OK - so I had some videos from the flamenco show and I have just figured out how to add videos to my blog so take a look! :-D
I'm getting a pro at this! More to follow!
Sunday, 24 April 2011
Melilla - Malaga and Malaga - Seville : Thursday 14th April and Friday 15th April
OK - so Annalisa and I have just got back from our amazing travels - we had the best time. There is a lot to write up on and so Annalisa is going to help me write some entries! Let's start at the beginning...
Boat from Melilla to Malaga
This was the usual ´royo´(ball-ache). The entire population of Melilla (that´s each population - Muslim, Christian, Jewish and Hindu - just to remind you) all rushing onboard, desperately trying to get to the 'butacas´ first (upright, uncomfortable, chewing-gum ridden, far from luxury, mostly broken seats which you are succumbed to sleep in. We had our incredibly mahousive suitcase (the one I arrived here with) making the decision to share a suitcase instead of both simultaneously, independently struggling like feeble women. When we got to the sleeper seats (nothing like the boat from Normandy - these ones don´t even recline) the Spanish were, as we had expected them to be, taking up three seats each and there were no seats left. We went to the other side of the boat to the other sleeper seat lounge to find that it was closed. Annalisa went downstairs to moan, in true Spanish fashion (yes, we really are integrated now!). She came back up in true English fashion, defeated. "They´re not going to open it up."
There was a group of people assembling at the entrance of the tiniest, narrowest corridor in front of the door that didn´t seem to be destined to be opened with suitcases, bags and other hefty items that made it feel incredibly claustrophobic. Then things got heated. More and more Spaniards came and we kept repeating that the grumpy staff had no intention whatsoever of opening the door to the other sleeper seat lounge. Right. Uproar. Annalisa went back downstairs with a few other disgruntled customers and within a few minutes the man had arrived with the key to open the lounge. Yes. That´s more like it. We all scrambled in, grabbed three seats each and tried to get some sleep, amongst evil children running up and down the corridor like wild animals with no consideration for the human nation. Yes. I don´t particularly like children. These were annoying and their mother was nowhere to be seen.
Malaga to Sevilla by train
We stayed on the boat until we´d hoped everybody had got off as it gets terribly crowded by the door. At 8amish we walked to the train station, stopping for a coffee and croissant, basking in the sun that wasn´t actually that hot, but felt amazing what with the ideology that we were now on holiday!
We jumped on a train to Seville within about an hour and arrived at San Bernardo by train.
Now... I understand that this blog entry may seem slightly boring for those who like their visual aids (that´s if anybody still reads this... I´ve noticed the statistics going down.... Sort it out! Clearly I should be pestering the others that wouldn´t be reading this!). So for your sake only (the ones that like pretty pictures) here is a picture of the train station that we arrived at in Sevilla - just to break it up a bit!
From this train station we grabbed the metro across town three stops and then walked in the direction of (and past!) our hostel.
Triana Backpackers Hostel
Our hostel was absolutely perfect. On the first night we shared a room with two women from Galicia and one of them also had their son with them too. The rooms were clean and light. We share three bathrooms with everybody else on our floor and upstairs on the first floor there is a kitchen for all to use, sofas and computers. Breakfast is a free for all where we can help ourselves to bread, butter, jam, cereal, coffee, etc. Upstairs again on the second floor is a roof terrace with sofas, tables and chairs, hammocks a jacuzzi and sun. What more can you ask for?! Queue photos:
We met so many different people from all different walks of life.We met:
Boat from Melilla to Malaga
This was the usual ´royo´(ball-ache). The entire population of Melilla (that´s each population - Muslim, Christian, Jewish and Hindu - just to remind you) all rushing onboard, desperately trying to get to the 'butacas´ first (upright, uncomfortable, chewing-gum ridden, far from luxury, mostly broken seats which you are succumbed to sleep in. We had our incredibly mahousive suitcase (the one I arrived here with) making the decision to share a suitcase instead of both simultaneously, independently struggling like feeble women. When we got to the sleeper seats (nothing like the boat from Normandy - these ones don´t even recline) the Spanish were, as we had expected them to be, taking up three seats each and there were no seats left. We went to the other side of the boat to the other sleeper seat lounge to find that it was closed. Annalisa went downstairs to moan, in true Spanish fashion (yes, we really are integrated now!). She came back up in true English fashion, defeated. "They´re not going to open it up."
There was a group of people assembling at the entrance of the tiniest, narrowest corridor in front of the door that didn´t seem to be destined to be opened with suitcases, bags and other hefty items that made it feel incredibly claustrophobic. Then things got heated. More and more Spaniards came and we kept repeating that the grumpy staff had no intention whatsoever of opening the door to the other sleeper seat lounge. Right. Uproar. Annalisa went back downstairs with a few other disgruntled customers and within a few minutes the man had arrived with the key to open the lounge. Yes. That´s more like it. We all scrambled in, grabbed three seats each and tried to get some sleep, amongst evil children running up and down the corridor like wild animals with no consideration for the human nation. Yes. I don´t particularly like children. These were annoying and their mother was nowhere to be seen.
Malaga to Sevilla by train
We stayed on the boat until we´d hoped everybody had got off as it gets terribly crowded by the door. At 8amish we walked to the train station, stopping for a coffee and croissant, basking in the sun that wasn´t actually that hot, but felt amazing what with the ideology that we were now on holiday!
We jumped on a train to Seville within about an hour and arrived at San Bernardo by train.
Now... I understand that this blog entry may seem slightly boring for those who like their visual aids (that´s if anybody still reads this... I´ve noticed the statistics going down.... Sort it out! Clearly I should be pestering the others that wouldn´t be reading this!). So for your sake only (the ones that like pretty pictures) here is a picture of the train station that we arrived at in Sevilla - just to break it up a bit!
Wow....!
From this train station we grabbed the metro across town three stops and then walked in the direction of (and past!) our hostel.
Triana Backpackers Hostel
Our hostel was absolutely perfect. On the first night we shared a room with two women from Galicia and one of them also had their son with them too. The rooms were clean and light. We share three bathrooms with everybody else on our floor and upstairs on the first floor there is a kitchen for all to use, sofas and computers. Breakfast is a free for all where we can help ourselves to bread, butter, jam, cereal, coffee, etc. Upstairs again on the second floor is a roof terrace with sofas, tables and chairs, hammocks a jacuzzi and sun. What more can you ask for?! Queue photos:
The reception area
A small seating area in reception
Hammocks, sofas and tables out in the sun on the rooftop terrace
The jacuzzi which was unfortunately out of order due to the influx of people and the demand it would need to be cleaned.
The view from said rooftop terrace
We met so many different people from all different walks of life.We met:
- A guy from Czech Republic that had just finished walking roughly 5,000 km on the Camino de Santiago (St. James´ Way) - a pilgrimage route, similar to Lourdes for those that aren´t aware.
- A guy from Switzerland, similar having walked 12,000 km on several different routes of the Camino de Santiago.
- A German guy visiting Sevilla before he moves here in September to continue his Mathetmatics degree Erasmus style.
- An Italian guy that also finished the Camino de Santiago(!), this time walking for his own pleasure after using up all of his holiday from work over the past few years.
- A bunch of American girls that are living in Spain, similar to Annalisa and I. We eavesdropped on their Spanish conversation and I realised how much I have improved my Spanish. That was quite rewarding.
- French people
- More Italian people
- More other different nationalities.
Anyway - it was really interesting talking to people, learning about their experiences and communicating in some kind of mixed internationl Spanish/English mix with bits of German, Italian and so forth! Hey - my German was tested to the max and I didn´t realise that it was still there somewhere! Fun, fun, fun! (Rebecca Black styley but with much more enthusiasm!)
So once we arrived we got showered before other backpackers might want to all rush for the bathroom. We set off on a wander around the area we were staying in; Triana. We wandered up to the Plaza de Cuba (approximately 5 minutes walk away) and decided to set up base for several hours in the afternoon, slurping beers, nibbling on olives and devouring Spanish tapas - salmon mayonnaise salad with capers, mackerel on a bed of roast pepper, fried Brie and artichokes stuffed with cured Iberian ham. (I´m glorifying it - it´s the right descriptions but they were tiny little things on bread - yummy all the same - I´m just playing on making you all jealous!)
After a few cañas (beers) that took hours to order with one waiter running around like a blue-assed fly serving at least a 20 metre terrace, we had built up a relationship with the headless chicken a.k.a. the waiter. After sympathising with his working conditions he decided we deserved free beers and awarded Annalisa with a face touch, wink and finally when we left a blown kiss!
