Andalucia, Part 2a: Getting to Sevilla

In retrospect, the point at which my dad said, "Sevilla is a pretty big city, isn't it?" and I replied that I thought it was the third-largest city in Spain should have set off some alarms--after all, the only map we had with us was a tourist map of Sevilla proper. But no alarms sounded in any of our heads, and we drove on, blindly following the road signs that continued to say "Sevilla." The thing is, though, while Sevilla is actually the fourth-largest city in Spain (by population and area), it is still a wreck to drive in, and we found that out the hard way.

It took us about two and a half hours to drive the 250 km between Granada and Sevilla, and as we reached the outskirts of the city we decided it was best to call the hotel and ask for directions. So I called and told them we were on the highway, and asked how to get to the hotel. Her reply: take the SE-30, head toward the center of the city, park in the parking lot for El Corte Ingles (a giant department store chain), and call back. She emphasized that last part, which sounded a little weird to me, but the rest of the directions seemed reasonable, so I agreed and hung up. Well, we got to the SE-30, but the options for which directions to go were not quite clear, I think they were something like "toward Córdoba" and "toward Cádiz." Mind you, these are both cities that aren't actually anywhere near Sevilla (check a map), so we just picked "toward Cadiz" and went with it.

Looking back, that was the right choice, but we didn't know it, nor did we know exactly where we were heading. I assumed (quite wrongly) that by the simplicity of her directions, it would be a fairly self-evident route, but what it actually was was the beginning of what would be the most lost I've ever been in my life. The problem was this. The SE-30 is a loop, much like the 610 around Houston. Those of you familiar with Houston, imagine this (the rest of you, do your best): you're driving into Houston from, say... Austin, and you need to get to... I don't know, the University of Houston. So you call, and they tell you, "ok, get on the 610 and go toward the center of Houston, and park in the Macy's parking lot" (I don't know if there is actually a Macy's in Houston, but let's pretend there are some). But of course, when you get to the 610, there aren't any signs that say UofH, or downtown Houston, instead they just say north and south. That's basically what happened to us, and it turns out that we were supposed to do was drive halfway around the loop and then head for the center. But we didn't.

Sooo.... after thinking we were lost and calling the hotel again without getting any useful information, we went back to where we entered the city at first, where I went into a restaurant to ask for directions. What ensued was a frenzy of yelling and discussion as everyone in the restaurant (all related or regulars, it looked like) starting worrying about the apparent predicament we were in ("We're not even on this map right now!" one of them exclaimed as they looked at the city plan I had brought in with me). Finally, after 5-10 minutes, I got what resembled a set of directions that I could follow. However, at the end of it all, I mentioned the SE-30 that the hotel receptionist suggested, at which point the woman giving the directions exclaimed, "The SE-30?? Why would you go that way?"

Well that put us into a predicament, two conflicting sets of directions. After discussing the issue with my parents, we decided to call the hotel... again. A new receptionist answered this time, a guy, apparently they changed shifts. I tried to describe where we were, to which he replied (also with astonishment in his voice) that we were still well outside the city proper, and we should continue driving toward the city, all the way to the center, then park in the Corte Ingles parking lot, and ask someone on the street for directions. (Yeah, good sign when the hotel receptionist can only give you directions partway.) So on we pressed. In not to long we got to the Corte Ingles though, and then pulled over to find the parking and eventually the hotel. But it was not to be, unfortunately because we didn't get to THE Corte Ingles, only A Corte Ingles. Ya, both receptionists neglected to inform us that there were multiple Corte Ingleses in Sevilla. After asking a taxi driver, though, we figured that one out and were on the road again.

I'm not going to describe everything that happened next, because I don't think I can remember it all, but basically it was a series of pulling over and asking someone on the street how to get to the Corte Ingles, the person on the street freaking out over how complicated the directions were going to be, and in the end having the person giving us directions partway and telling us to ask again. Finally, finally, we got to the Corte Ingles, called the hotel again to confirm, and then parked and unloaded the car, ready to walk to the hotel.

