Valladolid Part Dos (Oct 16th to 28th)

16 octubre- Segovia

Trying so hard to grow mustaches in a world that just doesn't love them as much as it used to.

For those of you who are more observant than others, yes I have already been on an excursion to Segovia, but this second trip was dissimilar to the first in the sense that I came with slightly more people this time, the entire group of students studying at the Centro de Idiomas at La Universidad de Valladolid (roughly 50 to 60 students). This included three continents of students from California, Wisconsin, Washington, Brazil, China, Japan, Korea, and Taiwan (the girl from Austria fell ill at the last minute, so we had no representative students from Europe). Two of our Spanish professors accompanied us, split us into two groups, and gave us an in-depth Spanish explanation to complement the various historical monuments that we visited. Alfredo is our tranquil, good humored, semi-skeletal Spanish Culture teacher, who frequently makes jokes either about him being incredibly handsome or truthfully admits his awkwardly slim appearance. He is a fantastic man to have as a Culture professor because he usually lightheartedly jests about the stereotypes and odd routines of the Spaniards, so we learn extensive amounts about the Spanish way of life without being overwhelmed by fact after fact. The counterpart to Alfredo in terms of physical appearance is Agustín, the other guide in Segovia. Agustín is our Spanish History teacher, a passionate and enthusiastic, athletically built middle aged man; a man that every girl in our group is infatuated with. Not a lecture goes by without me catching at least one girl leaning over her desk, with one hand nestled gently on her cheek, gazing with soft eyes, and dreaming of what a future with Agustín would beget. But I can’t blame them; he is my ideal man too: a history loving, athletic hunk—¡yes, please!

Juan, Nicogrande, Nicotito, and Kevin in front of the Roman aqueduct

Cool old palace

Cool kid in front of cool old palace

We had the middle of the day to wander around and explore the facets of Segovia, so I took “the boys” from California, Wisconsin, and Super-Fernando to the same hill that I found myself exuberant about when I first visited Segovia. I also delivered a small surprise to them by storing my Frisbee in my backpack and breaking it out when we reached the top. We played a game of Ultimate Frisbee on a knoll beside giant stone crosses from the 16^th century, mountains off in the distance, and architecture that dates as far back as the first century CE.

From left: Nicogrande, Juan, Jackson, Kevin, Nicotito, Patricio, Super-Fernando

Frisbee!

Entrance to Segovia

The wall that borders the city, and the guard who protects it

What a feeling to not have to take pictures of myself in Segovia

The Roman Aqueduct for the millionth time

Ceiling inside of the Alcazar (castle)

Here's a saint that always baffles me: Santiago. He is often depicted on a horse beheading Muslims. doesn't seem very saintly to me... But maybe I'm just not Catholic enough to appreciate it. 

View from the top of the tower in the Alcazar

There was one theme from today that I must divulge upon. On our bus ride home, Nick and I confirmed to each other our separate but identical beliefs that the eight students from Taiwan are obsessed with us for some reason. This comes as a total surprise to me because, in my opinion, we have not done a single heroic act nor displayed any symbols of greatness or courage that would make us worthy candidates to be obsessed over. Besides sharing a few brief conversations with one of the two boys, the apparent Taiwanese leader and ambassador, I have shared very few words with them. But nonetheless, at random intervals during the day or at any major monument, Nick and I would find ourselves involuntarily serving as the focal point in a picture of us and an exuberant girl from Taiwan. Then immediately following, we were all of a sudden in another picture with one of her friends, and so on and so forth until we had taken eight consecutive photos with joyful Taiwanese girls proudly exhibiting awkwardly arrayed peace signs on both sides of their joyful faces. Needless to say, Nick and I were baffled, perplexed, and a bit mind boggled; but every time, without fail, we managed to make a weird face that was hopefully enough to make them realize that we definitely are not hip enough to obsess over by anyone’s standards. But this is not to say that they are nuisances; it is much more the contrary—they are incredibly friendly and welcoming people, and I’m sure I will spend more time with them. If anything, the Taiwanese bunch just want to be able to show their friends that they hung out with a couple of bizarre looking Americans. Unfortunately, I did not take any pictures of them, but I will be sure to get them to gather for a group photo just to make things a little more even between us.

From this second visit, I saw Segovia as more of a historically resilient city, having been occupied by Celtics, Romans, Muslims, Jews, and Christians throughout its over two thousand year history. It is also a UNESCO World Heritage Site for the 1^st Century C.E. Roman aqueduct. Segovia Part Dos was a great success.

