radical. Our program gives us Wednesdays off, so I only have a 4 day week. To all of you at home, get off my case, yes it may be one day off, but it is far from a breeze. Why don’t you take your Biochempsycophysics class in a 2nd language and see how much you think its easy then…So yeah, classes have begun. I have 4 courses this semster, plus a 3-credit class we took last month, adding up to a normal 15 credit semester. On Monday/Tuesday I have one sole class, Contemporary Spanish History 1808-Present. Awesome. My teacher is as Spanish as can be. A. Amazing mustache. B. Speaks with just the right amount of lisp. C. Yells things (I should say states things emphatically) at us. Awesome. Come Thursday/Friday I begin my day in Economics of Europe, move next to European Political Models, and finish the day with Spanish Film. As you can probably see, my life/schooling are awesome. If you are jealous I would suggest stopping now.

Ok, so that about sums up life here in Madrid for the past few weeks, but during that time I ventured all around this great peninsula. First came Cadiz for Carneval.

Carneval is one of those things that people had me really excited for before my trip out here. I was told it’s europe biggest party, one of the best times all year to really see the Spainards and Europeans in general in action, enjoying themselves. A few friends and I heard that the biggest party in Spain was held annually in Cadiz, a small peninsula town at the southern tip of Spain. Sounded like a blast. Get out of the city for a few days, catch some rays, and visit the “Mardi Gras” of Spain. Sounds good to me. So, we found our bus tickets and came up with an ingenious plan. To save money on a costly hostel we all decided to take a 12am Midnight bus on Friday night, doubling that as our transit and our place of residence for the night. We figured we’d sleep on the bus, arrive early in the morning, enjoy the party for 24 hours, and then reboard the bus the earliest we could Sunday morning, which turned out to be 9AM. The tickets were purchased and we began. We did not sleep on that bus. It was like trying to ask a group of 13-year-old girls not to play MASH at a slumber party, it’s just not gonna happen. So, as the night went along, and the hours ticked away, so disappeared our chances of surviving the day that was ahead of us. After what I can only call a 20 minute nap, we arrived in Cadiz. Rainy, overcast, freezing Cadiz. It was 9AM. We were cold, wet, and tired. So as you can imagine, now realizing that we had infact casted ourselves into our own homelessness for the next 24 hours, we began looking for places to rest. Parks, beaches, and anything outside was out of the question. However, after trying the lobby of an apt building near the bus stop, and a few other embarrassingly cold and secret places, we found a train station, God’s gift to us.  I, unlike my friends, had packed a small bag for the 1 day trip, just a change of clothes and a toothbrush, basic necesities that had now turned into the inner working of my new “portable, back-strapped pillow.” We settled into the train station and passed out for a few hours. When I woke up I found that the sea of benches that had previously filled the vast space before were now gone, and mine was next. I shrugged off sudden desaparicido of the seating area because I was amped, refreshed, and ready to go. From here the day consisted of walking around the slightly warmer and less wet town, enjoying some local food (not at all, ate at a chain sandwich restaurant) and awaiting the fiesta. So we did that for a few hours. By the time the giant outdoor extravaganza began to commence we were still feeling ok. As the sun went down on Cadiz we found ourselves along a long seawall filled with people in costume. While the rest of these people had spent time and actually dedicated some sort of creative energy towards their costumes, we decided to go with the Chinese Rice-Patty hats, 1 euro, and the everfamous Kermit The Frog cut-out mask, for another whopping 1 euro. We were embarassing. For the next few hours we got to know every one around us. A group of unusually talkative Mimes, some highly inappropriate members of the clergy, and some slightly misinformed interpretations of almost any kind of medical professional rubbed shoulders with us. As the night progressed however, the day began to catch up with us. As Spainards began to sin their songs and dance their dances, we slowly slipped into a coma. It was about 2AM, we had 7 hours til our bus left. Without the ability to function anymore we all unanimously decided to return to our previous home, the train station. Remember what I mentioned earlier about the benches? Yeah, i guess we weren’t as clever as we thought. Every single seating area in that godforsaken train depot was gone. All that remained was cold, damp ground. I found a little niche behind a magazine stand, put in my headphones and told myself it would all be over soon. Well, i guess in a way I was right because about 15 minutes after settling in a security officer walked over, gave us a nudge and told us to leave, the station was closing. It was 2:45 and they would be closed until about 5AM. The temperature had absolutely plummeted and with it went my sense of humor for the groups of Spainish teens, twentysomethings, and even adults dressed like morons. We got on the bus and just decided to wait at the bus station. Guess what? That was closed too. The next few hours were the most miserable of my recent memory. For roughly 6 hours we took refuge in the lobby of an apt complex lobby, along with several other stellar student’s of our school of thought, anxiously awaiting the bus as well. Finally the morning rolled around, i boarded the bus, and passed out for the 8 hour bus ride back home. All in all it was miserable, but boy did we have a blast. Make any sense?

