on final exams and final nights in granada...
and so the end is in sight...
i´ll admit that i have a lot to bitch about concerning my program through granada. for instance:
1-i´m certainly not fluent in spanish. i´ll admit that i´ve certainly gained profeciency, but i wasn´t nearly as ¨immersed¨ as i was orgiginally lead to believe.
2-the unspeakable asurdity of my universty requring out-of-state students to pay an additional $2,500 in order to take LSU classes in a foreign country.
3-the equally absurd notion of the international student offices paying the host families their salaries just days before ourprogram concludes, forcing them to pinch every penny they possess jsut to scrape by during the entirety of our stay.
4-the utterly structureless format of my classes at the centro de lenguas modernas. i was literally taught nothing, aside from a few terms concerning local, andalucian festivals, concerning spanish grammer or vocabulary. every single insight into the language itself was gained from conversations with ym host family. i understand that this is, in part, how the program is to operate, but in-class reinforcement would have behooved all of a great deal.
etc.
all bitching aside (i´m sure i´ve come off as spoiled brat thus far) the positive aspects of this excursion will infintely eclipse and forever outlast any and all of my animousity concerning the organization of LSU in Spain. here, not only have i proven to myself that i am fully capable of adapting to a foreign culture as well as a foreign language, but i´ve also been blessed with the opportunity to meet a handfull of friends who, without our shared experiences in this painfully disorganized program, i never would have encountered over the course of any other summer spent in the balmy heat of baton rouge.
so farewell, granada...and farewell to plaza nueva, maceba, hannigans, babylon, neptuno, benches near cathedrals, gypsies holding sprigs of rosemary, uncomfortable staircases, mae west, hash dealers, failed journeys to the beaches, la feria, chorpus christi, stoned bus rides, appalachian hippies, a dog named linda, mabi, cassandra, javi, jose, maria, antonio, sangria, the irish pub, double espressos in the mornings, mile-long walks to class, streets filled with dog shit, sweating through the sheets, infuriating dreams in broken spanish, caja granada, the reppin´bit, cerveza grandes, tinto veranos, heroes and idols, 400€ dinners with jorge, calling jorge out on his shit, calling gabby a man, apologizing for calling gabby a man, 15 cigarettes a day in front of the centro, shots of honey and rum, the kebap king, bags of almonds in the early afternoon, 40´s of alhambra, bull fights, depraved bums with self-perpetuated and gangrenous wounds, dogs without leashes, the smell of a thousand types of tea leaves in the morning, ducados, an endless sea of scooters, slow-walking spainards, the disgusted stares of locals, and dead-drunk, mile-long walks home from the bars.
madrid, toledo, rome, prague and berlin are approaching quickly.
i touchdown in the united states on the 15th of july.
nostalgia has just grabbed me by the heart strings...
i´ll admit that i have a lot to bitch about concerning my program through granada. for instance:
1-i´m certainly not fluent in spanish. i´ll admit that i´ve certainly gained profeciency, but i wasn´t nearly as ¨immersed¨ as i was orgiginally lead to believe.
2-the unspeakable asurdity of my universty requring out-of-state students to pay an additional $2,500 in order to take LSU classes in a foreign country.
3-the equally absurd notion of the international student offices paying the host families their salaries just days before ourprogram concludes, forcing them to pinch every penny they possess jsut to scrape by during the entirety of our stay.
4-the utterly structureless format of my classes at the centro de lenguas modernas. i was literally taught nothing, aside from a few terms concerning local, andalucian festivals, concerning spanish grammer or vocabulary. every single insight into the language itself was gained from conversations with ym host family. i understand that this is, in part, how the program is to operate, but in-class reinforcement would have behooved all of a great deal.
etc.
all bitching aside (i´m sure i´ve come off as spoiled brat thus far) the positive aspects of this excursion will infintely eclipse and forever outlast any and all of my animousity concerning the organization of LSU in Spain. here, not only have i proven to myself that i am fully capable of adapting to a foreign culture as well as a foreign language, but i´ve also been blessed with the opportunity to meet a handfull of friends who, without our shared experiences in this painfully disorganized program, i never would have encountered over the course of any other summer spent in the balmy heat of baton rouge.
so farewell, granada...and farewell to plaza nueva, maceba, hannigans, babylon, neptuno, benches near cathedrals, gypsies holding sprigs of rosemary, uncomfortable staircases, mae west, hash dealers, failed journeys to the beaches, la feria, chorpus christi, stoned bus rides, appalachian hippies, a dog named linda, mabi, cassandra, javi, jose, maria, antonio, sangria, the irish pub, double espressos in the mornings, mile-long walks to class, streets filled with dog shit, sweating through the sheets, infuriating dreams in broken spanish, caja granada, the reppin´bit, cerveza grandes, tinto veranos, heroes and idols, 400€ dinners with jorge, calling jorge out on his shit, calling gabby a man, apologizing for calling gabby a man, 15 cigarettes a day in front of the centro, shots of honey and rum, the kebap king, bags of almonds in the early afternoon, 40´s of alhambra, bull fights, depraved bums with self-perpetuated and gangrenous wounds, dogs without leashes, the smell of a thousand types of tea leaves in the morning, ducados, an endless sea of scooters, slow-walking spainards, the disgusted stares of locals, and dead-drunk, mile-long walks home from the bars.
madrid, toledo, rome, prague and berlin are approaching quickly.
i touchdown in the united states on the 15th of july.
nostalgia has just grabbed me by the heart strings...