Allie in the South of Spain

Sevilla is flat and thank god. Otherwise I wouldn´t be able to rocket around the city so easily on a bike. I have a Sevici (which is pronounced Se-vee-cee and should not be confused with the dish of seafood cooked in citrus juice) card which allows me to basically check out bikes around the city at different stations. You run your card, pick out your bike and off you go. It is a great system, provides exercise, cuts down on the use of cars (and emissions) and saves time. But everything isn´t all fluffy puppies and candy. There is a down side to Sevici. I have come to realize that I am quite agressive when I get behind the handlebars. Allow me to explain. As part of the bicycle system and as a way to foment their use, the city has created many bike lanes so that you don´t have to ride in traffic (because Spanish people drive like maniacs). This of course means that they are on the sidewalk. However, so as to distinguish where bikes can go (and therefore where pedestrians CANNOT go),...

There has been quite a bit of buzz here in the south of Spain as news broke last week that a 10 year old Romanian girl had given birth in a town in Andalucia. I read a report that her mother (the baby´s grandmother) claimed that it was something common in their country. Ummm, gross. I thought seeing fourteen year old trashy girls on Maury claiming they wanted to have a baby (you don´t know wat de bin thru) before being scared straight was bad enough. Apparently if they lived in Romania, they might be on their second (or third) child by that age. Now, I am not claiming that all Romanians believe in underage motherhood, nor am I aware that their government condones it. (Here in Spain consensual sex with anyone under the age of 13 is considered child abuse). But haven´t we all learned something from "16 and pregnant" and its spin-off "Teen Mom" (both of which are shown on MTV here)? Why else would they be on TV other than for educational purposes? Don´t we all, for exa...

The Pope a.k.a. Benedict XVI a.k.a. the Bishop of Rome a.k.a. Joseph Alois Ratzinger is coming to Spain! He is headed to Barcelona and Santiago de Compostela this weekend. Here is Spain the Pope is known as El Papa which for me is just weird. Allow me explain why, first because for me Papa is my grandpa and always will be even though he passed a while ago. My memories of him include big gold chains (he was Italian of course) and  arguing for hours with my grandmother about whether there were native penguins in Florida. I remember being sort of afraid of him because he teased us when we were little and I recall him bringing us donuts after church on Sundays when my grandparents would come to our house. Wait a minute. Maybe El Papa and my Papa weren´t so different after all. El Papa rocks gold and kind of scares me. He also seems to be unable to admit when he is wrong (see birth control, gay marriage, women´s role in the church etc). He might take a page from my Papa´s book and ...

In the States you know that Christmas is coming because radio stations start to play holiday tunes or the mall dresses up in its big ornament finery. Santa comes to town and you see parents lined up for hours waiting for their turn to take an awkward picture of their kids on his lap. All of the sudden, toy catalogs begin to arrive because the elves are busy at work. Every year it appears that this is happening earlier and earlier. Wasn´t it just Halloween like yesterday? I thought being in Spain I would have a respite. Nope. Christmas (and Los Reyes more importantly) are coming here too, even though it is only the first week of November. How do you know? Well, for one thing you walk into your local grocery store and the first thing you have to traverse is a jungle of toys and already overstressed parents searching for this year´s hot item (which seems to be some creepy action figure type thing called Gormiti). Good job marketing folk. Next, after weaving your way to the actual food, yo...

While here in Spain I have taken it upon myself to enroll in an Italian course. I have always wanted to learn Italian and figured this yearlong break from other studies was the perfect opportunity. Italian for me is either the beautiful, harmonious cousin of Spanish or the creepy, hairy  neighbor of Spanish. In any case, both languages are fairly similar so listening to my professor and gleaning the basic meanings is not really a problem. I am in a class full of Spaniards who come when they feel like it, leave fifteen minutes early and tend to chat when there. That being said, I sit towards the front of the class to hear better and not be distracted. I might be the only person there with a real interest in learning the language. Most days I sit by myself which at first bothered me. I thought, what kind of a freak am I that I have this entire row of five chairs to myself. Do I smell? I added extra deodorant and a spray of perfume, it wasn´t that. Do I not smile e...

Last weekend, José, a few friends and I took advantage of another holiday (Spaniards never work) in order to drive to Lisbon. We left in the early afternoon, worried about the forecasted rain and though it poured the entire drive there, we were fairly lucky the rest of the time. After nearly five hours in the car, we were finally crossing into Lisbon when we spotted Big Jesus, a giant statue that overlooks the city with arms spread wide. Needless to say, I spent the entire weekend orientating myself to where on the skyline I could see Big Jesus. He was always watching. Creeper. We arrived and checked into our hostel which did not make the best first impression. After getting off the scary elevator that had no door and went flying up five flights of stairs fast enough to make us all a bit dizzy, we were greeted by walls with fur. I am not sure who made that design choice but it was disgusting. It looked like someone had gone to JoAnn Fabrics and picked up the cheapest fabric from t...