Next we went to Toledo. Honestly, not that epic. Here, this is a list of synonyms for the word Quaint, that should explain. I’ve added some photos as well to explain the day. A group of us spent the day walking around the old Spainish capital city, enjoying the atmosphere and each other’s company.

Next, we went to Alcala de Henares, a short 20 minutes outside of Madrid, the birthplace of Cervantes.

Finally, we took a class trip to Segovia. Again, cute little Spanish town whose major attraction is the old Roman Aqueduct. Photos should do the job for that one too.

It’s almost the end of month number two. It finally feels normal to be here, and hopefully I will find the time to begin posting again.

Leave some comments as such, it’s been a while since we spoke.

Vale?

Enjoy the photos as well!

Benja

Here’s some more new Photos.

¡Hola Chicos!

Annoying? Yeah, i know. We will get to that in a second.

Welcome back. So it´s been an interesting last few days since our last rendezvous. Lets go over a few of the most interesting happening of the last few days.

First, the weather has improved for the better. FINALLY. For the first few days i was beginning to think that a combination of Chicago and Detroit weather had found its way across 3000 miles of water to ruin my day, but luckily i was wrong. It has warmed up, más o menos a 40-50 degrados, and now i am finally able to wear my nice new coat. O, arent aware of a new addition to the arsenal de abrigos (coats)?, well i just added this little gem to accomodate my body and mind to the rainy Madrileño inviernos, great choice.

Right, back to the ¨Hola Chicos.¨ So, on the streets of Madrid´s Centro district, the center…., there are a cavalcade of annoying, flyer toting, soulless ladies and gentlemen whose sole purpose, pun intended, on this earth is to ask you if you have eaten or not, and then subsequently if you would like to come into their restaurant or bar. Seems harmless. WRONG. My pockets are full of their useless, tree-killing cards and flyers, p.s. not much recycling going on here. I hate them. Entonces, every day or night that i am walking on the streets of Madrid i hear this line. ¨Hola, chicos! Quieren bebidas gratís?¨(do you want some free drinks) Now, again, this may seem harmless and downright generous to most of you, but take this into consideration. Hello fine sir, i see that you are holding a flyer that says you are offering me some of Madrid´s finest dining if I attend your establishment, hmm, compeling, unfortuneately i will have to counterpoint with, well i dont know, that i am currently exiting another restaurant. Yes, this is fact. They stand outside of other restaurants hoping to lure in freshly filled diners who are looking to tack on another notch to their belts and perhaps lower their self worth just that much more. Take this  and multiply it by 1000000, because all that is around me are restaurants. Here look. I hate these people. Correction, hate is strong. I loathe them.

Anyways, with some good news. Tommorrow, Sunday the 17th begins my homestay with my Madrileña familia. This has been quite a epic. This week i was initially given my first homestay. On wednesday afternoon my resident director gave me her phone number and told me to give her a call, see if i could visit. Great i said, thinking this woman must be just what i asked for on the 3 page long housing application i filled out. Haha, Ben you really are funny.

I gave Ofélia a call, spoke with her, and arranged a meeting for 4 o´clock the following day. The next morning, I woke up, went to class, almorcé, and headed over to the address on the sheet i was initially given. PRECURSARY NOTE. I had filled out my housing app with every intension of making it clear i wanted to be alone, in terms of being with another student or not, but also that I preferred a family. I arrived at the dirección that my director gave me, rang the buzzer and headed up. Unfortuneately the homestay was not what I had planned. I gave my director a call and she set me up with a new stay. Apprehensive, i visited the new building. This time it was a bit more like i had planned. Inside there was my Señora, Carmen, her mother, her aunt, her daughter, and grandson Omar. A family, this i what i wanted. She showed me the kitchen, the living room, and my room. Perfecto, yo dijé. After an hour of conversation I left content.

So, now I move in tomorrow. I´d be lying if i said i wasn´t nervous, because I very much am. Hopefully all goes well. I am looking for a good balance of time in and out of the house. I am still learning about my Barrio, neighborhood, but i know i am near the Central Park of Madrid, El Retiro, and the Museums Prado and Reñia Sofia. I hope all goes well with the homestay, i will say that it is the most nerve racking part of the whole experience. But, there are only so many days here, so no time to waste worrying.

Tonight i got to watch Barca defeat Sevilla 4-0. Awesome. Less awesome, packing tomorrow.

I think that is all for now. I went out the other night and took some pictures around the city. Some are of the Royal Palace, others of the Cathedral. Hope you enjoy.

Hasta luego

Benja

P.S. Leave comments if you can, i like hearing what’s going on with you all and what you think!