22 Years

Well, today marks another year of my life. A lot has happened this past year. Monday the 14th marks one year since my dear friend Heather died. I had never before experienced such loss and despair. It's always hard to lose a loved one, but all the more difficult when it happens without warning or explanation, to someone in the prime of her life. Back home my friends have organized a little ceremony, dedicating a little memorial of pictures and a plaque in the Linguistics Department at the University, where we all met and became so close. Part of the memorial is a webpage with an epitaph for Heather in all of the languages we know. I helped write the Spanish version.

If there's one thing such great loss has taught me, it's the value of the people in my life. I will never again take for granted my friends and family. Nothing else matters more than them and I cherish them today and everyday, knowing tomorrow I might not get the chance.

~~

This year has also brought a lot of joy. I had some amazing times: visited every city on the west coast with the best of friends, threw parties for Chinese New Year, Cinco de Mayo, and every other occasion you can name, and of course have the amazing opportunity of living in Spain and learning every day more of the language I love.

With regards to more recent fun, last weekend I visited Madrid.

Metropolis Building

Puerta de Alcalá

Puerta del Sol. With my friend David, who goes by "Monky".

Illuminated at Night

We stayed with Monky's friends Javi and Patri (above).

It is a a really lovely city. There are tons of beautiful buildings and it was all lit up for Christmas making it especially lovely (though some streets had a rather odd modernist take on Christmas lights...). It was really just nice being in a big city. Oviedo is fairly small, and I had serious Cabin Fever. Madrid was just what the doctor ordered. Like all big cities, it has a very large immigrant population. This is so refreshing. I really enjoy being surrounded by diverse people and languages, choosing between Thai or Moroccan for dinner, passing by street performers juggling fire and playing the Djembe (African drum) on our way to the Prado fine art museum.

This is a poster in the metro. It's just so very illustrative I had to snap a picture. Bolivians residing in Madrid are encouraged to vote for Evo Morales. And it's very easy to do so, as they simply have to go to this metro to cast their vote. Bolivians can vote from Spain! This is just crazy to me. Needless to say there are a LOT of Latin Americans in Madrid.

And also, there were all the downsides of big cities. It was EXTREMELY crowded. It took five minutes at times to walk one measly block there were so many tourists and elderly people sauntering about. And when it started raining and all said people opened their umbrellas, it was outright chaos; impossible to move.

And it was very expensive. A drink in a discoteca can easily cost you 15 euros. THAT'S OVER 20 DOLLARS!!! We found cheap places to eat, but it was quite common to see 50 euro dinner platter "specials" to share.

It was a fun trip. But it's good to be home. I guess Oviedo does feel a bit more like home now. Nonetheless, I am EXTREMELY excited for Christmas. My family has given me the incredible present of a plane ticket to be with them. In Hawaii. I feel so fortunate, I just can't believe I will actually get to see my mom and dad, Kyle, and Hannah. Plus, I'll get to be with my cousins, aunt and uncle, grandma, the whole lot! Some of whom I haven't seen in probably three or four years. It is truly the best Christmas and/or birthday present I could ever ask for. ^_______^ (Asian-style smiling face, for those not familiar)

EZ Bake Thanksgiving

Well, it has certainly been a while, hasn't it? Last Sunday I sat down at my laptop, opened up a new post, and then realized I had nothing to say. So I left it. Now, however, it's one week later and I have LOADS to tell.

This week there was a film festival in the nearby town of Gijón. I went to two movies. Two very . . . interesting French movies. Being more "art" movies, they naturally had little to no plot or character development. Instead they both just sort of displayed events, created an impression. My impression was one of great discomfort. I consider myself quite liberal and open minded, but watching adolescents lick each other's faces and obese men cavorting in the buff would make anyone squirm. It was definitely an experience. We went out afterward, and it was refreshing to be in a different city, with different people and places.

The rest of the week I set myself to the daunting task of creating Thanksgiving. From scratch. I know it seems excessive, plenty of Americans abroad are content to eat poultry, watch football online, and call it a day. Not me. I was determined to recreate this most important holiday down to the smallest detail. Because to me it is very important. It's a uniquely American holiday (ok, and Canadian...). No frills, just food and family. I love it.

First and most importantly, I had to find a turkey. My friend Jaime, sharing in my enthusiasm for the occasion, agreed to help me obtain all the ingredients. With my mom's recipes in hand, we headed to the hipermercado. Within about three minutes we had found a turkey. A whole, fresh turkey. I was so excited I bought it on the spot. Thirteen pounds (6 kg) of bird was mine for the low low price of 26 € ($38).

