Part 96 in the 97 part series on private education in spain: how we know sexism isn't dead in spain

So I haven't written in a while, but that's to be expected considering I am Fiona and not very apt to keep with anything. BUT! Today my prof at the Spanish university said something so priceless that I had to share.

Of course I arrive and find the door closed and room dark, but being the absurdly responsible person I am, I decided to wait five minutes before assuming class was canceled and leaving. After about 7 minutes (my watch is dead) the prof comes and I am still the only person there. He was pretty excited/ticked off (excited because I don't talk during class and if I'm the only person there, then he can actually give his lecture) and (ticked off because the entire class hadn't come). Anyway, he decides to just tell me the whole lecture on the roots of nazism, even though I'm not going to be here for the final exam, so it's a complete waste of time.

Finally, after about a half hour of him telling me things and me nodding obediently, five or six spanish students come in, all boys. Apparently there was a lecture by a poet that the class had been attending (most of them skipped out, in ordinary spanish fashion, rather than coming to history, but a few of them did make it). When they explained where they had been, and that their literature prof had made them stay, my prof says (author's translation):

"With Fiona's pardon, the problem with literature is the women who don't know how to keep things organized. If that were a politics lecture, the men would have kept things moving along on time."

I, of course, responded, "Hey! I study government!"

Later, when two more spaniards trickled in, the prof broke from the lecture just long enough to say that sometimes when they assassinate poets, it's the right choice (referring to the nazism we're studying, obviously).

Can you tell this is my favorite class? It is.

Conclusion: It's not my fault, women just can't stay organized.

Part 18½ in the 97 part series on private education in spain: why the american revolution was actually alright

Some of you may (or probably not, because no one actually reads this but me) remember when, in Part 1 in the 97 part series on private education in spain, I explained that my prof spent most of the first class telling us why the American revolution was unimportant, useless, and that America was really not relevant until the first world war. So today, while discussing England's role in WWI, he segues and looking right at me says, "Actually, you guys did well in revolting against the British. They are pretty stupid." Well, he said that in Spanish, and that's my best translation. It was less awkwardly phrased in Spanish.

Non sequitur: This prof always talks to us in tú and vosotros (informal you, singular and plural respectively) but we always have to talk to him in usted (formal you). I miss the good ol US of A where you can call your professors by their first names. Also, I hate usted. I've almost forgotten how to use it because I never talk to elders or non-peers. Urgh. Grammar! *shakes fist*

Conclusion: apparently we did well what with the little, irrelevant revolution we had a few years back...yay us!

where my head's at

So I have been working hard to find the so-called "scene" here in Madrid, and believe you me, it is hard to find the good music when you don't have the Stranger or KEXP or thousands of free CDs to push you in the right direction. Based on some sneaky sleuthing, however, I did buy two cds this weekend, which are both amazing. One is basically flamenco rock, no further explanation necessary, and the other is something like if Hot Chip and Fujiya & Miyagi both impregnated a troop of Spanish aliens, who's offspring then grew up to be eccentric musicians. Enjoy. And it's totally worth watching, even if you don't speak spanish, because there is a smattering of English in it, rad hair, and the words "revolucion sexual" which are pretty self-explanatory.

Cheers!

Mala leche

Spain is so sketchy. Specifically spanish men. I always forget about it, but then occasionally I remember. Take today. I go for a walk in Retiro and no fewer than four men tried to pick me up, one of whom was like 65. Blurg. I'm not blond or super cute, so leave me alone! I just wanted to read my book about russian czarism.

Conclusion: the safest thing is to not leave the house.

How the Spanish Eat

So today we apparently had potatoes fried in more potatoes for lunch. There may have been some eggs in there, but I frankly couldn't tell. Oh, and on the side we had fried spinach. I think my Senora wants me to have a heart attack. There is no other explanation.

