Hola from Santander

Traveling – Rally Catalunya and Red Bull Air Race

By Megan Rotondo

The weekend of October 2-4 was the date for Rally de España, a World Rally Championship (WRC) event, the highest level of car rallying. The hills and mountains of Catalunya provided the winding tarmac stages (the course the drivers take; there are three different stages per day over three days in Rally Catalunya) and sunny Salou the service park area, where the teams have their garages to work on the cars. It also happened that October 3rd and 4th were the dates for the Barcelona (about one hour from Salou) Red Bull Air Race, where tiny one-seater racing planes zoom in and out of giant inflatable gates on a timed course. Like a car rally, competitors go one at a time through a stage and times are compared at the end of the stage to determine who is fastest.

Now, due to the extreme proximity of these two exciting events, a group of us got together, pooled our money and rented a car so we could visit Barcelona, watch a WRC Rally, and see the Air Race. Since only two of us (one of which was me) were really interested in the Rally, only one car made it to the Rally on Friday. To accomplish this, as Barcelona is six hours away from our home of Santander, we left at 2am and arrived at the first stage, La Mussara, just as the first cars were lining up at the start.

After the first stage we jumped back in the car and rushed to the next stage. This turned out to be a much better viewing area for spectators, as we were up on a natural ledge and could watch as the cars went around an S-bend coming up a hill. One driver even stalled out in a ditch coming into the turn right in front of us. Also, Petter Solberg, the WRC Champion in 2003, did a little drifting around this corner.

After the excitement of the day we drove over to Barcelona where we were staying with the other people who had driven to Barcelona on Friday. We stayed in a hostel Friday and Saturday night in Barcelona. Most people wanted to go out in the legendary party city of Barcelona, but I really wanted to sleep since I had been up all the previous night. So, my night in Barcelona was spent cuddled up in our tiny hostel room.

The next day, the Air Race didn’t start until 1pm, so a group of us went exploring the city. We visited the Gaudi houses and the famous unfinished church, La Sagrada Familia. After grabbing sandwich making materials (for 80 centimos!) at a local grocery store, we left for the Air Race early to get a good spot. This turned out to be a wise decision because the crowds of people were just starting to filter out onto the beach when we arrived. The weather was sunny and warm and we got a spot about 10 feet from the shore. With this we sat down with our sandwiches and proceeded to be amazed by the stunt planes and helicopters that made up the pre-race show.

After all of these pre-race expositions, the race, which was only qualifying, started around 3:30pm. Although I had never heard of the pilots or seen any of their previous races… I felt myself picking someone to root for. There were a few pilots from the United States and the booklet for the race had the bios of each. So I picked one guy from Texas who was doing pretty well in the race.  Granted, it was only qualifying, but the excitement was still there. We were seated right where the planes had to loop upside down to reverse direction and it provided a great view of the race.

We stayed at the air race until the very end, as watching racing planes zoom around a course over open water never seemed to get old. They also had another intermission during qualifying where more exhibition planes and helicopters performed. One helicopter, to my absolute amazement, actually flipped upside down a couple times. After leaving the air race we wandered around Las Ramblas and looked for a place to eat. We ended up at a pizza place that was dedicated to the films of Quentin Tarantino and shared a good meal with the whole group that came from Santander.

Sunday morning dawned bright and early for my car, as once again, me and one other person were the only ones who really wanted to see the rally (although the others had shown interest before, apparently the party scene of Barcelona captured their complete attention). We had to miss the morning stages due to their extremely early start, but we headed to the service park to catch the teams, drivers, and more importantly, the cars. I was impressed by the friendliness of the some of the drivers. Petter Solberg and Henning Solberg both got out of their cars and came right over to sign autographs. The main contenders, in first and second place in the championship, barely made an appearance. Danny Sordo was the local hero and therefore came out at a specified time to sign autographs for his Spanish fans. I happened to catch this spectacle and watched as his fans screamed and begged for autographs.