Overexcited, wrapped up in the situation-- there are many ways to describe this state. When I compared my turkey to my oven, I knew that I had not thought this through. Ovens here are at least half the size of those in the U.S. From this moment the obstacles just kept growing. I had a falling out with my host family, and they said I would not be allowed to have Thanksgiving there. So we moved it to Jaime's house. Suddenly the oven at home was enormous, a luxury as we now had only a toaster oven to work with. To make matters worse, our internet went out, making it all the more difficult to ask mom for advice.

In order to fit the enormous turkey in our EZ bake oven, I first had to debone it. Yes, that's right, I painstakingly shaved all the raw meat off the bone. Let's just suffice to to say I never want to be a butcher in my life. After carving up the bird, we had no problem fitting a breast and drumstick in the toaster oven. With some careful planning and three straight hours of cooking we also somehow managed to make mashed potatoes, stuffing, vegetables, and gravy all come out reasonably hot.

It doesn't look right, but it tasted great. And I think that's what matters.

¡Qué rico!

Oh, and I forgot, I also made a pumpkin pie. From scratch. I actually took a pumpkin, and turned it into pie!

before

after

It all came out extremely delicious. Not to toot my own horn or anything, but it tasted pretty much spot on. But really, let's not lose sight of the true meaning of Thanksgiving. My goal with all of this was just to recreate as best I could the feeling of being all gathered together, enjoying each other's company and eating WAY too much food. Even though I couldn't be with my family, be served copious amounts of food with minimal effort, this Thanksgiving had a different kind of value. Going to all the effort, preparing days in advance, and sharing my culture with others, made it a very unique and memorable day.

Jaime (Spaniard), Me (American)

Eimear (Irish), Iván (Spaniard)

And pie for desert! mmmmmmmm

Til next time!

School Hasn't Gotten in the Way of My Education

This week has been just chock full of wonderful conversations. I feel like that's about all I did, really. As it turns out, my four classes are a very light load. And now that my intensive Spanish class has ended, I have a good deal more free time than I expected; more than I have ever had in college. What better way to spend my time than in conversation, right?

Conversation of all different types: in English with my teeny-bopper students, in Spanish with German/French/Hungarian/Polish/Italian classmates, in English with some wonderful British and Irish friends, and, of course, in Spanish with Spaniards! whew. This latter type is especially valuable, and henceforth will be getting an added boost thanks to my participation in a language "Tándem"--basically, we switch languages for mutual benefit. For all the hours I spend in class, I learn more Spanish in 15 minutes of conversation with a patient Spaniard than any amount of lecture could impart. Thankfully, as far as patience is concerned, my host family and tándem are saints.

It's all the little things involved in everyday conversation that have always eluded me: "well," "you know," "if only," "you're kidding!" "wow," and "you can say that again", to name a few. The words that take the least amount of thought and energy in English are a constant struggle here. I liken my current stage of language ability to a robot. I can express most any thought, idea, or question I'd care to, and people get the idea, but it's nearly always the most inelegant, unnatural, and mechanical kind of Spanish (cue R2-D2 noises and/or corny robotic dance moves).

