El viaje a Málaga

After three and half days of living out of a suitcase, we were ready to settle down.

We piled onto the bus bright and early, once again closing curtains, playing iPods, and wearing shades, hoping to sleep for part of our seven hour trip south. For the first half of the ride, I slept fairly well, putting myself in a Gaga-coma that carried me many miles down the road. Before you start hatin' on me for being inauthentic with my music while in Spain, I need to tell you that since arriving in Spain, I have heard almost exclusively produced music. Everywhere you go, Rihanna, Ke$ha, Gaga, and Beyonce follow you--even to the discoteca. Earlier today I watched a rough-looking Spaniard walk by my bus stop while playing Evanescence on his phone. Gaga is very español.

Eventually, however, the landscape become too exciting for me to stay in oblivion. Southern Spain is full of mountains and mesas, and covered in olivos (olive trees). Nothing but olive trees could thrive in the sandy soil, and the farmers have taken advantage of that fact. As we traveled we saw snow capped mountains in the Sierra Nevada range and abandoned buildings that looked as though that had been built hundreds and hundreds of years ago. I felt awed as the landscape continued to impress.

We took two breaks as we traveled, one around eleven and another around two for lunch. In America, breaks on bus trips usually last about ten-fifteen minutes, and maybe twenty-five, if it is time for lunch. However, in Spain, that would be simply impossible. We ate lunch at a rest stop in the nicest rest stop restaurant I have ever seen. We ordered el Menu del Dia which includes two courses, bread, drink, and dessert for an economical price. In what was becoming a pattern, Jen, Rubia, and Alejandro and I sat together. By the time this meal had ended, we had already been at the rest stop for over an hour and fifteen minutes. Oh Spain...

By the time we arrived in Malaga, everyone was pretty giddy. I felt nervous about meeting my Senora, my mom while I would be in Malaga. As we drove through Malaga towards the Cathedral, I noticed that Malaga was much different from the other cities we had visited. The buildings were more modern than that of Toledo but less cosmopolitan than those in Madrid. There were palm trees everywhere, and the whole city felt like it was dragging us to the sea. Our first view of the sea from the outskirts of Malaga got us more excited than anything else on the trip.

When we pulled up at the Cathedral, the Senoras were all lined up, ready to whisk us off to their casas. We looked out the bus windows, sizing the Senoras up. I hoped that Matt and I would not get the grouchy looking one standing by the bus door. Our director Heidi dismissed us from the bus a casa at a time. She introduced Matt and I to a dark haired woman standing in the back, and we gave one another the customary "dos besos." She asked me if I spoke Spanish. I said yes, and the Sra next to her told her how lucky she was.

Sra Maria Teresa Borrego Martinez led us to a taxi (my first taxi ride!) and directed the driver to take us to la Calle Santa Cristina. Senora spoke with me a little, and I found her strong Andalucian accent a bit difficult to understand. Andalucians do the ceceo where c's and z's sound like "th," drop a lot of s's at the end of words, and often drop d's, g's, and b's out of words. I have been working on developing this accent, but it is not the easiest thing to do! I was thankful that Srta Forrester's Phonetics class had prepared me for this accent, so that this was not the first time that I had heard it.

Upon arriving, we got out and wheeled our maletas to the building and brought them up the elevator to the fifth floor. Sra's apartment is quite spacious with two sitting rooms, one-and-a-half bathrooms, a kitched, a dining room, a terrace, and three bedrooms. Matteo and I share a bedroom and a bathroom. Our new mom gave us keys, showed us around, and encouraged us to unpack so that we could put our suitcases in her storage unit on the roof. When I called her Senora, she quickly corrected me and said to call her "Tere" which she pronounces like "TAY-day."

After unpacking, Tere asked us if we had brought computers. We were thrilled to find out that Tere has wireless internet, and she gave us the clave (password). Tere showed us around her apartment which is filled with art, books, and antique Arabic weapons. She told me that she is part Castillian and part Arabic. Her whole family has been in the military, and they own an art gallery somewhere. She is so cool.

We went to the beach after that and loved it. El Mar (Sea) Mediterraneo is cold cold cold, but the sun is also hot hot hot. To get there, we have to walk out our apartment door, cross the road, and sit down. Yes, we live that close. The beach by us is called La Playa Malagueta, and it is fairly popular. Tere told me that she goes there every day. I think that I probably will too. The darker I get, the more I will blend in with the Spaniards.

That night, Tere made us a bocadillo con jamon y huevos and patatas fritas with a little cup of flan. We would later discover that a sandwich, chips, and flan or yogurt would be the standard dinner for each night. After dinner, Matteo and I were really tired so we just got in bed and fell asleep around ten. Spanish night life would have to wait for another night.

Falling asleep to the sound of the waves hitting the sand is consistently amazing. La vida es brillante.


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