el Día de Andalucía

Sevilla is a city that loves to celebrate itself. For instance, today everything was shut down because every February 28, the city boasts its pride. Nonetheless, it was 75 degrees and I spent the day in the sun. 


About a week ago, this same pride surfaced in the Sevilla Flower Festival. Along la Puente de Isabel II, which I cross every single day to get to class, there were a bunch of gardeners making floral arrangements in umbrellas to hang over the river. See below:

Please respect me, I have feelings.

Additionally, the flower fever spread to a patio in my university: 

Pretty, yes? Little things like this pop up in Sevilla all the time - it really emulates the simple nature of the city and its tendency to just want to show beauty in life. 

Other little things, like the message I got from my friend Ben the other day, brighten my day and also crack me up. He proceeded to ask me if I filter information on my blog to make it seem different. Well, no. I promise I don't tell lies. 

Also no one has called me 'cats' in a long time. That was refreshing.  

Stroopwafel Addicts Anonymous

Not a joke: The ASA. Where Katie and I belong.

This weekend brought me to the Netherlands: land of blonde hair, spacecakes, Anne Frank and yes, the most delicious caramel and cookie combination in the world. 

A compulsive list maker, I have composed a list for you of how to find beauty in Amsterdam. 

Embrace your inner nerd. A while back on Flavorpill I found a list of the most breathtaking bookstores in the world. What's cool about this semester is that I'm going to have the chance to visit most of them in Europe. Case in point, the American Book Center in Amsterdam. Centered around a tree trunk, this store is just as charming as Amsterdam itself. Nooks and crannies make it a gem. The New Yorker was 13 euro and Glamour about 9 euro. Whatever, gawking at bookstores should be everyone's guilty pleasure. 

Books upon books upon books.

Navigate via your fixed-gear. Well I didn't actually do this, but if I had been in Amsterdam during the spring, I would have most definitely rented a bike and tooled around the city. Amsterdam is so easy to navigate; it was a relief to look at a map that had actual street names, whereas in Spain you make a few turns and hopefully end up in the right place. Bikes arguably have more rights than pedestrians or cars in this city, so listen for bells so you're not clipped or yelled at in Dutch. 

Puts Madison's snooty hipsters to shame.

Eat your heart out. I love traveling with Katie, because she has just as much of a sweet tooth (if not bigger) as I do. Thus, frequent stops at candy stores and searching for the most delectable treats has been the standard on our trips. This did not stop with the Pancake Bakery. A bit touristy, but who gives when you have the chance to eat this?

Hot chocolate, tea and pancakes adorned with cinnamon ice cream, nutella and bananas.

Learn something. Amsterdam has expensive museums, but rightfully so. And really, museums cater to anyone. You have to find something you like between sex, weed, art and history.

Illegal picture in the Van Gogh Museum. Whoopsies. 

Do as the Dutch do. Think about what you do after work and/or class. Go to the grocery store, shop, take a nap. Now add picking up a few grams of weed, because that's what you can do in Amsterdam. Blunt (ohhh I'm so punny), yes. What is so normal to the culture here is such a brain fart for me. I can't even imagine what would happen in the United States if buying weed from a reputable shop were legal. Sure, it'd be cool. But Americans probably couldn't deal with that type of freedom, we're a bit too uptight and anal-retentive.

You'll overhear great things in coffeeshops. Best memory was the guy rattling off about how he just moved from Switzerland and is NEVER moving back to FUCKING AMERICA.

Also, nom on some stroopwafels. No explanation needed. 

Fresh from Albert Cuyp Market.

I recommend Amsterdam to anyone who needs a relaxed weekend. Be a voyuer, space out a bit, stumble upon a few hookers, you're sure to have a great time.

Goons at the Tulip Museum. (Just 2 euro! Do it!)

For British Eyes Only

Destination: Foggy Londontown. 


I am lucky in that I have many friends abroad this semester. Thus, I have many places to visit and wonderful people to see. February 13 was my friend Lizzie's 21st birthday, so I took the weekend to go see her and Katie, who studies in Dublin. 


