A Blast from the Past and some Annoying Apostles

Friday was quite an eventful day. I woke up groggy from another stressful night of sleep. Oh man, hell week was starting to catch up with me like whoa. I got ready and walked to Starbucks in los Remedios to eat a tuna sandwich (for protein!) and caffeine before my exam, but they didn't have any tuna sandwiches, so I walked to the Starbucks by the University. I grabbed a sandwich and a big-ass green tea and went to town while studying for an hour before my Iconografia exam. Soon one of the few other Americans from my class walked in to study as well. We discussed some religious iconography for awhile which was good to get right before the exam. Then we walked over to the exam together. It turned out to be chaos; Jesus, our professor (yes, it's an ironic name since the class focused on Christian iconography), has two sections of class, and I guess that the other one must be pretty full. An enormous group of us stood outside of the main history dept. lecture hall while Jesus called names off of the pile of fichas (info cards) to let each of us into the exam room. Turns out that he was only calling names for group A (I'm in B), so after all of that half hour of chaos we all migrated down the hall to another lecture hall where the same thing went down. He finally called my name and I entered. I was so nervous, I hadn't been that nervous for an exam in a long time. It took awhile to get everybody situated and call out the rules and instructions. Our exam was scheduled for 11 and we didn't start until 12:15. Well, that's Spain for ya. Our exam would consist of 5 slides which we had to identify iconigraphically. I was so nervous; I had no idea what he'd pick. I mean, this course was all over the place so I didn't really know what exactly to expect from the exam. So I was just so damn nervous. So he put up the first slide. It was a painting of the martyrdom of one of the apostles. He was about to be decapitaded with a sword. Now, being the Jew that I am I don't know the story of how the martyrs were killed. So I got a study sheet with my tutor which gave the basic iconography of the martyrs and saints and how to identify them in a painting. So I knew with which weapon they were killed (each martyr appears with his weapon in paintings). Okay, so I knew of 3 martyrs who were killed with a sword, and I knew the other iconography that would differentiate them, but this one wasn't telling me anything except that it involved a sword. I don't know who was decapitated. I chose one of the three that I knew involved a sword: Saint Paul, then explained why. I mean, I figured that maybe I'd get the martyr wrong, but I'd give a damn good iconographic explanation. Then the second image came up: it was a paleo-Christian cave painting. All primitive Christian paintings are alegoric and don't have concrete depictions of Christ or whatnot. When we learned about these we learned specifically about the Good Shepherd and how paleo-Christian art used that as its best comparison to Christ. But this wasn't a sheperd...it was two men at a well. Uhhhhhh. So I did my best, I identified it as primitive Christian art and how it serves as alegory and stuff, but I really had no clue how to identify it specifically. Ugh. Then the 3rd: an Immaculate Conception. Good. I've got that down. The only thing is that some of the image was a bit ambiguous, and after talking to some people after the exam I may have seen some parts incorrectly. However, I identified it correctly and I gave a detailed description of the iconography of the Immaculate Conception so I think that I'm in pretty good shape with that one. Then the 4th: a modern-day advertisement for liquor. This was a piece of cake: we studied how First Testament iconography manifests itself in modern times. So I connected it to Genesis and the Garden of Eden, and Joseph and Potiphar's wife. Then one time Judaism came handy in this class, I tell ya. So I got that one for sure. Then the 5th, which completely threw me for a loop: it was a picture of a statue of a saint or a martyr or something in a church. There was nothing very descript about it. The only hint was that he wore a green tunic. Now, according to my study guides Saint Paul is always depicted wearing green, so I identified him as Saint Paul, and changed my #1 answer to Saint Martin. Turns out that I was right with the first one originally...that #1 was Saint Paul. Dammit. The last one threw other people off, as did the Paleo-Christian painting. The girls in my class thought that the last one may have been Judas. Ummmmm how was I supposed to know that? I don't get it. I studied so hard for that damn test and it didn't help me too much. I mean, the images were not from class at all. He really threw us for a loop there. I'm depending on the fact that he is rumored to grade foreigners very leniantly. In order to pass I need a 4.9 on this thing (it's a 10-point scale) so I'm praying for this one. It's weird, it's the first exam that I've really doubted myself. Oy. Who knows. I talked to the two other American girls in my class afterwards, and although they were just as confused, they seemed to have answered a lot better than I did...and they studied much less than I did! Damn my lack of basic Christian knowledge. I mean, in my tutoring sessions Bartolome literally had to tell me the story of the Passion and stuff like that. I just don't know these things. I didn't know who Saint John was until, like, a week ago. I literally just learned what the Holy Spirit