This writing has to do with things that are very specific to me - but I made them hopefully vague enough that maybe in some way you can relate. Do you ever have these feelings?
Here, in my rented household room in Salamanca at 2am, I lay slightly uncovered, thinking long and hard about the thick heavy silence flooding my ears, cleaving the air in its fullness of moment to the luscious tune of a faint rining as if a mocroscopic horror hilm violinist was positioned with his strings on the outskirts of my eardrum. Every pulse of my body is heard, it´s an uncomfortable silence. At school I usually leave a fan on while I sleep to provide a white-noise curtain to everything around me for pleasantly deaf sleep. I ponder the viability of learning French and German by translating Good Eats episodes or Monty Python for that matter. The motions of shared public privacy drive continually as nagging preoccupations. My feeling here is still as an outsider, even when participating within. Associations seem fleeting in reflection of vested interests - to be or to let everything else be. Social niceties become a momentary passport into beings, but reporters always must stop at the threshold - even the professor. The continual 'out' never seems to stray beyong the 'be' in, but the new 'in' has allowed a door to open out. Is the 'be' so acculturated it can't find out? My out is unfortunately in since the professor is always out. To digest and report is not to be out, but where else is out if not in? Delayed privacy is eternal out, and still waiting, which further inadvertantly sequesters. Where is liberation from this continual communical outward ' in' and singular inward out? But for the unpassable threshold and perfect romance. Some are so obsessed with in that they just don´t explore out.
The personal financial institution is a shared future good, resulting from social supplier pressures, delayed ultimately by frictional unemployment. The realization of this enterprise occupies forever the minds of its destined proprietors but difficult to discuss because of the forward contracting connotations and difficult to ignore because of the intense market opportunity and potential. While expected, it´s often set aside for completion of curent projects and in preparation for tyhe commencement of this future good. While intensely private, the institution is expected to invite wide public support and perhaps participate in foreign direct investment, if not foreign placement altogether.
I guess we ought to visit the Arbotreturm together, dear.
While delaying of this merger is frowned on by older institutions for the Keynsian reasoning of short term market clearing by government interaction, the long term medicine in the end may work out best as markets tend to fix themselves, messily sometimes, although ultimately scarcity and marginal propensities reign supreme. Assuming clear property rights and clear contractual enforcement - as the unemployment rises again after the credit crunch, opportunities in the market will stimulate momentum to realize the venture, although details have not fully been negociated at this time.
To live in the imaginary is a fatal but easy flaw, particularly with association and enticement. By a mile or in sand the thoughts manifest in a splash of 'wow!' in frustating patience. No arguments, always pondering - I thank you and help myself. What do I want? To be pleased into my imagination... but also to not feel guilty in indulging alone - to provide and bring 'wow!'... isn´t that the real transcendance of now? But how far does the imagination go - how restricted does it need to be by 'reality'? It depends on your approval of Plato´s ideas on art. Is imagining and describing as good as being? Depends. How far are we willing to go to realize imagination? Depends on who shares it.
Back into making sense - last night we went out to dinner! But first during the day I was a bum. A lazy bum. And a happy bum. Sleeping until 10 or so, having gone to bed at 11 or so, I woke up to Mamá having made the Spanish version of French toast! They´re called here Torrijas, and they are made with less egg custard to brown and a LOT more cinnamon sugar. It´s a heavily spiced little slice of eggy sweet bread. Delicious! And I very happily asked Mamá if she´d like to try it with the traditional American topping that I now gratefully have in my possesion - real maple syrup! It took me a little while to explain what it was, you know the liquid that comes from a big tree at the end of winter that can be cooked and cooked until it´s thick and strong. I guess it´s difficult to describe exactly if you don´t know the words for a 90% reduction of tetra-decinarian Acer Sacchurum para-frozen climate 2% sucrose sap graded by color. Well she liked it anyways, but still prefers her cinnamon sugar - to be fair the sugar is awesome with it.
After our Torrijas, I learned how to make Paella! The best way I can describe it is a yellow mix between a good surf and turf soup and risotto. The surf and turf soup is based on the fact that the crustaceans and bivalve molluscs were all prepped to individual stocks (a shrimp stock created by reducing water with the shells and heads, then pureed - I would personally strain out the parts, but whatever ; and then mussels held in water for purging and cleanliness, the water then boiled and strained) then the chicken parts, chorizo and ham all browned in oil, and to the side a sofrito of onion pepper and tomato (with seasoning) browned. Similar to risotto, the rice was cooked briefly in oil to slow down water absorption and accentuate starch extraction for the creation of a thick sauce to accompany the finished dish - water is then slowly added (or crustacean and bivalve stock reductions) to further enhance starch extraction. The result, however you put it together is a thick rice stew with happily browned assortments of surf and turf throughout. Traditionally an important detail is to let this risotto cook untoushed as opposed to the French insistence on stirring, the result being a special crust on the bottom that is regarded as a specialty not least of which for the caramelized sugars involved. This process is of course the Maillard reaction which is still be researched, as it is caramelization of internal sugars at temperatures generally too low to have such an effect. Infinitely complex and momentarily incomprehensible, from meat, cheese, duck and mushrooms (and LOTS more) it results in a flavor most of us don´t realize we have and wasn´t described in history until the 18th century by the brilliant Brillat-Savarin: umame. Reduced by asian scientists to being triggered by glutamate (MSG anyone?) in particular, this taste is a certain fullness, a fulfillment of flavor without being particularly salty or sweet or bitter or sour. It has been suggested to be called 'savoriness' in English, I just tend to call it delicious.
After I had learned about Paella, I simply lazed about all day until I went and got to spend an hour or two IMing Bethany and making plans for Italy. It will be expensive, but incredible! I just can´t wait to be able to share firsthand my experiences with someone who understands - like I remember feeling while visiting Caroline in particular. It becomes tiring simply taking notes, I have become known in particular for my note-taking by my classmates.
Another detail is I´ve gotten lax on card and letter sending, I should resume that practice. After talking to Bethany for a while, I met up with the group by a hospital not far away and we all went to a nice Italian dinner! I didn´t know we needed to be dressed up, I just happened to be looking nice... that happens a lot. I guess it pays to just stay well dressed when you can´t remember if you should be or not. Anyways, we went to this place whose name escapes me but the title was Italian restaurant and pizzeria. Well to be honest I wasn´t expecting much. All the Spanish pasta I´ve had was with a kind of strange cheese sauce that tastes like Kraft and horrible crumby hard attempts at pizza crusts. Oh well. I sat around some very nice girls and one of them even had her boyfriend visiting! Alex was a very nice and quiet guy, very adorably having some of the same mannerisms and speech patterns as his girlfriend - a very sweet friendly and cute couple I think. Unfortunately hotel managers do not think so fondly on them, she went to visit him at his hotel one night and they actually made her pay for a night´s stay. As a business I guess I understand, but that´s still really insensitive and not a way to get repeat business. Unfortunate stuff, but they were still cheery and we had a good time just talking, particularly Kathy next to me about food! She loves to bake and cook too! We talked about yeast breads and quick breads and the challenge of vegetarian cooking (a girl sitting across from Kathy was also a vegetarian) and the fascinating nature of lots of food. We also made plans to bake chocolate chip cookies Thursday evening - I can´t wait! We decided that the cookies must be soft in the middle and nicely browned around the edges.
We were sat down to two long tables, where one supposed we would be served family style in groups. Our first dish was a selection of salads - uninterestingly composed, unevenly dressed and generally lack luster. The next dishes were all cheese-sauce covered pastas with the occasional piece of meat or vegetable - some tasted like Spanish ham and cheese, others again like Kraft cheese. I was unimpressed and somewhat depressed at this portrayal of Italian cuisine. Why does everyone feel the need to limit 'Italian' in their minds to pasta, tomato sauce, melty cheese and ground beef? It´s sad, there are so many more incredible food traditions in Italy - beautifully braises and gorgeous variations on basic pasta dishes with interesting vegetables. They then brought out interesting lasagnes... with a delicious spinach variation and a less delicious ham and cheese version as well. By this time discourse had ranged from 'holler' to the interesting phrase 'I feel like a fat kid'.
Then came the pizza. Impossibly thin and crispy with random huge yeast bubbles, lovingly covered with an intensely flavorful tomato sauce and less liberally topped with a perfectly melted and slightly browned mozzarella - this was fantastic. Thank God someone in Spain can make pizza! Lovely toppings ranging from ham to bacon (!! :-D) to tomato to olives to spinach to just cheese. I think I strangely enjoyed the cheese more - it was easiest to enjoy the fantastically crisp crust and the fulfilling rich savory flavor of the tomato sauce and feel the perfect tearing of the melted mozarella. Our plates runneth over. And then came the desserts.
Perfectly soft and crisp crépes with sugar or chocolate, soft and well balanced gelatos of lemon or strawberry cheesecake or chocolate chip, and interesting variation on tiramisu. The crépes were taken out first and when second courses of that came out, someone actually shouted out 'Shut up, where´s my spoon!'. It was of course a 'had to be there' moment, but we all nearly choked on our food laughing. It was a huge meal... and ultimately extremely pleasing and fulfilling. To top it off I got a lovely cup of café con leche - which ultimately was a mistake because I couldn´t get to sleep and instead wrote that jibber jabber above. Oh well, totally worth it and very delicious.
Best wishes and I will assume that only one or two people are actually reading this blog by the amount of response I got from my 'Meaning of Life' entry... so hi you two and keep letting me know how things are going back at home!
Monday, March 3, 2008
Saturday, March 1, 2008
La Vida de un Monje
The blog on Madrid seems to be going a lot slower than previously thought since I seem to have misplaced one of my little notebooks, which I have no idea how that happened... it´s gotta be around here somewhere. I´m really bad at keeping track of things. Not a good trait.