We wandered across the bridge looking for the Plaza de Toros (bullring - remember?) and the Torre del Oro, a famous landmark in Sevilla but for what I am still yet to know. This is a picture of it though...!
With Annalisa navigating we obviously got lost and decided to wander up a main street past glorious fountains and statues of men on horses (no town is complete without a man on horse statue, don´t you know?!). We had picked up some leaflets from the hostel and were informed that there was a flamenco show at 10.30pm in the north part of the town. We crossed through the public gardens in the setting sun to find the most Spanish architecture and surrounds possible. We strolled past tranquil readers, kissing couples and of course the odd chav gearing up for the traditional (?!) ´botellon´- an on the streets drinking sesh.
We wandered through small narrow passageways, adorned with tiled terraces with the odd plant-pot making us feel very lucky to be wandering through this area (Santa Cruz). We stumbled across many a pretty square with the buzz of Spanish conversation, smoke floating in the air, the aroma of various fried, roasted and baked tapas with the renowned crazily overworked waiters.
We were looking for La Carboneria, a flamenco club. After asking a few of the locals, hesitantly stepping into smaller and smaller passageways we came across the venue. A lovely gentleman on the street by the grand, red glossy painted doors whispered that the show starts at 10.30pm, that we should arrive at about 10.45pm and that meanwhile there was a poem reading.
We were looking for La Carboneria, a flamenco club. After asking a few of the locals, hesitantly stepping into smaller and smaller passageways we came across the venue. A lovely gentleman on the street by the grand, red glossy painted doors whispered that the show starts at 10.30pm, that we should arrive at about 10.45pm and that meanwhile there was a poem reading.
We went for a few tapas back in the busy square (that actually turned into a feast - it´s never easy to judge how big the tapas are going to be) and stumbled, belly-full back to the flamenco building.
Fried camembert at the back, patatas ali oli (garlic sauce with potato chips) on the left and spinach croquettes on the right (that were far too buttery!)
Later we walked into a silent room with a woman stood reading aloud Spanish poetry. The room was mostly wooden with the natural bricks showing through in between large oil paintings of Spanish scenery, rivers. I think the paintings were by local artists and could be bought. OK. Perhaps I´m going into too much detail but what I want to explain is that it was a very friendly little community, I hope you can imagine it?
We walked through this entrance room into another room where the flamenco show was to be held. It was almost empty with a few families dotted around tapassing and there was a calm, quiet hum. Being one of the first ones in there we decided to pick the best seats, near where the two flamenco guitarists were warming up.
The room filled up and the three flamenco artists entered from the door the furthest away from us. They came carrying wooden, hand painted chairs and sat down. The room quietened down to silence and they began clapping individual beats that managed to intertwine somehow. The guitarist began to strum the guitar in an incredibly artistic way and the guy in the middle began to sing heartfully, with passion. After a moment of heartfelt clapping the woman jumped up and flung her arms in the air. She started stamping passionately and her polka dot dress swayed beautifully. You could really feel her emotions through her dancing with her slapping and slamming her chest and stomach and thrusting her dress around with the more passionate moments. It was amazing. She was sweating vigorously but continued to dance with such emotion. The shine on her skin from the sweat across her toned body, for me, really made part of the show too. She had a cracking body and I dream of dancing like that. (Is this getting a bit sexual?!)
Between the two halves sprinklers from the ceiling released some kind of water mist or cold ice, presumably to cool down not only the performers but the audience too.
The second half started and we managed to move seats although shortly after sitting down some more chavs (Italian this time) came and sat next to us, relentlessly chattering away. There was no chance they were shutting up and the show, for me, took a turn for the worse. There were too many tourists, the audience were clapping along which for me didn´t seem respectful at all and they were just generally chatting, preventing the singer, guitarist and dancer from getting into the zone. Do I sound like an old miserable grandmother?! Anyway, the flamenco-ists(?!) eventually just decided to get the show over and done with and it was quite disappointing as I could understand how the woman just felt like a piece of meat. I assume Semana Santa brings a whole load of tourists and consequently an inevitable reduction in culture. I have decided throughout this exploring process that I dislike tourists, considering myself as a culture explorer. Of course, I am being incredibly vain and considering myself above the rest unecessarily and incorrectly!
The second half started and we managed to move seats although shortly after sitting down some more chavs (Italian this time) came and sat next to us, relentlessly chattering away. There was no chance they were shutting up and the show, for me, took a turn for the worse. There were too many tourists, the audience were clapping along which for me didn´t seem respectful at all and they were just generally chatting, preventing the singer, guitarist and dancer from getting into the zone. Do I sound like an old miserable grandmother?! Anyway, the flamenco-ists(?!) eventually just decided to get the show over and done with and it was quite disappointing as I could understand how the woman just felt like a piece of meat. I assume Semana Santa brings a whole load of tourists and consequently an inevitable reduction in culture. I have decided throughout this exploring process that I dislike tourists, considering myself as a culture explorer. Of course, I am being incredibly vain and considering myself above the rest unecessarily and incorrectly!
We wandered home through the streetlit cobbled streets and cushtied down for the night, ready to attack the next day's activities!
(Sorry, very blabby, lots to say... Would you prefer me to skimp on the details next time?!)
Tuesday, 5 April 2011
Best weekend yet!
This weekend was the best weekend yet!
I got up on Friday and hit the beach as the sun had his beautiful hat on. I stayed there all morning, with the sea lapping up at my toes. I'm going to immerse myself in a deep description of the beautiful, sandy beach with warm sea and hot sun just to make you guys jealous... Nah, really - there's rubbish all over the beach and the water is brown but hey! I'm not going to complain, still! I darkened my skin a tad.
At midday I went to the boys house at met with the lads for tapas. One of our friends (who's Sicilian, as is Annalisa) was working in Melilla before but his contract finished back in February and he's still waiting to be called for another opening. In the meantime he's flitting back and forth from Granada (where he lives with his girlfriend) to Melilla trying to justify paying the rent on two houses at the same time. (The placement system for teachers is really twisted over here - perhaps I'll explain it another time, if I don't deem it too boring.)
So we went to a nice tapas bar round the corner from my house that I've been wanting to go to forever. The service was crap but the tapas were good.
I suggested a barbecue be held at the boys house that night (they have a roof terrace) and we rang around a few friends to see if they were game. The boys agreed that they would grab in the afternoon as I couldn't and Operation Barbecue was underway. Wahey - the first barbecue of the year (in March/April!!!).
As I explained I have decided to sit an exam for my Spanish. The exam is May 20th and there is a centre in Melilla that holds the exams. What are the chances? Fate? The exam costs approximately €150 here in Melilla but just over the border in Nador, Morocco it costs just €50 (in dirham). So I rearranged my classes for Friday and after lunch went to Nador with Niki (the Hungarian girl) and Annalisa who still hadn't visited Morocco. We were accompanied by Niki's male house-mate which was probably just as well in the end as the Moroccans seemed rather taken by touching me. Have they never heard the expression 'You can look, but don't touch!'?!
We went to the school, did all the administrationy things and then walked around the harbour/port thing. There were fishing nets spread all across the floor similar to last time, with cats scampering for food, no doubt hynpotised by that wonderful smell that turns your stomach of raw fish! Men sat, bare foot, sewing their nets with wires and I wish I'd have taken a photo of their craftsmanship but it seemed impertinent.
We stumbled across a small cafe that was blaring out traditional Moroccan music. We sat in the setting sun, drinking Arab tea, admiring the view. We walked back into town, grabbed a taxi, tried to enjoy a hairy, white knuckle ride back to the border and whipped back into Melilla within about half an hour.
The barbecue plan was on so I nipped home, grabbed a shower and then swung around to the boys where people were starting to arrive. The boys had executed Operation Barbecue to perfection. We all chucked in a bit of money and munched on some fine, cooked-to-perfection burgers and chops, guzzling Magners (yes, Jorge bought me two bottles of Magners from the local supermarket, what a love!), playing cards and enjoying the company of the group of nine friends that we have here. Really, really pleasant. (that's such a lame word - I'm sorry!)
We crashed out at about 1am and woke up to.....
WINDSURFING! 10am, Saturday morning, five of us, the port! The sun was emerging from the gloomy clouds and after much ado Stacey chucks on her excruciatingly tight wet-suit for some windsurf fun! There was a lot of waiting around as supposedly another group of people were coming for lessons but after about an hour of hanging about we assumed they weren't coming and got kitted up ready.
