Stupor and Happyness

The lights here are uncannily beautiful. Though sunlight has been in short supply (well, I know I'm better off than poor Hannah in Uppsala, Sweden), the color palate of the city (white, light green and blue, cream, clear, gold), the lights that come on at night, and the moon all assure that I'm never in the dark...not even when I'm trotting home from Bataplan the discoteca in the shadow of an alley (with plenty of people...yes, mom, I'm being safe). Here's a picture of one of the lamps that lines the pathway along Playa de la Concha, connecting the discotecas with Parte Vieja (where I live).
This week has been a blur. I just sat down and looked at a calendar and me di cuenta (I realized) that I've been here 2.5 weeks. What?! But yes, that's how beautiful times are. That's how life is.
I am beginning to feel at home here. There are obstacles; when locals ask me questions in the street like "tienes la hora" and "de donde eres" it still takes me at least 3 tries to hear them correctly, and I have to ask them to "hablar lentamente." Another obstacle that has become more and more evident to me is the lack of Erasmus singles (as in, without a significant other). Having had my first kiss with a Swiss named Nikolas in Guatemala, I came here certainly dreaming to find another European prince charming. But Badel (my roommate Mandy's boyfriend) said it nicely..."I think having a girlfriend is more important to the European lifestyle than the American lifestyle, and that means all the guys you could ever be attracted to here are taken." Well, I disagree with the last part of that statement, but it's definitely not as easy to be swept off my feet as my giddy girlish heart imagined. I am especially aware of this as Valentine's Day (tomorrow) approaches. But I am not absolutely the only soltera (single ladies put a ring on it!), and when looking at the big picture, this is a tiny hiccup. I'd be happy and giddy if Donostia were 100% female.
So it was my agenda to write all that up to this point. Now I'm just going to let it flow out. The pigeons here bother me. More than a few have waddled through my legs like dogs, and it takes restraint not to punt them. Speaking of pigeons, did you know that they explode when they eat rice, because they can't pass gas? How depressing.
Another thing I've noticed is how many more sleezebags and bizarre characters hang around Donostia than, say, LMU, West Los Angeles, or Ventura. I'm serious. Or I'm just more conscious about it now. I can't go a day without coming across a drunk 30-something year old taking a piss on a public corner. Today as I was watching the surfers on La Zurriola, a heavy-set, balding and perplexed 55-year old asked me for the time, then told me he was concerned his friends hadn't showed up yet. I told him I was sorry they were late, and went back to minding my own business. He was standing right between me and the water, so I was a little annoyed, but ignored his presence, hoping he'd get the hint and walk a bit down the beach, instead of blocking my view. Not so. He was there for a few minutes, and eventually my neck got tired of craning, so I nodded at him politely and walked a hundred yards down the beach. Then guess what happened. After a few more minutes of peacefuf sitting, he again walked between me and the water and stayed there. Then he got that grin that I have learned meant it was time to get out of there. More bizarre characters...the naked biker, the beggar on the corner who dresses like a clown and dances for coins everyday, the drunkard from Marruecos who grabbed my wrist on the way back from Bataplan. To all who come here, especially young women: hay que tener cuidado. But my gut tells me this: keep your wits about you, be firm, and you'll be fine.
Speaking of keeping your wits about you...oh, last night. It was the opening party for Erasmus at Deusto, and Bataplan hosted "Jueves Universitaria," or University Thursday, allowing free entrance to university extranjeros with a coupon. After a (not very good) dinner with about 50 of us in a crowded bar basement, where I had a great time getting to know 26-year-old Daniel from Sweden (we talked about smoking, the American stereotype, gay marriage, Robert DeNiro...yikes, it went everywhere), we went to Molly Malone's for drinks, where many of the students, including my silly roommate Miriam from Boston, decided to have multiple chupitas of Tequila, then mix with other drinks. So when we finally made our way to Bataplan at 2am, quite a few people were out of it. I know of three people who shattered glasses of vodka while dancing, and I got socked in the eye by the dancing elbow of a sweet German named Steffi who just wasn't paying attention. Sober Heather still had a great time. Then I walked home, step by laborious step, with my silly roommate, whose tequila had really gotten to her. It was kind of a cute, stumbling sort of walk.
The sun's out, my health is great, and I'm in paradise. It is impossible to complain...even if no sexy secret admirer is going to leave roses outside my door.
One more thing...my new favorite songs (listen to them if you haven't heard them) are Wild Honey (Beach Boys) and the big band classic Sing, Sing, Sing.
Until next time, keep me in your thoughts. You know you pass through mine (because I think about everything).