However, getting to the hotel on foot didn't end up being a particularly easy feat either. One of the primary reasons for this was that there was a THIRD Corte Ingles, which no one thought to tell us about. Finally, we got to the hotel by asking a woman in a market stall, who spoke to the hotel receptionist via my phone, then drew the directions on our map. The best part was, though, at the end, the street out hotel was off of was called "Amor de Dios", or "Love of God." So, at the end of reviewing the directions with me, the woman finished with "...y luego, pregunta para Amor de Dios,", which at first listen, sounded to me something like "and then, for the love of God, ask someone!" Of course, the subtleties of por and para in Spanish, as well as the lack of article before "Amor de Dios" change the meaning of the sentence a bit, but still, it was funny to me. So yeah. Not long after, that, we did get to Amor de Dios, and then the hotel... two hours after we first hit the outskirts of Sevilla! (Remember the 2.5 hours I said it took us between Granada and Sevilla? Yeah... another 2...)

Yeah, so that was an ordeal. Even writing about it exhausts me enough to want a drink. Again in retrospect (gotta love 20/20 hindsight) we could have done a little better had we looked some things up before we left. But even so, not knowing there were 3 Corte Ingleses, and not getting any real help from the hotel contributed to the issue. But in the end we made it. And the rest of the time in Sevilla was great. I will recount all in Part 2b. For now, I tried my best to create our route...


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Television

I'm not the biggest TV watcher in the world, but everyone tells me that TV is very useful in learning a language, and I am a big fan of productivity, so I suppose I can make the sacrifice. I still don't watch any vast amount, but I've watched enough to realize that TV is pretty much the same everywhere. At home, I think people are fairly aware that we stole shows like The Office and Big Brother from our buddies across the pond, but I was definitely not aware about how much it goes the other way as well. For example:

• Survivor --> Supervivientes
  
• America's Got Talent --> Tu sí que vales
• American Gladiatos --> Gladiators (in Britain)
• Don't Forget the Lyrics --> Al pie de la letra
  
• Ven a cenar conmigo --> Come dine with me (Britain)
  (Actually, I don't know who copied who there)
• America's Next Top Model --> Supermodelo 2008 (way cooler, there are men, good looking men)

Isn't it comforting to know that they've copied some of the best shows from the US? They also have an American Idol equivalent, complete with two male judges and one female, although there isn't quite a Simon. The one that really gets me though, is that tonight, Ugly Betty (simply called Betty, here) premieres in Spain. In case you didn't know, Ugly Betty is actually based off of a Colombian TV series called Yo Soy Betty, La Fea (I am Betty, the ugly one). Yeah, so Spain is going to dub an American TV series that is based off of a TV series made in a Spanish-speaking country. But that's not all. Making things even more ridiculous, Spain already has a TV show, filmed in Spanish, produced by Spanish producers, that is based on the same Colombian TV show! Yeah! It's called Bea, with the same premise as the other two. Isn't that crazy? I think so. Well, anyway, back to some TV watching. Sevilla and Córdoba are still on deck, I promise. They're gonna be good ones, too.

Andalucia, Part 1: Granada/The Alhambra

Our trip to Andalucia (the autonomous community in southern Spain) took us through 3 cities: Granada, Sevilla (for some reason called Seville in the US) and Córdoba. It was a whirlwind trip, trying to hit these three cities in 4 nights/4.5 days, but we did it, and we saw a lot of amazing things. Anadalucia is interesting to me in two ways. First, is the fact that it is heavily influenced by Moorish history. Granted, at the height of Muslim influence, I think they had control of about 80% of Spain, but here in Catalunya at least, people have mostly shaken that off and taken back their Spanish (or Ancient Roman) pride. In southern Spain, though, old mosques and other major Muslim constructions are major tourist attractions. In fact, the Alhambra, a giant palace built for the Muslim sultans in the late 1300s, is the most visited single site in all of Spain.

