Gibraltar monkey video:
Youtube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EaTloeRzqyU
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/home.php#/video/video.php?v=1066648906432&ref=mf
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Gibraltar--4/11/09
After a day of recovery in Spain, Kai and I spontaneously went to Gibraltar for a day. This was the strangest day trip of my life. Gibraltar is a four-square-mile British-owned territory on the southern tip of Spain. It was strange because we got on the bus in Sevilla, and seemed to get off in Great Britain itself. Everything was perfectly British (we had to change money), and it was a nice reminder of my trip to London and a preview of Kai’s impending one. We had no idea what language to speak all day, because the native language is English, but most employees are Spanish. The main attraction is, of course, the rock. We took a cable car up and spent the afternoon roaming around. The rock contains a Moorish castle, caves, and monkeys. The monkeys are the main tourist attraction, and also the most nationally important: when there are no more apes, the rock will no longer be British territory. There are just so adorable. They were all in family units, which generally had a mom, a dad, a baby monkey, and a kid monkey. They are free roaming, and there are cutely illustrated signs warning visitors not to feed the monkeys, show the possession of plastic bags, which the monkeys associate with food, or mock the monkeys (I violated all three—I gave one my orange, I rustled my sunscreen bag, and I pretended to pick nits out of Kai’s hair, since that’s all they do). Right off the cable car we saw the first family. I crouched down to extend my hand to the baby, and he jumped straight on my head. I guess the nit-picking is a really big deal, because the monkey was combing his little hands through my hair and gnawing on chunks. He found two big nits (bobby pins) and tried to get them out. This felt soooo good. It was the pleasure of a scalp massage and wearing a really fuzzy hat all in one. I was a little nervous about my ears, but I still enjoyed it. Putting a monkey on your head is apparently a great way to get attention, since a big crowd formed and the cameras were going nonstop. Kai took a video, which I will soon post. There was one moment of fear that he was going for my backpack zipper, inside of which he would have found a sandwich, three oranges, some ham-flavored potato chips (oh, Spain), and cookies. Luckily my hair was more fun. After I tried to shift so he would jump onto Kai, he went back to his mommy. His mom said something to him after! She put her face real close and definitely talked, it was not a sound I ever associated with Monkeys, but I wonder what she said. As a result of this interaction, I had a sick hairdo. He had pulled my bobby pins halfway out, so I had these “wings,” as Kai called them sticking up. I decided to keep it like that all day.
The second monkey encounter was several hours later, after hiking all around the rock. Kai and I arrived at the café at the summit, hot and tired. We sought refuge in the form of pre-packaged ice cream bars. We purchased them and stepped outside. A big, scary, full-grown monkey came out of nowhere. He saw my ice cream, and knew it was food. I held it high, out of his reach, forgetting that he was a monkey, and therefore that wouldn’t stop him. Next thing I know, he was on my back. I was terrified, and therefore could not enjoy giving a piggyback to a monkey, something I’ve always wanted to do. My instinct was to throw the ice cream to Kai. It worked, and the monkey jumped off and went for Kai. He threw it back, and we bolted to safety inside. It wasn’t until the bus ride home that I really became aware of the fact that I had played “Monkey in the Middle” with a real monkey.
In addition to England and monkeys, the rock was enjoyable as a natural wonder. We explored all the paths looking for the official Ape Den, and saw all sorts of flowers and trees. From every side we could see the sparkling, blue ocean. We saw the Spanish mountains, the strait of Gibraltar, and Africa. Our cable car driver pointed it out: it was a greenish peak through the mist on the horizon. I was disappointed that time and monkey didn’t permit my stepping on African soil (Morocco is an easy weekend trip from Spain), but I was glad to have even seen it. We decided to take the late bus back to have more time. Kai subtly rolled his apple to the big kid of a monkey family. It was so cute watching this little monkey sitting, eating the apple. He was a little ways away from his family, and they did not notice the treat he had found. The monkey stood up, apple in hand. I was expecting him to bring it to his family to share, but instead he took off up the cliff to find a spot to consume the apple in privacy. Unfortunately, about halfway up he dropped it. A mean, full-grown monkey scooped up the apple before the kid could climb back down. The sad little monkey returned to his family unit to get nitpicked while the baby breast-fed.
