Seeing Double

Hey everyone. By the way, I don't know if more people are reading, or if we've collected strays from the internet, or y'all are just really eager, but I've gotten a lot of views on this blog recently. So... thanks for reading.

Also, an apology. I know I'm behind. This post should get me up to exactly a week behind. There's a lot of things going on. Well, actually, there's been one big thing that is causing a bunch of little things, and then another... bigger thing, but it's far away, so it looks smaller right now.

I know it's not strictly relevant to this post, but I feel like I owe you an explanation. So, it's the end of my study abroad program. Which is crazy. Because it doesn't feel like it. But I have 1 day and 1 week of classes before finals start. Which means that teachers are packing in the homework, I have to study for exams, we are doing lots of things that we meant to do beforehand, I am trying to plan for trips during the next two weeks, and, most terrifyingly, I am trying to plan for what I'm going to do this summer. *runs screaming away from her responsibilities* so yeah. And then I've been working on the whole, "how do I actually go about getting a masters degree" thing, so that's been keeping me plenty busy as well.

But all that is not what I was worrying about last week (mostly) and this is not a stressed-out blog post. This is a blog post about dumb pictures! And maybe a small bit of introspection. But not too much.

So I came back to Valencia Sunday night, and it was the weirdest sensation. Because Fallas was over, and done, completely and totally. Everything was packed up and hauled off, there was empty street where the Municipal Falla had burned, and kiosks where the mascletà went off. But I was walking down the streets, and I could still see it. Fallas was in the city for a while, and it was so intense that it was like an image of the city as it was then was burned into the backs of my eyelids.

But it was over. And so I didn't have to fight crowds to get to wok to walk and I didn't pass the Falla next to the Mercado Central when I went home, and no fireworks went off while I was asleep.

So the next morning I woke up and I went to class. Exciting, I know. In Civ class we talked about modernism in Spain, which we had done in Elena's class, but the pictures are still pretty.

Our Cine teacher was out sick, so there was a substitute, who was very nice. We watched a lot of clips of various movies, including a decent part of a kind of weird one about a guy who had to hide out in his own house during the dictatorship. There was a weird subplot about a priest who was in love with (IN THE CREEPIEST WAY POSSIBLE) his wife. So weird. I'm convinced that there aren't happy movies made in the Spanish language. Because I've never actually seen one. Never.

Then I went to my English class, which was wonderful and fun and hilarious as always. We talked about genres of literature, and at one point the teacher started making fun of the class because, and I quote *affects midlands British accent* addresses the entire class "OUR dictionary is bigger than YOURS," points to Italian student, "and YOURS," points to French student, "and YOURS, and if you're part of the Institute of Valencian language, well then, *dismissive noise*" Linguists.

So then I came back and did the lunch and chilled and went to Elena's class, where we learned about surrealism and Salvador Dalí. That guy is so crazy. But really, he said it best himself, "I am surrealism." And yes, yes he is. He is also arrogant, but that's entirely beside the point. So we took some notes, then we got into some analysis, which is one of my favorite parts, mostly because I get to make stuff up and try to make it sound like I know what I'm talking about. I'm not actually sure that there's another way to analyze surrealist art, to be honest.

So then I came back and did homework. I know that sounds terribly boring, but I had a lot of homework last week.

So then Tuesday I went to lit class, and we talked about the incredibly uplifting topic of concentration camp literature. Oh yeah, a bunch of Spanish people wound up in French concentration camps when they tried to flee Franco. I mean, it wasn't Auschwitz, but it wasn't a cakewalk. Max Aub, the author that we read, famous Spanish author who eventually escaped and lived the rest of his life in Mexico, wound up in a camp in the mountains of Algeria with a pretty sadistic commander. It was very interesting, though, because prior to the Civil War, the Avant Garde movements were picking up a lot of steam, lots of "pure art" and abstraction, but, unsurprisingly, that kind of stopped after the war. As Max Aub put it, "I don't have a right to be silent about what I saw in order to write about what I imagine." and I think that's a really great summary of the reason for that change.

So then after class we went to the Ceramics museum here in Valencia. Actually, only Elena, Alexz, Jess, Alexz's Dad, and me wound up going, but, it was really cool. The coolest part wasn't the actual ceramics. We didn't spend a ton of time on those, because we had a lot of homework, and that wasn't terribly interesting. But, we still had a great time

 because the building was nice.

 And there were carriages.

 Seriously. Those things were huge. Also, I want one. I would make such a grand entrance.

 I would make my grand entrance under this chandelier. There was actually a stairway in that house that for just a moment made me really want to be a princess and get to make an epic entrance coming down the stairs. And I don't desire to be a princess very often.

cool furniture, and 

 ya know, ceramics

 It actually used to be a palace, so, it was really impressive.

 Like, I wish we had this level of artistry as a part of our everyday lives.

 I have always loved the idea of living in a place of great beauty,

 and usually when I say that I'm referring to what's outside my house, but sometimes I think that one reason I like old buildings and historical sites so much is that I crave that kind of beauty indoors too.

 Oh, and we did see actual ceramics.

 MUDEJAR CEILINGS

 Sorry, got excited there.

 What am I going to do when I go out into the cold, cold rest of Europe and there are no mudejar ceilings, and no mudejar doors?

 I don't know. But first I'm gonna make fun of this statue. Which looks like it has no teeth.

