Day Time and the Nightlife

After a short time here experiencing both the city's daily routine and Cádiz's incredible nightlife, I can testify to how unique the lifestyle is here. Side from its artifacts birthright spots and to the many of its beautiful gardens, the nightlife is among the best if your endgame is to tapear, fiestar, o simplemente pasar por la calle (essentially, "Eat, drink, and be merry."). Virtually every corner in the city has bar-cafes (literally, one and the same), nightclubs, and tapas bars where respective patrons regularly hang out until 4 AM or soon after.

Although, before the sun sets, there is a very regular routine that occurs. The slow, leisurely pace of each day is entirely foreign compared to the aggressive and determined lifestyle back home in Seattle. For example, after my first two days abroad, my host family abandoned their attempts to get up and eat breakfast with me around 8. Soon after my arrival they had returned to their accustomed 10 AM wake-up, so I essentially don't see my host family until I return home from classes at 1.

Unless you manage a bar-cafe or a pandería, the day doesn't really begin until after breakfast which is more often than not nothing more than a single vasito de café. My host mom then spends an hour or two in the kitchen, bustling around in her bathrobe (if you're a woman in Cádiz, you wear a bathrobe if you're at home regardless of what time it is) preparing both lunch and dinner. Typically, people spend the time in between breakfast and lunch out in the streets mingling, sharing more coffee with friends, or running short errands to the supermercado.

Although redundant, it's truthful to say that unless you manage a bar-cafe, you promptly close shop at 1 or 2. At this time each day over the past few weeks I have observed, in a curious wonder, the special Spanish custom that is Siesta. In Spanish, “siesta" is the word for “nap.” But Siesta, as I have decided through in my own interpretations, is the equivalent of a city-wide nap. I kid you not. From roughly 2-5 PM, every single day of the week, entire cities in Spain (Cádiz, of course, included) Just. Shut. Down.

“Oh, I’m sorry? Do you need to buy something?”
“Yes. Actually, I really need to get a--”
“Whoaaaa there. My dear, dear, young American-foreigner… You see, that’s actually going to be an issue because, well, it’s time for Siesta.“
“Siesta?”
“Yes, which means I’m getting ready to leave and that you need to leave… Now. Don’t fret though, we’ll be reopening... in THREE HOURS."

This is real life.

To Be Continued... (Excuse the interruption, but I'm on the way to a tour of the Monumento de Torre!)

Accordingly, after a loud lunch with the entire familia at 2 or 3, people take the time during the afternoon siesta to nap at home in front of the TV or spend time relaxing with friends. The rest of the day is pretty much a throw-away, since shop owners return in the evening for a mere two hours, more or less, to round out the work day. Even if a store or restaurant is open after 7, it's a crap shoot whether or not its owner is on the premises, since it's pretty common for the employees to abandon the storefront on a whim, meander across the plaza and smoke a cigarette with whomever happens to still be manning their post. At that, please note: Everyone and their madre smokes in Spain! The air is regularly clouded with a cigarette haze and people make a habit of smoking in their private homes. Even though it's illegal here to smoke inside businesses, there's nothing wrong with standing on, near, or a half-step across the threshold while you toke on your cigarillo. If you plan on visiting, bring your eye drops and a respirator!


After the sun sets and people return to their homes, there's a lot of down time until dinner at 9, 10, or 11 at night. Nothing makes me feel more like an outsider than when my stomach is growling at 7 at the two-year-old is still running around the house at 10:30 while dinner is being prepared. Although lunch is typically heavy and hearty--tortillas españolas made from diced potatoes or green beans and egg; any assortment of fried foods like ham-filled croquetas, french fries, or whole fish (head, scales, and fins still in tact); seafood or meat paella--dinner is instead a small ham sandwich, a light salad, or garbanzo bean or lentil and vegetable soup.