After about thirty minutes learning about the board, how to bring up the sail and catch the wind properly we were in the water. The sail is pretty heavy once it's got a nice little puddle of water in the concave part and the rope is pretty harsh on naked hands but balancing isn't too difficult. I kept being dragged to the shore for some reason and after a while Stacey's alter-ego came out shouting, sulking and generally just being a spoilt brat. I couldn't figure out how to navigate and consequently spent the morning standing on the board, being taken to the shore and then walking back only to repeat the same again.
At the end of the lesson the teacher came and picked me up in his powerboat (alright for some!), told me to jump in and dragged me and my windsurf back to the sailing club. As I stepped onto the motorboat I fell but tried to keep my cool whilst still being grumpy. I consequently, and some would say deservedly, have black, bruised knees. The irony that it was getting into the motorboat - I was fine on the windsurf (minus the small fact that I couldn't control it!).
We finished up at about 3pm and ended up getting more than our original planned two hours which was great. We were absolutely exhausted! We went back to the boys house where the Italians (Annalisa and our other friend) were making fresh pasta for us! What sweethearts and talent! We munched it down quick snap and I shifted off to give lessons (on a Saturday, yes).
Saturday night was very mellow with Annalisa making bruschetta for us all and we slumped off to sleep a little after midnight. Then Sunday...
WINDSURFING! We got to the port at 10am, transformed into super hero-lookalikes in the tightest rubber outfits ever (is it clear I don't like my wet-suit yet?!) and hit the water again, like naturals... Kind of. There wasn't much wind so it was quite difficult to get moving but in hindsight it was the best conditions to learn how to manipulate the board in other ways. We learnt how to change direction, walking around the mast and reversing our footing. I don't remember what it's called but I'd imagine it's the Spanish word for 'jive' from what I remember from sailing. Is it important, anyway?! Babble, babble, babble!
We also started to explore the possibility of making our own wind by jiggling the sail (I say jiggling - it's a much more laborious action - thrusting the sail with muscles that you never knew you had in the bottom of your arms - triceps?! - whilst trying to keep balanced with your feet.)
It was a lot more fun than the Saturday, and the Saturday was already pretty fun! The only problem I had was that I could travel one way easier than the other and when it was time to head back in to the club I couldn't get back. I tried sailing there, swimming, walking (on hundreds of small, spikey, painful stones) and ended up getting frustrated and changed into my alter-ego again. I really should try and control my anger and frustration - it really gets hold of me when I can't do something that I want to! I was crying and swearing and brought on a panic attack in the middle of the ocean. After about an hour of knackering myself out hyperventilating (WTF - it's all for fun, Stacey!) and generally getting wound up and pissy for no good reason I got back to the port. It's bloody difficult to swim, dragging a windsurf and a hefty sail without a tow rope.
The other guys we'd been windsurfing with had offered to cook us dinner and we zipped round to theirs for some peppered prawns, a really tasty cod pie thing and a range of different cheeses, washed down with good wine, conversation and well-needed coffee. Yum.
We dropped our friend off at the airport as he was heading back to Granada until after Semana Santa and then I got dropped off at my classes (yes, classes on Saturday and Sunday).
The weekend was over and what a cracker or a jacker it was! Hope this entry wasn't too boring - I know you all like the odd photo but I'm not taking my camera in the water!
I got up on Friday and hit the beach as the sun had his beautiful hat on. I stayed there all morning, with the sea lapping up at my toes. I'm going to immerse myself in a deep description of the beautiful, sandy beach with warm sea and hot sun just to make you guys jealous... Nah, really - there's rubbish all over the beach and the water is brown but hey! I'm not going to complain, still! I darkened my skin a tad.
At midday I went to the boys house at met with the lads for tapas. One of our friends (who's Sicilian, as is Annalisa) was working in Melilla before but his contract finished back in February and he's still waiting to be called for another opening. In the meantime he's flitting back and forth from Granada (where he lives with his girlfriend) to Melilla trying to justify paying the rent on two houses at the same time. (The placement system for teachers is really twisted over here - perhaps I'll explain it another time, if I don't deem it too boring.)
So we went to a nice tapas bar round the corner from my house that I've been wanting to go to forever. The service was crap but the tapas were good.
I suggested a barbecue be held at the boys house that night (they have a roof terrace) and we rang around a few friends to see if they were game. The boys agreed that they would grab in the afternoon as I couldn't and Operation Barbecue was underway. Wahey - the first barbecue of the year (in March/April!!!).
As I explained I have decided to sit an exam for my Spanish. The exam is May 20th and there is a centre in Melilla that holds the exams. What are the chances? Fate? The exam costs approximately €150 here in Melilla but just over the border in Nador, Morocco it costs just €50 (in dirham). So I rearranged my classes for Friday and after lunch went to Nador with Niki (the Hungarian girl) and Annalisa who still hadn't visited Morocco. We were accompanied by Niki's male house-mate which was probably just as well in the end as the Moroccans seemed rather taken by touching me. Have they never heard the expression 'You can look, but don't touch!'?!
We went to the school, did all the administrationy things and then walked around the harbour/port thing. There were fishing nets spread all across the floor similar to last time, with cats scampering for food, no doubt hynpotised by that wonderful smell that turns your stomach of raw fish! Men sat, bare foot, sewing their nets with wires and I wish I'd have taken a photo of their craftsmanship but it seemed impertinent.
We stumbled across a small cafe that was blaring out traditional Moroccan music. We sat in the setting sun, drinking Arab tea, admiring the view. We walked back into town, grabbed a taxi, tried to enjoy a hairy, white knuckle ride back to the border and whipped back into Melilla within about half an hour.
The barbecue plan was on so I nipped home, grabbed a shower and then swung around to the boys where people were starting to arrive. The boys had executed Operation Barbecue to perfection. We all chucked in a bit of money and munched on some fine, cooked-to-perfection burgers and chops, guzzling Magners (yes, Jorge bought me two bottles of Magners from the local supermarket, what a love!), playing cards and enjoying the company of the group of nine friends that we have here. Really, really pleasant. (that's such a lame word - I'm sorry!)
We crashed out at about 1am and woke up to.....
WINDSURFING! 10am, Saturday morning, five of us, the port! The sun was emerging from the gloomy clouds and after much ado Stacey chucks on her excruciatingly tight wet-suit for some windsurf fun! There was a lot of waiting around as supposedly another group of people were coming for lessons but after about an hour of hanging about we assumed they weren't coming and got kitted up ready.
After about thirty minutes learning about the board, how to bring up the sail and catch the wind properly we were in the water. The sail is pretty heavy once it's got a nice little puddle of water in the concave part and the rope is pretty harsh on naked hands but balancing isn't too difficult. I kept being dragged to the shore for some reason and after a while Stacey's alter-ego came out shouting, sulking and generally just being a spoilt brat. I couldn't figure out how to navigate and consequently spent the morning standing on the board, being taken to the shore and then walking back only to repeat the same again.
At the end of the lesson the teacher came and picked me up in his powerboat (alright for some!), told me to jump in and dragged me and my windsurf back to the sailing club. As I stepped onto the motorboat I fell but tried to keep my cool whilst still being grumpy. I consequently, and some would say deservedly, have black, bruised knees. The irony that it was getting into the motorboat - I was fine on the windsurf (minus the small fact that I couldn't control it!).
We finished up at about 3pm and ended up getting more than our original planned two hours which was great. We were absolutely exhausted! We went back to the boys house where the Italians (Annalisa and our other friend) were making fresh pasta for us! What sweethearts and talent! We munched it down quick snap and I shifted off to give lessons (on a Saturday, yes).
Saturday night was very mellow with Annalisa making bruschetta for us all and we slumped off to sleep a little after midnight. Then Sunday...
WINDSURFING! We got to the port at 10am, transformed into super hero-lookalikes in the tightest rubber outfits ever (is it clear I don't like my wet-suit yet?!) and hit the water again, like naturals... Kind of. There wasn't much wind so it was quite difficult to get moving but in hindsight it was the best conditions to learn how to manipulate the board in other ways. We learnt how to change direction, walking around the mast and reversing our footing. I don't remember what it's called but I'd imagine it's the Spanish word for 'jive' from what I remember from sailing. Is it important, anyway?! Babble, babble, babble!
We also started to explore the possibility of making our own wind by jiggling the sail (I say jiggling - it's a much more laborious action - thrusting the sail with muscles that you never knew you had in the bottom of your arms - triceps?! - whilst trying to keep balanced with your feet.)