Anyways, this morning we went on a little tour of Salamanca with Jesús. We really can´t sleep in just one Saturday? I guess not. Oh well, I still managed to get a full night´s rest and we met in the Plaza Mayor to first go down to the river where he talked about the history of it. Salamanca is a really really old city and when it was first constructed the first things to be started were the protection wall around it and the old cathedral in the middle. The long stone bridge leading through the dense shrubbery around the river Tormes stretches nearly up to the protection wall. The view is beautiful from up the hill, stretching on this beautiful day even into the pastures and open fields that lay outside the city. With the city at our backs, the outskirts seem tame and peaceful, barely any clouds hanging over it as a gesture perhaps of goodwill.
Our next stop was indeed the old cathedral. We first had to walk through the new cathedral which I have already described, then we passed into this hall that opened into what looked like a huge half bullet shell-shaped area above the altar. Behind the semicircular aread was a grand collection of paintings depicting bible stories, gilded and brightly painted. There was also a collection of very regal looking satin-cushioned seats and a great altar in the forefront. The rows of seats spitting forth out of the altar area were clearly designed for shorter people, as the kneeling bench in front of the seats fit most of us as a very comfortable foot rest.
The incredible detailing and gilded framing was breathtaking. We soon moved on to a set of chapels surrounding a cloister courtyard. One of the chapels that we entered was called Capilla Santa Barbara which was the traditional place of the Salamanca University doctorate examinations. There was a tombstone covered with glass where papers were to be arranged and kept, as well as a large seat behind it where the doctoral candidate would sit and study and prepare his presentation all night before the doctors and professors would enter in the morning and examinate him and his thesis which was to be defended. If the thesis could be successfully defended, the new doctor would proceed out through the sanctuary and proceed to fund a party for the whole town to attend. There would be great feasts and entertainment and good cheer.
If, however, the student could not sufficiently defend his thesis, he would have to excuse himself out the service entrance where townspeople would greet him with a barrage of tomatoes and other squishy things as a castigation of his failure. Very interesting history.
From there, we moved through several other areas, finally ascending several sets of stairs up into the tall towers. Finally out onto a lookout point, the view was speechlessly incredible. I took pictures with the camera that my sister gave me, hoping they would grasp the enormity of the scene. I tried to sketch a rough idea of it, with the gorgeously ornate towers and cupolas of the building to our backs and an even larger view of the city and outskirts all around. The bright pastel colors of the outskirts contrasted sharply from the rough stone and many shadows of the city, also the countryside was also less tainted by the wandering figures of people going to and fro. It was an interesting point of view and I wonder what a friar from the middle ages might have seen from there - some cooking fires and salesman travelling by boat through the river. Perhaps some farmers out in the field or perhaps soldiers marching to and fro, or even an ambassador travelling by horse-drawn carraige in undue opulance from the infamous Inquisition searching for heretics. And what would this friar be thinking? Pondering the mysteries of god and the sins of man? Or perhaps some honey cream pastries or leek soup that need to be cooked for his monks. Stories tend to tell me that monks were very shrewd and human in contrast to their professed lifestyle. Whether in the business of bargaining the burial place of high society people in their cathedrals or indulging in the public fears with the inquisition or perhaps indeed just seeking a simple and philosophic lifestyle in relative peace and solace. The place was beautiful and evocative, I should only hope to see more such places in such good weather.
Anyways, this morning we went on a little tour of Salamanca with Jesús. We really can´t sleep in just one Saturday? I guess not. Oh well, I still managed to get a full night´s rest and we met in the Plaza Mayor to first go down to the river where he talked about the history of it. Salamanca is a really really old city and when it was first constructed the first things to be started were the protection wall around it and the old cathedral in the middle. The long stone bridge leading through the dense shrubbery around the river Tormes stretches nearly up to the protection wall. The view is beautiful from up the hill, stretching on this beautiful day even into the pastures and open fields that lay outside the city. With the city at our backs, the outskirts seem tame and peaceful, barely any clouds hanging over it as a gesture perhaps of goodwill.
Our next stop was indeed the old cathedral. We first had to walk through the new cathedral which I have already described, then we passed into this hall that opened into what looked like a huge half bullet shell-shaped area above the altar. Behind the semicircular aread was a grand collection of paintings depicting bible stories, gilded and brightly painted. There was also a collection of very regal looking satin-cushioned seats and a great altar in the forefront. The rows of seats spitting forth out of the altar area were clearly designed for shorter people, as the kneeling bench in front of the seats fit most of us as a very comfortable foot rest.
The incredible detailing and gilded framing was breathtaking. We soon moved on to a set of chapels surrounding a cloister courtyard. One of the chapels that we entered was called Capilla Santa Barbara which was the traditional place of the Salamanca University doctorate examinations. There was a tombstone covered with glass where papers were to be arranged and kept, as well as a large seat behind it where the doctoral candidate would sit and study and prepare his presentation all night before the doctors and professors would enter in the morning and examinate him and his thesis which was to be defended. If the thesis could be successfully defended, the new doctor would proceed out through the sanctuary and proceed to fund a party for the whole town to attend. There would be great feasts and entertainment and good cheer.
If, however, the student could not sufficiently defend his thesis, he would have to excuse himself out the service entrance where townspeople would greet him with a barrage of tomatoes and other squishy things as a castigation of his failure. Very interesting history.
From there, we moved through several other areas, finally ascending several sets of stairs up into the tall towers. Finally out onto a lookout point, the view was speechlessly incredible. I took pictures with the camera that my sister gave me, hoping they would grasp the enormity of the scene. I tried to sketch a rough idea of it, with the gorgeously ornate towers and cupolas of the building to our backs and an even larger view of the city and outskirts all around. The bright pastel colors of the outskirts contrasted sharply from the rough stone and many shadows of the city, also the countryside was also less tainted by the wandering figures of people going to and fro. It was an interesting point of view and I wonder what a friar from the middle ages might have seen from there - some cooking fires and salesman travelling by boat through the river. Perhaps some farmers out in the field or perhaps soldiers marching to and fro, or even an ambassador travelling by horse-drawn carraige in undue opulance from the infamous Inquisition searching for heretics. And what would this friar be thinking? Pondering the mysteries of god and the sins of man? Or perhaps some honey cream pastries or leek soup that need to be cooked for his monks. Stories tend to tell me that monks were very shrewd and human in contrast to their professed lifestyle. Whether in the business of bargaining the burial place of high society people in their cathedrals or indulging in the public fears with the inquisition or perhaps indeed just seeking a simple and philosophic lifestyle in relative peace and solace. The place was beautiful and evocative, I should only hope to see more such places in such good weather.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Yo Tomaría Su Clase
While I continue to work on my other blog about Madrid which happens to be taking a long time because I don´t have pictures to job my memory, I will write a little bit about more recent things. First of all I was elected by my the chapter of Phi Mu Alpha Sinfonia as president of the chapter for the 2008-2009 school year! I was definitely not expecting to be elected as such and it really makes me feel good about everything I´ve done in PMA. This past year was a difficult one in terms of planning and paperwork, not to mention brotherhood... but I strongly believe that I´ll be returning to a very well organized and strong group of brothers. I must say it´s a difficult thing to create a real strong dfeeling of connection to lots of people when you lead busy musician lives and there aren´t very many manditory kinds of service or actions or whatnot... I guess you really have to want to be there. Because of said issues, this semester there was no rush process, all time was spent between the brothers. Of all I read from the chapter this semester it looks like people are really making an effort to be involved and to want to do things together, a good sign is definitely heavy interaction with another group - the women´s music fraternity Sigma Alpha Iota (ee-yota). I really look forward to being able to oversee the functioning of the chapter and keep everything together as best I can - I guess there´s still plenty I´m not sure that the President does, I´m curious to see what I don´t know.
Another thing is my consideration of Tau (taw, like the vowel of 'clog') Beta Sigma. Having been dating Bethany for nearly two years, I consider myself to have been (for a non-member) heavily involved with Tau Beta Sigma, the music service sorority that she is a strong member of. I have thoroughly enjoyed the large amounts of service they do, and the sisterhood events that they have, and the great traditions they have accumulated... not to mention the outstanding organization and participation (all of these things I somewhat envy, and in part have shamelessly plagiarized into the work of PMA... with full knowledge and consent of Bethany of course... so I guess it´s not plagiarism?). As it just so happens, Tau Beta Sigma is in fact a coed fraternity, and I figure having helped Bethany with finances, participated in sister events and fundraising and lots of service - I might as well just join and know all the behind the scenes stuff too. This presents just one problem: timing. All of our meetings happen to be at the same time. You might have been thinking it would be wierd to be the 'sister' of my girlfriend, but KKY brothers date each other so I suppose it´s not as wierd as it could be. Then I suppose there´s the whole denomination of 'sister' for me, which is perhaps a little less normal than a girl being called a 'brother' of a professional fraternity. I´m sure exceptions could be made, I would consider myself a brother anyways. I guess that whole business is a little strange but the bottom line is that I love the work that TBS does and I love the way they do it, not to mention the girls are awesome... although perhaps I´m a little biased.
It was a little while ago that I got a package from Bethany including none other than homemade cookies and treats! I shared as much as I could before scarfing it all down... it seems like no mothers here really make desserts, no cookies or brownies or cakes or anything - they buy all that stuff. I think that´s a real shame, and rather prefer the American home-baked dessert tradition. And I was rather excited to have gotten a baked treat from my far away sweetheart.
Then the other day I got a package from home!!! Thank you very very much mom, dad, sister, d-daddy, Dana and Mountain View! Right when I got them I shot into the pancake mix and maple syrup. I don´t think my madre liked me taking over the kitchen so quickly to make some pancakes, but I cleaned up everything and even shared my precious maple syrup :-). I have also bit into the Thin Mints and downed a bunch of Reese´s. I look forward to playing with the spices and tons of goodies! Thank you guys, I´ll keep up my practice in the kitchen. My next project is chocolate chip cookies!