Conclusion: heart disease? (the spanish work for heart attack is enfarta (you can all just laugh about that later privately))

Part 17 in the 97 part series on private education in spain: and then we studied africa

In my class at the Spanish University we are now (quite suddenly) studying European imperialism in Africa (which was quite a leap from the pre-WWI Russia where we were before Christmas (not only have we moved spatially but temporally as well)). So yesterday, when only about 8 of 25 kids came to class, the prof announced we were going to have a geography exam on Africa. The first response of the class was, "What, Africa? With all the weird names?" And then of course because no one came yesterday, today we had to go over the exact same absurdity again.

Then the poof prof spent the whole class period just trying to tell us which modern countries pertained to which imperial powers in some sort of logical, geographical order, but mostly failed to do so because someone interrupted him every thirty seconds.

Finally, he tried to explain to us why Ethiopia and Liberia were the only states that stayed free during the imperial period. The kids were simply not listening, so to spice things up, he goes, "Oye, americana, explicanos lo que paso con Liberia." Which roughly translates to "Hey, american, explain what happened with Liberia." Which I did, (thank you Loland!), however it tickles me that he finds it acceptable to call me out as "American." What can I say? Spain is different.

Conclusion: How does anyone learn anything here?

Marchar!

Ugh. So I hadn't stayed out until late since December, and I always forget how lame it is to wake up at like 1 the next day and get that little look and tsk tsk tsk from Imelda (my Senora). Not to mention, Blas (my dog) barks when you open the door, so the whole world knows what time you came back and has to wake up when you do.

That said, I had a great time out with a bunch of the new kids from the spring semester. I had gone out with Laura and Molly (ostensibly to the appletini bar, but they apparently don't make them any more, which is sad) to meet up with one of Molly's friends from high school who was staying in Madrid. Tragically, the hotel people wouldn't let us into their hotel to hang out so we ended up bumping into another kid from the program in McDonalds (don't judge: they're the cleanest free bathrooms that are open until late) and went out to another bar to hang with a bunch of kids. It actually closed really early and, in all my infinite wisdom, I decided I didn't need a Bujo (night bus) to get back to Manuel Becerra (where I live), even though like six of them pass through there. I had walked the same distance three times already that day, but logic always fails me late at night. So of course what takes 20 minutes sober in chucks, takes nearly an hour intoxicated and in heels. Such is life. I have blisters.

Today is Sunday. Time for homework!

Recap!

Haven't been around lately. Sorry. Quick recap:

Christmas:
Lyon/Chambery, Francia (frenchiness)
Frankfurt/Nurnberg, Munchen, Rothenburg, Alemania (castles and concentration camps)
Salzburg, Austria (austria is pretty much germany)
Venezia/Firenze/Verona,/Milano, Italia (wild cats tried to kill us in Poggibonsi)
Basel/Geneva, Suiza (what does it take to get a stamp in your passport?)
Oporto, Portugal (by accident)

January:
Snow in Madrid! *shakes fist*
orientation in Andalucia (we went everywhere! so pretty)
Bilbao/San Sebastian in Pais Vasco (we were not blown up by ETA, so counted the trip a success)

Yet to come:
going to Morocco next weekend!

Miss/love you all. Perhaps I shall be a less fickle blogger in the future. But then, who am I kidding? That's never going to happen.

Salzburg

Ugh. Still alone. Now in Salzburg. There,s one more chance for Nora to come tomorrow, and if her flight doesn't go, I'm pretty much out of luck. I suppose I should go see the town or something, but I'm really not in the mood. Happy day before the day before Christmas, all!

Chambery, Francia!

So I'm with the delicious (not that I would know) Steph Latchman here in her adorable home(ish)town of Chambery, Francia! It's like so painfully french, it hurts me to think about it. The language is terrifying. Ugh. French just seems so hard. Maybe that's why they're elitist? I suppose it makes sense that if no one else can figure out your language, that you would feel superior. Either way, Francia is delightful. We had a stellar weekend in Lyon before coming back to Chambery. In Lyon, they had a big sign in lights that said "Thank You Mary" (in French) which made me laugh. It's almost as good as in Spain where we have "Mary's uterus spontaneously got pregnant" holidays. Like seriously, they're not Virgin Mary Days (well, a lot of them are), they're actually magical pregnancy days. You've got to give the Catholics props for being creative, though. I mean, I guess no one would accept a lord and savior who's mom was running it all over town.