It was a lot more fun than the Saturday, and the Saturday was already pretty fun! The only problem I had was that I could travel one way easier than the other and when it was time to head back in to the club I couldn't get back. I tried sailing there, swimming, walking (on hundreds of small, spikey, painful stones) and ended up getting frustrated and changed into my alter-ego again. I really should try and control my anger and frustration - it really gets hold of me when I can't do something that I want to! I was crying and swearing and brought on a panic attack in the middle of the ocean. After about an hour of knackering myself out hyperventilating (WTF - it's all for fun, Stacey!) and generally getting wound up and pissy for no good reason I got back to the port. It's bloody difficult to swim, dragging a windsurf and a hefty sail without a tow rope.
The other guys we'd been windsurfing with had offered to cook us dinner and we zipped round to theirs for some peppered prawns, a really tasty cod pie thing and a range of different cheeses, washed down with good wine, conversation and well-needed coffee. Yum.
We dropped our friend off at the airport as he was heading back to Granada until after Semana Santa and then I got dropped off at my classes (yes, classes on Saturday and Sunday).
The weekend was over and what a cracker or a jacker it was! Hope this entry wasn't too boring - I know you all like the odd photo but I'm not taking my camera in the water!
Monday, 4 April 2011
My Melillan family
I don't know if I've mentioned one of the biggest differences between living in Spain and living in England; the lifestyle. So that you can get a feel for the lifestyle let me explain a few things. My school has classes in the morning (8.30am - 2.30pm non-stop, except for a 20 minute break for snacks ). At the end of school the kids go home for dinner and families do their own thing in the afternoon (normally music classes, etc.). This means that families eat together at about 2.30pm/3pm and consequently eat their evening meal later, at about 9pm or later. The evening meal consists of tapas or smaller meals, as lunch is the bigger meal. People usually go to bed a lot sooner after eating than we do in England, but surprisingly they don't seem to put on masses of weight doing this!
On a Friday/Saturday night people normally go out for drinks at about midnight or later and then head to the port (equivalent to clubs in England) at about 3am. The night finishes later and they get up the following morning at the same time as the English do, at about 10am. The difference being that they 'echar una siesta' half way through the day. I've got the impression that most people even fit in a siesta during the week when they get a few hours off for lunch (if they work in a normal job), or before they do what they wish with their afternoon/evening (if they're teachers - school's done for the day!). I should probably start doing that as it's annoyingly when all the shops are shut!
So as I explained, a lot of people have been contacting me for classes as the end of term is getting closer and they're all panicking about not passing their exams. Some of the teachers I work with in the mornings have other jobs for the afternoon; they teach at the university or they give classes in my school that functions in the afternoon as an adult learning centre. It's for those that didn't manage to get their school qualifications. The ESO is the equivalent to GCSEs and Bachillerato is the equivalent to A-Levels.
One of my colleagues told me that he gives lessons in the afternoon and that he had a student that was interested in having private classes. I told him colleague to pass on my number and the next day, after passing on my details, he warned me that I couldn't trust the student! I started to get worried and asked in what way I couldn't trust him; payment? rape? I told him that I appreciate his honesty as being here alone means that I really do need to go careful (although it might have been better before me telling him to pass on my number!). My colleague didn't really give me much to work with as regards not trusting him, however when I pressed on the subject he explained quite openly and rationally, or so he thought, that it's because the student is Muslim and from a Moroccan family. So I still wasn't quite aware why he thought I couldn't trust him - I guess racism kicked in, which is sometimes overseen here in Melilla - the harmonious, multi-cultural town, where each race/religion obviously has an opinion about the other.
The following day I had a phone call from this student. He seemed over familiar asking how I was and where I was before I even knew who I was speaking to! He told me that he and his cousin wanted lessons and after he was done insistently suggesting that we meet in his office I managed to convince him to meet me in a cafe. Some of these people don't quite realise that I'm here alone or that I need to go through the standard steps to look after my own safety.
We met and I realised that his standard of English and that of his cousin were completely different and suggested they have separate classes.
Since then I have been meeting his cousin three times a week, to give her lessons at 1.30pm. I've not heard from him and even went to meet him to wait for 15 minutes. He didn't turn up. Grrr. But his cousin and her family are potentially the nicest people I have met in Melilla!
The first day I arrived in their house we studied in the humongous living room. There were long sofas all along the back wall, which reminded me of my French exchange when I was 14 when I went to drink an Arab tea at my exchange partner's (Diane - for those that remember) house. The decor was yellowy, orangey, creme and I could imagine the room full of about 30 people talking in Arabic and drinking Arab tea (that stuff is like nectar from the Gods - tea, mint and lots of sugar). I tried a bit on my French exchange, and again in Pont-Audemer where there was a Moroccan restaurant but am fully appreciating it's richness and exoticness here in Melilla.
Just before the end of the class Yasmina's father arrived home with his father, Yasmina's grandfather. He was wearing a small, white hat on his head, similar to a sous-chefs. I guess you could call it a skull cap, but not like that of Judaism. Either way it looks very north African!
As I tried to leave Mohammed, Yasmina's father insisted I stay for lunch and in a flash the handywoman of the house (most houses in Melilla have helpers, normally a woman that cooks, cleans, etc.) brought down an array of fried fish and seafood in a massive paella/rice dish. Not having the heart to tell them that I didn't like fish I just shut up and munched it down as discretely and naturally as possible (hasn't this happened before?!). She also brought down a basket of bread, Moroccan bread, that Yasmina's father told me his wife had made... By hand! Wowzers. It was gooooood!
So the first day I ate there was with Yasmina, her dad and her grandfather in the living room, whilst they all watched Arabic TV and chattering away in Arabic amongst themselves. They tried to integrate me in the conversation as much as they could but Yasmina's grandfather's Spanish is quite difficult to understand. I'm not sure if he speaks it normally as I understand he's from Nador, but lived in Germany for some years.
Once we'd finished eating there was a massive fruit bowl of the freshest fruit I've ever seen! They were all like ninjas with their knives, slicing their fruits in two seconds flat and seemingly enjoying the full flavour. "Come Tyson", her dad kept saying. (I think he had difficulty with Stacey!)
After our suite of oranges the size of your head, bananas the size of... *cough* came the Arab tea. SCORE! And before I knew it I had to get going for my class. Boo.
When I arrived at Yasmina's house for our second class she informed me that we were going to eat before our class. She trapped me. Sneaky! She led me upstairs where I met her mother and we sat at the table in the ktichen (upstairs) and ate fish soup. Hmm... It was actually quite nice! Then we had some chickpea dish with lamb in a lovely sauce with artichokes on the side. I noticed they ate a lot with their hands and the bread - Yasmina's mum told me she believed food tasted better without cutlery and said they normally eat like that. Interesting.
We had a really nice chat about Islam and different rules, etc. They told me all about Ramadan. It was really nice.
And every time I have been round since, they make me lunch, call me 'daughter' and are generally just so, so welcoming. I even needed some dirham for a trip to Morocco (which I'll tell you about in good time - I can see you're all on the edge of your seats already....!) and asked where I could get some money. Mohammed told me that when I go round for class the next day he would change it for me. When I told him I didn't have a class with Yasmina the next day he seemed shocked and said "But for lunch, I mean!". So I went round for lunch and when I was looking at the money he'd given me with a friend afterwards I was told that he gave me the amount he should have been and a bit more. Very competitive, but naughty at the same time!
Each time is different, with different members of the family, different languages, different interesting subjects, different banquets and it's just lovely. I have a Melillan family - they're so, so nice! (And they occasionally give me Moroccan bread to take home!)
Today I left before lunch and told them that I was tired and needed to get at least 30 minutes of sleep in before my next class (I was almost falling asleep listening to the alphabet ten times over - incorrectly, I hasten to add!) and felt more awkward leaving than staying! I love my Melillan family!
On a Friday/Saturday night people normally go out for drinks at about midnight or later and then head to the port (equivalent to clubs in England) at about 3am. The night finishes later and they get up the following morning at the same time as the English do, at about 10am. The difference being that they 'echar una siesta' half way through the day. I've got the impression that most people even fit in a siesta during the week when they get a few hours off for lunch (if they work in a normal job), or before they do what they wish with their afternoon/evening (if they're teachers - school's done for the day!). I should probably start doing that as it's annoyingly when all the shops are shut!