Another thing that was very exciting for me was the experience of teaching a class. In my political science class, every Wednesday a student must present a scholastic article about Latin America to the class, and this past Wednesday was my turn. I was of course given the economics article which made me a little bit nervous about getting it all right since it is my major after all. But I got up in front of the class and I really felt good about what I was saying and while sometimes less clear I thought I had some good examples and really tried to explain the article and thereafter my thoughts on why it was wrong and misdirected. My favorite part of it was definitely adding my own commentary and analysis. To give a short version of the presentation, I presented my personal thoughts and ideas in Spanish (or whatever I could manage of Spanish) and the details of the article in English (since it was written in English). D.C. economist John Williamson in 1989 wrote an article outlining a set of reforms that he considered to be common agreement in D.C. that Latin American countries should adopt for the betterment of their economies. This list included 1. Fiscal discipline (balancing the government budget) 2. Public expenditure reorganization 3. Tax reform 4. Market determined interest rates 5. Competitive exchange rates 6. Trade laws liberalization 7. Liberalization of laws on foreign businesses buying or merging with internal firms (Foreign Direct Investment) 8. Privatization of state enterprises 9. Deregulation for ease of market forces and 10. Security of property rights. Then Latin American countries tried to enforce some of these ideas, which failed miserably. Williamson himself noted that there was little specification and no organization to it, and further that it was crazy of countries to adopt something written in an article without more research or discourse. My personal argument was that these were all meaningless reforms since the majority of work in Latin American countries is corrupt and black market. No matter how much you dress up the written economic work, if noone follows the rules in the first place you´ll get nowhere. The only way to improve these conditions would be to improve worker´s rights and protection and enforcement of business laws. As unnecessary as it might sound, the higher ups really do need to be paid more to avoid the temptation of bribery and further oversight of leaders and decisionmakers is never a bad idea. Without the education and protection of workers and leaders alike, no economic reform will do good for the country.
That´s the shortened version of my presentation, and I got the feeling as I was standing in front of the small class pointing at my chalkboard notes that I actually enjoyed that. It was an exciting feeling to have people taking notes on what I was saying and writing! I must have been channeling the teacher abilities of my dear Bethany. Afterwards some of them noted that if things didn´t work out I should work as a professor, 'I´d definitely take your class.' That made me feel good.
Another thing is my consideration of Tau (taw, like the vowel of 'clog') Beta Sigma. Having been dating Bethany for nearly two years, I consider myself to have been (for a non-member) heavily involved with Tau Beta Sigma, the music service sorority that she is a strong member of. I have thoroughly enjoyed the large amounts of service they do, and the sisterhood events that they have, and the great traditions they have accumulated... not to mention the outstanding organization and participation (all of these things I somewhat envy, and in part have shamelessly plagiarized into the work of PMA... with full knowledge and consent of Bethany of course... so I guess it´s not plagiarism?). As it just so happens, Tau Beta Sigma is in fact a coed fraternity, and I figure having helped Bethany with finances, participated in sister events and fundraising and lots of service - I might as well just join and know all the behind the scenes stuff too. This presents just one problem: timing. All of our meetings happen to be at the same time. You might have been thinking it would be wierd to be the 'sister' of my girlfriend, but KKY brothers date each other so I suppose it´s not as wierd as it could be. Then I suppose there´s the whole denomination of 'sister' for me, which is perhaps a little less normal than a girl being called a 'brother' of a professional fraternity. I´m sure exceptions could be made, I would consider myself a brother anyways. I guess that whole business is a little strange but the bottom line is that I love the work that TBS does and I love the way they do it, not to mention the girls are awesome... although perhaps I´m a little biased.
It was a little while ago that I got a package from Bethany including none other than homemade cookies and treats! I shared as much as I could before scarfing it all down... it seems like no mothers here really make desserts, no cookies or brownies or cakes or anything - they buy all that stuff. I think that´s a real shame, and rather prefer the American home-baked dessert tradition. And I was rather excited to have gotten a baked treat from my far away sweetheart.
Then the other day I got a package from home!!! Thank you very very much mom, dad, sister, d-daddy, Dana and Mountain View! Right when I got them I shot into the pancake mix and maple syrup. I don´t think my madre liked me taking over the kitchen so quickly to make some pancakes, but I cleaned up everything and even shared my precious maple syrup :-). I have also bit into the Thin Mints and downed a bunch of Reese´s. I look forward to playing with the spices and tons of goodies! Thank you guys, I´ll keep up my practice in the kitchen. My next project is chocolate chip cookies!
Another thing that was very exciting for me was the experience of teaching a class. In my political science class, every Wednesday a student must present a scholastic article about Latin America to the class, and this past Wednesday was my turn. I was of course given the economics article which made me a little bit nervous about getting it all right since it is my major after all. But I got up in front of the class and I really felt good about what I was saying and while sometimes less clear I thought I had some good examples and really tried to explain the article and thereafter my thoughts on why it was wrong and misdirected. My favorite part of it was definitely adding my own commentary and analysis. To give a short version of the presentation, I presented my personal thoughts and ideas in Spanish (or whatever I could manage of Spanish) and the details of the article in English (since it was written in English). D.C. economist John Williamson in 1989 wrote an article outlining a set of reforms that he considered to be common agreement in D.C. that Latin American countries should adopt for the betterment of their economies. This list included 1. Fiscal discipline (balancing the government budget) 2. Public expenditure reorganization 3. Tax reform 4. Market determined interest rates 5. Competitive exchange rates 6. Trade laws liberalization 7. Liberalization of laws on foreign businesses buying or merging with internal firms (Foreign Direct Investment) 8. Privatization of state enterprises 9. Deregulation for ease of market forces and 10. Security of property rights. Then Latin American countries tried to enforce some of these ideas, which failed miserably. Williamson himself noted that there was little specification and no organization to it, and further that it was crazy of countries to adopt something written in an article without more research or discourse. My personal argument was that these were all meaningless reforms since the majority of work in Latin American countries is corrupt and black market. No matter how much you dress up the written economic work, if noone follows the rules in the first place you´ll get nowhere. The only way to improve these conditions would be to improve worker´s rights and protection and enforcement of business laws. As unnecessary as it might sound, the higher ups really do need to be paid more to avoid the temptation of bribery and further oversight of leaders and decisionmakers is never a bad idea. Without the education and protection of workers and leaders alike, no economic reform will do good for the country.
That´s the shortened version of my presentation, and I got the feeling as I was standing in front of the small class pointing at my chalkboard notes that I actually enjoyed that. It was an exciting feeling to have people taking notes on what I was saying and writing! I must have been channeling the teacher abilities of my dear Bethany. Afterwards some of them noted that if things didn´t work out I should work as a professor, 'I´d definitely take your class.' That made me feel good.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Depende
This past weekend (well... now a long time ago) was the trip to Madrid. But the night before we left, we went to see a concert - a group called Jarabe de Palo(s?) which means strangly enough Stick Cough Syrup. I don´t know, maybe there´s some cultural significance that I don´t understand - ah the meaning is roughly to cure a problem with a beating. How uplifting, no?
After meeting as a large group under the clock stationed high in the stone facade of the northeastern wall of the Plaza Mayor. The pigeons tend to be unconcerned with the constant human presence, on the contrary they must enjoy the crumbs and treats we leave behind from our churros and bocadillos (sandwiches). Many of them, actually, have grown fat in the winter months, stocking up on these morsels and one supposes resting a great deal.
Talking all the while with Jesús, our program director, we made it finally to the performance place - it was a nondescript large building that apparantly had a concert hall inside. So we went in, and after finding our seats (and several people finding drinks), the lights dimmed and up came a video of someone looking like a somewhat more attractive Spanish Michael Moore. This, it turns out is Pau Donés, the composer for the group, and he gave an introduction to the group and all throughout the performance he was in little video clips inbetween the songs.
Apparantly Jarabe de Palo is a very popular group here, because almost the whole audience except for us was singing along with their songs, very enthusiastically. The group consisted of your basic rock group - guitars, bass, drums and then later the pianist in a very dramatic way came in acting drunk. The performance was pretty much half show and half music. He should have just as well stayed out drinking, I think. Dad, you know how much I dislike the abuse of keyboards - he molested the keyboard sound. The band in general sounded pretty bland to me for the first half. I forgot to mention that they had a saxophone player in the group. There were never bridges, there were never forms to the songs - one key, jam and keep playing. The saxophone never played more than pentatonic or simple showy trills or sustained notes. I was musically uninterested although most of the crowd seemed very entertained and enjoyed it quite a bit, and really isn´t that the point? These guys were obviously not there to create musical masterpieces, but to entertain - made more clear by their theater-istic antics. And so much the better. I could tell that the musicians did know what they were doing, but I suppose in interest of appealing to as many people as possible, they kept the music more or less simple. Oh, and the one thing that got to me in the first half is that every one of their songs was 120 bpm. No change in tempo, no change in form, no change in sound, just a couple of lyrics different here or there. I don´t even have a comparison in mind to describe what they sounded like, it was just like a kids show where the music didn´t matter, maybe they were singing songs about the color blue and the sound that a sheep makes. Ah, but the last song in the first half they played a very Spanish song that sounded awesome! Until the keyboards came in. Why? Why do hispanic keyboardists feel the need to play that descending octave pattern that´s popular in Latin American music? One of the songs that the band played was really catchy - Depende. It was a very basic rhythm and the chorus was mostly just 'depende'. So from now on whenever I hear someone say the word 'depende', I can´t help but think of that song, although I only remember 2 seconds of it.
But you know I´m glad to have gone, it was an extremely Spanish experience, and I was sitting next to a man from Mexico who was studying neuro-surgery at the University of Salamanca. He explained some of the meanings of the songs and how the band had gotten lots of awards and nominations for stuff and how it was interesting that the band was playing on the main stage usually reserved for concert pianists and much more "high-class" performances, and he also noted with a touch of admiration how surprising it was that Herbie Hancock won the grammy for best album. Now that caught me off guard, and made me want to listen to it.
So, it was generally interesting and good Spanish learning experience, but I wouldn´t go see them again. Then afterwards we were turned loose to hunt for our own dinner. I was feeling like pizza and wandered the dark city for at least an hour looking for it. Then I thought Kebabs would be nice, and searched for that, but alas all I could find was unsatisfactory. Being picky can make for being rather hungry. Finally deciding that I should finish the cycle of having had McDonalds in Paris and London and Lisbon, so I found instead a Burger King to mix it up. Welll.... the bun was soggy and the burger had that tinge of burnt - I should have learned by now I don´t really like Burger King. Attack of the missing memory once again. The fries were great.
