I fell asleep fairly early last night. I was hoping to get a good night sleep and wake up refreshed, bright eyed and non-bushy tailed; unfortunately, my body clock was not agreeing with me. I was wide awake around 3am and instead of fighting the sheets and wasting my breath on praying for sheep to go flying over the fence and for me to fall back asleep. I turned the light on and decided to be productive, which of course means I did nothing productive at all; I googled and participated in the ridiculous past time of social networking. I kept looking at the LED lights flashing on my phone, hoping the numbers would magically read 8am so I could wake up and get ready for the day, but of course this was nothing but wishful thinking. At some point, I did fall back asleep and in a deep enough sleep to hear the ‘antelope’ ringtone on my blackberry, signaling the start of my day. Alarm clocks are so intrusive. They’re like the annoying kid that never goes away. I might as well get an alarm clock that punches me in the face – wake up, BAM, in the naríz [nose] because right now I spend most of my time fighting with the snooze button. If it hit me as hard as I hit it every morning, I’d be in trouble. I finally did get out of bed around 8:15, got ready for the day, and walked to my first class with my roommates.
Before I start my legal internship, I will have 1-2 weeks of class that will serve as a refresher course for my español. I can definitely hold my own conversationally, but as far as subjunctive verbs go, I’m completely lost. I took a placement test and was placed in the “Intermediate Superior” level. I entered my class and received a warm welcome from my peers and profesora. In class, we spent most of the day conversing and talking about our hobbies and what we liked or disliked about Sevilla. There is a girl from Italy, one girl from China, a boy from Sweden, a girl from Ireland, a boy from England and one other chica from Wisconsin [side note: natch we discussed The Pack (we don't use lowercase with the Green Bay Packers) and were fast friends. I informed her that even though I attended school and lived in Minneapolis, I would never be a Vizzer fan and was planning on single handedly bringing the green and gold over to Europe]. I am the youngest in my class, but everyone was very kind and welcoming. Aside from telling the class what we were best at (I picked beber y correr [drinking and running] and the whole class agreed that there is a technique to taking a chupito [shot]). The professor was very enthusiastic and told me, “No puedo correr pero yo PUEDO beber” [I cannot run, but I can drink]. Clearly I was placed in the right room. We also discussed this absolutely nuts festival called La Feria de Rocio. This festival has a very strong religious background, but to put it bluntly –> these people are crazy. See below for the description:
[from http://www.andalucia.com/festival/rocio.htm] The El Rocío pilgrimage is the most famous in the region, attracting nearly a million people from across Andalucia and the entire country, and beyond. Every Andalucian city, town and village has its own pilgrimages, for its patron saint, virgin or other much-loved local figure. But the El Rocio has cult status, and is the most important and most colourful. It follows on from Semana Santa(March/April), and the various spring ferias, of which Seville’s Feria de Abril (April) is the biggest. The object of the pilgrimage is a 13th-century statue of the Virgen Del Rocio (Virgin of the Dew), in the town of the same name. El Rocio is in Huelva province, in the heart of the Doñana park, between Almonte and the coast. Most pilgrims, known as rocieros, approach the town through the park itself. The town of El Rocío is a sprawling, pretty Wild-West-style place (you tie your horse to a wooden rail with a sign saying “Reservado Caballos” – reserved for horses – while you have a drink or a meal), with sandy, unpaved roads (easier on the hooves). For a few days in late May or early June, Catholic hermandades (brotherhoods) and countless others flock from all over Andalucia, Spain, and beyond, to the town, to pay tribute to the Virgin del Roció, housed in her own church in the town. In the early hours of Pentecost Monday, the Virgin is brought out of her church by the Almontehermandad, who claim her as their own. A tussle ensues between the various other brotherhoods for the honour of carrying her to the next chapel, and so she journeys around the town, visiting all the hermandades’ chapels, for the rest of the day. Popularly known as La Paloma Blanca (the White Dove), she is an object of massive veneration in Andalucia, and huge crowds push and shove just to get the chance to touch the glass case in which the Virgin sits, as she sways dangerously from side to side. People even lift small babies up to touch her. This remarkable, chaotic event is always televised by Canal Sur, the Andalucian regional TV station.
After class, myself and two of my roommates, Kate and Kaleb went to Cortes Ingles which is basically like a Target, Nordstroms. and Hyvee put together. It’s epic and my mecca. I’m pretty sure that if you wanted to, you could buy a small child in this store. Forget sightseeing, I’m checking out the makeup aisle. This store has like 600 types of sunscreen alone. Like I said: Epic. There is also a supermercado [supermarket] in the basement of the department store so we decided to “kill two birds with one stone” and get our grocery shopping done. Turns out I cannot subsist on pan [bread] and Nutella. The products and food are very similar to an American grocery store. My main reservation was that they sold mini chicken brains and the chicken drumsticks and chicken breasts still had feathers on them – sick. My roommate Kate had informed me five minutes prior to this discovery that she was a vegetarian so naturally, I’m really intelligent and was like, “Holy crap! Feathers!” and accidentally forced it in her face. Again, I’m such a lady; just so cultured.
We left Cortes Ingles and returned home to our humble abode. After eating a quick lunch and taking a mini descanso [rest], we left again to meet some of my old friends from my previous study abroad experience. We spent the afternoon drinking cervecitas [small beers] and enjoying the beautiful weather. At one point we sat next to the río [river] where I met Lorenzo. Lorenzo is a big guy in his late 50s or 60′s and only spoke Spanish. Our conversation (translated) went like this –>
[Side note: my friends soon after said, “Leesy, let me give you some advice: do NOT start a conversation with this guy; he won’t leave you alone."]
“What’s your name?” “Lindsey”
“Wait, what is it? Tensley?” “Lindsey”
“No, I’m just going to call you Guapa. I’m not going to remember your name.”
–5 seconds later–
“Why are you here?” “I have a legal internship.”
“Guapa, you need drinks, I need a lawyer.”
Lorenzo then brought me a bowl of peanuts and drinks.
As we were leaving, Lorenzo asked me what time I would be back tomorrow because he expected me to be there every single day. I said, “Lorenzo, I’m not sure if I’ll be here tomorrow.”
“Okay Lindsey, I’ll see you at 4. Mi casa [he was referring to the bar] es su casa.”
After a quick stop at a café for a coffee and promises for another reunion with my old friends, Kaleb, Kate, and I returned home; worn out from the sun and ready for bed. After a dinner of pasta, a shower, and cleaning my room, it’s now 11:30 pm and I’m more than ready for bed. Cross your fingers I’m not up in 3 hours. Tomorrow is my second day of class. I’m really looking forward to getting this first week out of the way. I’m still feeling little pulls on my heart strings as I think of home, but I know that I soon will be fully adjusted and really seizing the day. I hope that you are all well and know that you are all in my heart and close to me always. I love you.
xx, Lindsey