At any rate. Am here in France. life goes on. It is cold (but I do not need a coat, thank you very much Suzannah!). I am, however, thinking about investing in a hat. I hear good things. I shall update when possible. I love and miss all you kids!

Conclusion: France is terrifying...but so cute! Like a tasmanian devil. Cute? Yes. Deadly? Most certainly. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fa1Bd-1rJ0w

Countdown to Steph Latchman!

Yes, that's right. Soon we shall be joining my favorite person ever in Francia! That person is Steph effing Latchman, and she is ungodly awesome.

Countdown: 5 days!

Grr. Man, I'm so fucking sick of Spain. I want to go home.

Part 2 of the 97 part series on private education in Spain: if a bomb falls on England

The Spanish private education system is, as we have previously noted, very Catholic, very conservative, and (one might argue) very ridiculous.

Case in point: Today my professor explained to us why Hungarians have traditionally had a highly nationalistic tilt. Essentially, they are the only pueblo with their specific culture, and thus if they disappear, there is no more Hungarian culture. Fair enough. So to sate their nationalistic tendencies, they of course oppress the other neighbor cultures.

Quote: "Si cae una bomba en inglaterra, pues no pasa nada, porque todavia queda Australia, Canada, etc."
Translation: "If a bomb falls on England, well nothing happens, because there is still an Australia, Canada, etc."

Of course if a bomb falls on Hungary, then we have a problem. The English? Ehh.

Conclusion: England is dispensable.

¡and then she showed us her culo!

And today, during the course of a normal dinner, my Señora stood up, pulled up her dress and showed us her ass…ostensibly to show Suzannah that she had a mole which was in fact not cancerous. I have seen the ass of my 65 year old Señora.

Conclusion: España is different.

¡Obama, rumbo a la Casa Blanca!

¡Obama, bound for the White House!

That was the headline of El País on Wednesday morning (exclamation points added (but they make it more exciting)). Tuesday was a crazy day. I could barely focus my thoughts the whole day. I was so nervous and excited. At 11 we went to the all-night returns watching party hosted by the Democrats Abroad. This is what it looked like. It was a little like a political mosh pit.

My Señora came for the first part, which was great, and there were actually a great deal of Españoles. Which just goes to show what an international election this was. Suzannah was wearing an Obama shirt, so many enthused newsfolk took many pictures and/or videos of her. This is when we were awake and enthused. Later we were enthused in a more soporific manner. I only got pictures of my pecho, with a Dems Abroad pin. Oh well.

This is approximately what it looks like when, after being awake for approximately 34 hours, a lot of expats and enthused Madrileños find out that some guy named Barack Obama is going to be President, or something. Also, my batteries were dying and I was bouncing around in excitement...so it pretty much looks like nothing. Pues, pasa nada. Anyway, I'm pretty bummed I missed all the amazingness that went down in the streets of Seattle...but I guess we can't be everywhere all at once. All said and done, I know that no politician can remedy all the troubles of our country, or walk on water, or magically make the Bush years disappear, but I really think that he is the first president in years who has the ability to make real change. I know change doesn't come quickly to these United States, but for now I just want to bask in the glory of it.

Conclusion: My faith is restored in the American people.

¡Las elecciones américanas!

Today, wearing the Obama pin that Suzannah lent me, and my own Democrats abroad pin, no fewer than five people stopped me in the metro and the streets to tell me how amazing Obama is. And don't I know it? It was incredible to feel pride for my country. Never in my sentient, young adult years have I felt proud of my country, of what my country could do in just a few short hours, of what my country could still be in the future. As I was going up the escalators in my metro station, I locked eyes for one moment with a woman who gave me the biggest, warmest smile. It melted my heart.

Entonces, during my class (of modern history) at the CEU, the spanish students started asking a bunch of questions about the election and about the American electoral system. So instead of having class, we basically had an Ask Fiona Questions session. In short, I explained the whole system of the electoral college (in Spanish) and then everyone said it seemed completely unfair (of course). Obviously, they just wanted to skip class (and who could blame them?) but they were very appreciative at the end. They were all excited that the Americans had voted, and that there could be an Obama presidency.