So as I explained, a lot of people have been contacting me for classes as the end of term is getting closer and they're all panicking about not passing their exams. Some of the teachers I work with in the mornings have other jobs for the afternoon; they teach at the university or they give classes in my school that functions in the afternoon as an adult learning centre. It's for those that didn't manage to get their school qualifications. The ESO is the equivalent to GCSEs and Bachillerato is the equivalent to A-Levels.
One of my colleagues told me that he gives lessons in the afternoon and that he had a student that was interested in having private classes. I told him colleague to pass on my number and the next day, after passing on my details, he warned me that I couldn't trust the student! I started to get worried and asked in what way I couldn't trust him; payment? rape? I told him that I appreciate his honesty as being here alone means that I really do need to go careful (although it might have been better before me telling him to pass on my number!). My colleague didn't really give me much to work with as regards not trusting him, however when I pressed on the subject he explained quite openly and rationally, or so he thought, that it's because the student is Muslim and from a Moroccan family. So I still wasn't quite aware why he thought I couldn't trust him - I guess racism kicked in, which is sometimes overseen here in Melilla - the harmonious, multi-cultural town, where each race/religion obviously has an opinion about the other.
The following day I had a phone call from this student. He seemed over familiar asking how I was and where I was before I even knew who I was speaking to! He told me that he and his cousin wanted lessons and after he was done insistently suggesting that we meet in his office I managed to convince him to meet me in a cafe. Some of these people don't quite realise that I'm here alone or that I need to go through the standard steps to look after my own safety.
We met and I realised that his standard of English and that of his cousin were completely different and suggested they have separate classes.
Since then I have been meeting his cousin three times a week, to give her lessons at 1.30pm. I've not heard from him and even went to meet him to wait for 15 minutes. He didn't turn up. Grrr. But his cousin and her family are potentially the nicest people I have met in Melilla!
The first day I arrived in their house we studied in the humongous living room. There were long sofas all along the back wall, which reminded me of my French exchange when I was 14 when I went to drink an Arab tea at my exchange partner's (Diane - for those that remember) house. The decor was yellowy, orangey, creme and I could imagine the room full of about 30 people talking in Arabic and drinking Arab tea (that stuff is like nectar from the Gods - tea, mint and lots of sugar). I tried a bit on my French exchange, and again in Pont-Audemer where there was a Moroccan restaurant but am fully appreciating it's richness and exoticness here in Melilla.
Just before the end of the class Yasmina's father arrived home with his father, Yasmina's grandfather. He was wearing a small, white hat on his head, similar to a sous-chefs. I guess you could call it a skull cap, but not like that of Judaism. Either way it looks very north African!
As I tried to leave Mohammed, Yasmina's father insisted I stay for lunch and in a flash the handywoman of the house (most houses in Melilla have helpers, normally a woman that cooks, cleans, etc.) brought down an array of fried fish and seafood in a massive paella/rice dish. Not having the heart to tell them that I didn't like fish I just shut up and munched it down as discretely and naturally as possible (hasn't this happened before?!). She also brought down a basket of bread, Moroccan bread, that Yasmina's father told me his wife had made... By hand! Wowzers. It was gooooood!
So the first day I ate there was with Yasmina, her dad and her grandfather in the living room, whilst they all watched Arabic TV and chattering away in Arabic amongst themselves. They tried to integrate me in the conversation as much as they could but Yasmina's grandfather's Spanish is quite difficult to understand. I'm not sure if he speaks it normally as I understand he's from Nador, but lived in Germany for some years.
Once we'd finished eating there was a massive fruit bowl of the freshest fruit I've ever seen! They were all like ninjas with their knives, slicing their fruits in two seconds flat and seemingly enjoying the full flavour. "Come Tyson", her dad kept saying. (I think he had difficulty with Stacey!)
After our suite of oranges the size of your head, bananas the size of... *cough* came the Arab tea. SCORE! And before I knew it I had to get going for my class. Boo.
When I arrived at Yasmina's house for our second class she informed me that we were going to eat before our class. She trapped me. Sneaky! She led me upstairs where I met her mother and we sat at the table in the ktichen (upstairs) and ate fish soup. Hmm... It was actually quite nice! Then we had some chickpea dish with lamb in a lovely sauce with artichokes on the side. I noticed they ate a lot with their hands and the bread - Yasmina's mum told me she believed food tasted better without cutlery and said they normally eat like that. Interesting.
We had a really nice chat about Islam and different rules, etc. They told me all about Ramadan. It was really nice.
And every time I have been round since, they make me lunch, call me 'daughter' and are generally just so, so welcoming. I even needed some dirham for a trip to Morocco (which I'll tell you about in good time - I can see you're all on the edge of your seats already....!) and asked where I could get some money. Mohammed told me that when I go round for class the next day he would change it for me. When I told him I didn't have a class with Yasmina the next day he seemed shocked and said "But for lunch, I mean!". So I went round for lunch and when I was looking at the money he'd given me with a friend afterwards I was told that he gave me the amount he should have been and a bit more. Very competitive, but naughty at the same time!
Each time is different, with different members of the family, different languages, different interesting subjects, different banquets and it's just lovely. I have a Melillan family - they're so, so nice! (And they occasionally give me Moroccan bread to take home!)
Today I left before lunch and told them that I was tired and needed to get at least 30 minutes of sleep in before my next class (I was almost falling asleep listening to the alphabet ten times over - incorrectly, I hasten to add!) and felt more awkward leaving than staying! I love my Melillan family!
Thursday, 31 March 2011
Conquering Spain and repeating history
So it's Easter week next week and I haven't even told you about my plans! We have about 10 days off; our last day of work being 14th April, going back to work on 26th.
Annalisa and I have decided that after visiting Granada and Malaga in some depth we're going to try and visit the rest of Andalusia (Andalucia?!) in our Easter holidays. We were originally tempted by the idea of a desert expedition but it proved complicated without a 4x4. Also, Easter is a big thing in the peninsula, particularly in Andalusia where there seems to be a large Christian population and there's lots of goings-ons.
Our plan is as follows:
Melilla to Malaga
Catch the boat across from Melilla to Malaga over night on 14th April and arrive in Malaga early on 15th.
Malaga to Sevilla (Spanish) or Seville (English) - tell me the point in translating it?!
From Malaga, we're going to hop on a bus and head to Seville (I think it's going to be a pretty long journey!). Seville is the capital of Andalusia and where everybody flocks come 'Holy Week' (Semana Santa). There are processions daily, similar to what we caught a glimpse of in Granada when we visited way back when in December. Apparently people parade the streets carrying large gold, highly decorated statues of Mary and other well-known characters/figures from the popular book, The Bible! (Excuse my ignorance, if you will! It sounds like a book review...). Supposedly there will be several people under just one 'float', if you like, to support the hefty weight of the ornaments. Sounds interesting, and from speaking to Melillenses it's going to be rammed with not only religious Spaniards, but tourists that head to the region to join in the celebrations.
I've also been told that the whole region is filled with the sweet aroma of 'azahar' - orange blossom. Yes! Orange trees! I've had a little taste of it here in Melilla as the park we live opposite has a few 'naranjos' (orange trees) and as I walk past in the morning I catch a few whiffs.
We plan to stay in Sevilla for four days. We'll visit the town, see a few processions until we get too claustrophobic and probably hump down into a few tapas bars and generally just check out the region. One of my old colleagues from Pod1 is also going to be in Seville whilst we're there so hopefully we'll manage to meet up with him. It looks like he's staying a bit further out than where we are but it appears to be a nice walk along the river (I have no idea what it's called, for non-informational purposes!).
Seville to Cordoba
On 19th April, from Seville we're renting a little Ford Ka and heading to Cordoba, about an hour and a half east of Seville. We met a guy in Melilla (who now lives in Lisboa, FYI!) who comes from Cordoba. He came to Granada with us and has given us a few pointers. We need to visit the Mesquita-Iglesia. It's a mosque-come-church/cathedral. Cathedrals and churches are different aren't they? Spire? Anyway, it used to be a mosque and the platform where the man (how uneducated?!) used to shout and call people in for prayer five times a day (yes, I do know a little bit about Islam!) has been transformed into the bell tower. It all sounds very interesting! I haven't checked my sources so have probably got it a bit wrong but here's a link from Wikipedia if you're interested and want to correct me! Click here. (Oh yeah - I'm almost professional with my click heres!)
