If anyone is concerned about the state of my safety, I wanted to let you know that I am alive and well. I am currently in Prague, and will be here for approximately 12-15 more hours.

Due to some unforeseen and unfortunate circumstances regarding the very confusing names of German airports, I did not sleep much last night [sunday, when I traveled from Madrid to Frankfurt to Prague]. And I have to check out of here tomorrow morning [tuesday] at 10. So I’m going to bed. Prague is beautiful, but I really had no idea what to do here. 24 hours is not a long time in a city where you don’t understand the language one bit.

seriously, anyone - how do you say thank you in czech? or even hello?

Madrid with Andrea was a blast! Hopefully I’ll update more before I get back from my trip, but we’ll see. Budapest tomorrow!

oops

Hi everyone! Sorry that I promised a blog and it didn't show up. I wrote it all out (it is LONG!) but I was having major difficulties uploading pictures, and it was pretty much all pictures. I'm going to look into using a different blog maybe when I get back from my trip.

My trip! I'm leaving this afternoon to spend the weekend in Madrid with Andrea. YAY! I'm so excited to see her. On Sunday I'll leave Madrid to fly to Frankfurt, Germany. I'm only sleeping there - I land late at night and then I'm taking a train out at the crack of dawn. So I'll leave Frankfurt for Prague early Monday morning (the 28th). I'm spending the night in Prague. From there I will probably be going to Budapest to visit some friends from Camp last year, but it's not 100% ironed out yet. If I can't get to Budapest I'll just stay in Prague. On Thursday, whether from Prague or Budapest, I'm taking a train to Bratislava, Slovakia. There I will meet my friend Melissa, who is working in London this summer, and we will go to a town I think called Banska Bystrica? Slovak is hard. Lizzie, another member of our sorority, lives there with her husband and Melissa and I will spend the weekend there. On Sunday (4th of July!) I'll fly out of Bratislava back to Madrid and catch the train back to Salamanca.

I know - it's craziness. But I'm so excited! I'll try to throw up a blog entry sometime on the trip just to show I'm alive, but if I don't please don't freak out - internet might be spotty. Pray for me so I stay safe and transportation doesn't get messed up :)

Vamos Espana!

Spanish people really love soccer.

Actually, they only really love THEIR soccer.

I just watched Spain lose their opening match to Switzerland. What a bummer. But it was still fun.

I was beyond excited to be in Spain/Europe for the World Cup, but so far it hasn’t been all it’s cracked up to be. At home I would watch every game on my comfy couch with some chips and guacamole and free beverages, and my mother would watch and bet on matches with me. For a big game we’d have a little party or I’d go to a friend’s if he had a bigger screen. ESPN would broadcast every match, and it would be great. We’d wake up at 7 because it’s that important. It’s like an exclusive club for those in the know. Here, only the night games are broadcast on public channels, so I have to go to bars or watch a fuzzy stream on my tiny computer. Unfortunately most places are closed from 2-5, and there’s a game at 4 every day. The night game lasts from 8:30-10:30, and I have to eat dinner at 10. Watching in a bar is not as fun as it sounds either; the people here care less what you think. The one downside to the World Cup is having to listen to the people who, once every four years, pretend to care about soccer and insist upon sharing with you all their extensive knowledge. People who like to pretend to care about soccer = American exchange students, and that’s my unshakable company for these games. The Spaniards watch in their homes or not at all, because they really only care about Spain until the final matches.

Nevertheless, it was really cool to see a whole nation get behind a football team today. Even those who unashamedly dislike soccer know when the game is on and will ask how it went. Flags are everywhere (a very unique occurrence in Spain). While walking to the bar some guy grabbed my arm and wouldn’t let me go until I allowed him to paint a Spanish flag on my face, and then I got a free wristband from the bar. As much as the Spanish haven’t cared about the world cup so far, that’s how much they cared about today’s game. For the first time since arriving in Spain, today I was so glad to be here for my favorite sporting event ever [disclaimer: the World Cup ties for favorite with winter Olympics].

"Well, something's happened somewhere!"