So by the time I got to bed it was about 1am, since we got out of the concert at something like 11:30. Guess what time we had to be at the bus stop to leave for Madrid? 7am. Hooray for planning! Well we got what sleep we could, then showed up to get loaded and get what little sleep we could on the ride before we arrived in Madrid.
Madrid is very much what I was imagining Salamanca being like - a real city. It was reminiscent to me of Manhattan, NYC - huge buildings on all sides, crowds of people, lots of monuments and museums, beautiful and sketchy people everywhere, Starbucks... Our first stop was the Prado! Tired and a little bit spaced out, we all got out to this beautiful courtyard in front of the large stone building and went around the side to see lots of school children waiting and two members of the policía en caballo - or horseback police. The Prado was full of all kinds of incredible old pieces of art. We were basically set loose after a little while of touring the old pieces we needed to see. I thought of the space as very similar to a wing of the Louvre, just in the space and the kinds of old pieces. It seemed at times like a Catholic anthology - so many pieces depicting Catholic leaders and Christian themes. This makes sense since before they didn´t have cameras it was a matter of documentation and also the Catholic church had the most money in the middle ages and afterwards, so most works of that age would be Catholic - in Europe anyways. So tired of that when we were set free and I found an interesting scene that I drew and wrote about for an art class assignment. There was a girl painting a copy of a painting on display in one of the wings. It seemed like a fairly nondescript old roman scene of a waterway emptying out in the ocean - huge pillared architecture and mostly naked men going ab out their business. Just remembering the Platonic ideals of art as being worthless copies of reality which really exists in forms which we might now characterize as ideas. We have an idea of something, which Plato considered the most pure form, then the real object is a copy of that form, then a painting is a debasement of a copy of a copy and so forth and so on. I was fascinated at something that Plato would have considered an abomination was a very gentile and calm scene, of a woman very patiently and I must say masterfully going about her business of copying the work on display.
I grew tired quickly of the Prado, our next stop was the Thyssen-Bornemisza museum. It was gorgeous. I would go back there in a second. There was a wide collection of 19th-20th century works that were very secular and tons of impressionist and some very interesting surrealist work by Dalí and others. But I really couldn´t get past the impressionist art - it fascinated me so much how they could manage to up close have such a nondestinct plotting of basic strokes and vague forms, but when I backed up it became a living picture. Perhaps since it was so vague up close, from a distance my brain filled in what wasn´t there and to me it became more lifelike, more organic, more... versatile. I thought it felt more real than the realist works that worked out a scene to every small detail, those were capturing a specific moment, an exact feeling and time. The impressionist works seemed to me to be adaptable to however I might have felt when I looked at it, it was more an idea that evoked a little imagination - who was going to walk onto this scene next, what is that character thinking? I enjoyed it quite a lot.
After a little break, that night we went to see La Bella y La Bestia - 'Beauty and the Beast'! As we entered it was very much reminiscent of broadway style theater - large amounts of seating in a relatively small place, lots of people dressed up in their very best, some not so much - lots of concessions and gifts. Honestly, I was not expecting a lot from them, and it wasn't broadway quality but they really did a good job. The acting was incredible from the whole cast, the scene of Be Our Guest was OVER THE TOP!! They had lots of showgirls huge set pieces, even some pyrotechnics. There were just little details that didn´t quite work out, for example Gaston had kind of a high not so manly voice and the fight with the wolves was more like an interpretive ballet dance... not a fight. Actually kind of amusing. Anyways, I was definitely pleased with the performance and the singing voices were very beautiful! As it just so happens, Bethany was playing in the pit orchestra back at home to Beauty and the Beast, so I got her a little momento from the Spanish version.
So after being up so late, we were of course dragged out of bed nice and early the next morning to go off visiting things. I believe our first stop that day was at the Palacio Real. Huge building, noone actually lives there anymore - crazily ornamented with beautiful views and a peacock! What? I don´t know. Most of us were feeling sluggish and tired, and afterwards we went to see Reina Sofía collection of Picasso pieces. It was extremely fascinating, but what I enjoyed most of all were the drawings that Picasso drew for himself. Before all of his major works (and many of his minor works) he did study paintings just to get the feel of what he was trying to capture and to try out different ideas to see how they work. I particularly enjoyed pencil sketchings of himself and some erotic work (two figures and a cat... two of them going at it and this cat curiously perched on the side of the bed... very curious). I took the free time they gave us to sketch some of the works I enjoyed most, including psychelic reworkings of some portraits by El Greco and study drawings of Las Meninas by I think it was Velázquez. Needless to say the works of Picasso were not the random playings of a little kid, rather a play on perspective and color in an intellectual jest on classic works, not to mention the development of his own unique style that transcended the realism of the pre-photograph world. Interesting stuff.
That day we were released into the wild rather early - allowed to romp around the town as we saw fit. Kristen and I went out and took a short tour of the Plaza Mayor and had fun diggin up things we liked in a little gift shop (I got a bullfighting poster! woo!) and looked around the Plaza Mayor a bit after getting some Starbucks that she was wanting so badly. As we walked up the Calle de Preciados north of Puerta del Sol, we saw all kinds of street... performers. Living statues, they all had some sort of dress-up to distinquish themselves, some more interesting and tolerable than others. My favorite was this goofy kind of guy dressed up like an American western cowboy, but in all black. He had some sort of whistle in his mouth and made funny noises and played with his toy gun and took pictures with people, he was interesting. Others didn't really do much, I don't know if they were really expecting to get any donations... Madrid seemed to me (as previously mentioned) very much like New York City... and I liked it. I enjoyed that there was so much life to it, things to see, places to go - always spectacles and something artistic. That night we all retired to the hotel and ordered in pizza - at least I did with a bunch of girls. It was a good time, and nice to finally get some hang out and pizza time. That night, however, upheld that the Spanish just don't know how to make a crust for anything.
The next and final morning in Madrid the schedule changed AGAIN! Much earlier still. Thanks for making a good steady schedule. Anyways this day would be spent going to El Escorial, which was a large complex that included a monastery, a small palace, a huge library, a huge cathedral and a royal crypt. It was interesting to note the austerity of the place and the contrasting scale of the palace to even the cathedral. In a time when Spain was arguably the most important country in the world, the king chose to live in tiny quarters in a christian fortress of sorts. The library was stunningly beautiful - marble floors, huge wooden bookcases (all the books were turned spine inwards for preservation reasons, I had never heard of that before) and curiously enough completely mythical and non-religious frescoes on the cieling. The royal crypt was also an interesting thing - a marble and goldbasement that reminded my oddly of a storage area, how all the sarcophagi were just lying stacked on these giant shelves, as if they were holding valuable documents or something. Also it's interesting that the kings were always buried in full royal detail... with their mothers. I guess they were halfway serious about that commandment - honor thy father and mother. Everyone says good things about their mother and defends their mother's honor... which is definitely a good thing and called for by all means... but what about the father? Assuming that the father did a good job and supported a family well, he deserves a lot of credit too. Oh well, can't argue with those royal types.
We were again released into the wild for lunch this time, and so we wandered the small town ouside of el Escorial (it is a little distance from Madrid, up on the side of a nearby mountain) looking for something reasonable and filling. What should we come across but Chinese food! Actually we passed by it in checking out various cafés we were interested in, but ultimately I said hey, if you guys (actually they were just girls... why am I always just with girls? not complaining or anything) don't pick the next one, I'm going back to that chinese place. And then they decided since one of us actually wanted to go there that why not, let's just go get chinese food, it had been a while anyways. GOOD CHOICE. That was amazing, some chinese stir fried pork and vegetables and sticky white rice. I love that sticky white rice. It was still strange to see Asian people speaking fluent Spanish, but it goes to show how still uncultured we are. It was delicious and enjoyed every bite, down to the inexpensive price. Lovely. Afterwards I decreed that we must go to the pastry shop across the street. Unfortunately I don´t have with me at the moment the notebook that I wrote down all these details in, but this was a perfectly lovely little shop. The shop worker was nothing but helpful and patient and the pastries were just heavenly. I got two kinds of pastries - a kind of creme filled pastry roll and this thing that was kind of like a a minibar of a gooey (local, he said) and positively fulfilling creme, and a very soft cake layer, then a soft and delicate but powerful chocolate layer. Delicious. They made the ride home pretty sweet. Was the trip the best it could have been? No. Did I enjoy it? Yes. Would I go back? Depende.
After meeting as a large group under the clock stationed high in the stone facade of the northeastern wall of the Plaza Mayor. The pigeons tend to be unconcerned with the constant human presence, on the contrary they must enjoy the crumbs and treats we leave behind from our churros and bocadillos (sandwiches). Many of them, actually, have grown fat in the winter months, stocking up on these morsels and one supposes resting a great deal.
Talking all the while with Jesús, our program director, we made it finally to the performance place - it was a nondescript large building that apparantly had a concert hall inside. So we went in, and after finding our seats (and several people finding drinks), the lights dimmed and up came a video of someone looking like a somewhat more attractive Spanish Michael Moore. This, it turns out is Pau Donés, the composer for the group, and he gave an introduction to the group and all throughout the performance he was in little video clips inbetween the songs.
Apparantly Jarabe de Palo is a very popular group here, because almost the whole audience except for us was singing along with their songs, very enthusiastically. The group consisted of your basic rock group - guitars, bass, drums and then later the pianist in a very dramatic way came in acting drunk. The performance was pretty much half show and half music. He should have just as well stayed out drinking, I think. Dad, you know how much I dislike the abuse of keyboards - he molested the keyboard sound. The band in general sounded pretty bland to me for the first half. I forgot to mention that they had a saxophone player in the group. There were never bridges, there were never forms to the songs - one key, jam and keep playing. The saxophone never played more than pentatonic or simple showy trills or sustained notes. I was musically uninterested although most of the crowd seemed very entertained and enjoyed it quite a bit, and really isn´t that the point? These guys were obviously not there to create musical masterpieces, but to entertain - made more clear by their theater-istic antics. And so much the better. I could tell that the musicians did know what they were doing, but I suppose in interest of appealing to as many people as possible, they kept the music more or less simple. Oh, and the one thing that got to me in the first half is that every one of their songs was 120 bpm. No change in tempo, no change in form, no change in sound, just a couple of lyrics different here or there. I don´t even have a comparison in mind to describe what they sounded like, it was just like a kids show where the music didn´t matter, maybe they were singing songs about the color blue and the sound that a sheep makes. Ah, but the last song in the first half they played a very Spanish song that sounded awesome! Until the keyboards came in. Why? Why do hispanic keyboardists feel the need to play that descending octave pattern that´s popular in Latin American music? One of the songs that the band played was really catchy - Depende. It was a very basic rhythm and the chorus was mostly just 'depende'. So from now on whenever I hear someone say the word 'depende', I can´t help but think of that song, although I only remember 2 seconds of it.