is. No joke. That's how bad at this I was until I buckled down and studied. If only he didn't give us those annoying apostles. So I was in a yucky mood. After the exam I had to walk to the Arab baths to put a down payment on my appointment with my family since it's a larger party. On the way I passed Sam, from my program, drinking sangria with some friends from Ann Arbor who will be my neighbors last year. They seemed like pretty cool guys so that was nice to have a normal, American conversation for a bit to ease my Spanish Catholic woes. Once at the baths I gave them my credit card to charge the 52 euros (ugh) and then they asked for ID. I forgot my ID! She wasn't going to let me, but I was having such a bad day and didn't want to have to go home and walk all the way back in the heat that I literally begged her to just trust me. She did, thankfully. Sigh. Then I walked home even more distraught. I needed a pick-me-up ASAP. So I decided to treat myself to some good ole McDonalds soft serve...even though lunch was in an hour. I didn't care, I was pissy. On the way I passed the Torre de Plata (the Torre del Oro's ancient counterpart that I've wanted to see since learning about it in Art History but never gotten to it). You'll laugh at how Lisa-ish this is, but I decided to see that instead of getting ice cream. I felt like seeing some ancient architectural ruins would make me feel better. Haha, wow I amaze myself with my quirkiness sometimes. So I saw the Torre de Plata and the surrounding ruins of the old Arab city's walls which was pretty damn cool. I love that I learn art history that's right in my own backyard. I'll miss that abou this place. After my visit I still wanted soft serve. I was still unhappy, the architecture just didin't quite do it for me, despite its awesomeness. As I ate my ice cream cone on the way back to los Remedios my anger diminished and morphed into numbness. I wasn't angry anymore, just...nothing. I was tired, but not really physically tired, mentally tired. Hell week was now taking its toll. Now that the worst of it was over it was starting to hit me like a sack of bricks. I wanted to just curl up and do nothing. But I had to study more that afternoon! My brain was seriously dying on me and it was taking a toll on all of me. I just felt empty, like I had put all of this time and effort into filling my brain, and I had just poured it all out and couldn't fill it anymore. Like a used balloon that just can't inflate anymore. That's a good metaphor of my week: with each day off from an exam I filled the balloon to the max, and every exam I emptied it, then immediately afterwards the process would repeat. I was no all shriveled and worthless and just couldn't do it anymore. It's sad because the past couple of weeks have consisted of the same routine: sleeping, waking, studying, eating, studying, eating, studying, sleeping...day in and day out. It's made Sevilla become monotonous and exhausting and has made me want a break. It's so sad...I never thought that Sevilla could be like this. It's a shame. I guess that it makes me really happy that my family comes and I can enjoy Sevilla completely relaxed and yet as exciting as it used to be with them. Sigh. The end is so near, I can taste it. I guess that that was the only thing keeping me spirits up: that I only had one more exam to go and it wouldn't be as hard as the other ones in terms of preparation. Oy. I really just needed to break from this vicious routine. I got home and was not hungry one bit for lunch because of my ice cream cone, and I was sweaty as hell. I didn't have time to cool down because Maruja served lunch early since it was just the two of us eating. So throughout the entire meal I continued to sweat bullets and was therefore extremely uncomfortable. We had spaghetti with tomato sauce and garlic, then marinated chicken (ugh) with some homemade cole slaw. For dessert huge slice of watermelon. I was so full it was unbearably uncomfortable. I wanted to lay down or nap or something, but I just had too much to do since I planned on going out that night (it'd be my only night out for my last weekend of study abroad!). So I sat in front of my fan for awhile and went online because I just needed to do something mindless before I could do anything substantial with myself. Then I took a very necessary shower. Then I packed up and went to Starbucks to read a whole lotta Lope. After sitting and staring at the table for a few minutes Stacey walked in. I told her about my day and almost started crying. We both talked about how we're both also just so drained and burnt out. Stacey told me that all day she was restless and couldn't focus and really just lost all brainpower to do any studying. That's how I felt. We are all out of stamina. It's weird; I had never felt like I did on Friday. I mean, I really just felt empty. I can't describe it. I felt like I had run a marathon without running a marathon. Messed up. I guess it could be worse; I mean, I prefer feeling like this for two weeks rather than consistently for 3 months (::shudder:: first semester). After Stacey left I drank some tea and buckled down and got a good portion of the last Lope play, "El acero de Madrid". I thank my good time management that I started reading these plays early. Stacey has saved it for the last minute and has to read 4 dense, old Spanish plays before Monday plus study her class notes. Oy, the poor thing. Then I went home for dinner which was pretty good: cooked spinach and shellfish croquetas and flan cups for dessert. Since