This was a statement I heard on the street tonight, muttered by a very disgruntled and confused Englishman as he tried to push his way through the hordes of a Spanish crowd. I laughed at him, but to be honest, it was a very strange day and I think he summed it up quite well.
Today was a religious festival in Salamanca, celebrating San Juan de Sahagun, the patron saint of the city. I don’t really understand what this means. I get the whole idea of patron saints, but I don’t understand any specifics. There were a lot of little girls in white dresses (one kept lifting up her skirt; awk), and there was a bullfight (corrida de toros) in town. I gather it’s something like July 4th but just for Salamanca because EVERYTHING was closed, but it was really just a bizarre afternoon. So this is how my day went down:

I slept in until 1 because I went out the night before, which in Spain of course means I didn’t get home until after 4 (“you came home too soon last night! and were up so early this morning” is what my senora told me). Then I putzed around watching the first two world cup games.
At 7 I went out to meet up with some kids to watch the USA game. I could hear people singing as I walked in the street and I thought that people here were finally getting excited for the World Cup. Wrong! [sidenote: the Spanish do not care about the World Cup until Spain begins to play. One woman tried to convince me that it didn’t start until next week. Also, they are very pessimistic about Spain’s chances] EVERYONE (todo el mundo) was wearing green and a lot of guys in green and white striped jerseys. I thought at first that Salamanca had been invaded by Celtic fans, but they were in fact Real Betis fans. I eventually learned that the Salamanca soccer team is playing Real Betis tomorrow nearby. But why is everyone in Salamanca rooting for a team from Sevilla instead of their home team, especially on the festival day that celebrates their own city? And why are they dressing for a match 28 hours before it starts? Good questions, I have no answers.

When we got to the Plaza the green-clad men had grown to a very large number and were singing football songs in small circles. There were also men dressed up as if for the running of the bulls [all white with red sashes and bandannas] - some were dancing with old ladies and others were running away from a guy dressed up like a bull. It was a fun sight. I could only snag a few sub-par pictures:

It was really very strange and rather inexplicable. Some guys tried to talk to us but I had no idea what they were saying, which is probably for the best anyway.

We watched the USA game in a bar where we were definitely the only people who cared about the game. But they had it on a big screen for us and a large group of Americans yelling about soccer could excite just about anyone, so we got the bartender involved at least. Horrible game, but great result for the USA. Robert Green, may heaven help you - you have my sympathy. Met some other kids - 2 Brits, a Dane, and a Dutchman. So that was fun.

After the game we rushed across the city to watch the fireworks (I guess it really is like 4th of July). They were fantastic! Very beautiful overlooking the city and the river and the old Roman bridge. They were very nice, but the best part is the spanish kids behind me, though it’s really hard to hear them. They kept saying what the fireworks looked like: “Heart! Heart! Heart! Strawberry! SO BIG! Bananas!” (bananas was my favorite comment).


Then Hannah and I trekked through the crowds back to our apartment, encountering the bamboozled Englishman and several other interesting characters. One guy rushed up to me asking me for help, asked where I was from (“new york” “new york? en serio? perfecto!!”) and then asked me to talk to the girl he was on the phone with (“she is a lovely girl”). I figured he was either trying very poorly to hit on me or to rob us in some way. He wasn’t doing either. He honestly wanted me to speak with his girlfriend to help her with her English. It was strange. Then we stumbled into the middle of a Real Betis hooligan songfest.

And when we got to the Plaza, an extremely random hot air balloon.

So all in all, a very strange day that I can’t really wrap my head around. I certainly think Spain does “religious” holidays differently than the US. All I know for sure is that, well, something’s happened somewhere.

Tomorrow we go to Segovia - site of the famous aqueduct. So look for that update sometime in the near future.

Porto: From Rags to Riches

Porto never really went from rags to riches (as far as I know), but during my time there I sure did. Porto is a port city (duh) in Portugal only about a 4 hour drive from Salamanca.

A bunch of us from the ISA group decided to go to Porto for the weekend, though some decided to go a little further to Aveira. We took the overnight bus and arrived in Porto at an appalling 5:30am. After realizing we had no idea where to go and thus walking was out of the question, we caught a cab. Luckily I had the sense to write down the address of the hotel because I thought communicating might be a little difficult. It was. This brings me to the first thing I learned about Portugal:

1. Portuguese is extremely difficult to understand. Portuguese looks like but does not sound like Spanish. Unlike other parts of Europe, NOT everyone in Portugal speaks English, or even Spanish. However, it is extremely cool sounding and I want to learn it.

