Siesta Time

BY: DYLAN

I was reminded by Macy that I've been slacking a little bit with my posts, so I guess it's time to get going.

I arrived in Barcelona on the 7th and so far it's been a lot of fun and a lot to take in. The first day I was here, I found out that everything closes in the middle of the day. Apparently people start work in the morning like the rest of the world and then just close shop for a break come about 2:00. They go home and nap or just chill out until about 5, then come back and finish the work day. Like I said, I figured this out the first day and ended up aimlessly wandering around my neighborhood, checking out the area. Then I got lost and wandered around some more. Finally I'd had enough and hailed down a cab. Luckily I knew my address and told the cab driver....his response: "Que? aqui es muy cerca de este direccion (What? that address is very close to here)," my thoughts: "yeah, that doesn't mean I know how to get there." I got home a little fed up with the whole siesta thing, I mean seriously, I haven't had a structred nap time since kindergarten, why should adults have one?

Then my housemates arrived and I learned to appreciate siesta. Do a little sightseeing in the day, party at night...EVERY night until about 6 or 7am. Siestas become essential and a much needed part of the day. However, by the end of the first week or so, it seemed as though the whole program had partied too much because everybody was sick with a cold or the flu or anything in between (no worries though, we'll all be back at it soon enough).

We've seen a lot of cool sites, churches, and other cool buildings. Parc Guell is a Gaudi designed park that sits on top of a mountain, overlooking the city and La Sagrada Familia is one of the coolest buildings I've ever seen (I guess it better be though since this is the 100th year of construction and they don't plan on finishing it until 2026). The beach also looks really nice and I can't wait to go to the beach in between classes. With all that said, one of the highlights of my time so far was an FC Barcelona game, soccer is a big deal here, so I'm loving that.

Stay tuned for Aurora's visit this weekend and my visit to Paris the following weekend.

¿Pero que dices, tio?

BY: AURORA

(The title must be read in a very thick Spanish accent or else it will not have the same effect)

On Wednesday January 14th I left a cozy, warm flat in Paris, and came to Madrid. I had to ride a bus to the Paris Beauvais Airport, and then wait about 3 hours to board the plane. This airport is the tiniest thing. Only 5 gates and all in the same room. Nobody knew what to speak to one another. People would ask ´´español?´´ ´´english?´´´or any of the other pertinent languages before engaging in deeper communication. The flight was a breeze. I sat next to a Chinese man-boy who lives in Southern France and is currently touring all of Europe. Of course I had to tell him that I know how to say ´hair´in Chinese. He didn´t seem to care much- I think my charm was simply lost in translation.

On my arrival, I was regretted by my hostess, Hermi, and her boyfriend, Victor. They are probably the cutest couple I´ve ever encountered. I can´t really do them justice; they are people you have to meet.

It is true that Spanish is my first language, but I wasn´t prepared for SPANISH Spanish. My confusion was made evident when noting that the Spanish version of Wheel of Fortune´s clues were even more of an enigma, and when I had no idea what I was being offered by a restaurant´s menu. I ordered the salad- clear in all languages.

I´ve become more used to the weird expressions used here, and my hosts have also begun to understand my ultra-Mexican lexicon.

I´ll relate what I have learned:
something is ´´mola´´ really cool
something is ´´ güay´´ also really cool (not gay)
someone is ´´maja´´ also really cool

Cojer does not mean the same thing that is does in Latin America. Funny misunderstandings. I thought that I was going to be violated if I went to the Metro.

For some reason, everyone is referred to as a tio or tia (uncle or aunt); instead of saying guy or girl.

And I don´t know if it´s my Hermi and Victor´s way of speaking or a general Spanish condition, but people speak in exaggerated terms here. A familiar expression is ´´ Que fuerte!´´ which means ´´How strong!´´ It´s used here after most sentences. Other expressions of extreme anguished used commonly ¨A la!´´ and ´´JJJJJOOOOO!´´

Example:
-A la, mira que esta lloviendo! Oh, look it´s raining.
- JJJJoooo, tio, pero que fuerte! Oh man, that´s too strong!

And Hermi seems to always think that impossible things seem to always be happening because her most common expression is ´´Oye, pero no me lo puedo creer.´´ or ´´Listen, I can´t even believe it.´´She uses it when we can´t find a parking spot, when she finds 3€ shoes and handbag in El Rastro, an awesome, open-air mega market that happens every Sunday.

