Who needs fiesta when you have siesta? - Saturday, October 1, 2011

                This week we continued our studies of EU structure, Regulation 44, and the area of freedom, security and justice. I’m finally hitting my stride, and life seems to have a familiar pattern, which I’m realizing I appreciate more than I knew. Our class schedule has no consistency; day to day and week to week it varies. We sometimes have class four days a week, sometimes one. Lecturers rotate, teaching one to three classes at a time. Some days we have class starting at 8am, sometimes it starts at 1pm, sometimes its 6pm. The one single consistency is that each day we have time for a long lunch and a siesta. I had thought the Spanish siesta was a stereotype – something like American’s love of soda and McDonalds – but it’s actually still a prominent part of the culture, at least here in Bilbao. From around 2:00pm to 4:00pm, most shops close and the streets become quieter. I personally avoid napping during this time for fear my night time schedule will be confused, but inevitably I feel a bit lethargic, as if the siesta penetrates the air itself. I appreciate the relaxation break in the middle of the day, but it’s a huge culture clash for Americans as our initial reaction is: What do you mean I can’t purchase things whenever I want or need throughout the day? and Don’t businesses lose money during those two hours? But, it’s clear that the priority here is to relax and enjoy life – something that’s exemplified through many facets of Spanish culture. My roommate, Nerea, often comes home during siesta, to eat lunch and relax for a bit. Lunch is the biggest daily meal here, and at restaurants you can usually only order the “Menu del dia”. It’s a semi-fixed menu which includes a first course, second course, desert, wine and bread. Every time I partake in the menu del dia, I tell myself not to do it again – it’s just too much food for me to eat at one time, even if I don’t eat the rest of the day. Spaniards eat out much less than Americans do, which explains why they can remain so fit despite these elaborate meals. But, enjoying the menu del dia is definitely a cultural experience, so today Jessica and I partook. We both had heavy salads as the first course, and Jess had steak as the second course. For my second course, I ate the traditional ‘squid in its own ink’ which consists of about 4 pieces of calamari steak, drowning in the blackest sauce you’ve ever seen. There’s no strong flavor, but the sauce has a uniquely rich texture. I can’t say it’s the best thing I’ve ever eaten, but it is a common local dish, and relatively enjoyable. We shared a bottle of wine, and of course ate bread, which is always fresh and delicious here. For dessert, Jess had flan and I had rice pudding – both common desserts. Needless to say, that day we went home and completed our cultural immersion by celebrating the siesta.   

sooooo muchhhhh fooooooooodddd....

that dessert was torture. But already paid for, so we ate it anyways.

Biarritz y le Pays Basque - Monday, September 26th, 2011

        This past weekend, all of the US students took a road trip to the northeast - up the coast across the French border to the little beach town, Biarritz. This entire part of France and Spain is Basque Country, a historically autonomous region that still calls for independence. Bilbao is the largest city in the region and often considered the “capital”. The Basque Country is a stunningly beautiful part of the world – we drove through mountain towns and beach resorts, passing by lush green hills and along dazzling oceanside cliffs. Basque pride permeates the area, with independence graffiti scribbled on walls and bumper stickers shaped like Basque Country overlaid with the Basque flag. Basque pride was much more overt in these areas than in Bilbao which surprised me at first. But, I suppose the big city has more diversity among its residents, diluting the culture a bit. 

A Basque Pride Bumber Sticker

The basque... something.

Ad for traditional Basque game.

Roughly translated to: "The Most Important Ingredient is the Basque Country"

      Once across the border, we stopped in St. Jean du Luc, a quaint beach town. There we wandered a bit and ate authentic, original style French macaroons that were delicately crunchy on the outside and deliciously moist and almondy in the chewy middle. Afterwards, we continued up the coast to Biarritz. We arrived late in the evening and by the time we found a restaurant, it was 10pm. Being used to the Spanish way of life where dinner is at 10pm, we didn't think much of the late hour. However, we quickly learned that dinner timing is a cultural difference between the French and Spanish, even while still in Basque Country. The restaurants had already stopped serving food and only bars were open. One kind woman offered to serve us croque monsieur from the bar kitchen, and since we didn't seem to have any other options, we settled for this quintessential French food. A croque monsieur is a simple sandwich made of ham and cheese and the four of us ordered them from our French accented waiter. I don't eat pork, so I asked if he could serve mine without the ham, to which he responded "no, eet iz impossible". We all giggled, but since any other option was impossible, I ordered the sandwich as is. It was funny to us because earlier that day, we had been discussing the use of the word “impossible” and decided it’s often lost in translation. Instead of saying, “No, I can't do that”, which is what our waiter meant, many Spaniards and French declare "No, it is impossible." We understand their message, but to us it seems dramatic and inaccurate. After all, many of the requests technically are possible. But, it’s so commonly used that I’ve started to giggle each time I hear it. A few minutes later, my croque monsieur with ham arrived and I opened it up, peeled out the ham and giggled again, thinking “Eet iz possible!"

