Anecdote: Spanish Chaos

A friend of one of my roommates has a car here (a rarity for reasons you will soon see).  A simple hopping into the car to go to the mall the other night turned into a game of musical cars.  We arrived at the car (parked on the street) to find a second row of cars, bumper to bumper, completely blocking our row.  But no worries ("no pasa nada") "everyone leaves their parking breaks down."  Try to craft a mental image.  Each of the 4 of us braced ourselves behind a car in the double-parked row and pushed a little, then ran around to the next four cars in front of those to clear a bit more room for the first four cars to move.  Push.  Run around.  Check space.  Repeat.  After many repetitions and a bit of outside help we were able to shift the entire row of double parked cars to create just enough room to extract ours.  As we drove off, my roommate Lorelai casually commented to me "this is pretty normal here."

Classes

I have only four classes, compared to the normal load here of seven or eight.  The hardest will be my architecture studio, as I will be dealing with two foreign languages, Spanish and, much more unfamiliar to me, metrics.  I have labeled many dimensions in my room in centimeters and meters using chalk, string, and paper in order to accustom myself to the system.  

I am also taking Economy and Organization of Businesses (tailored for architecture students).  I understand the least in this class due to the type of vocabulary used, but I have the most friends in it (Spaniards) who have already been huge sources of help.  

Finally, my two favorite classes are Urban Landscape: Hand Drawing and French.  The drawing class consists of one 4.5-hour session per week of drawing in a beautiful spot in the historic city center (1 drawing/week).  How awesome is that?!

French I discovered online last night (taking three weeks to realize its existence due to the absolutely horrendous organization of the online system).  I walked into the class late, after being misled by an incorrect online listing...typical, to a professor's cheerful greeting rattled off in perfect French.  I smiled and said "Bonjour" back (the only word I had understood) and then readily replied "no" to perhaps the only French phrase I know ("parlez-vous Français?").  The class was interactive and exciting, mostly taught in French (accompanied by exaggerated gestures for our benefit), which gave all of the Spanish speakers in the class the same disadvantage I had in understanding.  It's amazing how much easier it is to understand French knowing Spanish.  It won't be as hard taking a foreign language in Spanish as it probably sounds.  I can't wait to learn more!

La Universidad

Funny how we say "study abroad" as if studying is the main objective.  To give an idea of my "school" experience so far, my enrollment in a couple classes has yet to be finalized and class started three weeks ago (well, actually three and a half, but my advisor convinced me not to attend the first couple of days on the grounds that "no one will be there anyway"), I switched one of my classes today, and I know a Spanish guy who is in my economy class and I still have not seen him there once.  He promises me he will "try" to wake up for the next class.  Welcome to Spain.

Enforcement of attendance is obviously slightly lax to say the least, but there is also a reason they have a one and a half month exam period.  I just witnessed my roommates taking their exams for their fall classes, and I kept wondering why they do this to themselves.  If they would just study little by little throughout the semester, they wouldn't lose three months of their lives every year (but this is the overly-logical, unnecessarily hard-working American in me talking).

As for the Universidad Politécnica de Valencia, I love it.  The campus is big for Europe but definitely not when compared to UT.  I have asked countless students what the total enrollment is, and so far no one has been able to even give me a ballpark!  There is a much stronger identity with individual school than the university as a whole.  The architecture school has around 2,000 students (all undergrad)!!  That is about SIX TIMES the size of UT's School of Architecture.  

The campus is vibrant, with cafes spilling out into the common outdoor areas, teaming with students and professors drinking café and cerveza at all hours of the day.  One long green space runs the length of the campus, flanked on either side by academic buildings, athletic facilities, student services buildings, and many other convenient services such as a hair salon, book store, school supply store, copy center, and photo center.  Palm trees define the experience, announcing clearly that the Mediterranean is near (a 5-10 minutes tram ride in fact).  

The school has a huge number of study abroad students, but between all the foreigners I've met, only one has been from the states.  Almost all are from Europe: Italy, France, Germany, Poland, Bulgaria.  It seems like nearly every other day I add a country to the list.  All of the students from the US are studying at the other major university in Valencia, including the other three students here from UT.  I obviously made the right choice.

Mi Casa

When I met my roommates for the first time, I loved them, Silvia ("Javita"), another Silvia ("Lorelai"), Teresa, and Lola (our cat).  Well I didn't like Lola at first actually but she has won me over with her affections.  The photo above is not staged; I was working quietly on my computer and she hopped onto my lap and then climbed up to give me a hug, now a quite frequent occurance.  

All three girls are from smaller towns in the nearby province of Alicante, about an hour away.  Two speak no English and one can speak a little.  Two study law and one marketing, and all are very bright and well-informed.  Already our political discussions have stretched me, in addition to frustrating me a bit as my points must be communicated in Spanish or lost entirely, usually leaving the US in the terrible light in which they have cast it.  

On the day I came to meet them and see the apartment, the four of us sat in the living room and they all looked eagerly at me, wanting to know all about me.  It was the only apartment I visited where I felt I was being considered as a potential friend, not just the person who was going to reduce the rent payments.  The location was ideal, right next to the Plaza Xúquer (pronounced "Sú-ker"), a vibrant area full of students, bars, restaurants, and cafes, well-connected to the rest of the city, and a mere seven minute walk from the university.  There was only one thing causing me to hesitate-they all smoked, like chimneys, and inside.  They were very open about their lack of consideration for non-smokers on my first visit, which I appreciated, though the apartment's smell would have given their secret away regardless.  This worried me, but in the end I liked them and the location too much to pass up.  I couldn't be happier with my decision.

Main street off of which I live

My street, Calle Poeta Artola  (my door is the second overhang on the right)

Hostel

I arrived in Valencia by train around 1130pm on the 22th of January.  The station provided a great first impression of the city with its platforms housed beneath an striking, open-air, beautifully-constructed pavilion (please excuse the architecture student in me).  I hopped (easily that is, as I was, alas, without my luggage) into a cab and directed the driver toward Hostal Purple Nest, located in the beautiful historic center of Valencia.  On the way, my tired, heavy head came alive, swiveling from side to side to absorb the bustling night activity and beautifully-lit white carved stone of the city center.

In 5 minutes we were in the Plaza Tetuán, at the door of Hostal Purple Nest.  Not only was it ridiculously precious (the name "purple" being no misnomer) but I had somehow lucked out selecting the only hostel in Valencia with its own bar.  For backpackers in nearby hostels, Hostal Purple Nest is the place to party.  More importantly, the atmosphere was therefore one of making friends.  Within my first 20 minutes there that night, I had made seven new friends from Ohio and plans for the next night (that night the priority was sleep).  Throughout my stay there I met people from Australia, Oklahoma, Pennsylvania, Holland, England, and Italy.  

My primary purpose at the hostel, however, was to locate an apartment.  I had booked five nights at the hostel to do this.  At first my plan of attack was to exhaust the online apartment postings, but I soon learned my luck was better when I ditched those ads and simply went out, making new friends and telling them about my situation.  In the end, my hero was Matteo, a precious Italian exchange student who was the guide of the organized pub crawl in which I participated.  He is now my neighbor.  On day four I met his friends (my current roommates), on day five I informed them of my decision, and on day six I moved into my new home!