But you know I´m glad to have gone, it was an extremely Spanish experience, and I was sitting next to a man from Mexico who was studying neuro-surgery at the University of Salamanca. He explained some of the meanings of the songs and how the band had gotten lots of awards and nominations for stuff and how it was interesting that the band was playing on the main stage usually reserved for concert pianists and much more "high-class" performances, and he also noted with a touch of admiration how surprising it was that Herbie Hancock won the grammy for best album. Now that caught me off guard, and made me want to listen to it.
So, it was generally interesting and good Spanish learning experience, but I wouldn´t go see them again. Then afterwards we were turned loose to hunt for our own dinner. I was feeling like pizza and wandered the dark city for at least an hour looking for it. Then I thought Kebabs would be nice, and searched for that, but alas all I could find was unsatisfactory. Being picky can make for being rather hungry. Finally deciding that I should finish the cycle of having had McDonalds in Paris and London and Lisbon, so I found instead a Burger King to mix it up. Welll.... the bun was soggy and the burger had that tinge of burnt - I should have learned by now I don´t really like Burger King. Attack of the missing memory once again. The fries were great.
So by the time I got to bed it was about 1am, since we got out of the concert at something like 11:30. Guess what time we had to be at the bus stop to leave for Madrid? 7am. Hooray for planning! Well we got what sleep we could, then showed up to get loaded and get what little sleep we could on the ride before we arrived in Madrid.
Madrid is very much what I was imagining Salamanca being like - a real city. It was reminiscent to me of Manhattan, NYC - huge buildings on all sides, crowds of people, lots of monuments and museums, beautiful and sketchy people everywhere, Starbucks... Our first stop was the Prado! Tired and a little bit spaced out, we all got out to this beautiful courtyard in front of the large stone building and went around the side to see lots of school children waiting and two members of the policía en caballo - or horseback police. The Prado was full of all kinds of incredible old pieces of art. We were basically set loose after a little while of touring the old pieces we needed to see. I thought of the space as very similar to a wing of the Louvre, just in the space and the kinds of old pieces. It seemed at times like a Catholic anthology - so many pieces depicting Catholic leaders and Christian themes. This makes sense since before they didn´t have cameras it was a matter of documentation and also the Catholic church had the most money in the middle ages and afterwards, so most works of that age would be Catholic - in Europe anyways. So tired of that when we were set free and I found an interesting scene that I drew and wrote about for an art class assignment. There was a girl painting a copy of a painting on display in one of the wings. It seemed like a fairly nondescript old roman scene of a waterway emptying out in the ocean - huge pillared architecture and mostly naked men going ab out their business. Just remembering the Platonic ideals of art as being worthless copies of reality which really exists in forms which we might now characterize as ideas. We have an idea of something, which Plato considered the most pure form, then the real object is a copy of that form, then a painting is a debasement of a copy of a copy and so forth and so on. I was fascinated at something that Plato would have considered an abomination was a very gentile and calm scene, of a woman very patiently and I must say masterfully going about her business of copying the work on display.
I grew tired quickly of the Prado, our next stop was the Thyssen-Bornemisza museum. It was gorgeous. I would go back there in a second. There was a wide collection of 19th-20th century works that were very secular and tons of impressionist and some very interesting surrealist work by Dalí and others. But I really couldn´t get past the impressionist art - it fascinated me so much how they could manage to up close have such a nondestinct plotting of basic strokes and vague forms, but when I backed up it became a living picture. Perhaps since it was so vague up close, from a distance my brain filled in what wasn´t there and to me it became more lifelike, more organic, more... versatile. I thought it felt more real than the realist works that worked out a scene to every small detail, those were capturing a specific moment, an exact feeling and time. The impressionist works seemed to me to be adaptable to however I might have felt when I looked at it, it was more an idea that evoked a little imagination - who was going to walk onto this scene next, what is that character thinking? I enjoyed it quite a lot.
After a little break, that night we went to see La Bella y La Bestia - 'Beauty and the Beast'! As we entered it was very much reminiscent of broadway style theater - large amounts of seating in a relatively small place, lots of people dressed up in their very best, some not so much - lots of concessions and gifts. Honestly, I was not expecting a lot from them, and it wasn't broadway quality but they really did a good job. The acting was incredible from the whole cast, the scene of Be Our Guest was OVER THE TOP!! They had lots of showgirls huge set pieces, even some pyrotechnics. There were just little details that didn´t quite work out, for example Gaston had kind of a high not so manly voice and the fight with the wolves was more like an interpretive ballet dance... not a fight. Actually kind of amusing. Anyways, I was definitely pleased with the performance and the singing voices were very beautiful! As it just so happens, Bethany was playing in the pit orchestra back at home to Beauty and the Beast, so I got her a little momento from the Spanish version.
So after being up so late, we were of course dragged out of bed nice and early the next morning to go off visiting things. I believe our first stop that day was at the Palacio Real. Huge building, noone actually lives there anymore - crazily ornamented with beautiful views and a peacock! What? I don´t know. Most of us were feeling sluggish and tired, and afterwards we went to see Reina Sofía collection of Picasso pieces. It was extremely fascinating, but what I enjoyed most of all were the drawings that Picasso drew for himself. Before all of his major works (and many of his minor works) he did study paintings just to get the feel of what he was trying to capture and to try out different ideas to see how they work. I particularly enjoyed pencil sketchings of himself and some erotic work (two figures and a cat... two of them going at it and this cat curiously perched on the side of the bed... very curious). I took the free time they gave us to sketch some of the works I enjoyed most, including psychelic reworkings of some portraits by El Greco and study drawings of Las Meninas by I think it was Velázquez. Needless to say the works of Picasso were not the random playings of a little kid, rather a play on perspective and color in an intellectual jest on classic works, not to mention the development of his own unique style that transcended the realism of the pre-photograph world. Interesting stuff.
That day we were released into the wild rather early - allowed to romp around the town as we saw fit. Kristen and I went out and took a short tour of the Plaza Mayor and had fun diggin up things we liked in a little gift shop (I got a bullfighting poster! woo!) and looked around the Plaza Mayor a bit after getting some Starbucks that she was wanting so badly. As we walked up the Calle de Preciados north of Puerta del Sol, we saw all kinds of street... performers. Living statues, they all had some sort of dress-up to distinquish themselves, some more interesting and tolerable than others. My favorite was this goofy kind of guy dressed up like an American western cowboy, but in all black. He had some sort of whistle in his mouth and made funny noises and played with his toy gun and took pictures with people, he was interesting. Others didn't really do much, I don't know if they were really expecting to get any donations... Madrid seemed to me (as previously mentioned) very much like New York City... and I liked it. I enjoyed that there was so much life to it, things to see, places to go - always spectacles and something artistic. That night we all retired to the hotel and ordered in pizza - at least I did with a bunch of girls. It was a good time, and nice to finally get some hang out and pizza time. That night, however, upheld that the Spanish just don't know how to make a crust for anything.
The next and final morning in Madrid the schedule changed AGAIN! Much earlier still. Thanks for making a good steady schedule. Anyways this day would be spent going to El Escorial, which was a large complex that included a monastery, a small palace, a huge library, a huge cathedral and a royal crypt. It was interesting to note the austerity of the place and the contrasting scale of the palace to even the cathedral. In a time when Spain was arguably the most important country in the world, the king chose to live in tiny quarters in a christian fortress of sorts. The library was stunningly beautiful - marble floors, huge wooden bookcases (all the books were turned spine inwards for preservation reasons, I had never heard of that before) and curiously enough completely mythical and non-religious frescoes on the cieling. The royal crypt was also an interesting thing - a marble and goldbasement that reminded my oddly of a storage area, how all the sarcophagi were just lying stacked on these giant shelves, as if they were holding valuable documents or something. Also it's interesting that the kings were always buried in full royal detail... with their mothers. I guess they were halfway serious about that commandment - honor thy father and mother. Everyone says good things about their mother and defends their mother's honor... which is definitely a good thing and called for by all means... but what about the father? Assuming that the father did a good job and supported a family well, he deserves a lot of credit too. Oh well, can't argue with those royal types.