After the service park we headed straight for the second stage of the afternoon. However, we got completely lost and got there a little late. Despite my best efforts running most of the kilometer that separated our car from the rally, we missed the first two cars. It was a very interesting section, however, because the road went from gravel to smooth tarmac. It was interesting to watch how the cars transitioned. After watching the cars go by for about a half hour, we headed back to pick up our friends in Barcelona and head home.

Overall, the trip was very exciting. This is one great thing about being in Europe: you get to experience things that never or rarely make it to the United States. WRC doesn’t have any races in the U.S., therefore this was my only chance. Also, the good thing about driving there was I got to see the Spanish countryside. We drove through a very desert-like climate on the way home as well as along the coast. We also learned that the truck stops along the side of the road are not as big or grand as the ones in the States, and traveling on toll roads can be quite expensive here. We traveled 90 km on one of the major highways and it cost us 26 euro! I think that although it can get expensive, driving around Spain is a great way to see the country. My next motorsport destination? Formula One race in Barcelona in May 2010!

Start from the start

By Megan Gray

Well, it is currently beginning of November but I am going to start at the beginning, way back in August. I arrived in Santander August 3^rd, the day before the first day of the Spanish classes. The trip over is pretty rough so I would recommend anyone who wants to do this to give yourself about 2 days in the city before you actually have to do anything. The Spanish class in August was really good, but very small. There were only 10 of us in total and near the end people started to leave early. They were excellent though, the teachers were both really funny and great and since each class only had 5 people in it, it was really easy to talk and get to know people and ask random questions that popped up.

During that time we also had a guide hired by the school to show us around the city and plan activities for us. His name was Eduardo and he was a lot of fun. The first day he showed us around the city and did a tour of all the useful places to know, like the best supermarkets, where to get a phone, stuff like that. We also went to the beach a lot, there are tons of different beaches and he showed us a couple of them. We went for churros and chocolate, multiple times, it was fantastic each time.

We all started off with host families, I stayed with mine for a month. Mine wasn’t really a family though, she was a 67 year old divorced woman who didn’t speak a word of English. She was very nice and a very good cook (be forewarned that they use a ton of oil here!) however she was definitely not shy. She liked to undress out in the open as she was talking to me in the evening, so she would be taking off her dress while standing in my doorway before heading into the bathroom. Kinda weird.  Also, most of the host families didn’t have Internet, it doesn’t seem as popular over here except among the students.

The city is beautiful though. There is a bay and a ton of beaches that you can wander along. There are a lot of older buildings. The streets are small and some of them are cobble stones and you can’t tell they are roads, so you will be walking along and all of a sudden a car comes up behind you. There is a very large hill in the middle of the city. The school and the bay are on opposite sides of the hill. My host mom’s house was also on the other side of the hill, so I had to hike up and down the hill a few times a day while living with her.

Exploring my new city

By Megan Rotondo

The picture above is taken from right outside the city (you can click on it for a larger version). It’s about 5 miles on “el camino peatonal,” which is a pedestrian walkway along the water, from my apartment. You can see the beautiful jagged cliffs that make up this side of the coastline, then the main beach of Santander, Sardinero, then the city itself with misty mountains behind. The Faro de Cabo Mayor mentioned in the caption is a modern looking lighthouse that I believe, also serves as an arts gallery. I didn’t actually get to go inside the lighthouse, as it was closed, but from what I could see from the giant windows, it has a very contemporary styled interior.

My excursion also included walking out to the edge of each of the cliffs and looking out onto the expansive blue. Past the lighthouse, there appeared to be a monument of some sort out on the next ledge, but it seemed as if you weren’t supposed to walk out there. There was a touristy souvenir shop and cafeteria next to the lighthouse which was fenced in. If you jumped over said fence, you could continue walking out through the brilliantly green meadows and continue down the coastline. I was tempted, but settled only for a picture, not wanting to disturb the peaceful landscape (or the police if they were around).