I love these expressions as well as I love Madrid in general. I´ve been exploring the center of the city on my own for a couple of days now since my hosts both work (they are music teachers). When I am done cruising the old boulevards, like the Gran Via, and eating in parks (El Retiro = beauty) and plazas (Plaza Mayor is unreal) because I´m too cheap to eat in restaurants, I come back to their apartment and talk about Beyoncé, Madrid´s Big Brother (it´s a huge deal) and how stupid it is, or the Real Madrid (soccer is no joke here).

On a later post I´ll talk about more serious topics, like Barack Obama (he´s on the news 24-7), and what I´ve found Spanish people think about the US and it´s way of life-- well at least what my hosts and their family think.

Hasta luego!

Vistas de Costa Rica

BY: MACY

The beautiful road that I live on, just a little further down and off to the right. Not too shabby, methinks.

A great rainbow shot - right after a nice misting. 

This is a view over a beautiful valley only five minutes from my house, complete with an overhanging bridge that you can walk onto, if you're feeling especially adventurous.

The town of Santa Elena enveloped in mist - usual appearance early and late in the day. Hence, the "cloud" forest region :)

You can borrow some of my rainbows if you need some.

Mi casa - complete with one of our dogs (Goofy), 

to welcome you! My room is on the right side, in the back... you can sort of see my window from this view. We're the last house on a little lane off of the road I showed earlier - so cozy!

Sorry for the goofy format - still getting this all figured out. I'm hoping to post more later, but blogger didn't like it when I tried to post more than 5 at a time.

Mud on Arthur's Seat

In my little room with faded pink walls there's a window with ugly polka doted curtains and through this window I can see what people walking through the streets of Edinburgh can see most of the time, a big hill, or small mountain, known across the land as Arthur's Seat. Wikipedia and my guide book are both confused about the origin's of this name, so I'm not going to attempt to explain it. However, being the good tourist that I am I did climb the 251 m (823 feet) beast.
Now this may not seem like an incredible feat, and I've been told that it can be climbed in 30 min., but let's face it I don't exercise. Now add Scotland's powerful wind and some mud and you get the following epic story.

We were four at the bottom of this hill/mountain and the weather was beautiful. We started climbing. Kept climbing. Still more to go. The wind kept blowing, my hair turned into a mess and my fingers lost feeling. We finally got to the top and the view was indeed beautiful, through flying strands of hair. Took some pictures (which I'll try adding later once I get them), oohed and ahhed at the view some more and finally started making our way down.

I thought climbing was supposed to be the most difficult part, but not when what you're climbing is steep and muddy. I had a couple of narrow saves using Saturday Night Fever dance moves to help me balance but the inevitable happened. Aurora and Maria you called it. I finally fell. I didn't get a bruise, but I did get a lot of mud. Everywhere. And then I was able to walk back across town with mud.

And then a bike ran into me.

So far a very productive day and more to come from Edinburgh. Cheers.

Beer me that ... beer?

Hiya, as the scots say in there adorable but incomprehensible accents. I've been in Edinburgh for 4 days now, walking through the charming streets full of little shops and cafes, wind messing up any attempt at hair control. I've only seen one kilt so far, but there are tons of pubs. I think I'm going to need to start appreciating beer. Yesterday on my way to class I saw a truck - a full sized truck - filled with kegs, which they were dropping off at different pubs. I went to one that was converted from the school library into a pub, which just shows you the mentality of this place. But seriously a very cool place with old books still on the walls and lit up in red.

I live in a dorm, which is very deserted and kind of lame and I'm regretting not having lived in a flat. I have to walk about 30 min to class, a time spent deciding which cafe to go to afterwards. My goal by the end of this semester is to be able to walk out of a coffee shop and say cheers without feeling like a phony. Today I went to Elephant House: the birthplace of Harry Potter, a huge sign advertises at the front. Besides being the place Jk Rowling wrote one of my favorite books, this cafe is really cute, filled with elephant decorations and delicious hot chocolate and cookies.



I haven't done much yet besides go to classes, which are interesting but unfortunately every day. I'm taking English Literature, Scottish Literature and Scottish Ethnology (if anyone knows what this is, please let me know). I'm going to visit Edinburgh castle this weekend though, so look out for a post on that, and I've decided that I should also watch Braveheart, since all my professors have referred to it in class as a complete scottish stereotype - sounds fun.

Pouvez-vous dire: FIERCE?

POST FROM APOLLINE, MARIA, AND AURORA

We know that our EXTREME relaxation has taken it's toll on our posting, but we'll try to sum up our (almost) month in Paris.

