Strange Fruit, 1

A barman at his station in Cadiz

After two and a half years living in a foreign country, the idea of what is "normal" has redefined itself many times over. The strange quirks that jumped out at me so dramatically when I first arrived now seem obvious. It's easy to forget that I ever didn't know that a long weekend is called a "puente"--or bridge-- because it often connects a legitimate holiday with the weekend, taking innocent days with it. And it comes as second nature that I have to think about what time I take out the trash because if a policeman saw me bring it out before 8 PM I could get fined. Although it takes some effort to return to that everything-is-new state of mind, I've been meaning to post some observations for awhile, so I'll do my best.

Thus, I present to you: 4 Strange Things Spaniards Do (That You Probably Didn't Know About.)  And if you enjoy these, I'll post four more next week, as well!

1) They say goodbye instead of hello
I've written about this before in a different form, so it makes a good place to start. One of the first things I noticed when I arrived in Palencia two years ago was my neighbors' insistence on saying "Buenos dias (good morning)/"Buenas tardes (good afternoon)" and "hasta luego" (see you later) during our brief interactions in the elevator. It struck me as very odd, since American elevator etiquette relieves the rider from interacting with his/her riding companions at all. Why, I thought, waste the energy to greet someone, only to have to say goodbye to them 15 seconds later? (Plus, I found the Spanish way of saying "Hasta luego", which seems to elide multiple syllables into the linguistic ether, endlessly mysterious.) I was told, however, that not acknowledging one's companions in elevator travel would be a serious insult. Greetings are of tantamount importance here.
The strangeness only grew over the years: during walks in the evening paseo, I heard neighbors greeting each other, and once in awhile instead of hello's I heard instead "Hasta luego!" It seemed very strange that a person would start an interaction with someone by saying "See you later!", but after my previous assumptions I kept this thought to myself-- until I started to hear it more and more after I arrived in Talavera. Finally, I brought the topic up with my roommate. She looked at me like I was crazy. "Why would you open up a conversation with someone if you had neither the time nor intention of talking with them?" she asked me. "This way, we're saying 'Yes, I've seen you, but I don't have time to stop. We'll talk later, another time.'" I admit that this is a much more sensible explanation than I was expecting.

2) They tell strangers 'bon appetit'
Spaniards eager to improve their English often ask me what Americans say to each other before they eat. I am forced then to explain the awkward fact that we don't have any special phrase-- that, in fact, we stole the French phrase 'bon appetit' for the purpose (and that, actually, we stole a lot from the French... and the Germans and the Greeks and so on). 
 This is often confusing to them because the phrase "buen provecho" is an important part of Spanish etiquette, and it's hard for them to imagine a language that doesn't have its own version. Here, one says "buen provecho" before eating with friends or coworkers (usually in more formal settings), the same way one might use "bon appetit" in the US. But the big difference is that some people also say it to anyone they see eating, even strangers. They see it as a breach of etiquette not to do so. 
How seriously do they take this etiquette, you ask? Let's take Saturday a few weeks ago as an example. Hannah came to visit me from Jaen, and I took her to the monthly medieval-style market that takes place along the ancient walls here. (Did I mention that Talavera has 800-year-old Moorish walls? Cool, right?) We bought hunks of empanada, pastry stuffed with meat and veggies, and took them down to the river to eat by the Roman bridge (which is actually a Moorish copy of an earlier Roman bridge. Double cool!), while watching the water birds fly by. As we were tucking in, a bicycle came whizzing down the path in front of us. We barely had time to register his blur zooming past us before he was gone, with merely the call of "Buen provecho!" to let us know we hadn't imagined him.
So: really seriously.

The "Roman" bridge, Talavera

3) They continually use napkins that don't actually work
 Spanish bars are a nationwide gem: of this there is no doubt. On any corner in any Spanish city or town you can find one: a little counter, tucked in a corner, shabby but clean; a polished espresso machine, buzzing and whirring; a beer or cider tap flowing at all hours of the morning and evening; and a small TV playing a talk show, bullfight, or soccer game in the corner. There's always an old guy in a great hat having a beer (even at 11 AM); there's usually a leg of ham, half decimated, by the cold tapas display. Depending on the region, the walls are full of Basque slogans, hung with Real Madrid posters, or decorated with elaborately-painted tiles. And there are always, always napkins in polished chrome holders-- napkins which sully the good name of Spanish bars; napkins that defy logic and even, it seems occasionally, the laws of physics.
For the truth is that these napkins seem specially formulated not to actually do anything. Pulling one out of the dispenser, they always seem unobtrusive enough. They usually say something like "Thank you for your visit" on them; they're of normal size and close-to-normal texture. AND YET. Try to do something napkin-like with them, such as wipe off your hands after a gooey chicken wing or sop up a puddle of spilled beer... and you will somehow find yourself somehow messier than before, the napkin seemingly untouched. They are the scourge of the Spanish bar because of their low level of evil: they are just unobtrusive enough that after this particular instance you will forget all about your hatred of them... until, yet again, you find yourself helpless against an olive oil spot on your sleeve. They are everywhere, in literally every bar in this country, which means that people persist in buying and using them. I am baffled. BAFFLED, I tell you.