The walkway is also dotted with hidden beaches which reside in between the rocks protruding from the shore. The first one you come to from the city is a tiny little cove with some rock ledges for sitting and a small expanse of sand for sun-bathing. You don’t get the sun the whole day though because of the cliffs that surround it. The next one you come to is much larger…and is set in a much deeper recess of the rock. The waves roll in slowly from the sea on an ever so slightly increasing slope, so the water is shallow and turquoise. It’s sand is also partially saturated with water, so it is flat and perfect for playing fútbol, which the locals do often. Once you pass this beach it’s onto the parks surrounding el Faro.

In the parks surrounding the Faro, it is just open meadow and a small forest with what appears to be a kids camp, with a treehouse and ropes course. The forest is extremely interesting because it is set in a valley in between the hills that make up the coastline and the trees are tall evergreens that look like they should be in Washington state, mixed with gnarled deciduous trees that look like they belong in a storybook. And to add to the enchanted feeling the ropes course consists of zip lines and rope bridges that connect tree to tree, as well as climbing footholds and nets. It is a child’s climbing paradise. Yet, step out of the dark forest and you immediately encounter lush open meadows and the ocean. The whole area is really quite beautiful.

After wandering around the area I started on the long walk back to my apartment. The sun wasn’t setting just yet, but the warmth of the day was fading and a cool breeze setting in. The air just held the promise of the night and as I walked back with my pictures and sun-kissed face I just had to appreciate the natural beauty of my new city. In facing the difficulties of living far from the people and places you love, it’s nice to know that here you can find a natural retreat.

Spanish living – Settling into the Spanish lifestyle

By Megan Rotondo

Spanish culture can be strange to someone from the United States. I hope to describe the particular aspects that seem foreign to me, and those that do not. Although, I believe I’ll be describing some differences between living in urban versus rural areas (I’ve never lived in a city before) and living in an apartment versus dorms or at home. So this must be taken into account as well…

The first difference I have noticed is the food. Food is greasy here! Now, it’s a bit different for me because I am a vegetarian, but the other Americans have said that the Spanish also cook meat dishes with lots of oil. Pastries are also different. I haven’t seen a single (normal-looking) chocolate chip cookie here. Except for the Chips Ahoy and Oreos that they sell in the supermarkets, the cookies are all specialty cookies here, with almonds or pecans or chocolate. And they makes lots of croissants and flaky pastries too. A favorite of mine is a “palmera con chocolate,” which is a flaky pastry in the shape of a heart (or, well, they seem to think it looks like a palm, but I disagree) covered in milk chocolate. I’m not sure if they make these in the States; if they do, I have never seen them, but now I know to look. The traditional food usually involves milk, eggs, and/or potatoes. They love putting tortilla de patata in between crusty bread and making a “bocadillo” (a sandwich). You can find this kind of sandwich in every cafe, bar, or casual restaurant. They also have many combinations of the special “jamon” (which is a type of ham) and “lomo” (a type of steak) that they mix with cheese, tomato, and/or eggs, to make different bocadillos. They also have a “bocadillo vegetal” which usually is just mayonnaise, tomato, lettuce, and sometimes asparagus, although can sometimes include tuna or any other kind of meat. So their definition of “vegetal” sometimes isn’t vegetarian.

The coffee is also a bit different. Cornell turned me into a coffee lover, and sometimes I long for a large cup of steaming hot, dark roast Gimme coffee. However, they seem to mostly serve tiny cups of espresso or watered-down espresso here. If it’s not espresso, it’s usually “cafe con leche” which is about half coffee half milk. Sometimes I believe they put more milk than coffee. My host mother served me hot milk with a tiny bit of instant coffee powder in the mornings, to go along with the ubiquitous Maria cookies. Maria cookies are an almost cracker-like flat cookie that one dips in hot chocolate or coffee. They are delicious, but after having them everyday for breakfast for two weeks, then in my piso for the next two (with jam or just plain) I think I’ve had my fill. You can buy a giant box (700 grams or four sleeves) of them for just 1.79 euro and they fly off the shelves along with the liters of olive oil.