That night when we returned to Valladolid, I went to an organ concert with Juan, Nicogrande, Thais from Brazil, and Ella from Washington. This free concert took place at the Cathedral, whose vaulted ceilings and considerable abundance of white candles helped produce a warm and inspiring atmosphere for my first organ concert.

Inside the Cathedral before the concert started

22 octubre

Botellón

As a youth in Spain, it is highly probable to encounter a Botellón at random intervals during the year, as they are the preferred social event amongst Spanish college students. A Botellón is a rather simple concept: a massive quantity of alcohol to match a unbelievably huge mass of thirsty young folk in a vast and desolate, open field. This is the alternative to going to bars because they are much more expensive, so for the same price, the college students can drink significantly more and noticeably better quality alcohol, yet the majority of them drink cheap wine mixed with off-brand cola. This time, the Botellón took place in a field behind the Centro de Idiomas, the building where all of my classes are. So when we got out of class at 1pm, hundreds of people were already congregating in the vicinity of this field, and all of them were equipped with a plastic bag filled with cheap wine, off-brand cola, and occasionally a box of snacks because Botellóns begin in the early afternoon and continue either until they are too drunk to endure or they run out of alcohol—what a way to spend a Friday.

"YAAA! Get wasted! Screw my liver! I'll put it up for adoption!"

After a day of school, I had nothing but lunch on my mind, so I went straight home for my dose of Spanish comida, but I returned to the Botellón with Juan around 4pm to see that it had at least quadrupled in size. In a world comprised of mysteries and variability, I know of at least one certainty: the Spaniards love to drink.  

Juan with some new Spanish friends

 Chicas Japoneses

Eventually, I needed a change of pace from my hectic life as a “Botellón-er” or “Boner” as I often prefer to abbreviate it, so I left the chaotic Botellón and met up with three Japanese girls and one Cheese-head girl (Wisconsinite).  The five of us proceeded to Chiori’s apartment to cook an authentic Japanese dinner together, or at least as authentic as Spain’s homogeneous markets would permit.

Eating Japanese food has always been something near and dear to my heart because of my mom’s strong connection to Japanese language and culture. This night filled my head with warm memories of Japanese dining in California, and hearing my mother speak Japanese to the waitresses; their faces always brightened up with astonishment as they peered at the white woman in front of them, who articulated in an accent not unlike their own. 

For hungry old me, this was one of the most anticipated nights of at least the past month. But I cannot steal any culinary credit away from the three Japanese chefs of the night—Yuki, Saori, and Chiori; they utilized their immeasurable imaginations, made use of what little Japanese ingredients they could hunt down, and contorted various Spanish ingredients to create a delicious, authentic Japanese feast. The Cheese-head girl that I spoke of is a friendly gal named Amy, who is in the same classes as us, and was just along for the ride like your cheerful narrator here.

Rolling out dough to make handmade udon noodles

Saori making noodles

Yuki making shrimp tempura

Due to the confinements of Chiori’s modest sized kitchen, the food more or less came out in waves, thus creating an ocean of Japanese delicacies. These “tsunamis” consisted of handmade udon noodles for udon soup, a seasoned tofu plate, Japanese curry dish, some type of incredible egg soup, sticky rice, and a large assortment of tempura including pumpkin, sweet potato, carrot, squid, shrimp, and eggplant. For me to imagine that I was able to eat what was most likely the best Japanese meal of my life, in Spain of all places, and with wonderful friends from Japan and Wisconsin; I was one happy samurai.

During dinner, we asked questions about each others culture (of course, everyone spoke Spanish), we listened to Japanese music, sipped green tea afterwards, and ate apples that Saori cut up delicately into various shapes and designs. I also brought my guitar so that I would have some way to contribute to the night. At the end of it all, we all agreed that the next dinner we would have together would be Americans making something Mexican for the Japanese.

Unfortunately the only photo that came out well was when Amy took the picture, so unfortunately she didn't make the cut. Top left: Chiori, Bottom left: Saori, Right: Yuki

While walking home, filled with a unique sense of contentment, I noticed in my peripheral three of the Taiwanese girls (of course, all three have Spanish names: Juana, Luz, and Maria), so I decided to speak with them for a few minutes. But of course, after a few brief introductory remarks, they whipped out their fancy cameras and asked to take a picture with me—I truly don’t understand it. They wanted a photo of the three of them and me, and then, they each wanted to take individual pictures with me. This situation is hilariously awkward, and I’m having trouble thinking of any plausible alternative other than submissively agreeing and smiling—these girls are relentless with their photos. All in all, October 22^nd was a day filled with variability and excitement for me in Valladolid, and I was quite happy to be alive.  