Traditional Macaroons on the beach = yum and yay.

Kristen, about to eat her croque monsieur, and my soon to be ham-less croque monsieur.

 
The rest of our time in Biarritz, we enjoyed walking along the beach, discovering the night life, eating food beside croque monsieurs and playing in the surf. Surfing is prominent all along this part of the Atlantic coast - surfers and surfing brands are everywhere. Even in Bilbao, Quicksilver, Roxy, and Billabong are commonly worn clothing brands and easily found in shops. Biarritz was actually the first European surf spot, and surfing has become a big part of the culture there, with good reason - the surf was powerful and the waves were huge. We rented boards for an hour and played in the white wash but even that was fiercely strong. But, any excuse to get into the water is a happy one for me, and despite the slight battering, I enjoyed it. Sunday afternoon soon rolled around, and we drove back through the beautiful countryside to prepare for the week of classes ahead.

Neal, Kristen, Me and Jess along the Basque Coast.

Kristen, Jenny and Neil along the coast of Biarritz, watching surfers

The name of a random cafe

Biarritz IS a rendez-vous with the ocean!

Home, Sweet ... Is this 'home' ... ? - Tuesday, September 20, 2011

                We finished our time in Morocco and made the long journey back to Bilbao. I was actually relieved to come back to Spain after the hectic unpredictability of Morocco. As I walked down my street to my building, I thought to myself ahhhh, home, sweet… well, kinda home. Bilbao doesn’t feel exactly like home yet, but I certainly feel more at home here than in Morocco.

                Our second module began last Thursday – “Judicial Cooperation in the European Union”. This time around we have class anywhere from 2 to 6 hours per day with days off interspersed to prep for various class tasks like oral presentations, tests, and papers. This class’s focus is another topic very unique to the EU. Similar to the Regulation 44 topic I mentioned a few posts ago, judicial cooperation is the idea that in order to create a stronger union, there must be some sort of cooperation between the courts of each EU Member State. Thus, we are studying jurisdiction, the enforcement of judgments within the EU, EU insolvency cases, the structure of the EU itself and more.

                This module is much more enjoyable, and it leaves me time to actually walk around Bilbao, discovering the city. I’ve never been to Baltimore or Cleveland, but I imagine those cities to be similar to Bilbao. Bilbao is a small city of only 350,000 people, but it offers an incredible amount of public services. There’s an excellent metro system, a tram system, a public bike rental system, a bus system, free wi-fi hot spots, public gyms, tourist offices and more. The city is very clean – sometimes annoyingly so. Every single morning when I walk to class the streets have been soaked with water and I slip on the wet cobblestones in Casco Viejo, where I live. To me it seems excessive, but I suppose it also conveys the pride Bilbaoans have in their home. There are a variety of neighborhoods in Bilbao – from the quaint and sometimes gritty Casco Viejo, to the sophisticated Indauxtu, to the urban Deusto district to the shopping of Gran Via in Abando. Deusto and the Guggenheim clearly influence the city, but not so much so that they are the only personality Bilbao offers. Modern art abounds, and people range from being annoyed at tourists to welcoming us almost excessively. One day, Jessica and I stopped a man on the street to ask where a restaurant was. He not only gave us detailed directions to the one we were looking for, but also gave us nearby recommendations and then called a friend on his cell phone to get the address of a place they enjoyed. He told us in broken English “I like help when I travel, so I help you.” Getting to know the real Bilbao came later in the game than I expected – first the fiesta, then the intensive program, then Morocco – but in bits and pieces, I’m finally starting to see it and I certainly like what I see.       

View down the river Nervion, with the Guggenheim on the right

View of my street in Casco Viejo, from my room

Modern art on Gran Via in Abando

Another view of Gran Via shopping

One of the many pedestrianized streets in Casco Viejo

Another part of the river Nervion

Indauxtu

The bus, and the inspiration for this blog's name

Abando

A park in Indautxu

More adventures under the spell of Moroccan Whiskey - Tuesday, September 13, 2011

                On Sunday, we took the bus back to Marrakech, where we stayed for three nights. Marrakech was everything Essaouira was, but times 1000 and minus the beach. It’s a huge, sprawling city and compared to it, Essaouira seemed quaint. One day as we were wandering, I saw a woman dressed entirely in a birka and hijab, with only her eyes revealed. She was completely swathed in fabric to cover her body, but on her shoulder was a Louis Vuitton bag and on her feet, stilettos. The look was a fascinating juxtaposition for me, but it was also an indication of the cosmopolitan, wealthy culture of the big city. 