Buying the food is also a different experience. They have main supermarkets, but also specialty shops for every different type of food. There are fruterias (fruits and vegetables), charcuterias(meat), panaderias (bakery), pescaderias (fish), and confiterias (sweets). Then, for every different household need there is a tiny little shop squeezed in-between the thousands of cafeterias (cafes) and cervecerias (bars). Shops for baby items, shops for bedding and sheets, shops for electrical supplies, shoe shops, shoe repair shops, sewing shops, fabric for sewing shops, dress shops, men’s clothing shops, and thousands more. So they are so many options for buying anything you need here, you just need to know where to look. And, if you don’t know where to look, they have megastores. These are located outside of the city center and you need to go by car or bus. The biggest megastore in Spain is undoubtedly El Corte Ingles. Imagine your local mall; now imagine that the mall is owned by one company, and that company is Corte Ingles. The different areas are all separated as they would be in a mall, but it is all the same store. They have a giant supermarket, USA-sized, and a Nordstroms-sized clothing store, then a Walmart-sized everything store. And the list goes on. Usually anything you want to buy, you can find it at Corte Ingles…for a price. While Corte Ingles is not terribly expensive, it’s by far not the cheapest place to get things. I believe that you pay extra for the convenience of knowing that you can probably find what you’re looking for. I have found, for groceries, that Carrefour Express(a smaller grocery store chain, part of a megastore chain), has cheaper spices and everyday cooking needs, while the fruteria on my street carries the cheapest fruits and vegetables. Then there is a different supermarket (once again, not USA-sized supermarket, but has mostly the same items), Lupa, that carries food items like oats, real brown sugar, and baking soda, that I can’t seem to find in the other stores. Grocery shopping usually consists of three different trips, one to the fruteria, one to Carrefour, and one to the Lupa. I don’t mind terribly, and I don’t believe the Spanish people mind either.

The hours of the stores described above, also vary from day to day, morning to afternoon, store to store. Now, after two months here, I believe I have it all straight. The grocery stores and megastores are open Monday through Saturday from 10am-around 9pm. The specialty stores are open 9am-1:30pm, then from 4:30pm-8pm, Monday through Friday. Then open Saturday mornings from 9am-2pm. The clothing stores are open the same as the specialty shops, but open back up again on Saturday afternoon…well..most of them. The candy stores and cafes are open all the time, Monday through Saturday. Some grocery stores, the smaller ones, close for siesta (2pm-4:30pm) and there are convenience stores which are open until about midnight most week nights and Friday and Saturday night. Everything is closed on Sunday. Well, except for some convenience stores, which are called Bazaars and are open mostly all day Sunday. So…yes…I believe I have it all right, quite simple, right? This was probably the hardest thing to adjust to. And I’ve spent more than one Sunday eating plain pasta or rice because I forgot there’s nowhere to buy groceries on Sunday.

Well, as I believe I have described, in probably too much detail, the food and shops here, I’ll stop for now. For my next post, I hope to talk more about the city, Santander, and especially the people that I’ve met here.

Travels outside of Spain – Belgium

By Megan Rotondo

Hola a todos!

About two weeks ago, after the end of summer Spanish classes and before real classes started, my friend Megan and I traveled to Brussels and Bruges in Belgium for a little vacation. Seeing how we’re in Europe for only a year, and it’s so easy to travel around here, as opposed to when you’re in the States, we decided we should visit somewhere interesting in Europe. Granted, we did choose Brussels specifically because it was the cheapest and most convenient flight from the Santander Airport… but we were traveling on a budget and Brussels is really interesting!