That's not to say that people in Andalucia aren't Spanish. In fact, the second attribute that I was going to note about Andalucia was that it fulfilled what I think is the typical foreign perception about Spain. A lot of my friends at work from other parts of Spain feel a bit of embarrassment when we talk about how the rest of the world thinks of bulls, flamenco, sangria and siestas when they think of Spain, but in Andalucia, they kind of live that up. (That's not to say that sangria and siestas aren't enjoyed where I live, but having the bull as an image of Spain is definitely a sore point.) "Down South," though, there were bulls everywhere, giant wooden "bullboards" along the road*, ads for the bullfighting season, bull stickers on cars, etc. I guess historically speaking, Andalucia has pretty much always been a part of Spain, whereas Catalunya was essentially its own country until the expansion of the Spanish Empire under King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella--the ones that sent Columbus off to India-I mean, the Americas--in the late 15th century.

[*yeah, stole that pun from my dad, so blame it on him]

Anyway, so stop #1 was Granada. We were only there for one night, with the main objective being seeing the Alhambra. The grounds of the Alhambra have lots of different gardens and buildings and are mostly open to anyone. However, there is one section, the Palacio Nazarines, that requires a special ticket for entry, with a time slot on it, and because of the popularity of the site, these tickets usually have to be booked in advanced. Our ticket was for 9:30 a.m., so we were counting on spending a few hours walking around and leaving around 1, just in time for lunch. I neglected to do my research, however, because the Alhambra covers about 142,000 sq. m, about 35 acres, in total, and in the end we were there for about 6 hours, just walking around. It was truly amazing though. It's basically the effect of size times attention to detail, because I could imagine carving something nice, and I could image building something big, but something that nice AND that big, that many years ago... dang. So... how about a tour?

An intricate archway inside one of the buildings of the Palacios Nazaries (the special ticket part).

Close up of some of the carving. Not from the same archway, but typical.

Mama and Papa Schor under an arch.
Patio de los Arrayanes. I overheard a tour group leader tell her group that this spot was the best place to take pictures from within this patio, so I did.
More cool tile close-ups.

Finally outside of the Palacio Nazaries, the Partal. It's another palace.

The ticket to the Palacio Nazaries also gave us access to the Generalife, which was another palace, I think the "summer palace." (Really? A winter and summer palace? Within 200m of each other?) These were the gardens of the Generalife.

View back at the Palacio Nazaries from the Jardines del Generalife. That's me in the foreground, in case you weren't sure.

Ok... well... that was Granada. Episode 2: Sevilla, coming up next.

Maybe I'm Mexican

Ok, I have lots to update, but I'm just going to jot down a few thoughts instead. My parents were here for the last two weeks so we went carousing around southern Spain and I'll write all about that soon. But for now, just a few funny experiences, involving some Spanairds that apparently don't think I'm very American. The first was my officemate Marta, who, during lunch earlier this week, declared that I'm the most Mexican-seeming American she's ever met. (The same Marta who told me, on my first day at work, that I spoke like a Mexican.) We tried to get her to elaborate, but she just kept saying, "oh, like in everything, your attitude, I don't know." I don't know, either. If it helps, at the time I was giving a mini-discourse on hot peppers and chocolate...

The next interesting tidbit happened last night, at a mini-party my roommates and I had. (I suppose it was a substitute for the housewarming party that we never had, but actually, I don't really know what the reason was.) Actually, gonna be honest, I'm only writing this next one because it made me feel cool, and I want to brag about how cool I am. So we had this party and each of the 3 of us invited 4-5 friends (I should one day describe my apartment and living situation, if I ever have a weekend where I don't travel or something). And at the party I met one of my roomate's friends, who at the end of the night declared that I was the coolest American he had ever met, because I was outgoing and down-to-earth. YESSSS. Plus there was even another American girl (an intern from MIT, in fact) at the party, and I won out over her. Sweet! Haha yeah actually he also asked me earlier in the night if I was Mexican at all, but I promised that I wasn't. I dunno, I guess San Diego is almost Mexico. But I really don't think we have the same attitude as Mexicans. Maybe Baja. Meh, whatever. I'm the coolest American in Spain. Ok, maybe I stretched that a little. No, no, it's definitely true.