Although I have resigned myself to the fact that I will never speak native-like, every day I pick up more and more of those little things that make a language human. "O sea," "pero bueno," "¿a que sí?" and "a lo mejor" are my latest gems, FYI. It is also some consolation that at least I'm not the worst off. My fellow Americans: you have a reputation for completely sucking at languages. Please sort it, pronto, so I don't have to go through life being "the exception to the rule" in this area as well. (¡Much more on Americans' reputations coming soon!)

~~~

Today, as most Sundays are and should be, has been a very tranquil, restful day. I did go to a cultural festival of sorts a few hours ago. I believe it was called "Amagüestu."

It was held on Calle Gascona, "The Boulevard of Cider." And there was plenty of Cider to go around. There were free cups of the sweet (a.k.a. not alcoholic) kind which I really enjoyed.

They were even making the cider on the spot, there in the street. Here are two adorable children mashing up apples.

This is their supposed (grand?)father pressing the apples into juice!

There were also chestnuts, roasting over an open fire. They were quite tasty, but after like 5 I was handing 'em out to old men like they were Necco wafers.

Finally, my personal favorite, Hello Kitty and Spongebob Squarepants enjoying the lilting melodies of a bagpipe band. in Spain. How great is this photo??

Until next week. Stay classy, assorted online readers.

Eu não falo português!!! U__U

It may not look like much, but that little purple line is almost a whole day of travel on a bus. For me it was even longer; two days on the way there as I stayed one night in Salamanca, and two days on the way back as I was majorly screwed over by the Portuguese people.

But first, Salamanca. It's a fantastic city. It is positively swarming with students and foreigners, a welcome change from Oviedo which can, at times, feel like one enormous retirement home. Salamanca is very lively. I believe someone told me it has the most bars per capita in all of Spain. And it seemed as though all of this life is built inside absolutely ancient buildings. Everything in the extensive medieval quarter is made from the same stone, which seems to glow when the sun hits it.

Sadly, I got there too late to take many good pictures of this phenomenon, but you can sort of see in this photo how the top of this building is glowing in the sun.

Here's the Plaza Mayor at night. It would be lovelier without those shacks, but they were selling used and rare books so I guess they can stay.

Here's the "new" cathedral (14th Cent. I think?)

After some brief sightseeing and an even briefer night out, it was off to Portugal. A word of advice to future travelers: don't even consider visiting the place unless you know a little Portuguese and/or Spanish. If anyone in Portugal speaks English, they are pretty damn well hidden. When I first decided to visit my friend Bethan, I didn't think much of the fact that she lives in small-town Portugal. I thought, Portuguese seems fairly similar to Spanish, I can even read it with some effort, why worry? The week before my trip I had researched some basic phrases, brushed up on major differences from Spanish, and felt quite confident I could survive in Portugal. From the first instant I heard the language though, I knew I had deceived myself.

Despite being able to read it, I couldn't understand a word! I wasn't even sure what language I was hearing at first. Two years ago, when I was living with my French friend Yvan, he asked me if Portuguese is somehow related to Russian or Polish. I just laughed in his face. Who could possibly think that? When I stepped off the bus, I understood instantly what Yvan was talking about. I heard, not the bouncy, lively language of samba and "The Girl from Ipanema", but a mouthful of consonants that could only be called semi-Slavic. For all you linguists out there (amateur or otherwise), I will gladly go into the details further down.

So, the instant I stepped foot in the country, I felt for the first time the fear, confusion, and frustration of not understanding anyone, and no one understanding me. To make matters worse, my phone was out of money, and I had no way of making any calls during the entire vacation. Somehow, after only a few wrong turns and dead ends, I made it to Bethan's house. From there I could rest easy, with the help of her Portuguese friends.

We had a lovely time. It was Welcome Week for the freshmen at the university, so there were numerous performances by local and international bands, DJs, and lots of dancing.

After the party, we tried the food at various street vendors. We had to pass on the hotdogs, though, since their being called cachorro (Spanish for "puppy") is less than appetizing.
Finally, we made it home just in time to watch a gorgeous sunrise.

Sadly, they do not celebrate Halloween in Spain or Portugal, so I did not get to dress up as anything this year. Though, if you look very closely at Bethan and me, you'll see small yellow produce stickers her Madeiran roommate stuck on us. Thus, I like to say I was a very old, very blackened banana for Halloween. "Eu sou uma banana da Madeira!"