We left on Wednesday night at about 8:30pm and arrived in Charleroi airport (the Ryanair airport 40 km outside of Brussels) around 10:30pm. We were told there was a shuttle bus you can take from the airport to the train station. Then, to get to our hostel, we had to take a tram. However, as we were waiting in the shuttle bus line with other Spanish travelers, a taxi driver came up to us and offered to drive groups of 7 to the train station for the same price as the bus. As the bus wasn’t due to arrive to take us to Brussels for another half an hour, Megan and I took the bait. It turned out quite well actually, seeing how the taxi driver was blasting down the highway around 140 km/hr and got us to Brussels in record time. Once there, we had to figure out which tram to take to get to our hostel. This proved more difficult.

Everything was in French and Dutch. Megan and I know Spanish and English. People standing around the tram knew very, very little English. So… as we stared perplexed at the complicated map of Brussels’ public transportation system, a tram pulls up. Megan and I run to the tram, jump on, and ask if the driver knows any English. Thankfully, he knew a little. So I point to where we need to go..and he tells us that we can take his tram 3 stops and then it’s only a few minutes walk to the hostel. Also, thankfully, we could pay him directly on the tram, so we didn’t have to try to get tickets. After this little adventure, we finally arrived at our hostel. Now they told me the reception closed at 11pm, so I had to use the credit card I used to make the deposit to open the key box, to get my keys and instructions. However…the key box did not work. So I punched in lots of numbers and we stood sad and frustrated outside for 10 minutes, before a nice looking guy appeared and said that he worked there and they hadn’t put the keys in the drop box yet because he was still there. So we checked in for our first night.

One note about hostels though. After we checked in the hostel guy showed us to our room. However, everyone, (all 12 other people staying in that room) were sleeping already. And the guy just turned on the overhead light and we proceeded to make lots of noise trying to put the sheets on our bed and our stuff in lockers. I felt terrible about people trying to sleep with this fluorescent light shining in their eyes, but I had no other option. Thankfully we switched rooms for the next three nights we were there…so any hard feelings were avoided in the morning. In hostels you have to be quite forgiving…as you’re shoved in a room with 8 or 10 or 12 other strangers who all have different schedules.I didn’t feel quite as bad because one of the mornings we were in our different room and 4 of the people there left at 7am and they turned on the light and talked loudly and ripped the sheets off their beds without any care for the 4 other people still sleeping.

Anyway… Thursday began with us wandering around Brussels, seeing all the beautiful architecture and strange statues. We had a nice map that had interesting places to see and we walked from one to another each day. We wandered into the Grote Market by following the incredibly beautiful tower that rose high above the other buildings. This is probably the most touristy place in Brussels, but I could see why. It is surrounded by the most beautiful and intricate buildings. I am no architecture student…and could not judge them outside of my own perspective, but to me they were amazing. They had very intricate carvings and sculptures decorating every facade, as well as gilt portions shining brightly in the sun. It was a square plaza and every side had something to look at. So we stood in the middle and gaped for a bit…snapping pictures and being pretty typical tourists.

After this… we found our way to Mannekin Pis. This is a statue of a boy peeing. This is it. However, it is the tourist symbol of Brussels. There are statues, postcards, t-shirts, mugs, chocolate candies, and anything else you can think of shaped like this boy peeing. We also found out, because it is so popular here, they made two other peeing statues; a girl and a dog, which we proceeded to visit in the next couple of days. The thing with the girl is, a restaurant wanted to attract more tourists to its doors, so it commissioned a peeing girl statue right next to it. Ironically, the restaurant went out of business, but the statue is still there. I have no idea why they made a peeing dog…it was kinda cute though.

