Thursday, August 21, 2008 – CÁDIZ

I’m up early, having slept well over eight hours, and have a classic pension breakfast of toast, margarine, jam, and colacao (hot chocolate). I’m supposed to be meeting with the group at Plaza de San Antonio at ten and I know it’s close, but at 9:52 when I try to tell Isabel that I’m leaving to meet the group she looks at me like I’m crazy. “I know, at ten, I’m going to walk with you!” So I just hang tight for a minute and then at 9:57 she announces we should go… Isabel walks me there which entails taking the elevator downstairs, walking three meters to the right, taking the first left and ta-da! Plaza de San Antonio is literally around the corner. I’m actually a minute early, that’s how close I live.

When the entire group has collected we walk together to the University of Cádiz, again, not too far. Tony explains that it’s unusual to have a physical building for students like this one, and that the UW is fortunate to have such a wonderful arrangement with the UCA (Univ. of Cádiz). We all wander in and collect in one of the courtyards to discuss goals for our actual coursework. We meet Rita, the local director of the UW-UCA program and then make our way up to a classroom. For the next little bit we discuss Alberti’s autobiography, The Lost Grove, and start in on translating—just a literal translation, mind you. Tony regales us with the story of how he came to meet and know Alberti and I realize what a wonderful resource we students have in him. It’s always such a stroke of luck to have a professor who actually cares for the material that they’re charged with teaching you.

Class lets out so that we can make our ways home for lunch. Isabel has prepared a stew with potatoes and chunks of large squid. It’s absolutely incredible and when I pay my compliments I can tell that she’s well aware—this is a specialty of hers. I’m supposed to be meeting the girls at the beach, but I can’t help but linger at the lunch table to talk with Isabel and Debora—we all trade stories and joke about the odd things that American students have done when they come to study in Cádiz. I’m running late for the beach, but I’m already locked into the lifestyle of southern Spain so I don’t even bother to hurry.

The beach is stunning! The water stretches out on all sides and a gaggle of fishing boats crowd the right side of the small bay. The sand is peopled with some of the tannest families I have every seen. The ancient Moorish looking stone walls reach out on either side of the beach, like a protective embrace, tall palm trees leaning up and over them.

I find the girls without trouble—we are the palest people for miles around! The girls have a prime spot, despite how busy the beach is. Cádiz is on the Atlantic, so I’m prepared for the water to be pretty chilly, but it’s pleasant and perfect for the heat. The beach kind of acts like an ash tray for all the Europeans, so there’s a little bit of a litter and cigarette-butt problem, but other than that it couldn’t be more perfect. There are showers for rinsing off and some of the cleanest and best maintained bathrooms I’ve ever encountered. Every now and again a guy with a clown horn moseys by hauling what looks like a white recycling bin. It’s actually full of ice and refreshments such as soda and beer. Amy, the self-declared Tara Reid of the group, dashes off to get some “adult beverages” and it’s clear that this is going to be a beach bum kind of day.

At some point someone suggests we walk to the larger beach to see the big waves. We don’t make it very far before we stop to take photos and realize that the beach with the big waves is kind of far off. The entire group loses impetus and we return to the original beach, but settle for a less idyllic spot to put down our towels. Plans are hatching left and right for what to do for dinner and beyond that… we all agree to meet at ten at Plaza San Antonio (since everyone knows how to get there from their house).

There’s talk of going to New Cádiz to El Corte Inglés because a few of us need school supplies, swim gear, and some electronics equipment. We decide to take the bus, there being a bus stop right in front of the beach. Between me, Anita, Courtney, Isar and Megan (the brunette) no one knows which bus to take or where any of them really go. Our maps don’t actually extend past the old part of town. So I go up to a guy who looks relatively normal and ask him if it’s possible to take the bus to Corte Ingles. Yes he tells me, the number two. He then continues to tell me what to look for so we know what stop to take. I thank him and go back to relay the information to the girls. We, being used to the Metro bus system at home, are a little worried about the bus taking a long time because it’s getting late and everyone wants to shower and change. We decide to split a taxi and as we’re leaving the bus stop the man I asked for help looks at me with wonder. I explain that we think it’s easier to take a taxi. He stops me, “No, no. A taxi will cost too much and they won’t pick up five people. The bus is quick and only 93 cents.”

So I convince the girls to take the bus and sure enough here one comes. We all clamber on, paying our cents worth. The driver insists that you put your money down on the little counter around his seat, then he prints out a receipt, which you have to take, then he gives you your change. The man who gave us directions gets on the bus too and tells me he’s going to make sure we get there okay. I’m so distracted looking at all the beautiful churches and arches and statues and fountains that I forget to look for Corte Ingles. But Mr. Directions comes and taps me on the shoulder and tells us this is our stop. We pile off and he piles off with us. He points to the store, huge and looming just a few streets over, and walks with us to the cross-walk as he gives us specific directions on how to get over there. The people here are so incredible nice!

I’m so excited when we get to Corte Ingles. IT’S THE BIGGEST ONE I’VE EVER BEEN TO IN MY ENTIRE LIFE. It’s huge. I mean, huge. Costco, if they had four floors. We all try on swimsuits—mostly because swimsuits in Spain cover almost none of your butt and sometimes have really strange designs and shapes. This entertains us until we realize how much time we’re wasting.

We march off to electronics because Megan has discovered how cheap it is to call with Skype, but doesn’t have a built-in microphone… this is when we learn that they don’t really worry at all about organization or “facing” things in the stores. There’s nothing in its place, nothing where it’s supposed to be—it’s like shopping at a swap meet. Megan finds what she wants after digging around for a while and the rest of us manage to pick up our school supplies just fine.

You can recharge your phone minutes at any pay counter in Corte Ingles so I make sure to do that before we head down to the supermarket in the basement. Courney has mentioned that she really wanted cornuts only about four times, so I’m determined to find Cornuts or at least the Spanish equivalent. I also want to buy some groceries because I don’t particularly enjoy eating big meals out with the whole group. I get annoyed easily with how long it takes us to order, and to get our food, and then to pay. Just more group dynamic stuff that you have to figure out how to deal with. My solution is to eat ahead of time.

I find cornuts and buy the big bag for us all to try! We load up and head out, determined to find any bus stop because we’re pretty sure that any of the buses will take us where we want to go. At the first bus stop, just around the corner from Corte Ingles, I ask an old lady to make sure we’re going the right way. After she argues with her daughter for a minute, the daughter, who is American, sends us across the street to the other stop to catch the bus there. It comes within moments and we’re on our way home.

Everyone meets up at ten and we decide to head to 100 Montoditos—the cheapest eats in town, which happens to be a chain, but no one cares. This way everyone can pay separately, can get whatever they want, and there’s plenty of room for a big crowd of us. Then it’s off to the beach for a little group fiesta that lasts late into the night. I feel pretty confident that the entire group is already embracing Southern Spain.