Let the Pre-Dartmouth Brain Training Begin!

{{Hoy vas a descubrir que el mundo es sólo para ti}}

My official training for my brain for Dartmouth has now begun. Starting last week, I added Catalan into my schedule and I began my classes in Spanish Cinema and Works Written by Women the week before. Now I have more work and I love it! I got to pick every single one of my classes, so they all cover subjects that interest me and I want to learn about. And it's fun because the different types of classes introduce me to a wide variety of people. All the students in French are from Barcelona, mostly in the end of their university career or adults taking this class on the side during their free time from their job. My fellow Catalan-students are all South Americans, the majority in their 20s who need to take it for university studies (since classes in universities in Catalonia can be taught in Spanish or Catalan, though you can answer in whichever language you are more comfortable working in), and some are older adults who are taking it for better work prospects. My fellow students for Women Writers and Spanish Cinema are almost all from the U.S. (a few from other countries in Europe, along with a few Japanese and Chinese, but I was surprised by how few non-Americans there are!). I get to learn about quite a few cultures every day!

My schedule, however, is slightly unevenly distributed at the moment:

Monday: French 1 (2 hours)

Tuesday: Basic Catalan (3 hours), French 1 (2 hours), 2-hour pause, Women Writers (1.5 hours, in Spanish)

Wednesday: French 1 (2 hours)

Thursday: Basic Catalan (3 hours), French 1 (2 hours), 2-hour pause, Women Writers (1.5 hours, in Spanish)

Friday: French 1 (2 hours); every other Friday I have Spanish Cinema (3 hours)

Because it's only my Tuesdays and Thursdays that are super busy, I still have lots of other days of the week to explore Barcelona and meet up with my friends from different courses. Tuesdays and Thursdays, however, are the days that most challenge my brain because of all the languages I have to run through without much of a pause. In Catalan class I'm learning Catalan, but during the pauses or when we ask a question about something we don't know, it's all in Spanish. Then I go directly to French (talking with friends in Spanish between the two classes), where we ask our questions or clarify things in a mixture of Spanish and French (as much French as possible, but it's hard!). After I have my Women Writers class, which is carried out in Spanish, but everyone speaks English amongst themselves. When I go back home, Guillem, Carla, and I speak a mixture of English, Spanish, and Catalan around the house, we watch the news in Catalan, Catalan comedy programs, a Catalan telenovela, and/or Spanish programs. Anything in Catalan has subtitles for me, but even within those programs they often switch back into Spanish when they do a political gag making fun of Spanish politics. Those are big brain-exercise days!

I'm very happy with the amount of work I'm doing. I still have plenty of time to explore the city, do my studies, and meet up with friends, balancing the cultural part of my stay here with the intellectual part. Prove that Dartmouth students can indeed do everything! ;)

The City of Gaudí

{{Has nacido artista lo sé}}

Barcelona, without a doubt, is the city of Gaudí. His works, his vision, his style, they all permeate the streets and core of Barcelona. You can feel his presence as you walk down Las Ramblas, down the Passeig de Gràcia, around la Plaça de Catalunya, in everything from the benches on the sidewalk, to the patterns on the tiles of the sidewalk pavement, to the curling, fantastical iron streetlamps, to the curving, strange, brightly-colored modernist buildings that he created. I have yet to see all of Gaudí’s creations in Barcelona, but the spectacular ones that I have seen so far—la Sagrada Família, Casa Batlló, Casa Milà, and Parc Güell—have intrigued and amazed me, and I cannot wait to go back to experience them even more.

I pass la Sagrada Família every day on my bus to el Institut Français and each time I see something new and unique in this church that I hadn’t noted before. The meanings of the variances in the styles of the different façades change each time I explore it more. It’s not something I will ever get used to seeing in my daily life; it’s just as special each time I try and find a deeper, personal meaning in this architect’s work.

The interior of Casa Batlló is something I could come back to over and over again to experience the simple beauty and well-planned architecture of the interior passageway around the stairs. It’s magnificently lit by a huge skylight, with windows to almost every room in the house set into the open space below the skylight. The windows grow smaller as you climb towards the skylight, so the upper levels are not overwhelmed by sunlight but the lower levels still receive plenty of natural light, an element so important to Gaudí. Standing in the stairwell is like standing in a column of light and water, with light shades of blue-grey-white in the lower levels that slowly give way to sky blue, then turquoise, then deep cobalt at the very top by the skylight. I could spend an entire day in that stairwell, watching how the shades of blue changed with differing intensities of sunlight.