The first cab we got inexplicably refused to take us to the hostel. He waved his arms a lot and pointed up the street, all while spewing rapid-fire Portuguese (contrary to the evidently popular Portuguese belief, understanding is not positively correlated with speed of speech). I took this to mean that our hostel was too close to warrant driving, so we started walking in the direction in which he was gesticulating. I was wrong; we were not close. Also, bus maps in general should more clearly mark where their readers are currently located. We had a very good idea of where our hostel was, but literally no clue as to where we were. Luckily, we found another cab and he got us to our hostel very quickly. Very quickly because:

2. The Portuguese drive extremely fast. Especially the taxis. Very fast and very jerky.

I laughed the whole ride because otherwise I would have had difficulty not screaming. Nevertheless, we got to our hostel safe and sound. No one answered our knock though. They were supposed to be expecting us at that hour, but apparently they were not. The sign said check-ins started at 8:00. So what were we going to do for 2 hours? Nothing was open. Some of the girls had to go to the bathroom, so we sauntered up the street to the metro station to try and find a bathroom. No bathrooms, but at least it was out of the cold and we could sit down. So there we sat and ate the bocadillos our senoras had packed for us and then napped a little bit.



I felt like a homeless person. I felt even more like a homeless person when the police came and kicked us out. They were extremely nice though, and actually let us use the staff bathroom. By that time it was after 7 so we went back to the hostel hoping they’d let us in. A guest let us in because the staff still wasn’t there, so we sat in the living area where I promptly fell asleep. I awoke to a young portuguese man standing over me and laughing, and the realization that there was no room for us at that hostel. There had a been a mistake in the bookings. Uh-oh. Not what you want to hear after what’s been the longest day of your life and it’s only 8:30 in the morning. Luckily, they called a nearby hostel that had room for us and we all moved there. It was called Oporto Sky, I believe, and it was really nice, so that worked out fine after a bit of frustration.

We went for lunch and met up in the afternoon to go to the beach. Porto is rather varied; where we were staying seemed a little dingy and strange, but down by the river is BEAUTIFUL. Tons of old world charm and colorful buildings. I loved it. I wish I could have taken more pictures there but my hands were full and we were in a hurry to catch the bus to the beach.





The trek down to and along the river was long, as was the bus ride, and the weather did not look promising. It was very gray - you can kind of tell in the above pictures. But we got to the beach and the heavens opened and the sun came out!! The beach was absolutely lovely and worth all of the pains of the morning.



And I am very proud of myself because I went from zero times in an ocean to two times in less than three months! These waves were a little bit big for me though, and I got nervous and didn’t stay in long. Not to mention the water was FREEZING. The wind was chilly too, but I didn’t mind because it was so nice to be out of the 85+ temperatures of Salamanca. But it was still warm, and I saw people surfing in real life for the first time ever.

I loved the beach so much, I even got in a picture for you all.


I’m a little bit burnt despite my efforts with my SPF 50. It was so nice though.

For dinner we went to this crazy restaurant called Pimenta y Chocolate (I think), a recommendation from our hostel. We knew it would be a bit expensive, but it sounded so cool we wanted to go anyway. Every meal served there has a hint of chocolate and a pepper in some way. I split a fondue with someone and it was well worth it. They even brought us these crazy good appetizers, and we had “tropical” sangria which was literally the most delicious drink ever. The prices weren’t as bad as we thought they would be, until we realized we were charged almost 30 bucks for the un-ordered appetizers. Boo. Still worth it though.

After that we were tired so we just went to bed and got up early to take the bus back this morning. I liked Porto a lot, but the smaller cities we were passing on our way home were so gorgeous I was about ready to quit Salamanca and the US altogether to up and move. These beautiful towns were all set on different plateaus in just stunning mountains. Probably tied with Switzerland and parts of Norway for favorite places I’ve ever seen. Unfortunately I couldn’t snag a single good picture from the bus. :(
In summary, Portugal is awesome. Sleeping in metro stations is not.

Coming Soon: update about Salamanca, since that is where I actually live.

EDIT: ok pictures seem to be not working super well, so check out my flickr account as well! http://www.flickr.com/photos/kjerstenwhiting/ and send me an email (whitingkl1@gcc.edu) or a facebook message if you're reading this/like the pics. :)