Supermodels and fashion have been a large part of our experience because, well, bien sur, we are in Paris. Tyra Banks and most recently Heidi Klum have been our constant companions, and we've become acquainted with the upcoming "top" American models and designers. If you don't get what we have been doing while in Paris, then we think you need some serious fashion education with the help of America's Next Top Model (lovingly called ANTM) and Project Runway.

And no, it is not lame. Well, yes it is, but we desperately needed some way to get the feeling of "finals while in Paris" off of us. So we watched these shows, plus French versions of or just dubbed versions of MTV shows (Parental Control & Sweet Sixteen) and top music videos in order to de-stress.

The Louvre, Eiffel Tower, Notre-Dame, Centre Georges Pompidou have all been conquered, and the Père Lachaise cemetery , which is right near Maria's spankin' new apartment, will be soon. The only problem is that anytime we try to visit a monument or museum (like the cemetery which houses Jim Morrison's awesome remains) it turns out to be closed. We've looked like fools standing outside of every friggin' tourist center and trying to make out why no one else is there, but we laugh it off and go back to what's always open- the internet to get our "fierceness" fix.

But even though we haven't been the model tourists, we believe we understand Parisian living now. Example: Maria buys a baguette, gets very excited about others walking around with baguettes (she seriously scared a man once, when she pointed anxiously at his), and them proceeds to devour baguette with cheese. Ah, the beauty of Paris. We learned how to shop like a Parisians, and how to not be offended at the quite curt manners of salespersons.

And now we walk the streets of Paris confident we can find our way, or get lost with style (thanks to Tyra and Heidi). We might not be the chicest on the street, but we understand what chic is.

But not all fashion is glamorous, attractive and pleasant odored. Walking through the streets of Paris on the 31st of January- one of the few times we left the apt - our heads still buzzing with ANTM, and trying to find our ex-SAM Jordi in front of the Louvre (a feat too difficult for us) we run into a little bald man with huge designer glasses on his head and a scarf. Feeling unthreatened by what clearly appeared to be a gay man that was shorter then all of us - except maybe Maria, we stopped and listened to him repeatedly asking us if we knew where a certain youth hostel was. We didn't. Yet he kept asking and talking. So, that's how we found out, or at least he told us, that he was a makeup artist.

One thing led to another, and because of too much ANTM and hopes for a free makeup job, we ended up in a café with him. We were très chic sitting with this an of fashion, when little by little our first good impressions of him evolve into disgust. Suddenly the patchyness of his bald head became very apparent as well as the dirt all over his hands and that horrible smell coming from rotten green teeth.
Excitement all gone, fear took its place and we all started shifting in our seats wishing that we had told him that we were busy meeting a friend rather than follow him into that damned café. He kept talking and talking in an incomprehensible accent that seemed to come from nowhere - not French as he claimed - a new cloud of bad breath reaching us with each sentence, and then when are eyes were wandering to clocks and cell phones he started making his moves on Aro. He made the classic "call-me" signal at her while the rest were distracted with writing down email addresses, which he had insisted on. We felt the agony would soon be over, but he continued to brag and brag about all the people he had met in the biz, including some guy name Georges Collony-- his attempt to talk about the beautiful George Clooney. We finally escaped his grasp, when his appointment with some other poor soul approached. This was the one time that the French custom of the double-kissed goodbyes have been thoroughly hated. With no particular place to go, we frantically headed towards the opposite direction this man took. But this was not the last of creepy men that night.

As previously stated, it was the 31st and we planned to welcome the new year with Jordi and his lovely family at the Eiffel Tower. After some confusion, we finally met up with Jordi and headed over to the tower.
It was amazing. The place was packed, full of people looking up at the blue tower with champagne in hand. The cold wasn't even felt because of the amount of people there.

When midnight was finally here, the fireworks went off. They were a bit weak, and not at all compared to the fierceness we had expected from Paris. But at this very moment, a man about 5 feet in front of us proposed matrimony to his girlfriend. Apolline felt it was contrived; while the rest celebrated for the couple. She said yes, of course, and then they began to make-out (like you do in Paris--PDA is no joke) and he also began to grope her butt, which was very uncomfortable for us all.
After this we decided to take a tour around the place. Luckily we had two strong men with us because apparently New Year's is the time to get into girls' faces and scream "Bonne Année" in a flirty/scary/hysterical way. We were stopped many times, asked to give kisses, after our refusals we were reprimanded because, apparently, in Paris "c'est normal!" We were asked if we were Brazilian, Russian, Italian, etc- and once our nationalities were made evident by our "I don't understand you" we were asked about Obama and 50 Cent, our national heroes. But luckily things didn't get out of hand, thanks to Apolline's "crazy eyes" which she was obliged to give to several gangs of thuggish looking 15 year olds begging for our phone numbers.