After all this, we wandered into a different part of the city searching for food. We found this wrap place that was quite cheap and really good. We even got tasty Belgian fries with our meal! Apparently Belgium is known for beer, chocolate, waffles, and fries. All of which we tried while there. Normally I do not like the taste of beer. When I had tried it before it tasted terrible to me and I couldn’t understand the intense attraction it held to college-age kids. However, we tried many different kinds of beer, as well as went to the last operating brewery in Brussels, which helped me understand a lot more about it. The brewery we went to is called Cantillion and it’s actually available in the United States. They make their beer a very old fashioned way; a very specific process. Also, I found that the beer tasted a bit more like white wine for me. They make many different types but they offered us the gueze and kriek (a fruit beer with cherries) for tasting. I didn’t like the kriek as much, because despite being a fruit beer, it had a bitter taste. It was also very red in color.

As for chocolate, we went to the Chocolate Museum next to the Grote Marketplace. There, we watched a video on how the cocoa beans are harvested and processed before being sent to chocolatiers. In Europe, they get most of their chocolate from Africa. Then we watched a master chocolatier make the outside shell for a praline, the famous treat of Belgium. Apparently, the mold is cool enough so that all they have to do is make sure the molten chocolate is at the exact temperature needed, then pour it into the mold. After pouring it in, they pour it out again, and just the right amount is left in the mold for the outside shell, stuck there by the temperature difference. Then they let it harden, pour in the mousse or other delicious creamy filling, and then cover it with yet another layer of chocolate for it to cool. The woman also informed us that real chocolate is the dark chocolate; it also consists of the cocoa powder, sugar, cocoa butter, and soy lecithin (necessary for cohesion).

For waffles, we grabbed some at a pretty touristy waffle stand near the main square. I got the traditional sugar glazed one, and Megan opted for the ice cream topped one. I have decided that real Belgian waffles are not anything like American Belgian waffles. The one we got in Belgium is more like a pastry. It was thick, heavy, probably full of butter, and there were chunks of sugar practically baked into the crevices. It was absolutely delicious. Because of this, we proceeded to get another one the next day at a special market area. You see that particular Sunday we were there it was “Car-free Sunday.” So they have all these events, which included, of course, freshly baked waffles. These were just as amazing as the first.

Fries are another famous food and there are fries stands scattered all around Brussels. We opted to try the fries in Bruges because it said on our map that there were two fry stands there that were competing for the best fries in Belgium. However…they were right in the main square and literally right next to each other. We waited in the long line in one of them (simply a random choice, they were both the same price and offered the same thing) and got………plain old fries. For a lot of money. It cost .50 euro extra for ketchup! And they were good, but, I mean, they are potatoes deep-fried in oil. Definitely not worth the wait or price. Which is why later, when we wanted dinner back in Brussels, we went back to the cheap sandwich place and got our wraps and fries for just 1 euro more than our tiny little basket of fries had cost in Bruges.

When we were in Bruges, besides getting overpriced fries, we wandered around open-mouthed at all the tiny little streets and buildings. Bruges is incredibly beautiful, with rivers flowing throughout the city, a belfry, and of course, architecturally amazing churches. There is also a little park that is on either side of a river with paths for walking, running, or biking. And there is a nunnery with flowers planted all around it. It just so happened to be sunny and warm the day we were there, and this mixed with the antiquated buildings, streets, and churches, created an almost unreal atmosphere.

Well, this hopefully gives you an idea of my experience in Brussels and Bruges. While here in Spain, I hope to travel as much as financially feasible. It’s pretty easy to get around to different countries and cities here.  Another post to follow later about my trip to Catalunya for Rally España and Red Bull Air Race. Yes, that’s right, not an exhibition, a race. With planes. Very cool.

Spanish living – my first few weeks

By Megan Rotondo

When I stepped off the plane in Madrid, two friendly faces were waiting there for me. One of them belonged to a girl that had stayed at my house for three weeks during high school as part of an exchange program, the other, to her mother. For the next few days I stayed at Ana’s house, enjoying her mother’s delicious cooking and following Ana around the city while she hung out with her friends and prepared for university. Her English was excellent, so I eased rather slowly into speaking all Spanish, all the time, because she was always there to explain. Then after 3 days with the familiar, we drove up to Santander to drop me off at my host family’s house.