In May Cordoba hosts la Batalla de las Flores ('the Battle of the Flowers'). Here in Spain (the best idea I can get of it from being in Melilla) most people live in flats and so there is normally a communal patio area in the entrance courtyard. In preparation for the flower parade (which we'll unfortunately miss) women dress in typical flamenco dress and travel through the streets in wagons, adorning them with petals. I believe there should be some courtyards already blooming, gearing up for the event. I'm planning to ask at the tourist office there and see if we can sneak into a few buildings to see this. Don't ask, don't get but I'm not sure how successful we'll be. Here's a website I've found with a few pictures of what it should look like. (I bet after all of this we won't even be able to see anything!)
Cordoba to Jaen
Slightly further east of Cordoba is Jaen. Our housemate here in Melilla comes from a small town near Jaen and we've been told it's a charming little town although there doesn't seem to be many attractions. We're going to stay in Cordoba for two nights and head to Jaen for a day trip with the car on 20th.
Jaen to Cadiz
On 21st, getting up at a ridiculous hour no doubt, we'll head from Jaen to Cadiz. The drive is going to be a beast and I think we'll be stopping off a few times on the way for toilet/snack breaks. In all honesty we've planned the trip terribly. We understood that the first few days of Semana Santa were the biggest, which is why we're going to Sevilla first, but it turns out it's the 21st and 22nd. We did try and reorganise everything but it's too complicated what with hostels and the car booked. Never mind, we'll get to see the towns, which is the important thing and probably save money staying in Seville when it's not the peak days.
Now Cadiz seems a very interesting place. It's pretty much all beach, with a road attaching it to the south-west corner of Spain. There's a national park very near which might be nice but as I'm suffering with mosquito bites I think the beach might be a better bet to catch some rays. We've been told that the towns surrounding Cadiz are more interesting than Cadiz itself and one of my students has told me the name of the town where she used to live (San Fernando) so we'll try and swing by there on the way in.
Cadiz to Algeciras
We're staying in Cadiz just the one night, after being warned there's not too much there and heading to Algeciras on 22nd. "What's in Algeciras, oh-so-informative-Stacey?" I hear you say. Well... Nothing, it seems. But very nearby within walking distance is *drum roll please* Gibraltar! (There are complications crossing the border with the car.) Ever since I arrived in Melilla and presented myself as an English person (as opposed to Japanese?! :-S) I have been constantly scrutinised and blamed for taking Gibraltar away from the Spanish. Now, I don't know how you guys feel about this, but I don't really feel responsible... What did I do?! Jeez..! So... I want to go and see what all the fuss is about. I've been told there are monkeys and after my disappointing trek up the 'Monkey Trial' to Gurugu where I saw no monkeys whatsoever I want to see some. Now, the confusing part... When I tell my colleagues I'm going to Gibraltar, to my land, the land of the English *bursts into God Save the Queen* they tell me not to bother. They says there's nothing to see. WHAT THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU MOANING ABOUT, THEN?! *sigh*.
Algeciras to Malaga
At this point our trip will be approaching it's end. On 23rd of April we will be catching worms like little early birds, driving from Algeciras to Malaga, about a three hour trip, to dump the car off at the airport, catch the train across town and jump on the 2 o'clock boat back to Melilla.
Malaga to Melilla
We arrive back in Melilla on the Saturday evening (now summer is almost here they have introduced the fast boat as well as the grotty overnight one). We'll have the Sunday and Monday to recoop before starting back to work on the Tuesday.
So... Ten days, eight main cities in a very silly way.
But good going, I reckon. (How'd you like my handy work?!) Hardcore travelling! I'll let you know how we get on!
P.S. Have been told Almeria ain't that great and although Huelva has been recommended we don't want to burn ourselves out so will save that for another day.
Annalisa and I have decided that after visiting Granada and Malaga in some depth we're going to try and visit the rest of Andalusia (Andalucia?!) in our Easter holidays. We were originally tempted by the idea of a desert expedition but it proved complicated without a 4x4. Also, Easter is a big thing in the peninsula, particularly in Andalusia where there seems to be a large Christian population and there's lots of goings-ons.
Our plan is as follows:
Melilla to Malaga
Catch the boat across from Melilla to Malaga over night on 14th April and arrive in Malaga early on 15th.
Malaga to Sevilla (Spanish) or Seville (English) - tell me the point in translating it?!
From Malaga, we're going to hop on a bus and head to Seville (I think it's going to be a pretty long journey!). Seville is the capital of Andalusia and where everybody flocks come 'Holy Week' (Semana Santa). There are processions daily, similar to what we caught a glimpse of in Granada when we visited way back when in December. Apparently people parade the streets carrying large gold, highly decorated statues of Mary and other well-known characters/figures from the popular book, The Bible! (Excuse my ignorance, if you will! It sounds like a book review...). Supposedly there will be several people under just one 'float', if you like, to support the hefty weight of the ornaments. Sounds interesting, and from speaking to Melillenses it's going to be rammed with not only religious Spaniards, but tourists that head to the region to join in the celebrations.
I've also been told that the whole region is filled with the sweet aroma of 'azahar' - orange blossom. Yes! Orange trees! I've had a little taste of it here in Melilla as the park we live opposite has a few 'naranjos' (orange trees) and as I walk past in the morning I catch a few whiffs.
We plan to stay in Sevilla for four days. We'll visit the town, see a few processions until we get too claustrophobic and probably hump down into a few tapas bars and generally just check out the region. One of my old colleagues from Pod1 is also going to be in Seville whilst we're there so hopefully we'll manage to meet up with him. It looks like he's staying a bit further out than where we are but it appears to be a nice walk along the river (I have no idea what it's called, for non-informational purposes!).
Seville to Cordoba
On 19th April, from Seville we're renting a little Ford Ka and heading to Cordoba, about an hour and a half east of Seville. We met a guy in Melilla (who now lives in Lisboa, FYI!) who comes from Cordoba. He came to Granada with us and has given us a few pointers. We need to visit the Mesquita-Iglesia. It's a mosque-come-church/cathedral. Cathedrals and churches are different aren't they? Spire? Anyway, it used to be a mosque and the platform where the man (how uneducated?!) used to shout and call people in for prayer five times a day (yes, I do know a little bit about Islam!) has been transformed into the bell tower. It all sounds very interesting! I haven't checked my sources so have probably got it a bit wrong but here's a link from Wikipedia if you're interested and want to correct me! Click here. (Oh yeah - I'm almost professional with my click heres!)
In May Cordoba hosts la Batalla de las Flores ('the Battle of the Flowers'). Here in Spain (the best idea I can get of it from being in Melilla) most people live in flats and so there is normally a communal patio area in the entrance courtyard. In preparation for the flower parade (which we'll unfortunately miss) women dress in typical flamenco dress and travel through the streets in wagons, adorning them with petals. I believe there should be some courtyards already blooming, gearing up for the event. I'm planning to ask at the tourist office there and see if we can sneak into a few buildings to see this. Don't ask, don't get but I'm not sure how successful we'll be. Here's a website I've found with a few pictures of what it should look like. (I bet after all of this we won't even be able to see anything!)
Cordoba to Jaen
Slightly further east of Cordoba is Jaen. Our housemate here in Melilla comes from a small town near Jaen and we've been told it's a charming little town although there doesn't seem to be many attractions. We're going to stay in Cordoba for two nights and head to Jaen for a day trip with the car on 20th.
Jaen to Cadiz
On 21st, getting up at a ridiculous hour no doubt, we'll head from Jaen to Cadiz. The drive is going to be a beast and I think we'll be stopping off a few times on the way for toilet/snack breaks. In all honesty we've planned the trip terribly. We understood that the first few days of Semana Santa were the biggest, which is why we're going to Sevilla first, but it turns out it's the 21st and 22nd. We did try and reorganise everything but it's too complicated what with hostels and the car booked. Never mind, we'll get to see the towns, which is the important thing and probably save money staying in Seville when it's not the peak days.
Now Cadiz seems a very interesting place. It's pretty much all beach, with a road attaching it to the south-west corner of Spain. There's a national park very near which might be nice but as I'm suffering with mosquito bites I think the beach might be a better bet to catch some rays. We've been told that the towns surrounding Cadiz are more interesting than Cadiz itself and one of my students has told me the name of the town where she used to live (San Fernando) so we'll try and swing by there on the way in.