After this exhausting and eventful day, of course we needed to recuperate with more fierce, fictional drama. We turned to the people who have never failed us.

And now, Apolline is gone to Scotland. We wait for a post from just her. And Aurora and Maria spend day and night in Maria's ridiculously cute apartment in the 20th district of Paris. We will not talk about Maria's attempt to secure an affordable apartment in Paris because we have tried to erase that pain from our memories.

My-See from Costa Rica!

Hola everybody! (My-see is close to how my name is pronounced here).

Well I've officially been in Monteverde, Costa Rica for a full week now and I have to say, if heaven were a place on earth... it would be here. I have not stopped having fun since the moment I arrived and so far I've had no major disasters (which probably means I'm due for a big one).

Ok, so the basics... I'm living in a homestay with a great family in a neighborhood called Barrio Cementerio which is about a 20 t0 30 minute walk away from town and most other establishments. I have 3 sisters who live with me, another who has moved out, and two brothers who both have wives and children. Needless to say, my family is huge. My mom's name is Idaly and she speaks basically no English, as is the case for my sisters Jayme (19) and Amanda (14), though Kelly (10) is pretty fluent. The girls and I first bonded over music (and chocolate that I brought for them... we now share a love of kit-kats), primarily Shakira, 50 cent, Korn (? I know, right?), and Eminem - all the kids here love American music, though I did score a few "legit"points with Amanda when I knew all the words to some Latin songs on the TV (thanks Arizzle!). My house is incredibly fun and the girls are wildly entertaining... there's never less than 10 people crowded into our little space, not counting babies!  

I'm currently attending a school about a 30 minutes walk from my house called CPI where I'm taking 5.5 hours of Spanish a day, one-on-one, with teachers who don't speak English. I sure as hell better know my stuff when I get back. I'll take classes at CPI for four weeks and then in February I start teaching at the Cloud Forest School about 20 minutes (and straight uphill) from my house. I'll be working with the special education teachers for three months - met both of them and they're very nice. Most all the teachers at the school are young and fresh out of college, so everyone's super enthusiastic. I'll also be working with about 10 other interns who'll be helping and teaching in other classrooms at the school, though they've started already.

The weather here is absurdly great - it's currently 75, sunny, and dry as a bone. This is a mountain in the cloud forest region, which literally means we're in the clouds... so while it does rain here, most of the moisture you'll encounter is just water droplets sort of suspended in the air. I've actually walked through clouds. Because Monteverde is a mountain, everything's also straight up hill... or rather, straight up the mountain. I figure I walk about 4 to 5 miles a day which is great for exercise, not so great for smelling nice. The food here is also amazing - I've been eating mango and pineapple and plaintains and guava like it's my job! We usually eat gallo pinto for breakfast (and pretty much every meal) which is simply rice and black beans together. Last night, I helped my mom make tortillas and she didn't even mind when mine were hideously misshapen... though Kelly refused to eat them this morning, ha!

Everyone here gets up really early, usually before 6 and the radio comes on at 6:15 whether you're awake or not. I'm up by 6 to get to my class by 8 and usually in bed by 11... I've spent every night this week studying Spanish for like 5 hours after class. It's like Swat on steroids, but it's pretty amazing to study only one subject so intensely and be able to use what you learned in class at the dinner table later in the day. Pretty cool stuff.

Some of you may have heard about the massive earthquakes affecting many parts of Central and South America - while some parts of Costa Rica were really devastated, this region is fine, even though we are close to Volcan Poas. One little story about that before I bid you adios... so in the afternoons, I have a "conversation class" with this great Tico (native costa rican) named Carlos, which means we just chill in this little room for an hour and a half and speak only Spanish. So on Thursday at around 1:30 we were chattin' it up (probably about love or life or something crazy deep like that cuz that's what we usually wind up talking about) when all of the sudden the room started to tremble. I must have made a ridiculous face like, "What the hell is happening?!" because Carlos immediately said, "Es ok, es ok... es a, how you say... poquito air-th quack."

Love this place.

ps - I'll be posting pictures, just as soon as I find out how to upload them, ha. Also ladies, get your shit together and update us on your adventures!

As they say here... Pura Vida!