Ana and her brother slumbered quietly throughout the car ride, as leaving at nine o clock in the morning is, of course, painfully early. Her mom kept giving me worried looks and saying, “No tienes sueño, Megan? Duerme!” However, I am, a morning person, ::everyone cringes:: and was fully awake the entire time. Ana’s family lives two hours south of Santander, so we were driving though the very hilly Spanish countryside and I didn’t want to miss anything. The thing that interested me most were the giant wind farms up on the hills. In my state we’re trying to get more than one wind turbine put in to offset some energy costs, however, everyone complains that it will ruin “the beautiful view.” To me, the wind farms I saw dotting the Spanish countryside seemed like these tall, brillantly white propellers revolving slowly in the distance.

Finally I started seeing lots of signs for Santander and the beach, and soon we were turning down very narrow streets, going up and down hills like a rowboat on ocean swells. After asking numerous locals to direct us to calle Tantin, we dropped off all of my things with my host mother and proceeded to go to the beach. Ana’a father is extremely animated and kept telling me little facts about Santander, why there are palm trees here (which I find very strange), when the Casino was built, that the palace serves as a university during the summer. All throughout the day I became more and more nervous about them leaving me in the strange house with a three year old and a very vocal cat.

After they left, I started to unpack a little, but just a little, because my host mom said I would be changing rooms in a few days. So with little to do I eventually left, trying to find the university and maybe a few friends. Well I found the university, and since I had brought my laptop with me, I was super excited. However, it was completely deserted. I tried to grab internet outside on the steps. No luck. It was then I realized, I am definitely not at Cornell anymore, where you can get into Duffield at any time of day, there are computer labs open 24 hours a day, and the wi-fi never turns off. Those tiny little black arcs at the top right of my computer screen would become very elusive little things for the next few weeks.

My first night was spent, well, very very hungry, for dinner wasn’t prepared until 9:30 or 10 at night. This is when people typically “cenar” because of the tradition of eating tapas and drinking throughout the afternoon. I, however, had been climbing the giant hill up to the university and wandering, slightly lost, about the city, and by that time I was quite hungry. Luckily, my host mother was quite a good cook and I usually scarfed down most of what she put in front of me. Although after every meal she insisted I ate very little. She also found it extremely strange I was a vegetarian, which became a topic of discussion at more than one mealtime.

So the next few days I spent going to Spanish class from 9am-2pm everyday, and 4pm-6pm Tuesday through Thursday. It was good however, that some of the Cornell students had been there for almost a month, and were familiar with the city. The second day I was there I went to the beach and took a tour of the city with the other students in my Spanish class. And Spanish class was very entertaining, filled with with at least a 5 minute break every hour, which the people in my class always seemed to stretch out to 10 or 15 minutes. We had taken a placement test and I was put in the second intermediate class with one other boy from Cornell, a boy and two girls from France, three German boys, and two German girls. We spent the first two hours in grammar class. Then we had a half hour break. Then a little more grammar, though the teacher could usually only squeeze, maybe, thirty minutes of productive grammar work out of us. Then we had speaking class. Then, finally, after my stomach gurgling throughout the morning, we had a lunch break from 2pm-4pm. On Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays, we had writing practice in the afternoon.

My host family was a very….interesting family. There was an older woman, her 22 year old daughter, Laura, and Laura’s 3 year old daughter, Danniella. And the cat. The cat would look at you, and if you looked back, and then didn’t proceed to pet him, he would meow at the top of his tiny cat lungs until you did pet him. He also loved rubbing himself on my suitcases, covering them in cat hair. So, oftentimes, I would enter the house, see him, he would see me, I would run for my room, racing him down the hallway, and either shut him out of my room, or spend the next hour trying to brush the long white hairs off my clothing. He was actually kind of sweet if you pet him for awhile; but if you didn’t, he could be quite obnoxious.