So now I'm getting ready for an all-night Democrats Abroad returns watching party. I have already voted, and there nothing more to do but not sleep...and hope. As cliche as it sounds, it's really what makes Obama what he is, and what makes him worthwhile. Because today there is still hope. There is still excitement. There is still pride. And even if all these overwhelming emotions die sometime during the madrugada tomorrow in Florida or Ohio or Pennsylvania, at least today, for one last day, we still had hope.

Concusion: It is still early in the States, especially on the west coast. Entonces...VOTE, BITCHES, VOTE.

¡Real Madrid!

Went to a futbol game last night! It was Real Madrid versus Bilbao Athletic Club, and it was an excellent. Bilbao has a reputation for violence, and they did not disappoint. We saw a number of yellow cards, one red card, and a penalty. Also, for heaven's sake. All the players totally ham it up when they fall or get knocked over. One guy went down and lay there like writhing and moaning until the medics ran over, then he hopped up and was fine. They all just want penalties. Of course Real Madrid won (I mean, they are "Real" (which means "royal")).

Either way, fun was had by all. There was a large (school?) group of Brits in front of us who were really enjoying it (if one defines "enjoy" as throwing things at everyone and blowing horns). Suzannah got a boss new scarf (for her bro, I believe), and now I'm a little sad I didn't also (although I have no brother). Maybe I'll find on at the Rastro...or go to another game! I'll just have to scare up another 40 euros (pricey, huh?). But totally worth it!

¿appletinis?

stronger than one might think.

Part 1 of the 97 part series on private education in Spain: an introduction

So I have one class at a private Spanish university (Universidad San Pablo CEU). Now, private in Spain isn't like private liberal arts schools in the states. They are pretty much designed to catch the kids who aren't accepted at the much more prestigious (and basically free) public universities, as well as kids from very rich, conservative families who dislike the socialist tilt of the public schools. So basically this a university full of rich, spoiled, conservative kids who either aren't smart enough or don't want to work enough to get into pubic universities. Fun times, right?

Right! Anyway, my class is about contemporary history (which is defined as post French Revolution (the professor spent most of the first class explaining why the American revolution is neither part of nor important to contemporary history)). There is a textbook for the class, however as far as I can tell, no one has yet bought it (myself included). We have not had homework yet in the six weeks of class. There are no reading assignments. No one comes to class and punctuality is apparently not considered very important. And, of course, there is a large crucifix on the wall of the class.

Conclusion: Private education in Spain is awesome.

¡Portugal!

We are now fairly certain that the Portuguese have this game where they give wildly incorrect maps to tourists, then sit in cafes to laugh at the pathetic foreigners scaling small mountains in search of roads that do not exist. We spent the majority of the weekend in Lisboa completely and utterly lost. In fact, on Friday, Lauren and I spent nearly an hour searching out a metro station which turned out to be approximately two minutes from our hostel. Then, as if maps which are filled with the streets which don't exist and none of the streets which do, the whole city is on seven gigantic hills. I'm not talking molehills here. I mean small mountains.

Anyway, all navigational troubles aside, Lisboa is a really beautiful city, in a sort of peculiar, run-down way. It looks as if it hasn't changed or really developed in about 50 years. The buildings are in decay, with cracked plaster and missing tiles. Not to mention the streets are about an inch deep in filth of all sorts. You can barely tell the original color of the sidewalks and many of the buildings. But the whole medieval quarter (which survived a big fire in the late 1700s) is covered with tiles called azulejos, which are patterned on Moorish tiles. We spent most of the weekend finding museums for hours and hours, and a few castles and palaces (of course). Saturday we went to a little pueblo outside of Lisboa called Sintra which was gorgeous! Dios mio. We saw this ridiculous palace which was built by an eccentric millionaire in the early 1900s. Seriously, it was like the wet dream of a twelve year-old Tolkien geek.

(Also, they have ketchup flavored potato chips. Excellent.)