¡Ole!

   It’s been 15 days or so since I’ve posted. I’ve just been busy/tired/not in the mood. But I figure it’s time to post something. Last week was a pretty chill week and this past weekend I got to experience a huge part of Spanish culture. I went to a bullfight! (CAUTION: I am about to go into detail. If you don’t want to read it, don’t go on)
    Before going, I had heard awful, atrocious things. Most of them were true. I have to admit, though, that I stayed until the end and was fascinated. Did I enjoy the part where I watched 8 bulls die? Absolutely, positively not! But I had never seen anything like it before in my life. Before going, I had heard a dozen stories and opinions about the bullfight. Some said it was disgusting and some said it was like a dance. I can honestly say that I think it’s both. The hardest part for me (other than the part where the bull bleeds out) was how unfair I thought it was. For some reason I thought it would be this “man vs beast” thing. But no, it was definitely a “half of a dozen men with spears vs tired out beast” thing. I was without a doubt cheering for the bull every time with the exception of one bullfighter. But before I tell you why I was impressed I need to explain some things.
    There are three stages of a bullfight. In the first, a bunch of matadors enter the ring with the bull, spread out and have the bull chase them which is essentially done to tire the bull out. Then 2 men on horseback, called picadores, come in with a type of lance and stab the bull in between the shoulder blades, trying to anger and weaken it. This, to me, makes it a sissy man’s game. It’s not impressive to kill something that’s already about to fall over from blood loss. The second stage has some of the matadors running up to the bull, jumping up over it’s back and throwing barbed sticks into its shoulders. This also causes minor blood loss and helps slow the bull down, because the sticks are weighted. This part wasn’t too hard for me to handle because it was nothing compared to the damage caused by the first stage. I won’t lie, I even thought it was impressive that those men were brave enough to run towards the bull like that. During the last stage, the main matador takes on the bull by himself. First, he taunts the bull with his cape and usually uses a long, thin sword to inflict small cuts as it runs by the matador. Luckily, I was far enough up in the stands that I couldn’t see any of the wounds but the one from the picador. Lastly, the matador trades swords, taking a somewhat shorter but thicker one, and proceeds to thrust it into the bull, tip to hilt. Most of them died within a minute but there were a few that stayed up and walked around for a bit. If you’re assuming that there were massive amounts of blood, you’d be correct. That was the worst part. I had to close my eyes every time one died.
    Okay, now that you have an idea of what happens I can elaborate on why I was impressed with one of the matadors. This particular matador was by far the youngest and the skinniest of the five matadors that killed a bull. He also had 2 fights. But that isn’t what I found impressive, though it did add to my impression. He was the only matador that killed the bull without having it injured first. He declined the picadores. To me, I thought it made the fight a little fairer, and less like cruel and unusual punishment. This man won the best performer of the night and I’m sure that’s why. Also, I have never seen a man move so gracefully in my life. Now I know why Spaniards call it an art form and not a sport, though I’m not sure I would call it either. I still have very mixed emotions about the whole thing.
    This probably sounds like a traumatic experience to some of you. Maybe most of you. But there were a few good things that happened. First, the second bull of the night was pardoned because its foot was injured prior to entering the ring and the crowd called for it to be released because it wasn’t a fair fight (at least Spaniards draw the line somewhere). This is great because, according to one of our CEA directors, bulls that are pardoned get to “live like kings” for the rest of their lives. I’m just not sure it applies in this situation because, typically, when a bull is pardoned it is because it was so impressive that the judges reward it by sparing its life. I hope that was what happened.
    When I describe the second good thing, know that I use the term "good" loosely. There was a matador who was extremely cocky. Not in a “I’m a performer” way but rather in a “I’m a douche” way. I didn’t like this man. Lucky for me, I got to see him punished for his attitude. Harsh, I know. Unlucky for him, he got stuck with the meanest bull. This thing was ferocious. It was faster, stronger, and smarter than all of the 6 bulls we had watched before it. It tipped over a horse! I was not happy about that. But the horses wear protective padding and special gear so, luckily, it wasn’t injured. During the final stage, the matador turned his back to the bull to face the crowd and do something cocky (I don’t remember what exactly). Normally, when a matador turns his back, the bull is tired and won’t charge because the man isn’t shaking the cape. This bull did not care. It ran at the man, lifted him up on his head, threw him to the ground, and proceeded to try to gore him with his horns. At this point, all of the matadors are rushing the ring trying to save the guy, who turned out to be fine. Luckily, the bull’s horns were pointed in a position that kept them from actually injuring the matador. After being rescued, the guy starts shoving the other matadors off, picks up the sword and kills the bull. I was mad for multiple reasons. I thought that the guy should have been made to go to the hospital, and not allowed to finish the job. I was also mad because out of all the bulls I felt that this one was by far the best and deserved to be pardoned. I know what you’re probably thinking, “I can’t believe she was rooting for the bull!” But that man got cocky and got bested because of it. On top of that he was acting offended that the bull dare touch him (After all, the guy was just cutting him over and over). I'm just glad the bull got to get a hit in. I still don't think he should have been allowed to kill it.
   I can say that I’m glad that I went to watch the bullfight. It was a cultural experience that is a rare opportunity. It’s becoming a very controversial thing here so it may not be around much longer. I’m also happy to say that I can form my own opinion about bullfights and don’t have to base my opinion on what others tell me. However, I have no intention of going to another one. The first one was educational, a second would make me feel a little sociopathic.
   I hope I didn’t disgust you too much. If I did, I apologize. And I can guarantee you that none of my other posts will be this graphic. If I ever tell you a story about bulls again, it’ll most likely be about a good ol’ Oklahoma rodeo where the bull lives... Thankfully!