Upon arriving in England, what perplexed me the most was that everyone spoke English. Weird after usually hearing obscenities in Spanish all the time. At first glance, London is like any other European city. Everywhere you see PDA, luxury baby strollers, defensive drivers, well-dressed children, eye candy, and of course you hear that irresistible accent. London is so much like New York, except for that juggernaut that I call the pound. Fifteen pound cover for a Friday night at a bar? Oy. 


London was a good break from Spain. Not only did I eat blueberries for the first time in weeks, but I got to see two of my best friends. Walking through Baker Street Station and seeing them on the street waiting for me was one of the best feelings - I also couldn't believe that we all got our act together and were finally making things happen (I hope you're reading this, Elliott). 

The bustle and fast pace of London felt so right. Brits didn't seem rude either; Lizzie told us that they always know who Americans are on the Tube because they smile and laugh. Brits don't smile much, it doesn't mean they aren't happy, though. I could only think that Brits are cordial though because they were speaking English. Moving on. 


The biggest difference between Lizzie and my living situation is that she is treated exactly as every other international student. At the University of Westminster, she lives in a flat with a few other American students and a crazy German kid. But that's another story. 


Aside from seeing the sights in London, Katie and I were lucky to have Lizzie to show us human sides of London. Rather, she showed us the way she lived. Situated in Marylebone, Lizzie lives in a lively and happening area and has easy access to everything she could need, not excluding an endless amount of places to buy Nutella. 

(Beautiful) Big Ben. Love at first sight. Too bad Peter Pan wasn't flying by.

Our trip just screamed Winning London, especially with our visit to Camden. It's essentially a more hipster part of London, but by hipster I mean punk. Aside from myriad booths of discounted clothes, jewelry, hammocks and other random kitsch, Camden offers delicious street-style food for just 4 pounds. Bargain of the century. 

Alas! Our friend Joel, studying in Florence, also made an appearance during the weekend. I can't imagine another person who I'd like to gawk at Harrod's with. Only twice did he consider buying Harrod's dog bowls. 

Lizzie has a full kitchen (saving us some $$$), but eating out Saturday seemed right. At the Golden Hind, a small restaurant on Marylebone Lane off of Marylebone High Street, we ate some classic fish and chips. The restaurant is owned by a Greek family and they were warm and welcoming - sitting by the door was irksome because of the cold, but it was good to see people coming and going out of this small yet gem of a place. 

Among our eating escapade were trips to local museums, bookstores, Tesco (meal deal FTW), Oxford Street, Abbey Road, an alternative art fair and a farmers' market. Dane County Farmers' Market always holds the fondest place in my heart, though. 

My almost-four day trip was an inexplicable high. I was so happy to know that Lizzie, Katie and Joel are alive and well, seizing every moment they have in their respective cities. In a way London was a reminder of what is so rich in life: caring friends, a bustling and cultural city, oh, and CRUNCHY PEANUT BUTTER. "Spreadables" are not allowed on airplanes. Joel and I learned this the heartbreaking way. 

Perfect.

 London is just begging for me to come back (there are over four kinds of Ben's cookies I still need to try). And I can't wait.

I just wanted all of this packaged and sent to my apartment in Spain.

Pippy Longstocking's comeback

Via Zara's new collection?


"Leave everything to chance?"


Why the question mark?

Verde que te quiero verde

Aren't familiar with Lorca? Google the title of this blog post and see what you're missing.


Lorca hails from Granada, another city in Andalusia. Known for the Sierra Nevada mountains and the Alhambra, a palace built for the Moors, Granada is similar to Sevilla, though the Arab influences on this city are much more apparent.


Last weekend I took a 36 hour trip to Granada, of course visiting the Alhambra and soaking in what Granada has to offer: teterías (tea shops), El Mercado de Artesanía (artisan market), tapas gratis (free tapas with any drink purchase) and the opportunity to see another Andalusian city. Granada is situated on mountains, thus it was a large change from the flat terrain of Sevilla.


