The Nigerian Prince

Or, more specifically, the Ibo prince. So, yesterday at school, one of the random men who work at the school and walk around and don't really seem to have a purpose, called me to come out to meet this woman. I don't know how she found out about me (English auxiliar) but she asked me if I could help her communicate with her mother-in-law, who doesn't speak Spanish, that her husband (the mom's son.. confusing!) had been detained. I was super confused myself but told her I would. We met yesterday afternoon at our favorite bar (the teachers', Jenny's and mine, not the random lady's.. English is my first language???). Mariola told me that her husband is a Nigerian prince and his uncle is the king of Nnewi in the soutern region of Nigeria. Pretty much, Mariola's parents are racist and had Mariola and the prince's daughter taken away; they were both put in jail but Mariola was released and the prince continues in the jail in Cáceres. Very confusing. She showed me pictures of the prince, his royal family, their kids. Then a long confusing period followed while we tried to get ahold of his mother, the sister of the king. Finally I talked to his aunt, I think, who would look into it. Mariola told me she was afraid their son would be taken from her too.

It was incredibly strange, the whole situation. Before meeting her, Jenny and I decided that I should charge her, since I'd be giving her a service. I'd even thought of a mostly tactful way to say it. But after she started telling me all this, I just couldn't say anything. I really feel for her, she seemed so desperate for someone to talk to, someone to listen to her. She told me how awful it is when your family abandons you; once again, I realize how lucky I am.

Anyway! Tomorrow I go to Madrid, to spend the night in Barajas for our flight to Budapest on Saturday morning! I can't wait. It's weird though. I wonder how I'll feel on the bus tomorrow. I have 4+ hours to deal with it.

En fin... ¡joder!

I'm down to the last week here in Coria. I have my certificate for the program, got it last Thursday in Mérida. I was joking about not going back to work after I got it and after we got paid (paid today) and when I went to the school to pick up my schedule, I was told that I didn't have any classes--"una semana libre". My last week. Those bastards! They didn't even give me the chance to not come in! Haha, it's fine, but a little weird. So, I'm done. DONE. Done with this shitty job! Very anticlimatic, especially since I didn't realize last Friday would be my last day. But I still have 4 more days here until I go to Madrid. Ah well. En fin, I'm done. All that's left here is packing and cleaning the house. It's so hard to believe. I'm just so over it all.

I think I'll be sad when I leave. This has been my home for the last 7+ months. I'm not quite sure what I'm getting in to in terms of Eastern Europe, the Camino, and espeically the life that awaits me in the US. I do know that when I get back there will definitely be stress waiting for me. We were talking about what it's going to be like when we get back home, and Talisa made a good point. What we're living right now, here in Spain, seems like a dream for us. Life is so laid back, so chill. But this is reality here. What we live here is reality for los españoles. Even those with careers. Nothing compared to the hurried lives of most Americans. And I realize that I'm lazy and I like to live like this.

Anyway! Enough rambling! It's time to leave this pueblo, travel for a month or two, walk across northern Spain, then face the real world. Reality. My future. Life. Joder, ¿eh? I can't believe how fast it went. Así es.

WOMAD

Womad is an international music festival that came to Cáceres this past weekend. Jenny and I went on Friday and it was absolutely amazing!! We bussed to Cáceres, hoping to find a place to stay for the night but resolved to stay up all night and sleep in the bus station before our 2pm bus on Saturday. Miraculously, we found a hostal (after many-a try). There were three stages set up, one in the Plaza Mayor and two others in smaller plazas. And shit. There were so many people. And so many hippies! It reminded me of home so much, the excellent atmosphere. But even better in some ways: you can botellón. Rather, you can drink in public from huge 1.5 L beers. Everyone and their mother was doing it, right next to small children and old people. It was great. So, when in Cáceres... Jenny and I bought some huge bottles of beer and I ate some tasty green Thai curry--something I have not had since I left the US. Which is a really long time ago, when I stop and think about it. We saw a Japanese band, Turkish, Spanish, and Moroccan reggae. It was so fun! And then it made me angry because I didn't live in Cáceres, but rather some dinky pueblo nearby. Alas! My time is nearing an end! I only have 2 1/2 more weeks here until Syd and I are off to Eastern Europe! I can't believe it! I need out of this town, NOW. If anyone has any suggestions about Hungary, Croatia, or Bosnia, I would love to hear them!

Morocco, Málaga, Cádiz.... our own 12 day vacation!