We were again released into the wild for lunch this time, and so we wandered the small town ouside of el Escorial (it is a little distance from Madrid, up on the side of a nearby mountain) looking for something reasonable and filling. What should we come across but Chinese food! Actually we passed by it in checking out various cafés we were interested in, but ultimately I said hey, if you guys (actually they were just girls... why am I always just with girls? not complaining or anything) don't pick the next one, I'm going back to that chinese place. And then they decided since one of us actually wanted to go there that why not, let's just go get chinese food, it had been a while anyways. GOOD CHOICE. That was amazing, some chinese stir fried pork and vegetables and sticky white rice. I love that sticky white rice. It was still strange to see Asian people speaking fluent Spanish, but it goes to show how still uncultured we are. It was delicious and enjoyed every bite, down to the inexpensive price. Lovely. Afterwards I decreed that we must go to the pastry shop across the street. Unfortunately I don´t have with me at the moment the notebook that I wrote down all these details in, but this was a perfectly lovely little shop. The shop worker was nothing but helpful and patient and the pastries were just heavenly. I got two kinds of pastries - a kind of creme filled pastry roll and this thing that was kind of like a a minibar of a gooey (local, he said) and positively fulfilling creme, and a very soft cake layer, then a soft and delicate but powerful chocolate layer. Delicious. They made the ride home pretty sweet. Was the trip the best it could have been? No. Did I enjoy it? Yes. Would I go back? Depende.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
El Razón de Vida
Today as I was walking to class, there were lots of Guardia Civil guys (police) everywhere around the university - as it turns out the Prince of Spain was coming to Salamanca University today. I have no idea why or exactly where, but noone could go within a certain perimeter. I found it very interesting. The Prince is the heir to the throne of the kingdom of Spain, which is a very important role here. In Britain we have become accustomed to seeing the King of a modern country as simply a symbolic figurehead, but the King of Spain is far more than that - as recently as 1980-something he personally stopped a coup led by a colonel who held the Spanish parliament hostage for over 24 hours. He also confronted President Chávez on television, asking him '¿Porque no te callas?' or 'Why don´t you shut up?'. King Juan Carlos I was nominated by dictator Francisco Franco himself but has interestingly turned out to be perhaps the most consistent supporter of democracy in the recent political development of Spain. King Juan Carlos I speaks Castillian (what most call 'Spanish'), Catalán (an indiginous language of the Eastern edge of Spain) and Portuguese, including the language Gallego, which is said to be a variation of Portuguese and belongs to the region of Galicia in Northwestern Spain. The King is revered within the country by most as a just and formidable leader, and since he is growing old (very recently turning 74), the country will soon enough be handed over to his son, Prince Philip - who happened to be visiting Salamanca today. There is a lot of question whether or not he´ll be able to do as well as his father at leading the country, but we´ll only know when he takes the reign(s).
This morning I also went to a café called El Café Don Quixote. I had some coffee relatively cheap at €1.10, which turned out to be many times stronger than I´m accustomed to. Thereafter I was wired as I don´t remember having been in a while - there must have been enough caffeine in that cup to kill a small woodland animal. My body ordinarily can accept caffeine without any unnatural effects, many times without any extra energy either - which can be disappointing. Not so this morning, all through art class, I could not stop moving or asking questions or drawing like a madman. Nor through siesta could I sleep at all, which is incredibly unnatural. So during my siesta time I watched a video on my iPod, a movie called Waking Life. I hadn´t watched it in a long time and it asks lots of philosophical questions and discusses lots of subjects:
What is the difference between waking and sleeping life and how does it blur?
The character in the movie described how there is some mental mechanism that distinguishes between a mental thought entity of something and an actual extra-personal entity of 'reality' so that we are not frightened by our ideas like we would be of a real hungry lion right in front of us. But when we sleep, this mechanism is suppressed so that we can actually believe that something is happening while we are sleeping. I am kind of alienated off the bat simply because I never really remember my dreams except for once every rare rare rare blue moon, which is to say I only remember dreaming 4 or 5 times. Ever. So I´ve had about as much experience in the dream world as I´ve had in political affairs of Japan. So it makes me curious to consider the idea of this lucid dream world, I must satisfy myself with daydreaming, which I suppose I tend to do often. But my lack of dreaming makes me wonder if I simply actually don´t remember it, which wouldn´t surprise me, or if I simply don´t dream. I wouldn´t be able to tell.
Can existentialism, or self determination, deliver us from the eternal mechanics of prepackaged function?
This last semester I took a class which ended up being 90% discussion on Free Will. So it looks like each of us have histories and influences that have determined the majority of our lives and unless we can decide that at any point we made decisions that were spontaneously and independently invented by us to the determination of our future decisions, we are just results of previous actions. What can occur to us is that perhaps it´s a state of mind? Existentialism is the idea that we each create our own humanity, future and state of being - our essence. How can we all of a sudden decide to brush aside our influences, well we can´t, but we have to take into account this interesting thing we call the mind or spirit. It´s such a non-physical entity, the causal laws of the physical world, one supposes, don´t necessarily have to apply to it. So in the case that we have an intangible mind possibly indenependent of the causal strains that apply to our limited corporeal selves, we can determine our own lives and futures, and thus take responsibility for our own lives. This is my impression of Existentialism, and sounds reasonably good to me.
So what does this mean to meaning in our lives - we go about our business, we love, we work, we play, we consume... where is the humanity and meaning? Can we just live for the sake of living, or does the have to be some meaning to our existence? Personally I have come to be of the opinion that the meaning of life is to love and be loved in return - thank you Moulin Rouge. What is love, you may ask? Humanity itself. Not the physical act of living, but the happiness derived from experience and perspective of a community and outsiders. What can we achieve in our lives but to understand more about ourselves and the people around us and be happy? Some people seek happiness only in themselves, how happy do they turn out to be? Some people seek only the happiness of others, which some exalt that - unless you personally derive pleasure, what kind of life is that either? There is a balance, and the important part is the passion and all-consuming interest and almost physical need that extends outside the self. The most recent experience I´ve had of this was to visit Caroline - I found such fulfillment in being able to relate to someone in a complete and wordless way. It was what I understand to be a familial love, to happily give freely without necessarily wanting. To have been able to relate to her feeling of international isolation while at the same time enjoying the new experience of being there and seeing those things - not to mention hearing and speaking new things. What made it complete to me was to be able to cook for Caroline and her family. You all know about me that I have a compulsion for cooking and food, it perhaps goes a little beyond obsession into a sort of addiction that can be fulfilled healthily and I arguably selflessly. Actually selflessly isn´t correct because I get so much gratification out of cooking for someone. But it was that moment that Caroline and I sat down to the barbequed chicken and seeing her host Madre cheerfully bite into the spinach salad that I could see the meaning of my life. Everything happened in that moment - innovation, discovery, understanding, acceptance, love, friendship, happiness, freedom, reason. What´s the meaning of your life?
p.s. this is a two-way informational medium, I welcome responses and arguments alike
This morning I also went to a café called El Café Don Quixote. I had some coffee relatively cheap at €1.10, which turned out to be many times stronger than I´m accustomed to. Thereafter I was wired as I don´t remember having been in a while - there must have been enough caffeine in that cup to kill a small woodland animal. My body ordinarily can accept caffeine without any unnatural effects, many times without any extra energy either - which can be disappointing. Not so this morning, all through art class, I could not stop moving or asking questions or drawing like a madman. Nor through siesta could I sleep at all, which is incredibly unnatural. So during my siesta time I watched a video on my iPod, a movie called Waking Life. I hadn´t watched it in a long time and it asks lots of philosophical questions and discusses lots of subjects:
What is the difference between waking and sleeping life and how does it blur?
The character in the movie described how there is some mental mechanism that distinguishes between a mental thought entity of something and an actual extra-personal entity of 'reality' so that we are not frightened by our ideas like we would be of a real hungry lion right in front of us. But when we sleep, this mechanism is suppressed so that we can actually believe that something is happening while we are sleeping. I am kind of alienated off the bat simply because I never really remember my dreams except for once every rare rare rare blue moon, which is to say I only remember dreaming 4 or 5 times. Ever. So I´ve had about as much experience in the dream world as I´ve had in political affairs of Japan. So it makes me curious to consider the idea of this lucid dream world, I must satisfy myself with daydreaming, which I suppose I tend to do often. But my lack of dreaming makes me wonder if I simply actually don´t remember it, which wouldn´t surprise me, or if I simply don´t dream. I wouldn´t be able to tell.
Can existentialism, or self determination, deliver us from the eternal mechanics of prepackaged function?
This last semester I took a class which ended up being 90% discussion on Free Will. So it looks like each of us have histories and influences that have determined the majority of our lives and unless we can decide that at any point we made decisions that were spontaneously and independently invented by us to the determination of our future decisions, we are just results of previous actions. What can occur to us is that perhaps it´s a state of mind? Existentialism is the idea that we each create our own humanity, future and state of being - our essence. How can we all of a sudden decide to brush aside our influences, well we can´t, but we have to take into account this interesting thing we call the mind or spirit. It´s such a non-physical entity, the causal laws of the physical world, one supposes, don´t necessarily have to apply to it. So in the case that we have an intangible mind possibly indenependent of the causal strains that apply to our limited corporeal selves, we can determine our own lives and futures, and thus take responsibility for our own lives. This is my impression of Existentialism, and sounds reasonably good to me.
So what does this mean to meaning in our lives - we go about our business, we love, we work, we play, we consume... where is the humanity and meaning? Can we just live for the sake of living, or does the have to be some meaning to our existence? Personally I have come to be of the opinion that the meaning of life is to love and be loved in return - thank you Moulin Rouge. What is love, you may ask? Humanity itself. Not the physical act of living, but the happiness derived from experience and perspective of a community and outsiders. What can we achieve in our lives but to understand more about ourselves and the people around us and be happy? Some people seek happiness only in themselves, how happy do they turn out to be? Some people seek only the happiness of others, which some exalt that - unless you personally derive pleasure, what kind of life is that either? There is a balance, and the important part is the passion and all-consuming interest and almost physical need that extends outside the self. The most recent experience I´ve had of this was to visit Caroline - I found such fulfillment in being able to relate to someone in a complete and wordless way. It was what I understand to be a familial love, to happily give freely without necessarily wanting. To have been able to relate to her feeling of international isolation while at the same time enjoying the new experience of being there and seeing those things - not to mention hearing and speaking new things. What made it complete to me was to be able to cook for Caroline and her family. You all know about me that I have a compulsion for cooking and food, it perhaps goes a little beyond obsession into a sort of addiction that can be fulfilled healthily and I arguably selflessly. Actually selflessly isn´t correct because I get so much gratification out of cooking for someone. But it was that moment that Caroline and I sat down to the barbequed chicken and seeing her host Madre cheerfully bite into the spinach salad that I could see the meaning of my life. Everything happened in that moment - innovation, discovery, understanding, acceptance, love, friendship, happiness, freedom, reason. What´s the meaning of your life?
p.s. this is a two-way informational medium, I welcome responses and arguments alike
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Café con Leche
The University of Salamanca has a program called Intercambios, which more or less means exchanges. The program is kind of a lingual eHarmony.com... without the creepy spokesman or anything romantic, in my case anyways. What they do is they ask your name, your age and waht you study, then what language you speak and what language you want to practice. They then put you on a list of people with the same lingual qualities and match you to the exact opposite, which is to say a person who speaks the language you want to practice and wants to practice the language you speak. Then they print you out a list of everyone who you are matched to with their names, ages and information and then you are free to contact any of them. The office is a little place right across from the Catedral Viejo (old cathedral... a major point in Salamanca which is easy to see from anywhere because of the huge spires and towers), with large old wooden doors that lead one into a stone passageway and to the left is an office with a rather beautiful and interesting modern two-way swinging glass door. As I walk in, I say 'Intercambios?', which apparantly is vague since I then had to define further lingual intercambios, but the nice lady sat me down and asked me the information then printed me out the names and stuff. The next day, nothing. Some other people who had done it got e-mails within the first several hours. I had nothing. But the next day I had 7 e-mails from people for meetings! Gotta wait for everything I guess.