Cadiz to Algeciras
We're staying in Cadiz just the one night, after being warned there's not too much there and heading to Algeciras on 22nd. "What's in Algeciras, oh-so-informative-Stacey?" I hear you say. Well... Nothing, it seems. But very nearby within walking distance is *drum roll please* Gibraltar! (There are complications crossing the border with the car.) Ever since I arrived in Melilla and presented myself as an English person (as opposed to Japanese?! :-S) I have been constantly scrutinised and blamed for taking Gibraltar away from the Spanish. Now, I don't know how you guys feel about this, but I don't really feel responsible... What did I do?! Jeez..! So... I want to go and see what all the fuss is about. I've been told there are monkeys and after my disappointing trek up the 'Monkey Trial' to Gurugu where I saw no monkeys whatsoever I want to see some. Now, the confusing part... When I tell my colleagues I'm going to Gibraltar, to my land, the land of the English *bursts into God Save the Queen* they tell me not to bother. They says there's nothing to see. WHAT THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU MOANING ABOUT, THEN?! *sigh*.
Algeciras to Malaga
At this point our trip will be approaching it's end. On 23rd of April we will be catching worms like little early birds, driving from Algeciras to Malaga, about a three hour trip, to dump the car off at the airport, catch the train across town and jump on the 2 o'clock boat back to Melilla.
Malaga to Melilla
We arrive back in Melilla on the Saturday evening (now summer is almost here they have introduced the fast boat as well as the grotty overnight one). We'll have the Sunday and Monday to recoop before starting back to work on the Tuesday.
So... Ten days, eight main cities in a very silly way.
P.S. Have been told Almeria ain't that great and although Huelva has been recommended we don't want to burn ourselves out so will save that for another day.
Monday, 28 March 2011
Super Stacey, the slacker
I have been incredibly slack.... But I do have an excuse or two!
I've been sorting out things for my placement in London for this summer, and applying for Masters. For any of those who didn't see on my Facebook or hear otherwise I've been offered a place on the MA in Translation in a European Context at Aston and also a place on the MA in Translation and Interpreting at Westminster. I'm trying to get things together so that I can go to London, be with Beanbag and stay in one place for once. That would be nice! So lots of organising for that as regards scholarships, living arrangements, etc.
I also have about seventeen private classes a week as term is drawing to a close and the slackers that haven't done anything all year have decided that now's the time to start learning ready for exams in June. Silly fools - Super Stacey to the rescue! It eats into my weekend but it's all baby steps to Westminster, the way I see it!
Furthermore, I've been working away in my free time (as in hours between classes) doing some transcription work for a well-reputed translation company, getting up my experience and getting closer to making Westminster less of a pipe dream and more of a reality.
Then I realised that it seems I'm actually here more so to teach English rather than to learn Spanish and that was not the plan! I realised that when I get back to England and apply for a job with Spanish I have no paperwork to show that I can speak it at a fairly good level. My colleague at school kindly found some information about the DELE (a Spanish internationally recognised standard - you get me?!). The exams costs €160-odd here in Melilla and across the border in Nador they charge just €45.
There's a Hungarian girl that I've met over the past few months that has lived here for a few years. She also wants to sit the exam too, although a different level, and we're going to go to Nador this Friday to hand in all the papers and get registered. The exam is in May so I'm working towards that - hopefully I'll pass although the more I study, the weaker I realise I am!
So all work and no play makes Stacey a dull girl that doesn't blog and seems to have less and less fun. I've wanted to learn to windsurf since I got here and the Hungarian girl and a few other friends are quite keen. I've been calling up but perhaps because the weather hasn't been that nice or something we just haven't got round to doing it. I hear there's a class this Saturday so this week I shall put my name down so that outside of studying languages I can do something a little different!
So that's what's been going on - I've not even mentioned my trip to Malaga to see Chrissy nor my school trip, nor our planned trip to Andalusia. Oh jeez - I've got so much to write about! Bare with me peeps - as always, I'm taking on too much!
I've been sorting out things for my placement in London for this summer, and applying for Masters. For any of those who didn't see on my Facebook or hear otherwise I've been offered a place on the MA in Translation in a European Context at Aston and also a place on the MA in Translation and Interpreting at Westminster. I'm trying to get things together so that I can go to London, be with Beanbag and stay in one place for once. That would be nice! So lots of organising for that as regards scholarships, living arrangements, etc.
I also have about seventeen private classes a week as term is drawing to a close and the slackers that haven't done anything all year have decided that now's the time to start learning ready for exams in June. Silly fools - Super Stacey to the rescue! It eats into my weekend but it's all baby steps to Westminster, the way I see it!
Furthermore, I've been working away in my free time (as in hours between classes) doing some transcription work for a well-reputed translation company, getting up my experience and getting closer to making Westminster less of a pipe dream and more of a reality.
Then I realised that it seems I'm actually here more so to teach English rather than to learn Spanish and that was not the plan! I realised that when I get back to England and apply for a job with Spanish I have no paperwork to show that I can speak it at a fairly good level. My colleague at school kindly found some information about the DELE (a Spanish internationally recognised standard - you get me?!). The exams costs €160-odd here in Melilla and across the border in Nador they charge just €45.
There's a Hungarian girl that I've met over the past few months that has lived here for a few years. She also wants to sit the exam too, although a different level, and we're going to go to Nador this Friday to hand in all the papers and get registered. The exam is in May so I'm working towards that - hopefully I'll pass although the more I study, the weaker I realise I am!
So all work and no play makes Stacey a dull girl that doesn't blog and seems to have less and less fun. I've wanted to learn to windsurf since I got here and the Hungarian girl and a few other friends are quite keen. I've been calling up but perhaps because the weather hasn't been that nice or something we just haven't got round to doing it. I hear there's a class this Saturday so this week I shall put my name down so that outside of studying languages I can do something a little different!
So that's what's been going on - I've not even mentioned my trip to Malaga to see Chrissy nor my school trip, nor our planned trip to Andalusia. Oh jeez - I've got so much to write about! Bare with me peeps - as always, I'm taking on too much!
Thursday, 10 March 2011
English Spain or Spanish England?
At the end of January there was a Bank Holiday weekend and, ready to do anything but stay in Melilla, Annalisa and I decided to accompany our Welsh friend over to the peninsula. He's been living in Melilla for four years and often goes to Malaga to do a spot of shopping, etc. This particular weekend he was going to pick up a friend that was coming to stay with him in Melilla for a week or so. We were lucky enough to leave the day before him as we didn't have to work and he did. We went to the port and bought our tickets all on our own like two very big, grown up girls (last time we needed the Spaniards to show us how to do it) and before we knew it we were on the boat heading to the Malaga for a spot of touristicy shiznick.
Now last time we had the luck of being blessed with bad weather and complementary cabins but this time we were in the dreaded 'butaca'. Basically a standard seat. Pft, don't go thinking it's not that bad - love to see you try and travel over night in a standard seat! We made a beeline direct for the seats before anybody else could nab the best ones, or families full of screaming kids settled next to us. So we were settled down for the night with cheekily three seats between the two of us, loading up one seat with our bags so it would be oh, just such a nightmare for us to unload that seat for someone in the middle of the night when they foolishly decided to settle down at a stupid hour. Yes... We had one up on the Spaniards. England 1 - 0 Spain! We had taken blankets with us as we'd been warned that the boat gets cold at night. I took my computer so we could watch a few episodes of our beloved Salvatore brothers in The Vampire Diaries (Cronicas Vampiricas - we watch it in Spanish ;-)) before getting as much shut-eye as possible in order to visit Malaga to the max.
Had a film been made of us sleeping that night the soundtrack would be that of Benny Hill. We were shuffling and shifting all night, whilst the people behind us were shouting at the guy in front of us for making too much noise, drinking too much and disturbing those who stupidly thought they'd get any sleep. Needless to say we slept like hamsters at night time.
Once we arrived in Malaga we headed for the train station, not completely knowing how to get there. Luckily we'd bumped into one of our (few) friends from Melilla and got accompanied to the train station! We were heading for Torremolinos, where our hotel (that cost just €30 each for two nights), that had been recommended to us by our Welsh friend, was waiting for us. A 20 minute train journey later and we placed our feet on the tackiest, Spanish town I've ever seen. There were karaoke bars, Indian restaurants and typically English bars on every corner - a real invasion by the English. We checked in to our hotel that turned out to be perfect despite our doubts and crashed out for a few hours. When we woke up we wandered around this Spanish/English town, grabbed a korma whilst being pestered by the most awkward waiter known to man and headed back to our hotel ready to attack Malaga the next day.
We jumped the train to Malaga and walked straight onto a sightseeing tour bus outside the train station. We managed to see all the main sites of Malaga such as the Malagueta beach and the bull ring whilst passing several orange trees (oh, I do like an orange tree!)!