So we made our own puente to go to Morocco. Jenny and I went to Tarifa, which is the southern most tip of Spain where you can see Europe, Africa, the Mediterranean, and the Atlantic all at once. It's a beautiful city, but a little too windy. It also really didn't feel like Spain: tons of foreigners, English everywhere. We met Sydney and Talisa in Algeciras, an ugly port city. So ugly. We arranged our trip to Morocco with the help of Erin and a travel agent there. It included the ferry, shuttle to and from the port, two nights in a hotel, and breakfast. After a night in a slightly sketchy hostal and some excellent Moroccan pastries, we ended up going back to Tarifa to catch the ferry. I love ferries! We got to Tangier and our hotel, the Solazur. Not bad. We went to the Medina, bartered a bit, struggled with the money (11 dirham to 1 euro), ate some amazing food. Oh, and rode camels. There were camels on the beach (tourist trap!) and we couldn't not do it. Not super comfortable but definitely an experience. The next day we went to Chefchaouen (someone please correct my spelling!), a mountain village. It was so incredibly gorgeous: all the walls were whitewashed and painted blue to ward off evil spirits. The people in the shops were less pushy and overall it was more calm. However, we all felt awkward as part of a large tour group disrupting the peace in the city and clogging the narrow streets. The rest of the group was mostly Spanish, so super loud too. It was incredibly hot and but the end we were dying. The next day, before the ferry, we went to the Medina again to barter some more. It's very apparent that the shopkeepers really enjoy it, as some bartered with glee. Glee! The food was such an excellent change from disgusting Spanish food. I ate (forgive the spelling everywhere) falafel, tabouli, baba ganouj, hummous, crazy Moroccan salads, tagin. So much flavor! And the tea.. Mint with lots of sugar. But actual mint. Absolutely amazing. It was so strange to be in another culture, entirely distinct from any I have ever experienced. I had been warned by many Spaniards to be incredibly careful, to always be on guard, that everyone would try to rip us off. But I've had more overwhelming experiences in Mexico, honestly. The men were a bit much, with their comments (Hola guapa, Hello flower, etc.) and their staring. There were restaurants and cafes that were very clearly for men only. They would sit with their chairs turned toward the street, just staring. We would walk around looking for a place to eat saying, "Oh there's a woman in that one, let's eat there." The shopkeepers and waiters were all very polite to us, though. I'm still unsure as to where the women spend their days because we saw so many men but fewer women out in public. On the beach, there were maybe two women and the rest were males of various ages. I also saw several men praying outside at various times, pointed toward Mecca. Me parece que one has to have a good sense of direction to correctly position the body toward Mecca several times a day. Mosques everywhere. So different from Spain, with its churches and cathedrals at every corner. Overall, a great experience. I would love to go back and spend more time there.

We spent another night in Tarifa upon return and set back toward home. The bus to Sevilla broke so we had to wait awhile for another one to come. We met two Americans there, waiting for the same bus. Katheryn is on her way around the world and Alfredo came to visit here. Talking to them really makes me want to travel and travel and travel and never work. At this point, Jenny and I started inventing stories about why we couldn't come to work, as we only had 2 days of it until the next puente. Finally in Sevilla we waited forever to get a cab, a lady cut the line, everyone was outraged and yelling and after about 5 minutes the lady finally got out and someone else got in. She had to go to the back of the line. It was so funny. On the cab ride to the other bus station (to go to Cáceres), Jenny and I decided to text in sick. Or rather, I texted in saying I got ill from the food in Morocco and Jenny just said she wasn't going to come in. I felt guilty for a little while but after being back all guilt has evaporated once I remembered how much I hate the job...

Jenny and I spent the night in Sevilla and headed to Málaga the next day. We had mistakenly booked a hostal in Torremolinos, about half an hour outside of the city of Málaga. It turned out to be fine, more tranquilo with a beautiful beach. Also not like Spain with tons of foreigners, Indian restaurants and bars with foreign beer (unheard of in most places). We also had an excellent roommate: Tuomas from Finland. Super funny. Málaga is beautiful (reusing the same adjectives repeatedly). I loved the Alcazaba, a fort from the 11th century during the Muslim rule. I love Arab architecture; so different from the usual Spanish designs.

Then we went back to Sevilla, then to Cádiz to meet Sydney. The most wonderful beach. Our second day we went to the beach and swam and swam in the Atlantic. It was a bit cold, but no colder than any lake in Washington. Amazing. And we got terribly burned on random parts of the body. Typical. The next day we layered up to go to the beach, swam, then ran home to get out of the sun.

And now I'm back from the 12 day vacation. Seriously, how many more jobs will I have where I can do this and get away with it? And there are less than 4 weeks left here. Crazy.

Córdoba

Once again, I yearn for a car. Really. You can take the chica out of America but you can't take the American out of the chica. Ah well. Jenny and I went to Badajoz on Friday, we rented a car with Sydney, and set out for Córdoba on Saturday morning. It was a Fiat Panda this time, and we all independently agreed that a geek would probably drive that car. Not hott. There were five of us squeezed into the car for the 3 hour ride each way. The weather was not nice--heavy rain punctuated by brief periods of drizzle/clear. Definitely Washington weather, this. The weather for the last couple weeks has been so fickle, with lots of unexpected showers. It's rained more this month than during the entire winter here. Reminds me of home a bit. Everything is very green though, the campo is beautiful.