 See, palace, had a kitchen.

 That's just pretty.

 So we found this really strange exhibition

 and there was pottery, and signs on it in English. Which were hilarious.

 No comment.

And the building itself, like the façade was cool, but, really, the best part of the museum wasn't what I saw, it was what I did.

Now, there are very few activities that I truly miss when traveling alone, but this is one of my favorite  activities in museums, and it requires a team effort.

 Posing with statues.

 I'm actually quite impressed with that one.

I just kept getting more and more props. It was so much fun. Fun fact, the statue in that last one was holding an apple, and I had an apple in my pocket (yes, I keep fruit in my pockets. Don't judge me.) so I got super realistic on that one.

So then we went home and did homework. Dang. This week wasn't very interesting.

Oh well!

Then Wednesday I gave a presentation on the Spanish Silver Age in Civ class. It's actually a pretty interesting time period. It starts with the loss of Spain's final colonies in the Spanish-American war, and the whole country just kind of does this existential crisis and then begins producing art and literature and culture like a mad person for the next 38 years. And then like, starting in 1927 there's this great new generation of writers, and they're poets and they're Avant Garde, and they're brilliant and wonderful and liberal and starting to have global influence, when Frasisco Franco starts a coup in Morocco. The most famous of them, a poet named Federico Garcia Lorca, is murdered in the first year of the Civil War that follows, others are sent to jail by the fascists either during or after the war and some die there. The rest become exiles, either in Mexico or Argentina or some other country and die abroad, or they become exiles within their own country and never publish anything again. I mean, from all these classes I've known about both of these things: the Silver Age and the Civil War, but until you look at it like that, and follow the lives of these people, you don't realize how quick and how tragic that turnaround was. It's... hard to wrap my brain around.

So then in Cine we still have the substitute, and we watch the movie El Bola, which is a pretty intense movie. It's about this kid from this very traditional family who befriends a kid from a very non-traditional family (his dad's a tattoo artist, and they have friends who are gay, and they're very liberal and out there), and over the course of the movie it comes out that the dad of the kid from the strait-laced family is just horribly abusive, and beats his son bloody. So his son runs to the nontraditional family, and there's a lot of drama and pain, but he gets out of his bad situation, and finds acceptance, and it's got a better ending than some. It's the only movie this semester I've seen before, and, while well-made and important, was not the kind of movie that I really wanted to see again.

So then I came home and did things and ate lunch, and in Elena's class we continued to analyze Dalí, and that was fun. There was an activity afterwards, but I had a lot of homework, so I passed and went and did that.

Thursday I went to class. Like ya do. And we talked about... I was hoping it was something happier, but I looked through my notes, and no, we talked about concentration camp literature. Again. Don't get me wrong, it's important, but... after my intensive Holocaust unit in the 8th grade, I just can't anymore, it's too difficult.

So after class I did homework and such, and then we went to the Bullfighting museum. It was really cool. I'm kind of torn between wishing we had gone to the museum before going to see the fight, because it would have explained a lot, BUT I also recognize that I enjoyed the museum significantly more because I had been to a fight.

Actually, it was really interesting to see the difference in the reactions of Jess and me (who had been to a bullfight) and the rest of the group (who had not). Like, we watched a video summary of the whole fight process, and everybody freaked out, but Jess and I were just like, "oh, yeah, that's what was happening." and providing color commentary.

Also, something that I did not know until I went to the museum

That's the guy that got gored. We saw a bullfighter that is famous enough to be a part of the museum. And not only that, but we saw what will probably be one of his last fights. So, yeah. Like, I empirically recognize that bullfighting is morally wrong. But I am still very very glad I went.

So we looked around the museum for a bit, and then

THEY LET US GO OUT INTO THE RING!!!!!!

I think that face pretty much says all I need to say about that.

Like, this tunnel I was standing in. Is where the matadors come out. Like,
AAAAAAAHHHHHHH

 So when we got into the ring, the difference between how Jess and I reacted was even more different. I mean, we were all psyched, because, seriously, SO COOL. But, everybody else just wandered around, Jess and I

 went straight to the spot where Ponce got gored.

 And where the bull broke the fence. 

 And we'd seen the matadors do it, so we hid behind the barriers.

 That's where it got broken, also, note that white thing on the left, that helps the matadors jump over the barrier when the bull is running at them. And Jess and I went and looked at that, and saw where it was they were actually doing these things.

 This is the way to the infirmary where Ponce got carried out.

 This is where they release the bulls from.

 I just love that you can see the marks from where the bull tried to get behind it.

So, yeah, that was SO FREAKING COOL.

And then Alexz came back to the museum with me, because I didn't have the time to read everything when we were up there the first time

So this is what the suits look like up close. They are called "suits of lights." And they're ridiculous, but also kind of cool.

 I appreciate that hanging animals heads on your walls is done outside of the American South.

 Old suit of lights.

 This is what the guys on horses wear so they don't get their legs broken.

 Sword and cape.

 The cape I make fun of.

 Skinny tie that you wear as a matador.

 This... is actually really helpful. This is what the ring in Valencia looks like.

 This is a bull that didn't get killed. He fought bravely, so they spared him and used him as a stud.

So Friday was its own adventure, and I didn't do anything worth talking about Thursday night, so I'm going to leave you with two more of my favorite kinds of pictures, and call it a night.