Kait

Las Alpujarras

    This past Saturday, CEA took us on an excursion to Las Alpujarras, which is about an hour south of Granada. That has been the best day in Spain so far and I would love to tell you all about it. First, we had to take an hour bus drive to get to the trail to hike up to the place we’d be spending the day. The hike in itself was fantastic because we finally got to see the mountains in our photos, which are pretty much in the background of every photo we’ve taken of the city, in person and up close. I could spend days in those mountains and still not have had my fill. The trails and tiny waterfalls alone are enough to use up my 4G memory card. Once we reached our destination, which was a type of adventure course (that I’m 100% sure surrounded the manager’s house) called Aventura Rural, we divided up into groups to start a rotation on all of the stations.
    My group, which had about 10 different dirty names throughout the day, got to do the “bungee-slingshot”. They didn’t tell us what it was actually called so... I named it myself. Yeah, super original. I know. Basically, they hooked us up to 2 sets of bungee cords that were attached to two different trees. Then they attached us to the hitch of a jeep and drove forward until they literally could not go any farther without ramming the stone wall/ramp that lead up to the house. I know this because at one point we asked the driver to pull forward a little further and he hit the wall! All of the guys got to take their turn and I volunteered to be the first girl. I won’t lie, I was scared. Who wouldn’t feel scared when they are about to be flung out into the air over a mountainside? But it was worth the fear, because it was a blast! However, as usual, I had to have a “kaitlin-ism” and get myself hurt. I have no clue how, why, or where I was able to cut a gash into my shin and cause profuse amounts of blood to gush down my leg, all over both shoes, and into my socks. Lovely mental picture, isn’t it? I didn’t even realize I had done it until everyone started saying, “Whoa, you’re bleeding!” In case you’re wondering what I am referring to when I say “kaitlin-ism” I’ll go ahead and define it as the possibility and, more accurately, probability that I will hurt myself in an entirely hazard-free setting, normally in an unexplainable or unlikely way. Now, don’t get me wrong, I know that bungee-slingshotting probably isn’t exactly hazard-free. But how on earth does someone cut their shin open while suspended in mid-air? See, “kaitlin-ism”. Luckily, it didn’t hurt, the cut wasn’t too big, and the cute guide helped doctor me up!
    Next we repelled down the mountainside. Here’s the part where I could mislead you and make you think that I actually did some serious repelling, or I could elaborate and mention the fact that we only went down roughly 15 feet... Maybe. Not the best activity, but hey, at least I can say that I did it.
After that we hooked up to a zip line that connected over the canopy of the trees, well kind of over. A few were sticking up and it was pretty impossible to miss them but it’s cool. It was fun. During this activity the guys got their “boy scout” on and spotted an almond tree full of almonds which they proceeded to chow down on. The amusing part was watching them beat them open with rocks. What men will do for food! haha
    The next aventura was free falling. Over flat, hard ground. We climbed about 8, maybe 9, meters and let the guide attach us to a rope and we fell (by fall I mean we were supposed to spread eagle it over the edge), swung up behind the other side of the platform and back until we slowed down enough to be lowered to the ground. I went last. I don’t know what it is about jumping towards the ground, even when I know I’m not going to touch it, but it is about one of the hardest things for me to do. I’ve skydived with no problem, but that was different. I was so far up in the air that I couldn’t even see the ground. With free falling, the ground is staring you right in the face! Nonetheless, I sucked it up and did it. I wasn’t about to be the only person who didn’t do it! Plus, it did look fun. From the ground, that this. My big mess up was the fact that I was absolutely incapable of trying to lay flat on air. I bent at the waste and then tumbled over the edge. That’s me, graceful as ever! It might not have been good form, but it did the job. Everyone got a good laugh out of it too, so I’m not complaining.
