more fun than mom

I had a great time hosting Alissa when she came to visit me over the past ten days. We put together this video to submit to a contest and to show you all how much fun we had.

Click here to watch the video.

Internoting

Right now I'm catching up on a couple weeks of internet usage. Here's what I'm noticing:

1. Using internet minimally during the past two weeks probably had a lot to do with how much I did and saw during the past two weeks. More posts on that later.

2. I have to register for next year's classes during my five days in Rome. How's that going to work? I don't know. And how am I supposed to plan out what classes I want next year if I don't even have anything planned out for Rome except flights and a bunk in a hostel?

3. I miss Honors Tea back at Trinity and I think one of these days I'm going to buy some scholar cookies and munch them and think. Think about this quote that was quoted in the email I just read from my philosophy professor: "We didn't get into teaching to make trains of thought run on time."

4. Speaking of running on time– Happy (belated) birthday Grandma! I love you!

note to self

Rebecca-

Take a siesta today. It is about time.

-Rebecca

Why I think I have a right to call Sevilla home:

Everything looks familiar.

A pigeon pooped on me.

Seeing couples making out at the park doesn't phase me.

I didn't get lost on the way to the convent. Or on the way to the park.

The other day I was sprawled out on my bed, gazing up at the northwest corner of my room, and I thought to myself, "I feel at home."

I am a member of Club Día, which means I have a little tag on my keychain that gives me discounts at my favorite grocery store.

When I travel, it's easier to say "go home" instead of "go back to Sevilla."

I have been here two months, and I have two months left.

I suddenly realized I have hardly blogged about Sevilla, because it feels like just routine.

I can maneuver the sidewalks at rush hour.

I am hosting a guest: Alissa!

Estudiante andante. The traveling, walking, wandering student.

From the last chapter of the first book of Don Quijote de la Mancha, by Miguel de Cervantes: "Es linda cosa esperar los sucesos atravesando montes, escudriñando selvas, pisando peñas, visitando castillos, alojando en ventas a toda discreción, sin pagar ofrecido sea al diablo el maravedí."

Loose translation:

"It's a beautiful thing to be traveling through the mountains, looking forward to the next thing that just happens to come along, surveying the jungles, treading rocky crags, visiting castles, and staying the night in all qualities of hostels, trying to save euros as if spending them pleased the devil."

That's what Sancho Panza said. He's Quijotasizing, and so am I. Traveling around the Iberian Peninsula will do that. I've fallen in love with being an estudiante andante. Sure it's not very down to earth. Neither was Don Quijote. Sure, it's exhausting. Learning is.

I'm learning a lot. Last weekend we went to Toledo. I learned that, like El Greco, I am more partial to the life of the monastery than to the life of the cathedral. I learned that, like Toledo, it frustrates me to feel like my best is in my past. I learned that, like the knife vendor, I don't have to worry– I will have food to eat.

I discovered I have some amazing friends. This weekend's trip was a whole-school-in-a-charter-bus trip. I got to know some people that I hadn't. I found out I had judged some people unfairly. We played cards. We talked for hours. I realized how much I will miss these people.

Yes indeed. I won't just miss the adventures, the excitement, the newness. I will miss my friends. But it's worth it. Es linda cosa.

a typical week

Life's found a rhythm,
a very fast beat.
Here's what I do
in a typical week:

Lunes, the first day
on a calendar in Spain,
to school, where I try hard
to put Spanish in my brain.
That day is Sevillanas,
a class to learn to dance.
I realize every week I really
haven't got a chance.

Martes, class again,
and we start to make our plans,
book hostels, check bus schedules,
to see all that we can.
That night I usually skype
with a good friend of mine,
reflect on what's been going on
and wish I had more time.

Miércoles, a good day,
the middle of the week.
classes, homework, travel-planning–
all are at their peak.
In the afternoon we practice
two languages of songs.
At seven (still called afternoon)
our friends come join the throng.

Jueves feels like Friday
on a typical week aquí
because so very often
we have the Friday free.
That day I walk an hour
to a convent where kid's stay.
Sister Gema's like their mother
and I just go to play.

Viernes, half the time,
is a day that I have off.
So we get up extra early
and head to the bus stop.
With passport, camera, pajamas
and a bocadillo in my pack,
we're seeing as much of here
before we must go back.

Sábado I wake up
in some comfy hostel bed.
We breakfast, strap our packs on
and to the sites we head.
We walk to where we want to.
Sometimes we take a bus.
We shop at mercadillos.
We're happy to be us.

Domingo in Sevilla
is a true day of rest.
We worship in a packed house
Half locals and half guests.
If we're out somewhere traveling
Sunday's the day to come back.
Exhausted, I do my homework,
talk to my roommate, and unpack.

Life's found a rhythm
a very fast beat
That's studying in Spain
on a typical week.

Portugal

"Portugal!"
That's what we said
as we continued to head
west in order
to cross the border
to leave Spain
and enter another domain.
"Portugal!"
That was our battle cry
each time
we stepped on the gas
in order to pass
some car insufficiently fast.

Portugal is where four friends (Rachel, Rebecca, Jen, and John)
spent four days (Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday).
We went to Lagos, Lisboa, Sintra and Évora,
and lots of other pueblos in between,
since we had a rental car, and a lot of curiousity.

See my Tabblo>