After breakfast, Glynnis and I trekked far far away to el rastro, a large open-aired market that only operates on Sunday mornings. I don’t think I have ever walked that much in my life; perhaps the scorching sun made it seem longer than it did, but one thing is certain: Wake’s close proximities definitely does not prepare any of its students for walking cities.
The walk was rather interesting, especially since I realized how pop culture really makes the world much smaller. To my rather childish enjoyment, we passed by little shops with Hello Kitty and Disney toys in their windows. A hatchback was also blasting one of Akon’s songs out of his car windows… ohhh Akon.
El rastro is next to the river that border the southern edge of the city. Throngs of people bustled around as they bargained with the vendors. They had everything from clothes to purses, accessories to plants or shampoo, and a wide array of underwear and DVDs, most likely dubbed in Spanish. It reminds me of the markets in the Philippines: hot, cheap, and crowded, but with everything you need. One vendor asked Glynnis if she was from France, and completely ignored me… I guess Asia is a little farther from Spain than France. All in all, el rastro was a unique experience, which I am sure I will have again on a different Sunday.
When I returned home at 2:00, my madre was already preparing lunch. We had “ensalada de atun con pasta,” which is basically a pasta salad with the slightest amount of mayonnaise, crab meat and shredded cheese. It does not sound very appetizing, but it was actually pretty delicious. We also had more bread, chicken, and melon. My padres keep trying to stuff food down my throat, but I can barely finish what they put on my plate. I am afraid to leave any on the plate in case it may offend them…
contemplated actually taking a legitimate siesta, nap and all, mostly because of the jet lag. However, I was caught up gazing at my madre’s dibujos, or drawings. She I really into art and uses all types of media to make her drawings. There were pictures of people, violins, animals, and even David Bowie. She told me that she used to take a class at the university, but now she just draws freely. Her portfolio was large, in size, quantity, and quality. Apparently some of her larger drawings are framed and hang in their summer house. Here is one of her drawings:
The students had to meet later for an “orientation.” Javier, the Salamanca director and a Spanish native, went through all the rules, formalities, do’s and don’ts about everything. He then took us on a walking tour of the Plaza Mayor, the University, some cathedrals, and downtowns to show us the post office and police station. Although informational, historic, and beautiful… all everyone could think about was “hielado,” aka ice cream. We passed so many cafés with ribbons of Spanish ice cream taunting us; it was rather difficult to go any further.
Once the tour was done, a small group of us finally got some hielado, and I swear, it was the best ice cream I have ever eaten… IN MY LIFE. Just thinking about it now makes my mouth water… mmmm. I got límon flavored scoop, and it hit the spot perfectly: so refreshing, and so delicious.
After dinner, a small group of us decided to go to the Plaza Mayor to relax and have some refreshments. To our dismay, everything closes down earlier on Sunday night, so we were rushed to order our drinks. Despite the short time, we all had a good time chatting and whatnot.
We returned home relatively early since we have our first day of our Intensive Spanish class tomorrow; I hope it goes well! I am rather intimidated because everyone else seems to be on a higher level of Spanish, but I guess that is why I am here to learn.
I did not want tonight to end on a disappointed note as the previous, so I decided to use my prepaid cell phone to call my family. It was good to hear all of their voices and made me feel like today was much more successful. The adjustment is slow, but I love Spain already. If this pattern continues… then I say vámos!
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