I also saw some of the sites of the area, of course.

The church in Covilhã

My vacation was during All Saints Day, which is like Memorial Day in the U.S. This is a cemetery in Portugal, overflowing with chrysanthemums; a benediction was playing over loud speaker in the background.

This is inside the cathedral in Guarda. Those little lights in the corner are meant to be prayer candles. Only, they've modernized the idea, so that now you only have to drop in some coins and the little flame-shaped bulbs light up. My ten cents got me four candles!

Sadly, my prayers for safe and hassle-free travel were not answered. It was Monday, and I was in Guarda waiting for the 1:00 bus back to Spain. As the time of departure got closer, I began to get more and more anxious. First of all, nowhere at the bus station does it say when or where particular buses will come. They just appear, at whatever time they please, and are announced over loudspeaker in very fast, garbled Portuguese. There are no speakers in the waiting room, only outside in the cold. And the people in charge do not wear any kind of uniform. Thus, I had to continuously run up to each bus that arrived and ask if it was going to Salamanca. Every time a bus came, I ran to meet it, or tried to ask people if they knew anything about my bus. As 1:00 came and went I became frantic and asked everyone remotely official looking. Every time it was a different story:

"Ask the man in blue. He knows." So I would.
"Oh it's late," man in blue said. So I waited. Maybe the bus that says Spain is mine?
"No this bus doesn't go to Salamanca." So I waited.
"No the one for Salamanca will be here in 5 or 10 minutes." So I waited.

Of course, this was all in Portuguese, so who knows what they were actually saying. Some words have very different meanings in Portuguese, as I mentioned about the hotdog. In Spain atrasado means "late", or "behind schedule". In Portugal it means "I don't have a clue what the hell I'm saying but I would really like for you to wait in the cold for three more hours."

So that's what I did. Every time a bus came I would have an instant of hope, followed by a half-hour of despair, constantly led to believe that it would be there soon. Finally, after nearly four hours of this run-around, I found someone in charge who spoke a little Spanish. To my overwhelming anguish, he informed me that my bus had indeed come around it's assigned time, but in an act of incomprehensible incompetence, they had sold more tickets than there were seats. So the bus that said Spain was mine. My wouldn't it have been grand if someone on the bus to Spain spoke Spanish, or had a clue in general. Could have saved me the great pleasure of interrogating middle-aged women all day in the cold. I received no compensation for their error, aside from booking me a replacement ticket--for the following day. Exhausted and defeated, I trekked back to Beth's to await the next round of Portuguese pandemonium.

I eventually did make it home. Thank God. But let's suffice it to say that I have no plans on returning to Portugal in the near future. It was so great seeing Beth, so nice to have a real friend again and speak my language with her, but Portugal itself was a major, major disappointment. Even if I spoke the language, this would have happened to me. What they pass off as infrastructure is just a joke!

******LINGUISTIC NERD WARNING**************
As I said above, the language was also nothing like I had expected. I had imagined a country full of cute and bouncy sounds like in Manu Chao's song Homens. Unfortunately, European Portuguese is very different from the Brazilian type. I found a good comparison looking at newscasts.

First, from Portugal: Bom Dia Portugal. The ad at the beginning depicts especially well, I think, the language. Three things make it sound Slavic to me. First, the abundance of dark (or velar) [l]. Second, it seems they don't pronounce [o] or [e] in a lot of environments, so there are a lot of consonant clusters not normally heard in Romance languages. Third, [s] is very often [sh].

Now, from Brazil: Jornal do Globo. I think it's instantly apparent how different they are. The intonation is much more dramatic here. I guess [l] is pretty similar, but is vocalized in coda position. The s isn't pronounced [sh].

The moral of this story is, they're really different. Much more different than British and American English or Peninsular and American Spanish. (For those wanting a much more in-depth explanation, check out this site.) I also think I can understand the Brazilian type better. For those of you who speak Spanish, what do you think?
**************************************************

That's all I'll bore you with for now. I learned a lot on this trip. A lot about myself and for better or worse, a lot about life. While I was waiting at that bus station for hours on end I wanted nothing more than to go home. But then I realized, where is home? Is Spain my home? As much as I like it, it's not home. Is Salt Lake my home? It used to be, but by the time I get back there all my friends will probably have moved on and it will be a different place. I know I always have my parents' house to go to, but I feel like I'm a visitor there too. At the moment, I have no home. That's kind of a tough realization.