All in all, this day was wonderful and unique. Kai and I got real English fish and chips before boarding our bus back, and reviewed the fact that we saw Africa and played with monkeys, two firsts, on the same day. We agreed that we will probably never return to this site, so it was certainly a day to remember.
The second monkey encounter was several hours later, after hiking all around the rock. Kai and I arrived at the café at the summit, hot and tired. We sought refuge in the form of pre-packaged ice cream bars. We purchased them and stepped outside. A big, scary, full-grown monkey came out of nowhere. He saw my ice cream, and knew it was food. I held it high, out of his reach, forgetting that he was a monkey, and therefore that wouldn’t stop him. Next thing I know, he was on my back. I was terrified, and therefore could not enjoy giving a piggyback to a monkey, something I’ve always wanted to do. My instinct was to throw the ice cream to Kai. It worked, and the monkey jumped off and went for Kai. He threw it back, and we bolted to safety inside. It wasn’t until the bus ride home that I really became aware of the fact that I had played “Monkey in the Middle” with a real monkey.
In addition to England and monkeys, the rock was enjoyable as a natural wonder. We explored all the paths looking for the official Ape Den, and saw all sorts of flowers and trees. From every side we could see the sparkling, blue ocean. We saw the Spanish mountains, the strait of Gibraltar, and Africa. Our cable car driver pointed it out: it was a greenish peak through the mist on the horizon. I was disappointed that time and monkey didn’t permit my stepping on African soil (Morocco is an easy weekend trip from Spain), but I was glad to have even seen it. We decided to take the late bus back to have more time. Kai subtly rolled his apple to the big kid of a monkey family. It was so cute watching this little monkey sitting, eating the apple. He was a little ways away from his family, and they did not notice the treat he had found. The monkey stood up, apple in hand. I was expecting him to bring it to his family to share, but instead he took off up the cliff to find a spot to consume the apple in privacy. Unfortunately, about halfway up he dropped it. A mean, full-grown monkey scooped up the apple before the kid could climb back down. The sad little monkey returned to his family unit to get nitpicked while the baby breast-fed.
All in all, this day was wonderful and unique. Kai and I got real English fish and chips before boarding our bus back, and reviewed the fact that we saw Africa and played with monkeys, two firsts, on the same day. We agreed that we will probably never return to this site, so it was certainly a day to remember.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Three More Funny Things:
1. This is Ally’s story; I did not witness this one. Ally was at a bar talking to this Spanish guy. He went outside to smoke, came back in, and once again found Ally. However, this time he claimed he no longer spoke Spanish and had her choose between English or Martian. She obviously chose Martian, and without breaking a straight face, this guy told her something in a series of fast, high-pitched beeps. Ally was laughing quite a bit, but managed to respond. They held a decent conversation in Martian, and Ally’s friend did not smile or laugh once.
2. This one is my friend Laura’s story. She was walking with a group that included the seven-year-old girl who lives at her house. The girl was pushing a doll in a toy stroller. An old man walked by pushing his old wife in a wheelchair. When their paths crossed, the old man said to the little girl (in Spanish, of course), “My doll is bigger than your doll!”
3. A couple of weekends ago, Emma and I went into OpenCor, my favorite convenience store, in search of ice cream. When we were in line to check out, we noticed the DVD of “Los Increibles” for sale. I recounted to Emma the time with a girl from ITS (the campus computer repairers) came to my room freshman year to reinstall Windows. We had to wait a half-hour for the thing to load, and we weren’t going to make smalltalk for a half-hour. To pass the time, we watched “The Incredibles” that my roommate had left in the DVD player. The end. This story lasted until the end of our transaction. We became aware that the cashier at OpenCor was reeeeeally feeling this story. Even though he could not have known what “ITS” is, he was hanging on every word and cracking up. It was, in fact, the funniest story he had ever heard. He was looking right at me, waiting for more. I had to quickly finish up the story before we left.