What amazed me the most about the Alhambra was the close attention to detail. Like the Alcázar in Sevilla, its etchings and wall decor were all done by hand. Hence, these palaces took over 500 years to build. Landscape shots were great fun (and a challenge with how bright it is outside) in Granada, however I went up close and personal during our visit to the palace:

I knew this about myself before I left, but the visit to the Alhambra just reaffirmed my affinity for castles over churches. I can now identify more concrete reasons:


People who are now dead lived in these palaces. Dead people live in cathedrals this current day. Granada has a famous cathedral and a capilla (chapel) where Ferdinand and Isabella are buried. Buried is the wrong word - where their mausoleum is and where their caskets are on display. Being in the Alhambra, however, you can walk the same halls that the Nasrid dynasty did and know their bodies aren't creepily hid somewhere.


Flowers grow in palace gardens. Mildew grows in cathedrals. Echoes in cathedrals are pretty cool, I do admit that. Echoes do not make up for the musty smell that always lingers in cathedrals - am I the only one who notices this? 


Jesus doesn't stare at you from the walls of a palace, golden stucco detail does! Dead royalty and a variety of paintings depicting Jesus being removed from the cross didn't fascinate me. It didn't help to look around and see Christian art stalking the walls.  


These are by no means complaints, my visit to Granada was phenomenal and the city is just plain linda. We also visited the neighborhood of Albaicín, which is mostly white because the Moors didn't want to be sweating more than they normally would in the dead summer heat of Andalusia. Here is where you will also find the Mirador de San Nicolas, the most beautiful view of the city. 

A trip to the tetería wouldn't be complete without a cup of chocolate.

Post-tapas I ran into my friend Laura who is studying in Madrid. Later we found
a bar that had candy out along with bar nuts. Best night ever?

Token symbol of Granada - una granada, or, pomegranate.

Week Three

Ins

1. Hemingway

2. Boyfriend Jeans

3. Omar Little

4. A general strike in Brussels

Outs

1. Rafael Nadal

2.Ham

3. Spanair...?

4.Jesus

Iberian Hipster

I recently had a conversation with a friend who was telling me about a girl he met and is a little into, for the sake of not using the word crush. He went on and on about how he seized the moment after a class field trip and went for tapas with her, getting to know each other more sufficiently than exchanging extreme stories of what their respective host mothers did this time.  


We had a generic conversation about this girl he was chasing, until he said this: "The only thing that gets me is the music she listens to - I did a little Facebook research, and honestly Aimee, it's horrible. Like Danny Gokey..."


Not that I disagree with him, but it's an interesting segway into music in Spain. (If you listen to Danny Gokey, god knows what music you'll unearth here.)


Judging people by their music taste is a great game. This especially rings true when my señora, Encarna, told me she remembers how to pronounce my name because of Amy Winehouse. 

The minute the car started en route to my host home the radio turned on, and lukewarm Bruno Mars came on. (Seriously I thought I escaped this guy going west.) Anyway, I talked to Andrea, my host sister, for a while about American music. She didn't blatantly say this, but the Spanish music industry seriously lacks talent, and most people love American music. Except Encarna just can't get enough of Spain's sensational Manuel Carrasco:

Spanish men singing whiney songs are the mirror image to many English-speaking singers, case in point Chris Martin. Andrea, though, doesn't really listen to Coldplay or any other so-called alternative music. She listens to Spanish dubstep crap and dance music, along with whatever American music is blasted on the radio. They can't get enough of Rihanna and Alexandra Stan here.


The most popular song in Spain right now is from Portuguese artist Michel Telo. Listen here, it's actually a great song with (almost) pretty much meaningless lyrics. I think Telo was just afraid to go the distance the Akon went in "Hynotized:"




It's catchy. Pandora doesn't work outside the United States, so I spent a long time on last.fm last night finding Spanish music that people seem to listen to other than the standard Top 40 songs. Among my favorite band names were Love of Lesbian and Olivia de Happyland.


Anyway, the Iberian hipster probably isn't your typical hipster, but the music is okay. I think I'll stick to what I love, but I try to find ways to embrace the new. Take a listen to La Buena Vida.