Gaudí’s incredible use of color, his ability to craft everyday materials, such as wrought iron, into curling, fantastical shapes, his incorporation of a variety of natural shapes and textures, from waves to a lizard’s scales to the curving lines of an old, stunted tree, amazes me. The structured columns and brilliant mosaic tiles of Parc Güell fit perfectly in with the trees and winding paths, the structured elements of the park balanced perfectly against the natural ones. The curving walls and flower-and-vine-like iron terraces of Casa Milà make a large building much less intimidating than it could be and provide a bit of nature-like rest for my eyes amongst so many large, clearly mechanical buildings of the city that surround it.

An architect doesn’t create a piece for himself; he creates it for those who will see it in the future, use it, experience it, each one moved by it in their own unique manner. I feel very lucky to be able to experience the spectacular works of Gaudí over and over to continue to find my personal meaning in his work and explore the nuances of his style.

Urubamba Update

{{La chica vale un Perú}}

Hey everyone!

I wanted to put up a few photos of Uurbamba post-flooding now that the waters are down and the lives of all residents have turned to repairing, rebuilding, and attempting to move forward with their lives to a better place. There is a lot of work to be done and the government still hasn't done much for them besides make promises for future aid, but the citizens of the Sacred Valley are working together to help those who lost everything. If you look in the comments on my last post, you can see several ways to help from outside of Peru. The main one is through the Spirits of the Earth Foundation, to whom you can send a donation via PayPal. Just because the worst of the flooding has passed does not mean we can forget about the affected Peruvians; these floods were the equivalent of Hurricane Katrina for them.

PS: The quote under the photos is a saying in Spain that means that someone is very beautiful. The Spaniards said this after conquering Peru because it was beautiful and brought them great wealth (through its silver mines). So, if you are called to be of equal worth as Peru, you are very valuable and beautiful. Peru is beautiful and special, so we want to help it recover the best it can!

Emergency in Urubamba

These photos are from Emily and Kusi, two of my friends who live in Urubamba.

Hi everyone.

So this post diverges from Barcelona and takes you back to Urubamba, Peru, which desperately needs our help right now. For days now, the rains have been pouring down over the province of Cusco--67% in excess of normal levels, according to the weather service--completely flooding the region. These are said to be the worst rains in the area in 15 years, following the beginning of a wet season that was drier than normal. The government of Peru has declared that the province of Cusco is now a disaster area.

I remember how my family in Urubamba would comment that they were worried when it didn't start raining more frequently in November; then they were just worried about the fact that plants weren't getting the nutrition they needed, but now it's apparent that this left the soil dry and unable to soak up the water that begin its torrential downpour at the beginning of the weekend.

The destruction is terrible; 600 homes have been lost in Pisac, 100 in Urubamba, and at least 3,000 homeless in Ollantaytambo. The bridge over Pisac is destroyed. There is now only one bridge that goes to Cusco, and only light cars can pass over it for fear that it, too, will collapse. On the scale of all of Cusco, there are at least 13,000 people who have been affected by this flooding, 10 of them confirmed deaths, and more than 2,000 affected houses. Some 2,000 tourists are also stranded on Machu Picchu and in Aguas Calientes and are being rescued bit-by-bit by helicopters. The governor of Cusco province, Hugo Gonzales, estimated that the damages will cost at least $285 million.

The hardest part for me, however, is not simply the sheer mass of people who have been victim to mother nature's capricious temperament, but to see the pictures and know that this is happening in a place that I hold dear to my heart, a place I call home. My friends in Urubamba, all of whom, thankfully, are okay, told me that everything is even worse in Yucay than in Urubamba itself (Yucay is a town right next to Urubamba). I spent much of my time working on the stoves project in Yucay and I know all the little roads of that town like the back of my hand. Many of the houses we visited there were close to the river and it makes me incredibly sad to imagine those strong, welcoming, and kind people watch everything they know be washed away by the muddy, rain-swollen Río Vilcanota. I remember the day one woman proudly showed us her back yard, a little orchard with a gate that led you down a small slope towards the river. I can't bear to think that now that may be gone and she is one of many now living in tarp tents and hoping for help to come soon. My Peruvian stoves boss, Jaime, and his wife, Irma, were building a home in Yucay bit-by-bit, working on it during weekends and evenings off. I learned yesterday that it, too, was destroyed by the river. The streets I knew so well now covered by water, families wading through to try and save important belongings, then retreating again to higher ground, able only to watch as the flood takes its course and their house. I consider Urubamba my home, a part of who I am, and they say that everything is harder to bear when it hits closer to home.