Bring on Academia

We went to Badel's piso (that means floor, as in flat) last night for sangria (sweet Spanish wine, so barato--cheap) and tortilla and company, then to Molly Malone's once more...which was fun, except that I wanted to meet new people and no one new was there...then to Be Bop Bar on the edge of Parte Vieja (means Old Part, the neighborhood in Donostia where we live). This would have been great if the majority of us hadn't had class this morning...at 8:30, 9, or 10. It's becoming clearer to me that Spanish don't "sleep" ever. They nap all the time. Or, rather, nap between 1 and 5, work between 5 and 11, party between 11 and 5, nap between 5 and 8, and work again between 8 and 1. This does not work for Heather, who has grizzly bear genes. When I'm out, I'm out, and don't you dare ask me to put on a nice dress and go to a bar where everyone else fills my lungs with smoke. Except it's SO MUCH FUN and I do it anyway :). Gotta live some time.
This schedule worked perfectly for me until this morning, when I went to what will be the hardest class of my semester (I think). It's called Taller de Escritura Multimedia: Multimedia Writing Workshop. 2 hours a day 2 days a week, and 75% of our grade depends on a multimedia guion (script) that we construct and create presentations on during the semester, in groups of 3. Group work BLAH. Catherine from Quebec and I, and Alejandra from Mexico, had a Spanish classmate ask the class if anyone wanted to work with us. All the groups were full. RIGHT. Bascially, they know we don't speak their language and don't want to work with us.
I am trying to be prepared. I brought a tape recorder and aimed the built-in microphone right at JA Marin's face the whole time. Just played it back. Can't understand NI UNA PALABRA (a single word). So yeah...I don't think he said anything terribly important. Let's hope not.
So here's a run-down of the "study" part of "study abroad."
Taller de Escritura Multimedia: Tuesday 10-12 and Wednesday 9-11
Medio Ambiente y Desarollo Sostenible (Environment and Sustainable Development): Tuesday (starting next week) 3-5
Conceptos de Etica del Desarrollo (I'll let you figure that out): Wednesday 3-5
Industrial Organization Theory (in English! Yes!): Thursday 10-1:15
The last one will be seven intensive weeks instead of eleven stretched weeks, meaning that toward the end of the semester I will have no class Thursday, Friday, or Monday. Bring on the travel!
Which brings me to the point of this post...I worked my butt off in high school and college and I'm ready for some fun, some worldliness, some risk. Yes, I will do my homework and fulfill my scholarly obligations, but if you'll notice, I'm only taking 4 classes, and the rest of the time is mine. What a great word. I've already been enjoying it profusely...starting in March i will be surfing again once a week for an hour through a class the university offers. I'm also going to visit Cadiz in March and I'm planning my Easter vacation right now...Sevilla, Barcelona, Madrid, ahora vengo! I say the same to discotecas, bars, and conversations with fabulous Europeans who are sharing this semester with me. That's what this semester is all about.
Plans for tonight: birthday party for a Norwegian girl, then Zibibo bar, which is right below our flat, actually. Then "early" bed (1 am, perhaps) to go to 9 o'clock class again.

Quick Update...promised I'd look into it

Dia de los Caldereros commemorates the Hungarian gypsies of Donostia who used to parade through the streets banging hammers on pots and pans, proclaiming their services and love for the city. I'll upload a video here.

Here Comes the Sun(day)

First things first...a silly eye virus has been passing around ERASMUS. Miriam (apartmentmate) got it Saturday morning and her eyes swelled up like she'd been crying for hours. I just want to hug her and tell her it goes away fast (it does), but then I might get it. So I'm cowering in the darkness where the eye monster can't get me. Though it might anyway. This morning I do have cloudly vision. OH NO. It's okay; I can handle it.
Also, I will need a dentist while I'm here. This is unfortunate. The tooth I had a root canal on (they aren't so bad) is acting up again...what are they going to do now, remove that section of my mouth? We'll see. I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.
In other news. Molly Malone's, the best Irish pub in this Spanish town, is a riot. I dig the atmosphere big time...multiple levels with wooden chairs and smokey air and chatting, smiling groups of friends. I hope to go there often with new European (and even Spanish! yes please!) friends. Monday will bring all 100 international students together for a general information session. I'm excited to meet new people and delve in to the actual semester.
Yesterday it was freezing. Literally. It sleeted on and off all day and I hid inside for a while, doing official things: making sure my class schedule is official, reading El Diario Vasco (a local news source), rearranging my room. So when night finally rolled around I was itching for an adventure. It came below my balcony. Out of nowhere a hundred school children dressed in gypsy clothes banging pots and pans passed the alley behind my window, followed by their adoring parents and a brass band dressed in similar attire. I stuck on skimpy clothing and decided to follow them...until Plaza de la Constitucion, a huge cobblestone courtyard enclosed by the starry government building and a posh hotel. Apparently yesterday (Saturday, February 7), is a local holiday called Dia de Los Caldederos. I'm still trying to figure out what that means. But after the kids paraded around, the adults came out dressed the same way. Gypsies, with gold embellishment, lots of men in colorful drag and wigs, carrying cauldrons and banging pots and pans to a popular tune that got boring FAST. But the rest of it didn't. Everone gathered in the Plaza, where Marie from Quebec and I stood in the cold and watched the people sway and dance and giggle and bang pots and pans. Then a God-voiced MC came to the front of the government building and started telling the story of the arrival of the Caldederos to Donostia. Unfortunately, I understood no more than 50% of what he said. I will explain it all and upload videos as soon as I figure out the reason behind the festival.
Other news...going to take a long, slow walk with God today. I will wear plenty of warm fuzzies and carry a few Euro for pintxos so I don't have to go back to the apartment. I cross my fingers for sunshine, but don't expect it. And don't need it; the greyness of this city during rain is just as magical, even moreso. I'm really trying to feel at home here and embrace the experience to the fullest, and the best way to do that right now is to be alone for a while, and think about the G-word I've been having so much trouble with lately. Please keep me in your thoughts. You know you're in mine.
As always, I miss you.