What a fun life we live in Sevilla!
2. This one is my friend Laura’s story. She was walking with a group that included the seven-year-old girl who lives at her house. The girl was pushing a doll in a toy stroller. An old man walked by pushing his old wife in a wheelchair. When their paths crossed, the old man said to the little girl (in Spanish, of course), “My doll is bigger than your doll!”
3. A couple of weekends ago, Emma and I went into OpenCor, my favorite convenience store, in search of ice cream. When we were in line to check out, we noticed the DVD of “Los Increibles” for sale. I recounted to Emma the time with a girl from ITS (the campus computer repairers) came to my room freshman year to reinstall Windows. We had to wait a half-hour for the thing to load, and we weren’t going to make smalltalk for a half-hour. To pass the time, we watched “The Incredibles” that my roommate had left in the DVD player. The end. This story lasted until the end of our transaction. We became aware that the cashier at OpenCor was reeeeeally feeling this story. Even though he could not have known what “ITS” is, he was hanging on every word and cracking up. It was, in fact, the funniest story he had ever heard. He was looking right at me, waiting for more. I had to quickly finish up the story before we left.
What a fun life we live in Sevilla!
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Four Funny Things
Two weeks ago, a group of choir members, myself included, went out for tapas after choir, as we often do. Two funny things happened within a minutes of each other.
Two nights ago, I was playing with Esperanza, my eight-year-old host sister, and two more funny things happened within minutes of each other.
None of these on its own merited a post, but I decided that the four together are valuable enough to publish.
1.a. My friend Amy and I were talking to Pablo, a very nice, jolly, smiling tenor with whom neither of us had talked before. The topic of discussion was, unsurprisingly for the circumstances, Spanish cuisine. Specifically, everything is fried in Spain. Amy, a Minnesota native, drew the comparison that everything is fried at the Minnesota State Fair. Pablo asked what the Minnesota State Fair is. Amy began explaining it (in Spanish, of course): “Well, everyone brings their pigs and their cows...” Pablo interjected, “To fry?” Laughter ensued.
1.b. The subject still on Minnesota, Pablo mentioned mid-west accents. This shifted to general American English pronunciation, and the words that Americans destroy (e.g. “written”). This was Pablo’s cue to burst into song (in English, this time): “Raindrops on roses and whiskers on KI’ENS. We all joined in. Pablo took center stage when we arrived at the chorus: “When the shark bites, when the bee stings...” More laughter ensued. I hope shark bites aren’t one of those everyday annoyances in Spain! “Aw, not again!!” I walked home that night laughing, remembering both of Pablo’s fine lines.
2.a. I arrived home after a day of classes to a chaotic scene at home. The puppy was running around and squealing, as was Esperanza. Esperanza decided that we would play doctor. She asked me what hurts. Without thinking, I told her the truth: my left knee. She proceeded to pick up my water bottle and slam it down on my poor knee, I think to “test my reflexes.” This was amusing to me because it was sooooo painful, yet so avoidable.
2.b. After drawing a scar onto my knee, Esperanza transformed into my teacher. She was assigning me homework with help from my current book, “Bridget Jones Sobrevive” (book two). Flipping through, Esperanza selected Spanish words for me to translate into English. I was really hung up on the third word, which sounded like “shah-RON” or something. Giving up, I asked Esperanza to show me the written word. It was “Sharon,” the name of one of Bridget’s friends. Jajaja!
Two nights ago, I was playing with Esperanza, my eight-year-old host sister, and two more funny things happened within minutes of each other.
None of these on its own merited a post, but I decided that the four together are valuable enough to publish.
1.a. My friend Amy and I were talking to Pablo, a very nice, jolly, smiling tenor with whom neither of us had talked before. The topic of discussion was, unsurprisingly for the circumstances, Spanish cuisine. Specifically, everything is fried in Spain. Amy, a Minnesota native, drew the comparison that everything is fried at the Minnesota State Fair. Pablo asked what the Minnesota State Fair is. Amy began explaining it (in Spanish, of course): “Well, everyone brings their pigs and their cows...” Pablo interjected, “To fry?” Laughter ensued.