There is some effort organized, at least, for the tourists who are trapped on Machu Picchu, as helicopters have been sent to lift them out. This aid, however, is not coming fast enough, as there are so many tourists still to rescue and their supplies of food and water are rapidly dwindling. The small towns of the Sacred Valley, the towns that I know so well, however, are still suffering and need help desperately. So far there seems not to be much international attention on the problems there, but we need to keep looking and bring the minds of the rest of the world to bear on Peru. Not just on the tourists, but on the people who have lost everything and are stranded, some even stranded from the market where they would go weekly for food, people now without potable water, close to losing power (if the water inundates the power lines any more, short-circuiting them or toppling them). Let's all please keep Peru in our thoughts and prayers and hope the rains stop so this whole mess can be figured out soon.

Sources and More Information:

Current as of 27 January 2010

El Comercio Perú (1)

El Comercio Perú (2)

La República Perú (1)

La República Perú (video/photos)

BBC (readers' stories and pictures)

BBC (with video)

New York Times

The Times London

El País (Spain)

El País (Spain, photos of Machu Picchu/Aguas Calientes)

EnPeru Blog

Sydney Morning Herald

Como Aprender Français en Espanyol...

{{Te quiero, Barcelona}}

Today marks the end of my first week in Barcelona, and every minute has been perfect. As I walk down the street, I catch phrases of Spanish (I'm back in the realm of "Castillian" Spanish, yes!), and then Catalan, around me. I love wandering the Passeig de Gràcia, Las Ramblas, L'Avinguda Diagonal, making my way down to the sea, exploring places I have only read about or seen in movies. Staring, wide-eyed, at the art around me that encompasses any view; whether it be a brightly-colored building with beautiful wrought-iron balconies, an exposition of sculpture in the middle of the street, or a curving, strange, fantastical building that could only belong to Gaudí. I'm slowly starting to accustom myself to the public transportation system--which is our metro stop, how to navigate the tramway, which buses take me to the French Institute, or downtown. Not quite perfect yet (I think Guillem is getting tired of my texts about directions, but they are getting fewer!) but bit by bit. Guillem said I could graduate to a different, easier metro stop in a month or so, once I have ours down.

The hardest part of my transition so far has been language-juggling. I have to constantly keep my brain trained to distinguish when a language switch is made. In the apartment, for instance, we operate with three different languages: Spanish, Catalan, and English, varying depending on who is talking to who. Once I've mastered some more French, some of that may be added to the mix as well! Our evening news channel is in Catalan, but our favorite program is in Spanish. With some of Guillem's friends, he normally speaks in Spanish; with others, normally in Catalan, and it's hard for them to maintain a switch to Spanish if I'm around. So I find myself listening hard to catch the words I know in Catalan, make sense of the sentences, then, when I least expect it, am surprised by a sudden switch back to Spanish.

French class so far has been excellent, though it adds another level of languages for my brain to sort through. Since the beginning it has been exactly what it promised--super intensive--with our teaching talking only in French and expecting the same from us. The only time I don't hear French in the classroom is if she has to clarify an instruction or or we don't know how to ask a question, and then we switch directly to Spanish. We're moving quickly through all the basics--first group conjugation, asking questions, numbers, introductory conversations--and I'm finding it challenging and rewarding to start working on another language from scratch again. The hardest part of French so far, for me, is the pronunciation. Nothing looks like I feel that it should sound! After so many years of having Spanish pronunciation drilled into me, it's what I want to automatically turn to. All of the native Spaniards face the same problem; today we practiced the sound of "e" for about five minutes, trying to figure out where it is in our mouth/throat to be able to replicate it later.

The other thing that I'm having to cut back on is my use of "Peruvianisms". When I went out to dinner with the family last Thursday, they immediately made fun of me for using the Peruvian favorite: "ito/ita". Cosita/cositita, ahorita, pequenita, regalito, all of these common words that I grew to love in Peru are valid no longer. Neither is chévere, the Peruvian word for "cool"; here it's "guay". No longer can I say achachao when someone makes a mistake, añañao when something is beautiful, or alalao when it's cold. But when I return home, I'll have plenty of Spain expressions to add to my list!