My Videos of Donostia

This is a view from Mandy's balcony facing Plaza Sarriegi. Borat reference at the end.


Also, a panoramic view of Playa de La Concha...five minutes' walk west of our apartment.

Naked Man on Bike, And Other Stories

I will explain the title of this post in due time.
First, I would like to emphasize how exciting it is to have internet in our apartment. Julian from Germany (hi, if you're reading this!) was quite a gentleman in helping us getting it configured. Now we are spoiled, uploading photos and chatting and showing off every which way. For those of you who have facebook, I put pictures up there. If not, you'll have to make due with what I choose to show you in the limited scope of blogspot.com
Life. Is. Good. I'm starting to feel comfortable here with a routine, which, ironically, will change come next week:
1. Wake up 9 am to walk to be at Deusto by 10.
2. Spanish class until 1, work on projects and study until 3:30ish
3. Chill-ax and siesta on La Zurriola, the surfing beach, until the sun goes down or it starts to rain
4. Half-heartedly attempt homework that I should seriously pay attention to if I want to be at all prepared for classes in Spanish, which start Tuesday the 10th
5. Go to a bar for pintxos (tapas)
6. Quehaceres: fresh produce at the market down the street, buying office supplies, avoiding the bank and my money issues, cleaning my somewhat smokey room
7. Staying up fashionably late to read/write, facebook chat, or, my personal favorite, DANCE...until 6am is my record so far.
8. Getting up too soon
9. Enjoying every minute of this opportunity
Zurriola is definitely my favorite part. Sitting on that sand, a 5 minute walk from my flat, is like being in Hawaii again. The world ceases to exist; there is only me, the ocean and its wetsuit-clad inhabitants, and the overwhelming sensation that I am finally here. It's still a little spooky having to wear a rain coat on a beach, but yes, I am learning 75F year-round is impossible everywhere.

So was walking to La Zurriola today with Julian when I noticed a mid-50s Spaniard in a skin-tight tan wetsuit biking toward us nonchalantly. Then I realized he wasn't wearing any clothes. I can't keep a straight face thinking about it. This man's legs were flailing open as he pedalled, freely and proudly displaying what was between them. How you could possibly be brave enough, let alone hard-butted enough, to bike naked in a bustling resort town is completely beyond me. I would like to know where he was going, and whether he had any idea what he was doing. It was an unforgettable experience; there will be many more.

The photo is the quaint Plaza where Mandy, Miriam and I reside. It's called Sarriegi. Even the name is a riot.

In other news, Hannah made my day today when she called and asked if she could come down from Sweden to visit me the weekend of the 20th of February. I told her the truth...that it was a terrible idea and that I hated her guts. Luckily we have the same sarcasm.

I Never Liked Walks Before

I´m a very Get-er-done kinda gal, so walks and socializing and the like have never really interested me...they have always seemed rather slow and pointles...until coming to San Sebastian. The difference is there´s so much to see (accordion players, Euskera graffiti, surfers, moonlit bars) and hear (languages, very old American songs no one listens to anymore, bronze church bells) and smell and taste (tapas, sangria, rum...yes rum, pintxos, locally grown produce, fish) that it is impossible to be bored at any point. Por ejemplo, last night I had a rough night, and mis compañeras accompanied me on a freezing but pleasant walk along the shore at night, where the waves were ridiculous. I almost wanted them to eat me...I did something my mom wouldn´t like (yes, I know very well she may be reading this right now)...I stood on the ledge between the bottomless pit of ocean and the street and stretched my hands out wide, letting the wind take me. It´s very releasing. A good walk.
Another good, long one today. We walked to the end of Playa de la Concha, passing many cute dogs and a few street performers. Then we walked down the surfing beach and laughed every time one of them got pounded...yeah, it´s funny watching surfers die. JK! We stopped for pintxos (once more, the American equivalent would probably be appetizers) and churros con chocolate in Parte Vieja. I basically wanted to keep walking forever...but as eternal and ready this city seems, my body is definitely less so. Eventually I had to put the Indiana Jones hat down.
Anyway, I´m looking forward to more walks, especially when I´m feeling down.
The picture is of surfers at La Zurriola. I will be out there with them some day.