But even if it's not home, I'm very glad to be back in Spain. It's so nice being in a country whose language I speak. I'm still nowhere near fluent, but this trip has provided a good contrast with which to measure how much Spanish I do know.

One Month-iversary!

El tiempo vuela. I learned the other day that they say "time flies" in Spanish as well. I guess we both feel the sense of surprise at how quickly the days and hours seem to pass us by. Exactly one month ago today I landed in Oviedo, all my life packed into two overstuffed suitcases. It's boggling to imagine all that has happened since. And, all that hasn't.

After a month, I feel relatively settled in here. It's so nice to have a sense of structure and predictability to my life again. Thinking back, it was unbelievable stressful and exhausting not knowing even the simplest things, like when to eat, when to sleep, etc. The Spanish schedule is very different. After class I have lunch, around 3. Dinner is unbelievably late here, at least 10 pm. More than once we've dined as late as midnight, even! You can imagine, this takes some getting used to. But once I fill in the day with school, teaching English, studying, reading, and throw in a little snacking (which has the very fancy name of merienda), it isn't so bad.

And about the food. Unlike many a homesick Brit, I really enjoy the food here. There's good and bad, of course. I just refuse to eat my cornflakes in microwaved milk, I prefer no duck to duck à la tiny bone shards, and knowing that callos means cow stomach, I plan on politely refusing that particular delicacy from now on. Nonetheless, I have probably never tasted such delicious fish, olive oil, or yogurt. And how on earth does a tortilla española, which contains just eggs, potato, and onion, taste so darn good?? Once they added in some roasted bell pepper, I was hooked. Also, last week I tasted 5J (aka 5 star) Jamón Ibérico. It's like 5 bucks for one paper thin slice!

What I have yet to figure out, however, is the University. I can get to my classes, and understand the lectures fine, but the system as a whole is just very perplexing. For some mysterious reason, I must give every professor a card with all my personal information and picture. I honestly can't say how many people in this country now have a wallet-sized photo of me. Most of them different pictures too. And the process of registering in classes is a Grade A bureaucratic mess. I have to get signatures from everyone and their dog, sign in duplicate, stamp, countersign, seal it in my own blood, and turn it in between the hours of 10 and 1 Monday through Thursday. Suffice it to say, one month later, I'm still not registered. Which I'd really like to be, so I can get a student card (which requires another separate photo p.s.), so I can check out books and go to the gym. Is that so much to ask?

Another peculiarity is the very laid-back approach they have towards the actual education. The professors are on average 15 minutes tardy to class, resulting in the very skewompus situation of us waiting for them. What's more, some have already canceled as many as three classes! And the Spanish students always seem to know when not to show up; the other exchange students and I are left waiting until we deduce that we've somehow missed the memo.

Don't get me wrong, though. I love the fact that skipping two days of class will have zero impact on my final grade. Well, maybe not zero, but minimal. And in compensation for their sluggish bureaucracy, they're extremely willing to forgive and forget due dates or deadlines. I still have a few things to figure out, like books and tests, but overall I'm adjusting.

After a month, I've also gotten much more settled in socially. I have a few budding friendships, and keep myself entertained with the plethora of social opportunities available in Spain. The other exchange students, being in the same position as me, are exceptionally friendly and outgoing, and we even went kayaking together this past Saturday. I've got some really nice Spanish friends I see now and again as well. I don't expect I'll ever find the quality or quantity of great friends I had in Utah, but the people I've met are thus far very "good eggs," so to speak.

Until next week! Or, no, next week I'll be in Portugal! First time being in a country whose language I don't speak (not counting Texas haha)--wish me luck.

Oviedo Overview

With uncharacteristic punctuality, I present the third installment of my blog!! And, as promised, I have prepared a small introduction of my new home. (To those of you who live here, I'm sorry if I misrepresent it in any way; I'll do my best.)