I was finally productive at Starbucks I had regained a good grasp on the world and was pretty much back to my old self. If you saw me during the day on Friday you would not have recognized me because I was in such a weird place. I then got ready to go out because I just needed to--I needed to do something with myself, to get out and break this disgusting routine of mine. Stacey stayed in because, well, she had a mountain of reading to do. So I met up with Katie, Melissa, and Melissa's friend from school and my future neighbor, Halle, who's visiting before going to France to study for 6 weeks. Halle's really cool and chill and someone who I get along with really well. We'll be good neighbors (she'll be Melissa's housemate). We hung out in Plaza de Cuba for awhile having a botellon and admiring the groups of Spaniards being weird as usual and the funny, large groups of newbies. There was this huge group of newbies next to us drinking and taking huge group pictures (always an indicator). We made fun of them for it, but then we remembered back in January how we took big group botellon pictures in Plaza de Cuba (feel free to reference the webshots for those pics...wow, we were such newbies back then). Then the cool part of the night happened. Okay, let me give a back story. Evan was messing around on the facebook recently and while doing so he discovered a funny coincidence. He stumbled upon Alex Moss' profile. Alex Moss is a kid with whom I went to elementary, middle, and high school, and we live merely blocks away from each other back in HP. We were really good friends when I was in 8th grade and he was in 7th because we did the middle school play together. WE used to hang out a lot, but then when I went to high school the next year we just fell out of contact and mostly became acquaintences who just said hi to each other in the halls. Since high school we've been merely facebook friends (he goes to Minnesota). So when Evan told me to check out his facebook profile last week it seemed kind of strange and random. But when I did I read that he was in Sevilla for the semester and summer. What???? How weird! How come I never ran into him?? I immediately contacted him via wall post and he responded giving me his number, equally as amazed by this crazy coincidence, and said that we should hang out. So the other night I texted him and asked if he wanted to hang out Friday night. How random...asking Alex Moss if he wanted to chill in Spain with me. Who knew. Who knew! So I called him while I was in Plaza de Cuba. We were both weirded out by the fact that we were talking on the phone with each other (I mean, it's been about 7 years!), and that we were both living in Sevilla since January. He said that he'd come meet up with us at Plaza de Cuba. Turns out he lives right by the San Sebastian bus station (not that far from me) and hangs out at Alfalfa a lot. How could we have missed each other? So weird. Soon he showed up, and it was just so, crazy! I mean, Alex fucking Moss! We hugged it out and caught up like it was our job. Soon we all started migrating over to calle Betis as Melissa and Halle had made plans to meet up with their friend, and other future housemate, Emily (the one I hung out with last weekend) at Long Island. On the way we ran into two guys who are on Alex's program, so they joined our entourage. We arrived, Emily was wasted and it was funny. The whole time at Long Island, though, it was just Alex and me standing at one of the tables just cathcing up...I mean, we had a long way to go. We hadn't sat down and talked since we were awkward pubescent teenagers. I mean, 7 years! That's just nuts. So we talked for probably a good few hours, who knows. It's nuts. Just nuts. At around 3 I got a phone call from Melissa who had just left to walk Halle back to her hostel which is in los Remedios. She sounded flustered. She told me that on the way to the hostel some dude started following them and then he ran up to Halle and grabbed her crotch! Melissa, thinking fast, grabbed Halle's purse, but still, that's scary. I mean, this was a drunk young guy, not the crazy bum who kicked me, so he was a bit less harmful than a dangerous, drunk, crazy, nothing-to-lose bum. But oh man. Melissa was afraid to leave the hostel and walk home by herself because he was probably still out there, maybe waiting. Katie and I were about to head home, anyways, and Alex was also on his way out, so we thought that we'd walk to the hostel and meet her to walk home. But she worked up the courage to walk home herself since she didn't live too far. She just left her valuables with Halle at the hostel, and waited a bit to leave. Katie, Alex, and I walked back, we said farewell to Alex in Plaza de Cuba and made plans to hang out Monday after I finished my exam. Yay! Old friends reunited! SO crazy. If I could go back in time to when I was 14 and know that one day I'd be hanging out at a random bar in the south of Spain with Alex, I'd think that that was ludicrous. But lo and behold. My life in Spain, I tell ya, is a crazy, unpredictable whilrwind of events. I'll really miss that about living in Spain--ya just never know what to expect and it therefore just always keeps you on your toes. Katie then asked if I wanted her to walk me home since I'm still sensitized from the bum-kicking incident. I said yes, and being the lovely girl that she is she walked me home. What a doll. I got home safe and sound a little before 4 and soon went to bed. What a crazy day...it turned out pretty damn well! Yeah, I love this place.