“Todas las personas se mueren, pero no todas las personas viven.”

I wake up every weekday morning at 8:30am and thank God that I have been blessed with another day to conquer, different people to meet, new challenges to face, and a vast array of knowledge to absorb. I have realized how little time I have left in this historic city, and my ultimate goal is to ascend in all aspects of Spanish culture, from making friends with the local restaurant owners to avoiding the temptation to pronounce every “s” with a lisp, as addicting as it is. After climbing out of bed, I walk over to the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face, freshening myself up for the day. Around this time every three or four days, I have a memory lapse and forget to turn off the lights after leaving the bathroom, which inevitably results in Milagros (my host mom) scolding me and shaking her head vigorously, telling me I need to stop living like a “Gitano.” Although this may seem quite comical, it has lit a fire within me that has, for the past week, compelled me to thoroughly clean my room and ensure the lights are always turned off before leaving the apartment. After putting on a fresh polo, cargo shorts, and clean white sneakers, I head over to Milagros’ kitchen.

La cocina de Milagros donde comemos:

I still have yet to become accustomed to the breakfasts here. Two pieces of toast every morning with a cup of coffee does not give me the energy to make it through my classes every morning, but I am still thankful that Milagros takes the time to prepare the food. As I leave the apartment, I yell, “Hasta la vista Milagros!” and walk over to the elevator. The elevators here are much smaller than those in the States, and it can get a little awkward when there are more than two people inside, but I am now used to these conditions and, when I am in a good mood, find myself conversing with my elevator-mates/neighbors as we make our way down to the ground floor every morning. The walk to my first class takes about 30 minutes on a good day. As an avid optimist, I tend to view this walk as my morning cardio workout, the precursor to the weight training which I will discuss at a later time. As I enter the Cursos Internacionales building in the plaza of Fray Luis de León, I wave to Manolo, the office worker with whom I have bonded over the past few weeks.

Manolo y yo:

My first class of the day is Art History with Professor Miriam Sancho at 10:00am. As a science major back at the University of Michigan, art history is definitely not one of my fortes, but Professor Sancho makes the class interesting. We have covered the lives of several Spanish artists so far, including Velázquez, Goya, and Dalí. I love examining the works of Dalí, as I am a huge fan of optical illusions, and many of Dalí’s paintings contain “doble imágenes,” or double images. After this class, at 11:00am, I make my way over to my cultural class, which is surprisingly taught by… Professor Sancho!

Cultural Class

This class has helped me accustom myself to many of the traditions that are revered by Spanish people, including the festivities of Christmas and the New Year, bullfights, and the flamenco dance. I have enjoyed learning about the origins of the flamenco because it is an amalgamation of the artistic aspects from Spain and the Middle East. The Arabic musical scales, filled with half-pitch fluctuations, make the hairs on my arms stand on end: they produce such a mellifluous yet haunting sound that fascinates me. After my cultural class ends at noon, I head back to the Cursos Internacionales building to El Jefe Andy’s class, “Living and Learning Abroad.” I am beyond glad that I was enrolled in this class. Why? Because I signed up for this “study abroad experience” in order to do exactly what the name implies: learn Spanish in its mother country and receive a multidimensional view of the language and culture. I have written and read hundreds of essays and stories ever since my first Spanish course in the seventh grade but have never had the chance to communicate with the Spanish bar owner across the street or learn how to properly ask the local heladería owner if I could use his restroom. Andy’s class, which is based around these practical immersion experiences, has helped me grasp aspects of the language I would NEVER have been able to grasp had I continued learning Spanish with my nose buried in a textbook.

Cursos classes (History of Art and Andy's class)

After Andy’s class, which ends at 1:30p.m., I power walk home with my good friend Maurice (my neighbor here), dodging people on the sidewalk and jaywalking to the best of our ability to make it home in time for the delicious lunches which our señoras prepare for us every day and for which I am so thankful. Milagros usually cooks a Spanish variant of pasta with rice and meatballs, along with a delightful salad, bread, and watermelon. The dishes come in courses, beginning with a light soup, continuing with the heavy meats and carbs, and ending with a refreshing fruit or vegetable dish. I am usually so hungry by this time (around 2:00pm) that I help clear out any dishes which my housemates cannot eat. I actually had three other housemates, but two of them (a girl from Slovenia and a guy from the States) just left last week, so the excessiveness of my meals has been slightly reduced, but they still allow me to ascend nutritionally nonetheless. After I have feasted, I take a siesta of about 45 minutes back in my room. Before coming to Spain, I stereotypically believed that Spanish people took siestas of up to three or four hours every afternoon. However, after explaining these preconceived notions to Milagros and receiving a half-hour lecture of how Spanish people never take siestas longer than 30 or 40 minutes and how Americans are typically the laziest group of people who study in Spain, I immediately accepted defeat, uttering “sí” and “claro” a few times before exiting the premises.

My favorite time of the day is when I wake up from siesta at 3:45pm and head over to the gym that is connected to the train station with Maurice. It’s very important to be in your best shape in Spain, not only because it is summertime, but also because you need the extra energy that is unexpectedly lost through several facets: language frustration (not being able to speak your mind clearly in Spanish and suffering mental fatigue), heat sickness from the searing sun, and energy depletion from the long treks we must make every day. Maurice and I usually go to the gym four to five times a week, working our chest, biceps, and triceps one day, shoulders, traps, and abs the next day, and then lower body to complete the rotation. I love the music this gym plays: with all the electro-house and techno beats blaring in the background (watch the video), I feel like I am lifting in the middle of a club.

The train station and gym

Link to a video of me lifting:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kqFZUovnTsE&feature=youtube_gdata_player

After the gym, I usually head home and shower, grab my computer, then head over to either the train station or Café Sastre with Maurice to use the internet (catch up on world news, chat with family and friends on Facebook, and work on homework) We will usually work until about 9:00pm, by which time we must go home to eat dinner. The dinners I am blessed with the opportunity to eat in Milagros’ kitchen are royal: once again, the food comes in about three or four courses, but I can usually manage to add on a few more courses here and there as I help clean out my housemates’ portions. Once dinner is over, on a typical day, I will dress up and get ready to end the night with a few hours of dancing and living it up with friends before coming back to my room and collapsing on my bed. We are only young once, right? Así es la vida en España.