I live in Oviedo, the capital of the Principality of Asturias. It has a population of like 221,000 within 70 square miles (186 km2). Yeah, these numbers don't mean much to me either. Everyone asks how it compares to Salt Lake, but it's really hard to say. In many ways it's more urban here. Most buildings have at least 6 floors, and they're all squished together; something completely lacking in Salt Lake. At the same time, there are only like 3 Chinese restaurants here, and no Japanese food to speak of (send sushi care packages! please!!). The city is 93% Spanish, with Latin Americans (mostly Ecuadorians), Africans, and Roma (gypsies) making up the remaining 6.99%. So, it seems little old SLC (~65% white) is more diverse than Oviedo.

I'd like you to conjure in your mind everything stereotypically Spanish--flamenco, bullfights, paella, dry heat, sunny days, windmills . . . Now forget all of that because I haven't seen any of it. The north of Spain is pretty much like a Spanish speaking Ireland or Oregon; very green, thanks to the copious amounts of rain. It would appear that the rain in Spain does not, in fact, stay mainly on the plain, but rather, on the northern coast. Which can be dreary, no doubt. But after living in a quasi-desert for 17 years, it is a welcome change.

I also like how very temperate it is here. The highs this week are in the mid 60's (16˚ C), fairly comfortable. Each week I can feel it getting a little bit more chilly, but even in the dead of winter it's not expected to drop below freezing. January in Oviedo sounds like October in Utah--it'll maybe snow a few times, but it definitely won't last.

As with all of Europe, Oviedo is also much more accessible and well connected. I can only imagine how imprisoned exchange students in Utah must feel. Here I can walk to all my daily commitments in 15-20 minutes. Beyond that there's a bus or train to almost everywhere. A half-hour north and I'm at the ocean-- beaches, craggy cliffs, fishing villages, seafood. A half-hour in the other direction and I'm in the mountains, skiing even. In four hours and for forty euros I can be in a bustling metropolis, Madrid (7 million people). It would take at least three times as much time and money to get to anywhere remotely metropolitan from SLC. It's all on a different scale I guess.

Another nice characteristic of Oviedo is how clean it is. One of the first things I learned was that it is the cleanest city in all of Spain, and it shows. That is, during the day anyway. On Saturday night unbelievable mountains of trash, beer bottles, plastic bags, cups, cigarette butts and urine fill the streets. It all magically disappears by morning, however, washed clean by a fleet of water guns.

Now that you have some idea of the demographics and such, here's some photos of the place!

The Cathedral of Oviedo. Constructed in various stages from the 8th to the 16th century. It is the highest point in the city, visible from pretty much everywhere. It's unique because most gothic cathedrals have two campaniles (tower thingies) but they ran out of money for the second. Strangely (to me anyway), this area is also the center of nightlife.

The commercial area. This statue is called "Maternidad" or something but everyone calls it "la gorda", for obvious reasons. The building in the back, "La Jirafa", is the tallest building in Oviedo (but lower than the cathedral, which is on a hill). Every time we pass it, people tell me Fernando Alonso lives there. He's apparently a very famous Formula 1 racer I've never heard of. Next to that is the Teatro Campoamor, which hosts the Prince of Asturias awards.

There's also a lovely park in the middle of town called Campo San Francisco. I like to go there when I get sick of the smells, noise, and insane drivers of the city.

Oviedo has lots and lots of statues. Here is one of Woody Allen. Woody was awarded the Prince of Asturias Premio de las Artes in 2002, and he liked the city so much, he decided to come back and make a movie. So they made a statue for him! Sadly, some juvenile delinquent has made off with his glasses.

So that's my overview of Oviedo. It's not the most cosmopolitan place, and nothing can beat the Wasatch Mountains for majestic backyard beauty, but I like it.

Asturias--Paraíso Natural

I checked a calendar today, and was surprised to discover how little time I've actually been here. I suppose time moves at a snail's pace when your communication does. I have been here about two weeks now and I'm amazed at how much more I've already learned of the language--countless new vocabulary, how to write a polite e-mail, the whole vosotros thing . . . . At the same time, I feel like I have had a proper conversation maybe twice. Most times it's like my language is cold cold molasses oozing it's way out, and making a big ol' mess in the process.

I've also gotten pretty good at filling in the gaps. Spaniards talk RIDICULOUSLY fast. I maybe only really hear half of the words. But, you just have to push through and figure it out, because you can only say "¿qué? ¿cómo? ¿perdón?" so many times without completely losing everyone's patience. Of course, there are plenty of times I miss a key word and totally lampoon myself (last week I was waiting for a train to the beach when a kind old man approached me rattling on about something or another. After nodding dumbly and saying "sí, sí" a lot, I somehow ended up with a free train ticket to parts unknown. I suppose worse things could have happened).

