Column A, Column B

I’ve been in Spain for 9 months.

Things I have missed:

• Family and friends
• A dryer (but only sometimes)
• Michigan beer
• Spicy food
• Customer service
• Central heating (but only for about two months)
• Fall & Spring foliage
• My gato

Things I haven’t missed:

• Driving
• Crappy weather
• Driving in crappy weather
• Expensive produce
• Expensive food & drink in general
• 2am cutoffs
• Coffee in to-go cups
• Sleep deprivation

140/365

Today we went to la Isla de Tabarca – the small (barely) inhabited island off the coast of Alicante. It is full of small sunny streets, stray cats, and unbelievably clear water. I want to come back with snorkeling gear.

134/365

My afternoon.

133/365

Of late, Saturday night has become the night to run around on the beach with a tripod. This week we had our cameras focused on the sea when we noticed another type of light that had appeared at our backs. (It made me think of the night market in Detroit.)

132/365

El Barrio de la Santa Cruz, with it’s narrow streets and brilliant colors.

Semana Santa

Elaborately braided palms on Domingo de Ramos

It’s hard to pinpoint exactly when life in a new place just becomes life. For me the epiphany has occurred when I come back to Spain from trips other countries, and breathe a sigh of relief to be back home – because it feels suspiciously like home. Obviously I am still a guiri, and a thousand little contrasts show it (I haven’t found the unspoken but unanimously adhered to schedule for what date it’s okay to wear short sleeves or a skirt without tights, or just how sunny it can be out before you leave the house without a scarf.) In the streets waiters and strangers speak English at my American face. But the overwhelming feeling of otherness has faded. Routines have normalized. Several months ago I still was a little baffled when Spanish camareros brought a knife and fork with a croissant. Now if I order a croissant with my coffee and it doesn’t come with silverware, I feel a little affronted – what am I, a savage?

All the same, at the back of my mind I am aware of the contrasts, as I begin to pull together details for what my life will look like in the coming year. I already am aching at the thought of going home (although home has begun to waver and shift) and leaving behind little things here: the glint of the sea on my morning commute, the ability to sit down and drink a coffee slowly with coworkers in the middle of the school day.

And just as life in Spain feels normal, Semana Santa happens.

95/365

Semana Santa processions:

A combination of funeral march, parade, marching band, hymn, solemn dance… and so many other things combined to make me feel very American and out of place.

Again, more on that later.

 

90/365

Today during my weekly bilingual stroll through Alicante, we stumbled upon a door next to the cathedral. It was open for the first time that I’ve seen, and we left the street full of noise and bars for a small small pool of peac: a magical little courtyard filled with statues of saints, old coats of arms leaning on the wall, and the looming shapes of the pasos platforms waiting for Semana Santa. In the center of the courtyard was a trickling fountain covered with jasmine flowers, filling the air with their scent.

69/365

Construction (of hotels? apartment buildings? vacation homes?) at the base of the crumbling old staircase up to El Castillo de Santa Bárbara.

Today my intercambio and I had an interesting adventure. During our weekly bilingual paseo through Alicante, we passed through the neighborhood behind the cathedral, where we noticed some construction (see above) near what looked like the remains of some ancient stone walls, with what appeared to be tunnels going deep beneath Alicante’s iconic castle. We wondered what the remains were. A bit further on, we went into a ceramic shop that I noticed months ago in the barrio antiguo, which was finally open. Instead of the typical glossy mosaics that I’ve found in other more centrally located shops, it was a workshop crowded with faithful replicas of ancient artifacts, similar to those discovered in Roman ruins in this region, which now reside in Alicante’s fantastic archeological museum. It turns out that the shop is run by the retired restoration director from the museum – an animated old man who described his work at the museum, the tragic popularity of the touristy garbage available in other ceramic shops, and how the city prefers to pay off archeologists and covertly re-bury archeological discoveries, rather than be delayed by the hassles of preserving them.

(Currently several construction projects on main roads in Alicante have ground to a halt due to the discovery of archeological remains. In a town as old as this you can’t break ground for a water main without encountering what I affectionately call “old shit.”)

After lots of stories and approximately 4 cigarettes, our new acquaintance pulled out a photo album from among the dust, tools, and clay busts of the workshop. To our surprise, it was full of a careful documentation of the destruction of an ancient tower right at the spot we were examining earlier in the day, which appeared in old postcards and photos and gradually fell into disrepair, until today when the few remaining walls are crumbling into the hillside and apparently about to be built over by new construction.

After hearing these stories, we left the shop and strolled past the construction projects on the Rambla, which suspiciously enough was still going strong at almost 9pm on a Friday evening. (The Spanish work ethic is far too healthy for that nonsense.) We tried to peer through the barriers to catch a glimpse of something (old artifacts? ancient walls? a unscrupulous archeologist being paid off by shady city officials?) but whatever may have been beneath was already drowned in concrete.

I have mixed feelings about the delicate balance between preserving history and allowing life to flow on… regardless, it was fascinating, and I would love to stroll around town with this guy and hear other stories.

Also, some of you may be receiving very credible yet affordable replicas of foot-shaped pitchers and clay lamps depicting orgy scenes. Just to warn you.

*Note: For anyone nerdy enough to care, I am aware that there are two spellings of arch(a)eology, but I am trying to reign in unnecessary abundances of vowels whenever possible.

Mid-Year

I feel like most things in my life recently are a little retrasado (and I mean that more in the running late sense, and less in the mentally delayed way – but who knows?)

So more than a week after the fact, I am taking time to comment upon the many impressions and inspirations that I was left with after spending several days in Valladolid for Fulbright´s mid-year meeting. This included all the English Teaching Assistants from all over Iberian Peninsula – from Valencia, Cantabria, Madrid, and Andorra – and all the research grantees here in Spain, researching everything from cancer to Antarctica to flamenco.

Hint: this is not a cheap student hostel.