    Archery was the last thing on our list of aventuras. We got to shoot three arrows three times, and a practice round. I’m not ashamed to admit that I sucked it up at first. I’ve never shot a bow before! Give me a bb-gun and I’d probably hit the can before anyone else, but, I mean, I can’t start out great at everything ; P. Joking. Well, I did hit the bulls-eye before it was all said and done. Still, I’m not planning on turning pro anytime soon.
    After we finished our rotations, we headed back through the village that was at the bottom of the mountain and walked to the park for lunch, then headed back to Granada. Overall, it was a fantastic day! I got to experience a lot of things that I probably would have never done if I was home so that alone makes it worth it. Not to mention that I get to add to my somewhat short list of crazy accomplishments. Well, that’s all I have for today. I’ve already uploaded the photos from the day on Facebook. Talk to you soon,

Cuidate,
    Kait

Sweet Silver Lining

    It’s jueves, just one more day and then el fin de semana! I am both ecstatic and relieved to say that my first week of classes has been pretty fantastic thus far. The first day of class was a bit of a scare for me, but I can already tell that I’m improving and becoming more comfortable in my Spanish “skin.” I’m still a long way off from being as advanced as I’d like to be, but I’m working on it. For me, the Spanish language is like an addiction (except in this case it’s not bad for me, I’m just bad at it). Everyday it feels like it’s getting easier, and everyday I want just a bit more. Eventually, I plan to have as much of it as I can get. But I can’t give all of the credit for my improvement to the language. My classmates are a blast. Especially my lovely new friend, Molly. She helps me power through the stumbles. I don’t know what I would do without her!
    I also have to give credit to my profesoras. Last week I was ready to jump ship but, luckily, my first impression was incorrect . They are both so sweet but yet so funny and animated that the best part of class is when they try to define new words while only speaking spanish. I feel like we’re playing charades. They do so many hand motions and nod so much that you can’t help but to feel encouraged to participate. My first profesora goes over conversation techniques with us, which basically means she has us talking about random, everyday things for two hours. It’s good practice. We have her at 9:00am, and at that time most of the class is still half-asleep, but we love her so we try.
    If I had to pick a favorite, though, I would pick my second profesora. The first day I was convinced that she was going to be the worst teacher I had ever taken but, thankfully, I was wrong. The list of the reasons why I love her is long. First, she’s always 10 minutes late to class- always- which means we get a 20 minute break rather than just 10. I’m sure she does that on purpose, which is excellent. Also, the way she teaches is so entertaining. She loves joking around so, of course, I like to joke back. I’m pretty sure she thinks that I am uber boy crazy, haha! Every time she asks us to talk about Spain I always mention how good-looking the men are. She loves it! She told me to keep a look out for the tall ones because they’re usually doctors! I told her that may be the best advice I’ve gotten since I’ve been in Spain (I was kidding, of course!). Today, among other things, we discussed how good-looking the policia are in Granada, how pretty Irish men are, and how it’s easier for girls than guys to get out of speeding tickets in the US. I think I left her very enlightened!
    I sincerely hope that my classes continue being this enjoyable because it makes it that much easier to stay motivated to learn this language. Well, I hope I’ve given you a good idea of what my first few days of class have been like. It’s siesta time and I’ve got to get some rest before karaoke night tonight.