~~~

I keep thinking I need to do an elaborate post about the city I live in now. Days where it is both sunny and I have my camera with my are exceedingly rare however, especially considering I live in a very similar climate to the Pacific Northwest. Although it's prettier with sun, I'll just have to bite the bullet and show you all the cloudy truth.

~~~


I have had quite a few opportunities to explore the region, thanks to a few generous people with cars. The first days I was here, I stayed with my host-family's sister, Yoli. She took me to the major port city Gijón and other lovely coast areas. (Note the sunny, clear day)



Today I was able to explore Asturias even more. The University has a program called a-Duo, which pairs you up with a local to help you get settled in an everything. Usually he or she just finds you an apartment and holds your hand in registering, but Víctor and I got along well so we've been hanging out a little bit. His friend (nicknamed "Monky") has a car, so today we did a big touristy tour of Asturias.

First, we drove about an hour to Cangas de Onís. As with everything in Europe, there is a mountain of history about everything. I guess it was the first capital of Spain, in the middle ages. Which is really just saying it was the capital of Asturias, because everything south of here was owned by Muslims. So there's tons of history with King Pelayo, the first king, who the current king is actually related to.

Here's a Roman bridge. From the 2nd or 3rd century (but reconstructed more recently). That cross beneath it appears on the Asturian flag.

Next we went further up into the mountains to Covadonga. This is where the Prince of Spain is crowned, in a beautiful church atop a hill, surrounded by wooded mountains. We had quite a time parking the car. That is something I think I never want to try here. We drove in and out of numerous garage-sized areas overflowing with double-parked Renaults, to no avail. Finally, we created a spot on the shoulder of a steep (45˚!) hill, only to be rear-ended by a geriatric Barcelonian in a comically huge BMW. Turns out he overshot the turn of the aforementioned hill and, in trying to right himself, put the car in 'drive' instead of 'reverse' . . . .

So after that fiasco, and being now reparked, we continued. Here is the church -->. Some very rich people were getting married at the time, with traditional bagpipes playing and everything. They are all about bagpipes in northern Spain.

Nearby the church is a cave which opens into a large alcove containing the shrine to the Virgin of Covadonga. (To the right of Víctor and I in this photo is the entrance; no photography allowed.)

Below the shrine is a small fountain. Legend has it that if you drink from all seven of the spouts, you'll get married within one year. Despite my better judgment, I decided to risk my bachelorhood on this superstitious fountain.


Only afterward, however, did I see this informative little sign. It basically reads "No promise this water is sanitary." Turns out I was taking a different risk than I had thought! If I get giardia I damnwell better get someone to care for me in sickness and in health as well.


After Covadonga, we took the winding narrow highway to the coast. One place we stopped along the coast is called Lastres. It's a quaint little village perched precariously on a cliff above the sea.


It's a really idyllic place, with narrow cobbled streets winding up the steep steep hills. In many places it's just stairs between the houses, and yet somehow people still get their cars in--insanity I tell you.


So, that's that. I'm slowly but surely checking off my must-see sights. Ever since I saw this video on youtube months ago I've wanted to personally experience all I can of this region. It really is a natural paradise, with mountains, sandy beaches, cliffs, lakes, and everywhere green green green! Even better, Spaniards can't go more than a few weeks without having some kind of holiday involving 3- or 4-day weekends. Now, what to do Monday . . .

Moving across the sea

Dear world/friends/self:

I have decided that the easiest way to share my travels is to put all the pictures and text I want together on a blog. And so, after much deliberation I have decided to write the very cleverly titled "Tyler's Travels". I expect, just like my personal journal and correspondences, that I will forget to write anything for long stretches of time. When I do get around to it though, I will let people know via facebook or something.

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Soooooooo, yes. I live in Oviedo, Spain! Very exciting. After a week of quasi-homelessness I have a place to rest my head again. It wasn't easy though. After 18 hours of travel I decided I would try and see all of Barcelona in a day and a half, and daggummit I sure came close. The coolest three things I saw were:

The Sagrada Familia,

the beach in Sitges,

and the Castellers. It happened to be this huge festival called La Mercè while I was there, and one thing they do is have a competition to build towers of people, called Castellers. I believe one group built a tower 7 levels high, with a group of men at the bottom and a small child at the top.

Barcelona is definitely a very cool city. But honestly, I was SO ready to move on. I even arrived at the airport 3 hours early just so I could get on my way. I was tired of the noise and the fear of getting pick-pocketed and tired of Catalán. Catalán is the regional language of Barcelona, and while it is a nice language, I really came to Spain for Spanish, and I was getting tired of strangers asking me directions in a language I don't know.

Oviedo is a dream--just Spanish all the time, every one. It's just assumed everyone speaks it, whether you're Chinese or African or pale as a ghost. In fact, I find anyone 30 years and above knows little more than "hello, how are you."

Now I'm all moved in and comfortable with my familia. Here's a street view of my home--you can also zoom out to see where I'm situated.

Here's my bedroom.

Here's a (zoomed in) view from my window. That little white thing on the mountain is a statue of Christ.

I have explored the town center a few times, but haven't taken any pictures really. There's lots of cool stuff though. I'm about a ten minute walk from school, and a 15 minute walk from the center, which has a lovely cathedral and TONS of bars and shops. The drink of choice in Asturias is sidra, apple cider. It is always served by pouring it from high up into the glass in small amounts and drinking it really fast. I personally am not a huge fan. It tastes fine, but you finish a bottle in like 2 minutes (cuz you always share). It's kind of rushed drinking and everyone warns me of the dangers of sidra.

Anyway, that's all for now. I will next get some pictures of the city and my university.

Hasta luego!