The view of part of the Marrakech medina from a restaurant we ate at Sunday night.

                

            Marrakech is very driven by tourism, but that seems to be a characteristic common to Morocco in general, not necessarily just Marrakech. One day when we first arrived, I sheepishly put away my map, instinctively thinking to myself that I didn't want to look like a tourist. Two seconds later I realized it was impossible for me NOT to look like a tourist here. In my jean skirt and tank top, with my fair skin, height and blonde hair, I stuck out like a sore thumb among the dark haired, dark skin-toned, conservatively dressed Moroccan women. Jess blended in more easily than I, but western dress still made our tourist status glaringly obvious. Lucky for us, tourists were welcomed everywhere we went and many locals’ clearly made their yearly income doing so.

                Upon arrival in Marrakech, our riad manager met us on the main street and took us back through the windy maze of narrow, disorganized streets to the door of our riad. When we finally got there, Jessica and I looked at each other and giggled – we both knew there was no way we would have been able to find our way through the maze on our own. The Marrakech riad was very similar to the Essaouira riad, except that this one - appropriately - had a bigger, more urban feel to it. We relaxed for a bit, then headed out to explore, taking careful notice of how to wind through the streets to get back.  

Looking down into our Marrakech riad from the rooftop terrace

                   Our riad was very close to Djemaa El-Fna, the main square in the medina. Back in the day, it was the place where­­­­ public executions took place and its name literally means "assembly of the dead". Today, it is sprawling, crowded and feels like its main purpose is to make money from tourists, though in 2001 UNESCO named it a 'Masterpiece of World Heritage'. Rows upon rows of merchants sell dried fruits, nuts, spices, freshly cooked snails, fresh squeezed orange juice, mint to make Moroccan mint tea (also nicknamed “Moroccan whiskey”), henna tattoo artists, outdoor stalls grilling up food, street performers and more. Again, the pervasive hustle made me feel like I was never quite sure what was going to come at me from where. This feeling was validated when we found the snake charmers. I'm terrified of snakes and quickly walked away, but Jess lingered, watching. Before we knew it, a man came up behind her and draped a snake over her shoulders. She smiled with joy, but I trembled in fear. As I waited for her, a man came up with a snake to drape around my shoulders: I shrieked and skittered as far away as possible. I took Jess’ picture – from a safe distance – and the snake charmer demanded 10 euros from her. She gave him 2 and we continued to wander through the rest of the square – with me on a constant vigil for snake charmers...

A view of one part of the Djemaa el-Fna

Fresh squeezed orange juice in Djemaa el-Fna

This was way too close for me to be comfortable.

But Jess loved it.

                  We spent one of our final two days enjoying the sites of Marrakech and the other taking a day trip to the mountains where we went on a beautiful hike and rode a camel. 

Riding camels - Me on the first one, Jess on the last one.

Life from the back of the camel

We hiked to the top of that waterfall!

             The cultural sites in Marrakech were enchanting, old and ornately decorated with mosaics and elaborate woodworking. We continued to meet people who happily guided us on our way, including one precocious teenage boy, Abdul, who volunteered ("without pay" he insisted) to guide us through the windy, elaborate maze of streets to find a fountain we were looking for. My guidebook said it was the first fountain in Marrakech, and a site for locals to gather to gossip and socialize. We thought we weren’t too far from it but promptly got lost trying to get there, until Abdul found us. He deftly lead us through the maze to the famed fountain … which was a faucet sticking out of a wall. A man sitting next to it saw us coming and proudly said "the oldest fountain in Marrakech!" ... but it was pitifully unimpressive, especially after we had searched so long for it. Afterwards, Abdul offered to take us to his brothers dye shop, and we soon found ourselves on another windy trail through the medina, to the rooftop of a house for a vista, and eventually to the shop, where we bought beautiful hand dyed scarves. I wondered how often this act was done, but the encounter was enjoyable and uniquely Moroccan, so I was glad we had followed Abdul. Again Abdul lead us through the maze of the medina to our riad, and then gave us his address so we could come over for tea the next day. We hugged him and off he went winding his way through the secret passage ways of the medina, understood only by the locals.
 

A courtyard in Bahia Palace

A room in the Bahia Palace

Jess and I in front of some beautiful mosaics at Ali ben Youssef Medersa

Woodworking at Ali ben Youssef Medersa

Abdul and Jessica, on the rooftop where he took us to "see the view"

Abdul's brother dressed me in a Toureg headscarf. I bought one in green, though I don't plan on wearing it this way.