Hasta luego,
        Kaitlin

¡Gracías!

"No one who achieves success does so without the help of others.  The wise and confident acknowledge this help with gratitude."

    It is the first day of my second week in Granada. I cannot even tell you how lucky I feel to be here. I keep forgetting that I am going to be living here until mid-December, which might be a good thing because I feel like I’m reveling in the greatness that is Granada more now than if I was thinking, “slow down, you’ll be here for almost four more months.” I just want to take this time now to thank my parents for letting me do this. Thanks to my beautiful mother, who I keep referring to as a stud when I describe her, for pushing me and telling me she will help me with anything I need. Thanks to my controlling father (kidding, Dad : ] ), for loosening up and giving this trip the okay. Well really, his words were, “we’ll talk about it when you're safe at home in December.” I love my parents! I don’t use the word “blessed” very often because, while I think we’re all blessed in so many immeasurable and uncountable ways in just our everyday lives, I think throwing it around can make it seem less special. That having been said, in this place, with the people that I’m here with, with God looking over me, and the people I love supporting me, I am so very thankful to say that I have been blessed beyond what most people dream of. My next thank you is to anyone that is at home thinking of me and wishing me a great adventure. That truly and sincerely means the world to me and it makes me want to enjoy this time in my life even more. God has blessed me beyond anything I could possibly deserve and his thank you is from the bottom of my heart. Well, I suppose I've gushed enough. Hasta luego,

Kaitlin Esperanza

The Day has Arrived

    My study abroad adviser at OU told me that I would experience some overwhelming feelings when I got here and that it may be on the first day and that it may be a week in. Everyone usually does. Well, mine hit me on day five. After attending my first class today, I am sitting in my apartment asking myself who on earth I thought I was when I thought I could come to Spain and speak Spanish and pass these classes. We didn't do anything hard, no homework. We just talked, and while I feel confident in my knowledge of the Spanish language when putting it on paper I feel like I may be mentally incapable of being able to hear it and fully understand and then respond. I know that it's a confidence issue more than anything, but being in a class full of people who know what they're saying and seem sure of their conversation skills while I feel flustered and incompetent does not help raise my confidence level.
    I have never been afraid of doing well in a Spanish class at home. I love Spanish, I truly do, and at home it's my favorite class of the semester. I pride myself on doing well. But here, after testing into the high-intermediate (which is what I was supposed to be in), I'm wondering if my examiner shot me in the foot by placing me in that level or maybe I shot myself when I decided to come to Spain. Either way it's a lose-lose situation. On one hand, I can stay in the more advanced course and possibly do horrible, or I can go down a level and lose all chances of receiving the credit that I need to apply towards my minor. I feel so down about the entire situation, though I'm praying that after a few more days of class I'll start to feel more comfortable in the classroom setting. If you're the praying kind, please say one for me! Thanks.

Kaitlin Hope