1.b. The subject still on Minnesota, Pablo mentioned mid-west accents. This shifted to general American English pronunciation, and the words that Americans destroy (e.g. “written”). This was Pablo’s cue to burst into song (in English, this time): “Raindrops on roses and whiskers on KI’ENS. We all joined in. Pablo took center stage when we arrived at the chorus: “When the shark bites, when the bee stings...” More laughter ensued. I hope shark bites aren’t one of those everyday annoyances in Spain! “Aw, not again!!” I walked home that night laughing, remembering both of Pablo’s fine lines.
2.a. I arrived home after a day of classes to a chaotic scene at home. The puppy was running around and squealing, as was Esperanza. Esperanza decided that we would play doctor. She asked me what hurts. Without thinking, I told her the truth: my left knee. She proceeded to pick up my water bottle and slam it down on my poor knee, I think to “test my reflexes.” This was amusing to me because it was sooooo painful, yet so avoidable.
2.b. After drawing a scar onto my knee, Esperanza transformed into my teacher. She was assigning me homework with help from my current book, “Bridget Jones Sobrevive” (book two). Flipping through, Esperanza selected Spanish words for me to translate into English. I was really hung up on the third word, which sounded like “shah-RON” or something. Giving up, I asked Esperanza to show me the written word. It was “Sharon,” the name of one of Bridget’s friends. Jajaja!
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
End of monthlong post
The following weekend I stayed in Sevilla. On Friday, it dawned on me how little time I have left here, so Kai and I committed to doing touristy stuff, and visited the Torre de Oro that we walk by every day. Later that afternoon, I went to get a haircut. Carmen had recommended a haircut academy right near our house that’s super cheap, because the workers are students. She assured me that they do a good job. This was disastrous. I’m sure they do a good job on traditional Spanish haircuts, but my hair was completely foreign. I know that I explained things well, but a haircut is still not something I recommend doing in one’s second language. The student kept calling over her teachers for help. The teachers were fine, but the second they left her she kept screwing up. She ended up chopping off one side of hair, and completely forgetting the other side. I pointed this out, and she did a little, but it is still completely asymmetrical. This was a completely traumatic experience, and luckily, Kai was able to comfort me after.
On Saturday morning Sasha and I went to Aracena with the program. We stopped along the way to tour a mine alongside the “Rio de Tinto” (river of wine). There was, in fact, a red lake. We proceeded to Aracena, a tiny town that I had definitely seen before (I think we hiked through it the first Senderismo). It was really nice to have time with Sasha, and we spent the morning walking through the town in search of ice cream. Later on, our group visited the “Gruta de las Maravillas,” which translates to “Cave of Wonders.” This was incredible. It’s this massive cave underground that has been augmented with stairs, railings, and lights to make it walkable. It was filled with glowing green lakes and stalactites galore. I highly recommend looking up pictures online, as photography was not allowed. Saturday night Sasha and I finally saw, and loved, “Slumdog Millionaire.” It was nice to just watch a movie, a favorite activity of mine that has been removed from my routine since coming here. We saw it in the original language movie theater, which, as it turned out, meant that it was not dubbed. However, there were still subtitles in Spanish and not in English. This meant that for most of it, when English was not spoken, we were viewing the movie in Spanish. This was totally fine for both of us, but it was strange when the movie switched to English. Sasha and I confirmed after that we had both continued reading the Spanish and ignored the English, because we were used to it. I was proud that we were able to understand all of it in Spanish.