The custom of sleeping all afternoon makes more sense when the night gets under way. Young people and older couples alike flock to the bars for even more socializing. Because it's still winter, the cold winds continue to blow in from the Atlantic across the Bahía de Cádiz, but  nightclubbers (local and those coming from the ever-present cruise ships alike) can find shelter here in the Casco Viejo. This part of Cádiz is older than its newer, sprawling addition. Its northernmost quadrant, the neighborhood radiating outward from the Plaza de San Francisco, is a labyrinth of impossibly narrow streets where cubbyhole tapas bars get the party started with cheap, locally-brewed Cruzcampo beer, tiny chupitos of liquor, or tinto, vino, and--for the youths--a mixed drink of wine and Coca Cola. After that, around when the clubs open at 4 AM, everyone heads to La Punta where everyone dances to loud, poppy Spanish songs or outdated American Top-40 hits until 6 or 7 in the morning. There's a rumor that some of these places have an arbitrarily imposed cover charge of 5€, but it apparently tends to be waived if you're attractive and female, or male and friendly with the doorkeepers.


Photos to be added soon of my experiences so far during the day and night, as well as photos of Cádiz from on top of the city in the Torre Tavira!

sábado, domingo, lunes...

Everyone I've met, and everything I've experienced here so far in Cådiz is absolutely and wonderfully dashing my expectations to bits. Little more than 56 hours ago I had so many doubts and concerns about my ability to acclimate to a new time zone let alone an entirely different culture, but the rhythm of the life of los Gaditanos has proven to have a pretty captivating beat.


As previously mentioned, la ciudad has been busy this weekend with several exciting pre-Carnival events, which not only granted the other Dawgs and I a tiny glimpse at what is to come during Carnival (February 16th-26th), but also the opportunity to introduce ourselves to the city and to los ciudadanos. As an Ugly American, I fully expected to be ignored--or worse, targeted--by the locals but in reality I've experienced quite the opposite. First, imagine this plaza spilling over with hundreds of people between the ages of 15 to 80, with a stage constructed at one end and music flooding the square. Then, image that on all sides, people are eager to hand you free pestiños (honey-dipped fritters), Anise, and manzanilla (dry sherry), and as much as you can hold at a time! You'd have to literally try--and try hard--to feel unwelcome when everyone is so eager to include you in the celebration.


On Sunday afternoon the fiesta continued with Erizada and Ostionada, appropriately named for the free treats handed out on that day. Equally free, but certainly less popular with me than the pestiños from the night before. Yes, beer (FREE beer) goes great with sea food, but I am not, nor ever will I be, an "oyster person." And, for the gringos back home, an erizo is a sea urchin. Tasty...


The first day of our two-week long orientation/intensive review began early this morning at the University of Cádiz (UCA) and my one-month long hiatus from classes has finally come to an end. We won't officially begin our language, literature, history, and what-have-you classes until later this month, but it's been a nice introduction so far. My temporary professor, Paco, has a great sense of humor and our minute, nine-person group has already established a pretty strong bond. I look forward to continue practicing and reviewing Spanish over the next couple days; discussion-based exercises are my favorite because it's less about mindless repetition and more about legitimately considering how to adequately express your ideas (a veces más difícil de lo que parece...). However, the weather has proven to be more reminiscent of the Pacific Northwest than is desirable. I know I've always complained about the fact that UW has a tendency to jack up the heat when the thermometer drops below, like, 72°, but you will not find an HVAC system here no matter how hard you try. My poor suede boots are still thoroughly soaked and the highs were in the low-fifties today. At least if I lose a toe or two I have free, localized health coverage through UCA.  


All in all, gracias a Dios for pleasant surprises! My parents would be quick to tell you how easily I bring myself to hysterics worrying about things that never come to be, and now I'm aware that this is probably another one of those situations. I'll tell you that up until the last second of the train ride from Jerez I was imaging a huge, foreign city full of muggers (thanks, Mom), crazy Gypsies (again...), mumbly Gaditanos, and nowhere to call home.


But, you know what they say about assumptions...

"Wait, what time is it?"

I feel like I've lost a day somewhere between sleeping on the flight, changing time zones, taking the train, napping a mi casa... Yikes! It's all very disorienting, but at least now that I've arrived in Cádiz, I can finally begin adjusting to life abroad.