Since I tend to have an easier time talking to strange women than strange men, I responded to several Salmantinas (Salamancan girls) somewhere around my age and set up meetings, the first of which was today! I got an e-mail in somewhat poor English describing how she, Natália, would be wearing a red jacket and jeans and to meet her under the clock in the Plaza Mayor at 16:30. So at 4:20pm I walked slowly into the plaza under my umbrella, attempting to keep as dry as possible as the rain nonchalantly showered all over the old tired stone. There was a little bit of a mist around the ground where all the rain droplets impacted and rebounded a little bit of moisture. It was surely wet, but it wasn´t overpowering or even cold, just rainy. So under my umbrella I watched around for this red jacket and jeans. Some description. There were lots of people running around with all kinds of red jackets and jeans - I saw some red P-coats, some red snow jackets, some red wind breakers, some red wool coats, all sporting the Salamancan fashion of jeans and some form of boots or flats.... or boot flats. But there was only one girl with a vaguely red coat wearing jeans under the big clock in the plaza. I personally think it was closer to orange, but I decided I might as well ask and so I walked up and asked her in Spanish, '¿Perdona, se llama Natália?' (Excuse me, do you(respectful form, usted) call yourself Natália?) Sheepishly she smiled and said 'Yes, and you are Kip?'. I put out my hand to shake hers, and she seemed a little confused but unconcerned. Then I remembered that it´s normal in Spain when meeting anyone to give a kiss to the left and the right. Oh well, both smiling we agreed to get some warm coffee out of the rain in a café in the plaza. Into a café we went and after asking for some café con leche we talked. The café as always was brought to our table in little mugs on tiny platters with a spoon and tube of sugar on the platter. There is always about 3/4 inch of really dark strong coffee in the bottom, and after the waiter has passed around all the coffee cups with the coffee in the bottom, he pours from a metal pitcher hot steamed milk to the brim of the glass, creating the lovely café con leche which is very soothing and relaxing while not too strong at all. It seems reasonably clear to me that she does not speak English as much as I speak Spanish, but oddly at the same time she has perhaps a wider vocabulary in English than I do in Spanish because she explained that she is taking an English writing class right now, but they do not speak English in class which I found a little strange. We talked about what we like to do in our free time and after a while I figured out that she plays racquetball and works in a sports equipment store on the other side of the river from Salamanca. Extremely friendly and attempting very hard to understand my English, she stared in a very focused manner at my lips (as I assume I do to Spanish speakers) as I told her about what group I´m with here and what our classes are like and where everyone likes to go at night. She was very amused by the cheap and tourist-oriented places that the Americans visit regularly and then proceeded to describe various places that she goes with her friends. It would be fun, I think, to go out with some Spaniards and hear normal conversations of people our age instead of literary Spanish and proper forms like we always practice. After we finished our coffee, we looked outside and the rain had very determinedly started coming down harder. Natália unfortunately had forgotten her 'paragua en el coche', so having tons of free time I decided it would just be more time to practice Spanish to just walk with her to let her use my umbrella until we got to her car. So we walked and talked about boyfriends and girlfriends and here´s to hoping that Bethany gets better, unfortunately she had to miss work today with 102ºF fever. While it´s nice to not have to go anywhere, a 102ºF fever rest assured does not assure rest. Anyways, we finally got to her car in the northwest of the city, with which I am still unfamiliar and she offered to drive me to the JMU office where I would write this and print out some homework, as long as I could give directions. Ah this will be fun, I thought. We only took one or two days to talk about directions in the first two weeks of intensivo. So I did the best I could to count blocks and describe landmarks and turn here turn there, and finally we did make it there. With the standard Spanish kiss to the left and right we promised to meet again for coffee to talk some more and here I am.
It was a nice experience and I do look forward to another encounter of the Salmantino(a) kind. I wonder what I can learn about Spain from these intercambio meetings? Perhaps things about food or customs that I might have questions about, for example Spanish people never moving out of the way, perhaps Natália can explain that. Perhaps she can also explain the European idea of kids making out in public. Strange but not always a bad thing. Ah well, any excuse for another cup of café con leche I suppose.
Since I tend to have an easier time talking to strange women than strange men, I responded to several Salmantinas (Salamancan girls) somewhere around my age and set up meetings, the first of which was today! I got an e-mail in somewhat poor English describing how she, Natália, would be wearing a red jacket and jeans and to meet her under the clock in the Plaza Mayor at 16:30. So at 4:20pm I walked slowly into the plaza under my umbrella, attempting to keep as dry as possible as the rain nonchalantly showered all over the old tired stone. There was a little bit of a mist around the ground where all the rain droplets impacted and rebounded a little bit of moisture. It was surely wet, but it wasn´t overpowering or even cold, just rainy. So under my umbrella I watched around for this red jacket and jeans. Some description. There were lots of people running around with all kinds of red jackets and jeans - I saw some red P-coats, some red snow jackets, some red wind breakers, some red wool coats, all sporting the Salamancan fashion of jeans and some form of boots or flats.... or boot flats. But there was only one girl with a vaguely red coat wearing jeans under the big clock in the plaza. I personally think it was closer to orange, but I decided I might as well ask and so I walked up and asked her in Spanish, '¿Perdona, se llama Natália?' (Excuse me, do you(respectful form, usted) call yourself Natália?) Sheepishly she smiled and said 'Yes, and you are Kip?'. I put out my hand to shake hers, and she seemed a little confused but unconcerned. Then I remembered that it´s normal in Spain when meeting anyone to give a kiss to the left and the right. Oh well, both smiling we agreed to get some warm coffee out of the rain in a café in the plaza. Into a café we went and after asking for some café con leche we talked. The café as always was brought to our table in little mugs on tiny platters with a spoon and tube of sugar on the platter. There is always about 3/4 inch of really dark strong coffee in the bottom, and after the waiter has passed around all the coffee cups with the coffee in the bottom, he pours from a metal pitcher hot steamed milk to the brim of the glass, creating the lovely café con leche which is very soothing and relaxing while not too strong at all. It seems reasonably clear to me that she does not speak English as much as I speak Spanish, but oddly at the same time she has perhaps a wider vocabulary in English than I do in Spanish because she explained that she is taking an English writing class right now, but they do not speak English in class which I found a little strange. We talked about what we like to do in our free time and after a while I figured out that she plays racquetball and works in a sports equipment store on the other side of the river from Salamanca. Extremely friendly and attempting very hard to understand my English, she stared in a very focused manner at my lips (as I assume I do to Spanish speakers) as I told her about what group I´m with here and what our classes are like and where everyone likes to go at night. She was very amused by the cheap and tourist-oriented places that the Americans visit regularly and then proceeded to describe various places that she goes with her friends. It would be fun, I think, to go out with some Spaniards and hear normal conversations of people our age instead of literary Spanish and proper forms like we always practice. After we finished our coffee, we looked outside and the rain had very determinedly started coming down harder. Natália unfortunately had forgotten her 'paragua en el coche', so having tons of free time I decided it would just be more time to practice Spanish to just walk with her to let her use my umbrella until we got to her car. So we walked and talked about boyfriends and girlfriends and here´s to hoping that Bethany gets better, unfortunately she had to miss work today with 102ºF fever. While it´s nice to not have to go anywhere, a 102ºF fever rest assured does not assure rest. Anyways, we finally got to her car in the northwest of the city, with which I am still unfamiliar and she offered to drive me to the JMU office where I would write this and print out some homework, as long as I could give directions. Ah this will be fun, I thought. We only took one or two days to talk about directions in the first two weeks of intensivo. So I did the best I could to count blocks and describe landmarks and turn here turn there, and finally we did make it there. With the standard Spanish kiss to the left and right we promised to meet again for coffee to talk some more and here I am.
It was a nice experience and I do look forward to another encounter of the Salmantino(a) kind. I wonder what I can learn about Spain from these intercambio meetings? Perhaps things about food or customs that I might have questions about, for example Spanish people never moving out of the way, perhaps Natália can explain that. Perhaps she can also explain the European idea of kids making out in public. Strange but not always a bad thing. Ah well, any excuse for another cup of café con leche I suppose.
Le Poisson
Well the losses seem to accumulate, last night I thought about it a little bit and I seemed to be missing something? As I kept searching, I could not for the life of me find my beloved Irish cap! Well... joder. Whether by robbery or by simple absentmindedness, the thing that made me easy to distinguish, the thing that kept me warm, the perfect gift from my parents, the rain protection and fun accessory, my cap has left me. Fortunately, caps of that sort are very popular here as all old Spanish men wear them, so there must be cap stores somewhere. Perhaps I will go in search of a new one, or perhaps I´ll just wait until I get to Scotland. I don´t know, it´s a difficult thing to attempt to replace, lots of sentimental value - very similar to my camera. Ugh, why am I cursed with the ability to lose anything? I guess that makes me smart for deciding not to get a laptop... that would be gone.