Then there were the vegetarian discussions at the dinner table, (well it was over our 2pm lunch, but lunch table just doesn’t sound the same). One particular day I remember distinctly. Laura was home, and my host mother had prepared a chickpea dish for me, and beef stew for her family. So as we sat there, my host mother, of course, brought up the lack of meat in my dish. Laura, however, said to me that it was terrible what they did to animals. She went on about how it really wasn’t right the way we treated them, (spoonful of beef stew) and those poor poor cows locked up, (chewing happily on beef stew). Yes, it really was quite a shame it was such tradition here (another large spoonful of beef), that so many people eat meat. It took a lot of willpower not to laugh at her hypocrisy, but she was right about the tradition here. My host mother liked to list all the traditional dishes that they cook here with meat; tradition seems quite important here. Although, tortilla de patata, is an excellent Spanish tradition, I believe, and it only contains olive oil, potatoes, salt, and eggs. My host mother made really tasty tortilla de patata and I ate it for dinner quite often.

I spent two weeks with the family before I moved out into my own apartment. Finding a “piso” here was a little difficult seeing how a lot of the good ones were already taken. However, I had been approached by two girls from France, that were wondering if I wanted to look for an apartment to share. I was thrilled because it meant I wouldn’t be moving in a random apartment with some strangers ( I had previously been looking for just a room somewhere for myself). It took six apartment visits before we found one we all liked, but we are very happy where we are. The apartments here are very cheap compared with Ithaca, and our apartment is sunny and spacious.

My first few weeks were a little rough, but very interesting and a good learning experience. My Spanish teacher said I had experienced culture shock, as Spain has a unique schedule and culture, which takes time getting used to. I think I have learned what I took advantage of in the States, and the different things that people value here.

an introduction to Megan Rotondo

As it is my first post; I hope to introduce myself and try to explain why I flew all the way to Spain for my junior year. My name is Megan Rotondo and I’m a civil engineering student at Cornell. I’m originally from Rhode Island and had lived there all my life before coming to Ithaca. At Cornell, I came in thinking I was going to major in Mechanical Engineering, but changed my mind after Prof. Tony Ingraffea’s Intro to Structures class. I also joined the Cornell FSAE Racing team my first semester and have been a part of the team ever since (and plan on going back to it after I return from Spain). I think it allows me to to a little mechanical engineering on the side…while concentrating on structural engineering in my classes.

Now, as for Spain. When I was in high school I was so excited that I was finally allowed to take Spanish. Latin had been forced upon me for two long years, and finally I was able to take whatever language I wanted (well, from the extremely diverse selection of Spanish, French, and Italian). I studied hard and landed in the AP Spanish Course my senior year. I also hosted two foreign exchange students from Spain (well I begged my mom to say yes to hosting them), one of which became a really good friend. At Cornell, I took two semesters of intermediate Spanish, and in the latter one, we actually read an entire novel in Spanish. So, with my enthusiasm for the language, I knew it would be impossible to become fluent in it without traveling to a Spanish-speaking country. I didn’t particularly want to go south, as I don’t enjoy the extreme heat and my first Spanish teacher was from Salamanca and I was taught from the beginning the Castellano. Therefore, I started looking for a program to travel to Spain. The study abroad office gave me lots of programs and packets and pamphlets and leaflets…and loaded down with glossy paper I sat down to decide. A lot of programs seemed to require lots of summer work, or going with a different university, and I wanted something a little simpler. So I went to the informational meeting about the Cantabria program. It sounded like a perfect fit, especially since I was majoring in Civil Engineering. With that I was set. By the end of freshman year I knew I wanted to go and started planning. And now, I am here, and have been here for a month. I am exploring the city, and concentrating very hard in class (as I am taking two engineering classes in Spanish, which is not required for the program, but worked with my schedule), and trying to adjust to the Spanish lifestyle.

I hope that gives you a good idea about why I came and a little of who I am. In the next few weeks I hope to describe my life here, what’s different exactly, and some of the challenges of being an ocean away from your home.