23-24 octubre

These days, I am fortunate enough to live a life that I previously could only have dreamt of, so at times, I must slow down a bit and do something special for someone that has contributed to my current situation. Rather than traveling this weekend, I remained in Valladolid to join in on celebrating Carmen’s cumpleaños (birthday). The guest list was strictly comprised of family, so Juan and I were honored to be a part of the two-day festivities. On Sunday morning (the day of her actual birthday), Juan and I woke up early and secretly prepared an obese-style, all American breakfast for the whole familia consisting of scrambled eggs (which is a style that Spaniards almost never eat), peanut-butter toast, and chocolate chip pancakes with pure Wisconsin maple syrup. Before consuming her birthday pancakes, Carmen sampled a fingertip’s worth of maple syrup, which resulted in a high-pitched groan of approval, and then smothered her pancakes in the delicious liquid crack, devouring them as she does the flesh of a lamb. This gave me all the gratification I could have ever expected. And for those of you who requested it, here is Carmen and the familia: 

Obviously, not everyone was paying attention for this one

...Or this one.

The famous Carmen and her grandson, Alejandro

26 octubre

Good news: today, I took my personal hygiene into account; I showered, shaved (everything except my mustache, which I am working so hard on), and dressed myself in clean, casual clothing. You, the wise reader, may be thinking, “Nick, are you crazy? Why are you doing all of this?” Well, just hold your horses and let me explain myself. Though it was only a Tuesday, I had an important date to attend to, so I had to look and feel most excellent. “Nick, you rascal, how can you attend a date with anyone when your girlfriend lives on the other side of the world?” Oh you wise readers how you know me so well. But this was no ordinary appointment with any old wench; today, I was to meet with the fairest maiden of them all. Today was Alyssa’s and my one-year anniversary, so we had a 4pm (Spain time) Skype date, and I knew that she would appreciate freshly laundered apparel and a pair of sweet, smooth cheeks. But I wasn’t so lucky. It was 7am in San Luis Obispo, CA, and she had just awoken, so she was rather elegantly dressed in a big cozy morning robe, layered with an even bigger and cozier fuzzy, red blanket, and with hair that declared, ”I just woke up!” My stereotypical black side thought, “Damn girl, you lookin’ sexy!” But nonetheless, the anniversary delightfully pressed forward, and we even ate apples together.

Here's a picture of us on our date. Alyssa was right in the middle of saying, "why are taking a picture?"

Algun Día (some day around October 28^th)

After Carmen consumed an overabundance of lamb today during lunch, she expressed her current sentiment by exhaling vigorously and telling us all how full she felt. This created a brief yet entertaining dialogue between Carmen and Pepe. Pepe looked over to her with a smirk and accused her of engorging herself; she immediately replied (in Spanish), “I’m not fat!” Pepe sharply countered by adding, “Ya, well you’re not exactly skinny either.” Juan and I were hysterical. After lunch, Carmen monotonously announced, “misión cumplida” (mission complete), and as she began straightening up the kitchen, she proceeded to utter emotionless, popular robot phrases in Spanish.

The entrance to a museum in Valladolid that the Cal Poly group went to. This museum told the history of Valladolid and it had artifacts that dated back to the times before Christ

Patio inside the museum, which was once a palace. Patios like this (in the middle of houses) were a design by the Muslims.

Silver necklaces from the time of the Romans

Roman coins (27 BC to 14 AD)

A sculpture done in Valladolid in the second century AD

A 14th Century wall painting

At first glance this doesn't look very impressive, but if you look all the way over to the right,  this was once part of a palace. For some reason a lot of palaces were destroyed in Valladolid in the 18th Century, but they often kept part of the facade and constructed an ugly madern building behind it. 

This was once part of the exterior wall of Valladolid

Here's a store dedicated to selling everything that a Grandparent would need. It's called "Everything for the Grandparents." Curious, I went in to take a closer look

Great place to get some shopping done

 I discovered recently that Spongebob Square Pants is a well loved, popular TV star amongst the Spanish youth as well, but no one in Spain would understand it if you referred to him as “Spongebob Square Pants;” here he is known simply as “Bob Esponja!” I know, I know, you need not tell me; I only write about what really matters in this world…