Still on the bus, we meandered through what seemed to be the posh part of town, just on the sea front with some pretty awesome Spanish architecture.
But the most precious sight was when we were heading up the hill to the Castillo of Gibralfaro. Climbing up in the rickety rackety double decker bus (which really was struggling!) the trees gave way to a beautiful sight of the sea, with mountains in the peripheral and the buzz of the town amongst it all. Pretty, although I had a fight to take the pictures on a moving vehicle amongst trees so this is the best you've got!
We didn't get off but made a note that we would come back and visit the castle at a later point during the weekend. The area was preciously silent.
We were Alcazaba bound, a similar fortress to that which we saw in Granada (the Alhambra - also of Muslim origin hence the words being very similar and me probably confusing them! - I apologise in advance.). We found the ancient ruins in the centre of town, that faced out to sea and pushed our luck by trying to get in for students. We eventually just accepted the fact that we'd have to pay the full fee of €2.10 (or whatever it was!). You can take the Stacey away from the students but you can't take the student out of Stacey!
There were some gorgeous views across the town with the sun just setting and the gardens inside were gorgeous ( I felt like the girl in A Secret Garden). A photographers palace.
Now last time we had the luck of being blessed with bad weather and complementary cabins but this time we were in the dreaded 'butaca'. Basically a standard seat. Pft, don't go thinking it's not that bad - love to see you try and travel over night in a standard seat! We made a beeline direct for the seats before anybody else could nab the best ones, or families full of screaming kids settled next to us. So we were settled down for the night with cheekily three seats between the two of us, loading up one seat with our bags so it would be oh, just such a nightmare for us to unload that seat for someone in the middle of the night when they foolishly decided to settle down at a stupid hour. Yes... We had one up on the Spaniards. England 1 - 0 Spain! We had taken blankets with us as we'd been warned that the boat gets cold at night. I took my computer so we could watch a few episodes of our beloved Salvatore brothers in The Vampire Diaries (Cronicas Vampiricas - we watch it in Spanish ;-)) before getting as much shut-eye as possible in order to visit Malaga to the max.
Had a film been made of us sleeping that night the soundtrack would be that of Benny Hill. We were shuffling and shifting all night, whilst the people behind us were shouting at the guy in front of us for making too much noise, drinking too much and disturbing those who stupidly thought they'd get any sleep. Needless to say we slept like hamsters at night time.
Once we arrived in Malaga we headed for the train station, not completely knowing how to get there. Luckily we'd bumped into one of our (few) friends from Melilla and got accompanied to the train station! We were heading for Torremolinos, where our hotel (that cost just €30 each for two nights), that had been recommended to us by our Welsh friend, was waiting for us. A 20 minute train journey later and we placed our feet on the tackiest, Spanish town I've ever seen. There were karaoke bars, Indian restaurants and typically English bars on every corner - a real invasion by the English. We checked in to our hotel that turned out to be perfect despite our doubts and crashed out for a few hours. When we woke up we wandered around this Spanish/English town, grabbed a korma whilst being pestered by the most awkward waiter known to man and headed back to our hotel ready to attack Malaga the next day.
We jumped the train to Malaga and walked straight onto a sightseeing tour bus outside the train station. We managed to see all the main sites of Malaga such as the Malagueta beach and the bull ring whilst passing several orange trees (oh, I do like an orange tree!)!
(I wanna get me one of those!)
But the most precious sight was when we were heading up the hill to the Castillo of Gibralfaro. Climbing up in the rickety rackety double decker bus (which really was struggling!) the trees gave way to a beautiful sight of the sea, with mountains in the peripheral and the buzz of the town amongst it all. Pretty, although I had a fight to take the pictures on a moving vehicle amongst trees so this is the best you've got!
We didn't get off but made a note that we would come back and visit the castle at a later point during the weekend. The area was preciously silent.
We were Alcazaba bound, a similar fortress to that which we saw in Granada (the Alhambra - also of Muslim origin hence the words being very similar and me probably confusing them! - I apologise in advance.). We found the ancient ruins in the centre of town, that faced out to sea and pushed our luck by trying to get in for students. We eventually just accepted the fact that we'd have to pay the full fee of €2.10 (or whatever it was!). You can take the Stacey away from the students but you can't take the student out of Stacey!
There were some gorgeous views across the town with the sun just setting and the gardens inside were gorgeous ( I felt like the girl in A Secret Garden). A photographers palace.
(This one reminds me of Tomb Raider - anyone else?!)
(That's the bull ring in the centre - I've become slightly obsessed with them courtesy of Annalisa's influence.)
We left the Alcazaba and wandered around town aimlessly, bumping into the cathedral and popping ourselves down for a cup of coffee in a quaint little square.
Post coffee we went back to our hotel in Torremolinos, got our glad rags and joined Jason and his friend to hit the biggest club in Malaga. Nothing extra special other than the half female/half male stripper/dancer things...
WTF?!
Not that interesting but thought you might care to know that I partied as hard as I visited Malaga!
The next day, pushing ourselves to the limits we got up early with averagely tame hangovers, went to the train station, checked our bags in a locker at Malaga station and hopped on the sightseeing bus again to visit the castle at the top of town.
The bus didn't show up for ages and whilst we were waiting outside the train station in the warm sun my nostrils filled with the ever-so-sweet stench of urine. The square opposite the train station seemed to be the home for a group of homeless people. Nothing much more to say on that, other than watching them passed the 60 minutes that it took for the bus to show up. (Am I going into too much detail?!)
We climbed up the treacherous hill (in the bus of course - gotta look after these pins!) through the much preferable aroma of pine needles. We jumped off at the top and walked to the entrance of the Castillo de Gibralfaro to find a flamenco guitarist. Lovely! We were in Spain!!! We sat at the entrance for a good twenty minutes just admiring the views and listening to the beautiful sound of the guitar with the birds chirping above the busy, yet silent from up there, town below.
We explored the ruins of the castle with the absolutely breath-taking views across Malaga before heading back into the town ready to meet Jason and his friend to board the boat. Yes, our weekend was almost over already.
We walked down a gentle (Yes, Annalisa - gentle!) slope back into town, passing by some more cactae (yay! - is it cactae or cactus?!) with Arabic graffiti - I thought it was pretty cool and it just goes to show that there Arabic culture still lives on in Spain despite the Christians becoming the majority (rather than Muslims) some several hundred years ago. (I really should read up on the history of Spain - I'm especially quite interested in the dictatorship of Franco but don't seem to find the time.)
On the way down a random Spaniard (this was exactly the type of being that I loathed and unfortunately anticipated before coming to Melilla) decided to talk to us just because we were English - Malaga's not that small a city so it's not rare to come by fellow Europeans. He wisely asked us if we knew where a place was. Computer says no, mate. "Ah.. Are you not from around here?" "No." Sleazy man proceeds: "Where are you from?" Stacey: "No." Sleazy man stupidly proceeds: "Are you English?" Stacey starts to get a bit fed up: "No." Sleazy man: "Do you want €250?" Stacey getting quite used to this game: "N.... Ur... WHAT?! No, mate. Leave us alone" Incredibly generous gentleman: "Why not? Most girls want €250." Freaked out Stacey picking up her pace: "No." Insistent pest: "Are you girls crazy? Most girls would accept." Stacey, pointing to the girls in front and gradually losing her manners: "'Go and ask them then." Crazy, stupid fool, emerging a thick wad of beautiful, shiny, fresh, probably stolen 50s from his pocket: "You don't want my money?" (Eh?!?!) Stacey: 'Look mate, we've tried to tell you nicely we're not interested.' You can imagine the next batch of words that came out of my mouth and he kindly went on his way, just as Annalisa started to tell me what we could have done with the dosh. Random - was I stupid?!
After our less than pleasant encounter, we met up with our buddies, grabbed a Dominoes and sat at the port waiting to be called through. We randomly got some funny looks whilst munching our pizza, sat on the floor in the queue from the Melillenses... I guess it wasn't the typical thing to do... Still gotta adjust to this whole culture thing - is it actually possible to know all the different norms within one country and appear as a native?!
After our trip over to Malaga on the ferry we discovered (upon awakening) that it's not rude, nor selfish, nor anti-social, nor inconsiderate(!) to take up three seats in order to lie down and get a quarter decent night's 'sleep' on the boat potentially leaving others to sleep on the floor. So... That's what we did - we both had work in the morning! It's a dog eat dog world. And that's about it... An eventful visit to Malaga.
We're making our way slowly around Andalusia and will conquer it all before our time is up out here!
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