To top it all off, last night I also discovered that I couldn´t find the adapter (€1 or less, not worried about that) to plug in my stuff to the wall, so I was going to take my iPod to the nightly internet café to plug into the computer to recharge. As long as the computer doesn´t have iTunes, the iPod should just recharge and not be messed up. But... it froze. It just stopped, right in the middle of an NPR Food podcast. I wanted to hear the rest of the story about faulty Chinese exports! Whatever would happen to that cut of tenderloin that is infected with the aviary flu? Well, I was not happy at all: no cap, no camera, and now no iPod. That was definitely the last straw. I went and walked around the city for an hour just to chill out and think about where I am. It was wet outside, dark but lit but lots of street lights. I had become familiar with the various routes and people that I might encounter. Frustrated as I was, it was also abundantly clear what kinds of habits Spaniards have in large groups - they never move out of the way. Ever. And they´ll stop in their tracks randomly, even if they´re in the middle of a crowd. And they´ll walk down the street in long lines next to each other, blocking the whole avenue, no matter who´s coming the other direction. I do not like this Spanish trend. I do not like it, Sam I Am. Others have advised pushing people out of the way, they don´t seem to mind and in fact seem to simply ignore being pushed out of the way. But my question is, why aren´t they just courteous enough to move a little bit so that I don´t have to push anyone? I guess the Spanish are more used to contact than Americans are, they´re ok with being touched by a stranger a little bit, but we definitely aren´t. Either way I still find it rude for someone to stand in my way when I´m very clearly moving that direction.
And right now it looks like I have about $888 at my disposal, having started with about $1,843 and $250 having very nicely been augmented by my parents and strangely $450 added by ORL - I just e-mailed them to make sure they´re aware of that issue and to see if/when they need that back. And if I have done my math correctly, $500 more should be coming along later to finish making up for the $750 that was subtracted from my account at the beginning of the semester to help pay for the semester. So all in all, subtracting ORL money, I seem to have spent about half of my total money and approaching halfway in my trip, that´s none too bad. I suppose as a poor college student I can always ask nicely from my parents for a little extra to finish off the trip, but realistically I´ll be with them for that finish so who knows, I may be just fine yet.
Oh yes, but I forgot one very interesting piece of international trade, at the beginning of the semester, we all paid that €100 ransom for our cell phones that will be paid back at the end of the semester. So actually depending on how things go, I could actually make money on that deal... very little, but still it´s an interesting concept, kind of a forward contract without any express interest except in the wayward possibilities of international trade within the currencies of the historically strong US dollar and the more modernly explosively strong Euro. I might make as much as $5, which would be cool, even just in theory. But that also means I´ve used less than half of my real total money, which is nice.
As far as the iPod goes, right now it is happily charging in this SalU computer lab, no problems at all. So at least I have my music. Last night I felt somewhat lost without music to listen to, I was about to whip out my penny whistle, or go in hunt for a piano. But alas there are no such things available at midnight. As long as I have good stuff to listen to, I really don´t feel much of an urge to play music. But I do have a strong urge to sing along, which is difficult to do here without some wierd looks. There just aren´t any places to let loose and belt out a fun song from a musical, which I can usually do in my car at home. I do really miss singing, particularly with the group, all us View Crew people (GH) . I can make do, however, just singing to myself willy nilly in the streets of Salamanca. Most of them have no idea what the lyrics mean and it´s fun just to let loose every once in a while, particularly since I´ll probably never see any of them again and definitely never talk to most of them. What do they care if I am singing 'Le Poisson' from Little Mermaid? They might even like the melody.
Right now it doesn´t seem like we´re doing very much in our classes - in Cultura e Identidad Latinoamericana (the class taught in English), we´ve been looking at the Spanish conquest of Latin America, using examples like food of the mix of cultures and what the great differences were between the societies. I quite enjoy the food aspect of it, particularly since I get to do a research paper on food in Latin America. In Political Science, we look all the time at political articles in the newspapers and talk about the Spanish political history and heirarchy. It´s quite interesting and I think I´ve learned a lot from our Argentinian teacher. Yesterday to distinguish the difference between someone working for the state as opposed to the government, we watched an episode of a British show called 'Yes, Minister' about a permanent state secretary working with an appointed cabinet member. We don´t have such distinctions in the US, President Bush can appoint up to 4,500 people, whereas the British Prime Minister can appoint only 100 and to popular demand that number is declining. It´s pretty ridiculous, right? In Spanish Civilization, we´re slowly learning about the layout of the country and what each region does and really what the country as a whole does as far as working and thereafter consuming. Quite interesting. In Art, we continue to look at the history of art and architecture throughout Spain, since before the Romans up to Dalí. Our teacher is very biased towards what he thinks is good art and therefore will not take much time to look at the works of either Dalí or Gaudí, a grand shame if you ask me. In my final class, Cine y Literatura, we continue plowing through our miles of reading and watching to discuss major literary and cinematic moments in Spanish culture, from the living in illusion character of Quixote to... well I don´t know to what, we haven´t gotten there yet. The only real work comes along in the great amount of reading for my film class and for Van Norman´s latin American class. But both look to be interesting, and the rest of the classes are generally pay attention in class and get an A. I just wish I could take a picture of something and keep my head warm, but at the very least I can sing to myself in the streets like a crazy person :-).
To top it all off, last night I also discovered that I couldn´t find the adapter (€1 or less, not worried about that) to plug in my stuff to the wall, so I was going to take my iPod to the nightly internet café to plug into the computer to recharge. As long as the computer doesn´t have iTunes, the iPod should just recharge and not be messed up. But... it froze. It just stopped, right in the middle of an NPR Food podcast. I wanted to hear the rest of the story about faulty Chinese exports! Whatever would happen to that cut of tenderloin that is infected with the aviary flu? Well, I was not happy at all: no cap, no camera, and now no iPod. That was definitely the last straw. I went and walked around the city for an hour just to chill out and think about where I am. It was wet outside, dark but lit but lots of street lights. I had become familiar with the various routes and people that I might encounter. Frustrated as I was, it was also abundantly clear what kinds of habits Spaniards have in large groups - they never move out of the way. Ever. And they´ll stop in their tracks randomly, even if they´re in the middle of a crowd. And they´ll walk down the street in long lines next to each other, blocking the whole avenue, no matter who´s coming the other direction. I do not like this Spanish trend. I do not like it, Sam I Am. Others have advised pushing people out of the way, they don´t seem to mind and in fact seem to simply ignore being pushed out of the way. But my question is, why aren´t they just courteous enough to move a little bit so that I don´t have to push anyone? I guess the Spanish are more used to contact than Americans are, they´re ok with being touched by a stranger a little bit, but we definitely aren´t. Either way I still find it rude for someone to stand in my way when I´m very clearly moving that direction.
And right now it looks like I have about $888 at my disposal, having started with about $1,843 and $250 having very nicely been augmented by my parents and strangely $450 added by ORL - I just e-mailed them to make sure they´re aware of that issue and to see if/when they need that back. And if I have done my math correctly, $500 more should be coming along later to finish making up for the $750 that was subtracted from my account at the beginning of the semester to help pay for the semester. So all in all, subtracting ORL money, I seem to have spent about half of my total money and approaching halfway in my trip, that´s none too bad. I suppose as a poor college student I can always ask nicely from my parents for a little extra to finish off the trip, but realistically I´ll be with them for that finish so who knows, I may be just fine yet.
Oh yes, but I forgot one very interesting piece of international trade, at the beginning of the semester, we all paid that €100 ransom for our cell phones that will be paid back at the end of the semester. So actually depending on how things go, I could actually make money on that deal... very little, but still it´s an interesting concept, kind of a forward contract without any express interest except in the wayward possibilities of international trade within the currencies of the historically strong US dollar and the more modernly explosively strong Euro. I might make as much as $5, which would be cool, even just in theory. But that also means I´ve used less than half of my real total money, which is nice.
As far as the iPod goes, right now it is happily charging in this SalU computer lab, no problems at all. So at least I have my music. Last night I felt somewhat lost without music to listen to, I was about to whip out my penny whistle, or go in hunt for a piano. But alas there are no such things available at midnight. As long as I have good stuff to listen to, I really don´t feel much of an urge to play music. But I do have a strong urge to sing along, which is difficult to do here without some wierd looks. There just aren´t any places to let loose and belt out a fun song from a musical, which I can usually do in my car at home. I do really miss singing, particularly with the group, all us View Crew people (GH) . I can make do, however, just singing to myself willy nilly in the streets of Salamanca. Most of them have no idea what the lyrics mean and it´s fun just to let loose every once in a while, particularly since I´ll probably never see any of them again and definitely never talk to most of them. What do they care if I am singing 'Le Poisson' from Little Mermaid? They might even like the melody.
Right now it doesn´t seem like we´re doing very much in our classes - in Cultura e Identidad Latinoamericana (the class taught in English), we´ve been looking at the Spanish conquest of Latin America, using examples like food of the mix of cultures and what the great differences were between the societies. I quite enjoy the food aspect of it, particularly since I get to do a research paper on food in Latin America. In Political Science, we look all the time at political articles in the newspapers and talk about the Spanish political history and heirarchy. It´s quite interesting and I think I´ve learned a lot from our Argentinian teacher. Yesterday to distinguish the difference between someone working for the state as opposed to the government, we watched an episode of a British show called 'Yes, Minister' about a permanent state secretary working with an appointed cabinet member. We don´t have such distinctions in the US, President Bush can appoint up to 4,500 people, whereas the British Prime Minister can appoint only 100 and to popular demand that number is declining. It´s pretty ridiculous, right? In Spanish Civilization, we´re slowly learning about the layout of the country and what each region does and really what the country as a whole does as far as working and thereafter consuming. Quite interesting. In Art, we continue to look at the history of art and architecture throughout Spain, since before the Romans up to Dalí. Our teacher is very biased towards what he thinks is good art and therefore will not take much time to look at the works of either Dalí or Gaudí, a grand shame if you ask me. In my final class, Cine y Literatura, we continue plowing through our miles of reading and watching to discuss major literary and cinematic moments in Spanish culture, from the living in illusion character of Quixote to... well I don´t know to what, we haven´t gotten there yet. The only real work comes along in the great amount of reading for my film class and for Van Norman´s latin American class. But both look to be interesting, and the rest of the classes are generally pay attention in class and get an A. I just wish I could take a picture of something and keep my head warm, but at the very least I can sing to myself in the streets like a crazy person :-).
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