I woke up sick Sunday morning. I hadn’t been that sick in awhile, and I was surprised that I contracted something due to my massive amount of sleep the week before and my daily orange consumption. This was especially bad timing because I had midterms the week that followed. I decided to go to the doctor, something that Kai had done the week before. There is one office that’s very helpful to American students, and I dragged myself out of bed and over there. The doctor complimented my Spanish as I described my symptoms and even managed to joke with him. I remembered the unit in seventh grade Spanish where we learned sick terms and practiced doctor’s appointments in class. I’m pretty sure this is the first time I’ve used this vocabulary since then. Ms. Morehouse should immediately get some professional development points for effective teaching, since the necessary words came to mind after an eight-year hiatus. He prescribed me some stuff, and my host family luckily had their tub of Vick’s VapoRub, pronounced in Andalusia “BeebahpoRRROO.” Somehow, I survived through exam week. I had my Flamenco exam Wednesday night, my Tres Culturas and grammar exams back to back on Thursday, and my art history exam Monday morning. I realized that these were my first content exams in Spanish. Everything’s graded on a ten-point scale, and so far I’ve only heard back from Flamenco (8’9, as it was written, with a “Bien” after my essays!).
Totally unrelated: I looked up the Spanish word “polo” in my bilingual dictionary the other day. Here is what I found:
polo m 1 pole. 2 polo. 3 ice lolly.
I liked that.
I wrote the bulk of this while falling asleep in bed last night, intending to go back and edit and delete the boring details before posting it. However, it’s raining and I’m sleepy and sick of writing, so I’m just going to post it as is, oh well.
Mom--you were wondering how to comment; you can do it right under every post!!
On Saturday morning Sasha and I went to Aracena with the program. We stopped along the way to tour a mine alongside the “Rio de Tinto” (river of wine). There was, in fact, a red lake. We proceeded to Aracena, a tiny town that I had definitely seen before (I think we hiked through it the first Senderismo). It was really nice to have time with Sasha, and we spent the morning walking through the town in search of ice cream. Later on, our group visited the “Gruta de las Maravillas,” which translates to “Cave of Wonders.” This was incredible. It’s this massive cave underground that has been augmented with stairs, railings, and lights to make it walkable. It was filled with glowing green lakes and stalactites galore. I highly recommend looking up pictures online, as photography was not allowed. Saturday night Sasha and I finally saw, and loved, “Slumdog Millionaire.” It was nice to just watch a movie, a favorite activity of mine that has been removed from my routine since coming here. We saw it in the original language movie theater, which, as it turned out, meant that it was not dubbed. However, there were still subtitles in Spanish and not in English. This meant that for most of it, when English was not spoken, we were viewing the movie in Spanish. This was totally fine for both of us, but it was strange when the movie switched to English. Sasha and I confirmed after that we had both continued reading the Spanish and ignored the English, because we were used to it. I was proud that we were able to understand all of it in Spanish.
I woke up sick Sunday morning. I hadn’t been that sick in awhile, and I was surprised that I contracted something due to my massive amount of sleep the week before and my daily orange consumption. This was especially bad timing because I had midterms the week that followed. I decided to go to the doctor, something that Kai had done the week before. There is one office that’s very helpful to American students, and I dragged myself out of bed and over there. The doctor complimented my Spanish as I described my symptoms and even managed to joke with him. I remembered the unit in seventh grade Spanish where we learned sick terms and practiced doctor’s appointments in class. I’m pretty sure this is the first time I’ve used this vocabulary since then. Ms. Morehouse should immediately get some professional development points for effective teaching, since the necessary words came to mind after an eight-year hiatus. He prescribed me some stuff, and my host family luckily had their tub of Vick’s VapoRub, pronounced in Andalusia “BeebahpoRRROO.” Somehow, I survived through exam week. I had my Flamenco exam Wednesday night, my Tres Culturas and grammar exams back to back on Thursday, and my art history exam Monday morning. I realized that these were my first content exams in Spanish. Everything’s graded on a ten-point scale, and so far I’ve only heard back from Flamenco (8’9, as it was written, with a “Bien” after my essays!).
Totally unrelated: I looked up the Spanish word “polo” in my bilingual dictionary the other day. Here is what I found:
polo m 1 pole. 2 polo. 3 ice lolly.
I liked that.
I wrote the bulk of this while falling asleep in bed last night, intending to go back and edit and delete the boring details before posting it. However, it’s raining and I’m sleepy and sick of writing, so I’m just going to post it as is, oh well.
Mom--you were wondering how to comment; you can do it right under every post!!
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