We went to the Mezquita, after finding out way through the city somehow. It's amazing. I went there the last time I was here but it meant something completely different this time. Now I understand the historical context, the significance. I don't remember the cathedral (smack dab in the middle of the old mosque) being so jarring last time. Ugly. Completely out of place. The contrast between the two religions, the two cultures, was so abrupt; the juxtaposition so strange. I realized how tired I am of cathedrals and nearly everything Catholic. I'm over it for the time being. We also went to the synagogue, one of the few surviving ones in Spain.

That afternoon we went to a teahouse. I love the teahouses here, especially with their Middle Eastern pastries. Baklava... All in all it was an excellent day. Now I'm back in Coria to work two days, then off to Tarifa, Algeciras and Morocco! I can't wait!

Feria de abril de Sevilla

A killer weekend. After work on Friday I went to Sevilla to meet up with Sydney, Bronwen, and Talisa. Four hours in the bus after crappy Torrejoncillo and crappy sleep. Everyone and their mother had told us that Feria vale la pena to see but that there was no way we would be able to get into one of the private casetas since we don't know anyone who lives in Sevilla. Well.

Feria is a celebration in Sevilla that I hadn't heard of until about two months ago. Regardless, it's insane. Men dress in suits and the women wear amazing flamenco dresses. There is row upon row of tent-like structures (casetas) of varying sizes, each with its own bar and "bathroom" (dirty, dirty toilet). Most casetas are private, rented by a family, business, etc., and it's impossible to get in without knowing someone. There are some larger public ones as well. And people just drink rebujito (manzanilla + Sprite) and dance all night. Talisa knew Emilio, who let us in to his family's caseta, Tío Pepe, I think. I guess this is a privilege (? so I've been told), and I felt a little awkward as I was wearing jeans and a zip-up. Pero, no pasa nada. Nearly everyone was really nice to us and Emilio kept bringing us jarra after jarra of the drink. We met all of his tíos (CREEPY drunk Spanish men) and everyone else he's related to. I wasn't sure if I should address them as usted as they were mayor, but I didn't feel that bad since they wouldn't stop hitting on us. At about 3am (maybe? hah, time) that caseta closed down so he took us to a public one and introduced us to some friends, where we continued to botellón with our rebujito. Sydney and I caught the bus back to Badajoz at 9am and spent the rest of the day recuperating.

I tried to catch the bus back to Cáceres on Sunday night in time to catch the one to Coria, but it was full so I arrived in Cáceres after it had left. Bastards! That bus is never full. Anyway I tried to get in touch with a teacher would told me I could always stay at his house but I couldn't. I ended up staying with José, one of the guys who we met when we came to Cáceres in January. He was really nice about it. I was just so exhausted from the weekend, so many hours in buses and bus stations. So I'm finally back in Coria! I can't wait to sleep in my own bed.

I can't believe that we only have a month and a half left of the job. Thank god about the job part but I know I'm going to be really sad to leave Coria. Little things, like being able to call up someone to stay with because I missed the bus, make me realize... I don't know. I guess, that this is somewhat of a home to me. I would like to live here longer, but in a different place. Ah well! I have the rest of my life.

Valle del Jerte! or... Spanish roadtrip!

Being here has made me realize how much I am not the typical American, and how much I am. I miss having a car. I love having a car. I love the freedom of mobility, of not having to depend on others to get you where you want to go. Buses are excellent but they don't go everywhere. I was scared to drive after 6 months of absence, but the Volkswagen Polo wouldn't let you make a mistake (didn't stall once!). I loved it and I want it.

Sydney and Bronwen rented a car in Badajoz, came to Coria para recogernos, and off we went! Chasing a green spot on the map to the north... Las Hurdes. So now I take back every time I said that Extremadura is ugly (although technically where we did end up was in Castilla y León). We ate lunch in Vegas de Coria (very original with the names here, although my favorite was Pozuelo de Zarzón: say it with the lisp and it's excellent), where we tried the "typical" lemon salad (sucker for comida típica). Lemon slices, orange slices, hard boiled egg, chorizo.. Quite strange, although not as bad as it sounds. We ended up in a natural reserve (Las Batuecas) in the mountains, in a pueblo called La Alberca. Precioso. We were in an actual forest.

The next day we went to the Valle del Jerte, to the north but more east than yesterday, north of Plasencia. Apparently the valley is known for its cherry blossoms but we had to go to the end of the valley to higher elevations to see what remained of the cerezos. On the way we turned off at la Garganta de los infiernos (the throat of hell? anyone have a better translation--hells?) and did the Ruta de los Pilones that everyone and their mother recommended to us. About 45 minutes to these phenomenal natural pools carved out of the rock by the river. The most beautiful place I have ever seen in Spain. There was this rock with a perfectly formed ass (really, whole body) groove. It was, as Bronwen said, the best easy chair with the best view. We made it to Tornavacas to see the last of the cerezos--beautiful.

In conclusion: an excellent weekend. I would not have seen these things without the car, and it was so much fun to drive again. And now the weather is crappy and I have to work again. Although less than 2 months; so hard to believe!