Adéu! Au revoir! Adios!

Benvinguda a Barcelona!

{{Vuela, vuela alto mientras puedas}}

I am now in Barcelona and starting to get myself settled in my apartment and my new city. And with the time difference; it's so strange to think that as the day is starting to wind down here, it's only just bringing out its new promises at home!

The most important thing that you must always keep in mind about Barcelona is that it is part of Catalonia first, and part of Spain second. The signs in the airport were first and foremost in Catalan, then followed by Spanish and English. When I went out to lunch with Guillem yesterday, the restaurant only had Catalan for the menu descriptions. And when we went out to dinner with his family last night, Catalan took precedence on the menu. Their language is an important part of the culture of Catalonia, especially after Catalan was so persecuted during the dictatorship of Franco. Even today, there is still political tension between extreme Spanish nationalists and Catalans regarding the amount of autonomy and power Catalonia should have.

Yesterday, my first day in Barcelona, was a busy one. After picking me up from the airport in his car and taking me to deposit my stuff in the apartment, Guillem took me on a walking tour of Barcelona. We visited my university, which is a little ways from the house, and walked down Las Ramblas (the main tourist street in Barcelona), saw lots of amazing Gaudí architecture as we walked (including the still-being-constructed Sagrada Familia), walked by the harbor, and finally to his university. My poor little feet were so tired by the time this finished!!

Yesterday we also enjoyed a great dinner with Guillem's family. It was my first Spanish meal, with croquetas, jamón serrano, and pa amb tomaquet (bread rubbed with tomato...a Catalan specialty) that we shared as appetizers, followed by me with asparagus in a romesco sauce topped with more jamón serrano. Definitely nothing bad to say about food here!!

Tonight shall be my first night getting to know people as it's a birthday party for a friend of Guillem's. But dinner isn't until 10:30...that will definitely take some getting used to!

Soon I'll put up pictures of my house and the city. Adéu!

T-9 To Barcelona

{{El tiempo vuela como vuelan los papeles olvidados}}

Somehow the time has flown, the time has come, and I am officially 9 days out from leaving the States for Barcelona. I have been home from Peru for over a month and I cannot believe how fast the time with my family has run by. Marker by marker slipped past me in revelry and festivity: one-week home, the start of my mom's winter vacation, my birthday, Christmas, various events with friends, various dinner parties and get-togethers, New Years' Eve, New Years' Day and the Rose Bowl, the end of my mom's winter vacation. I am officially registered for my classes; I am taking a course in Spanish Modern Art, Spanish Cinema, and Introductory French (yes, I know, French in Spain...). Now I have only one full week and a few days left to say my final goodbyes, pack everything, write letters to the Dartmouth admissions reaffirming my desire to attend Dartmouth next fall (a resounding "Of course!"), and generally organize myself to board that early-morning flight on out.

After one time around with packing for several months away, you'd think that I have it pretty well under control and I'd be able to whip together my bags in a snap. This, however, is unfortunately very untrue. First off, the baggage restrictions are quite different; now I can take two bags of 50lbs each, not two bags of 50lbs total. That one word-difference can really limit you!! Second off, I have to take an entirely different type of clothing with me to Barcelona than I did to Urubamba. In Peru, I lived in a small town and I spent the majority of my time up to my elbows in mud, so my clothes had to be able to withstand rough conditions. And if I wasn't working, I was just hanging out with people who saw me in my work clothes, so did it really matter that much anyway? Clearly, no. I also, if I wasn't working, was exploring the outdoors, hiking, climbing mountains, you know, the usual. In Barcelona, I am living in a big, bustling, European city that is known for its art and fashion. I will be attending classes, visiting museums, and generally hob-knobbing it in a more cosmopolitan environment. This is city living, people. Even Cusco, my Peruvian big city, does not compare to Barcelona.

So what does this mean? Well, I'm still figuring it out for my bag weight (and making sure I leave plenty of room for souvenirs to bring home, of course!), but so far it's looking like more fun shoes, dresses, skirts, and a larger variety of tops. This time, I've converted the ping-pong table downstairs into my packing station. Tomorrow I'm heading out to do some of my final shopping and the great pack shall happen next Monday.

Get ready Spain, because I'm a-coming!