Of course, this is easier said than done! With my internal body clock stuck nine hours behind, meals and rest are awkward, uncomfortable things. When I calculate what time it is in Seattle as compared to here, I realize that I'm eating lunch at 5 AM and taking a siesta when I'm sure my friends back home are just getting the party started.

With all this in mind, my host mamá is wonderfully accommodating. "Sé que no come la carne roja, sí?" She also must have excellent cardiovascular health, considering the woman practically flew up the three flights of VERY narrow stairs to her home with my 50-pound luggage and myself in tow. Marie has been wonderful in helping me get settled in here.

Again, I'll have to get some photos up at a later time, but for now, a quick description of my new home will have to suffice: As previously mentioned, we are located on the third floor, above a man who lives with two dogs, one cat, and what sounds like a million birds. Like my own parakeet at home, they seem to settle down after sunset but at any other time during the day our entire floor is flooded with incessant chirping and squawking. It's pretty funny! The entire span of the Guzmán residence is like one long hallway, with windows facing the northeast and the salas, bedrooms, bathrooms, and kitchen along the opposite wall. Everything is burnt orange, rich yellow, terracotta, or azul, which brings me some minor sense of comfort knowing both my host mother and my real mom have similar tastes (miss you, mommy!).

While our orientation at the University doesn't begin until Monday morning, there is enough to keep me, Jason, and the other Dawgs busy until then! Tonight at the Plaza de San Francisco we will be celebrating Pastiñada as part of the events leading up to Carnival. I've heard that there's free food, free drinks, and we will get the first chance to listen to some of the groups that will be participating in the carnival competition in February. Jason's host mamá also made very certain that we were aware that there will be plenty of cerveza gratis tomorrow during the rest of the pre-carnival events (more on Erizada and Ostionada later, I'm sure).

I miss you, America!

We've Landed!

Well, we (Jason and I) made it to Spain in one piece. I can't say much about the 10 hour flight due to the fact that approximately 20 minutes in to the in-flight viewing of The Hangover II, both of us promptly passed out and didn't awaken until the wheels touched the tarmac in London. What I CAN say about it: THANK GOD. I hate flying, especially when you're in a cabin that is kept at a stifling 900 million degrees (Fahrenheit or Celsius; either way I'm grateful I was unconscious for the duration).

Our scheduled one-and-a-half hour layover in London turned out to be a 10 minute layover in London-- long enough for me to find a very much desired Diet Coke vending machine and curse the stupid thing to hell for only accepting Euros (which I hadn't yet acquired). God, dammit.

We're here now in Madrid for the night at an adorable hotel called the Hotel Mediodia. It's literally 360 feet from the train station where, tomorrow, we'll depart for Cádiz! But, I'm getting ahead of myself. We arrived at the hotel by taxi at around 5 o' clock, and of course the first and only thing I had in mind after a day's worth of travel is a long, hot shower. Jason, too, took a moment to wash away all the grit, grime, and sweat a traveller seems to inevitably accumulate, and then promptly fell asleep.

After he wakes, I'm hoping that we'll have an hour or two later this evening to grab a meal and a drink somewhere nearby. There are so many cute shops, restaurants, and cafes all around the Plaza de Atocha (full name: Plaza del Emperador Carlos V, what a mouth full!), where the Atocha railway station is located. It's too bad we didn't schedule a day or two of site seeing here in Madrid, since we have a very, very early train departure tomorrow morning and won't have the opportunity to go exploring.

One more thing before I wake "Sleeping Beauty" and go find some comida; an interesting realization I had during the taxi ride from the airport: Oddly enough, I feel more comfortable and at ease here in España than I do when my friends and I visit Canada. I'll definitely have to muse on it a bit more as to why that is!

Until the next update, and until I can get some photos up, here's a link to a Wiki article about the Plaza. The subject of the photo featured in the article can be seen from our fifth-floor hotel room! See? Doesn't it make you want to go exploring?

Also, if you look just below this posting where it says "Location: Madrid, Spain" you can click the link, zoom in on Google Maps, and check out the street view of where we are. It's practically like you're looking out my hotel window with me. (:

Lots of love from your Raquelita favorita.