4) They throw napkins on the floor of perfectly respectable bars and restaurants
Oh, and another thing about napkins. A traveler walking into a Spanish bar (as described above) might be confused and disgusted to find the floor littered with crumpled paper. Fear not, however: actually, this is a good sign. Traditionally, throwing one's napkin on the floor of a bar has been a compliment, a way to show one's approval of the food. In fact, when I went to a famous Madrid tapas bar last year to write a story for GoMadrid (which you can find here), the owner told me that during the restaurant's golden age they used to employ people whose sole job was to sweep crumpled napkins and shrimp tails off the floor every 20 minutes. That means that, at least in theory, the more napkins on the floor of a bar, the better you can expect the food to be. Or, you know... maybe it's just a really dirty bar.
 (If I'm honest, the feeling of finishing up a tapa-- a nice piece of cheese and bread or some grilled pork in rich, savory sauce-- and throwing my napkin on the ground is thrilling in some small way. Plus, it's a chance to put those damned napkins in their place.)

Dongbei ("The Northeast"), Part Two: Beijing

We were only in Xi'an for 1.5 days, so it was nice to "settle" somewhere for a bit before we all headed our separate ways. On the second day we took a hop-skip-and-a-jump plane ride to Beijing, and stayed there for 4.5 days. It was cool to get to know the city from a different and no-parents (for the first part, anyway) perspective. We did a lot of the touristy things that I'd already done again, but with a city like Beijing (similar to Xi'an), those things are so cool that you generally don't care about doing them more than once. In the end, the only thing I skipped was the Forbidden City/Temple of Heaven, because that place is freaking huge and I didn't feel like walking around in the 39 C heat (that's like... 110 F or something ridiculous) for 3 hours.

One of our first stops was, of course, the Great Wall. It wasn't my first time there, but we went to a different section of it this time, less touristy and differently shaped. (The section I went to with my parents in 2003 was all stairs, this one was some stairs and some curvy parts.) The coolest part of it was the toboggan track they put in along the side. John and I took the cable car up together, then he went off to do his crazy super-fast thing while I took my time exploring the towers and resting from the crazy heat, then tobogganed down the mountain at the end. When I got off, some Russian woman came storming up and started yelling at me, presumably because I was going too slow (one could control the speed of the toboggans.) I just looked at her and said, "I don't understand you." In retrospect, I should have started yelling back at her in Chinese-- that would have thrown her off but good.

The Great Wall




We also went to Tiananmen Square (really huge and expansive, as usual) and the Summer Palace, where Empress Cixi, the craziest and most ruthless ruler in possibly all of Chinese history, used to take her vacations. There's a big lake there where Cixi had an enormous marble boat made (it doesn't run, just sits in the water and weighs a huge amount) along with a really pretty vacation house and the world's longest hallway along the lake (so she'd never have to put her face in the sun.) Now the place is a complete tourist attraction, swarming with tour groups, people hawking Olympics 2008 t-shirts, and tacky stands where you can dress up in Imperial Garb (John took the bait, of course.) But it was a lovely place to be on a sweltering Beijing day.

The longest hallway in the world


John, channeling his inner Imperial Pimp


The Summer Palace as seen from the water, where we rented a paddle boat for an hour


When we weren't doing the history student thing, there was plenty of other Beijing things to do. We braved the famous Beijing traffic to eat at Lush, a favorite Western restaurant/bar of the several SIT kids who studied in Beijing Fall semester; explored the Beijing subway system (So clean! So precise!); went to the Silk Market (where they sell way more than silk, everything from jade to fake Fendi to scarves) to buy souvenirs and hone our bargaining skills. At the Silk Market, we made friends with a pearl seller who gave us all free water and discounts--Mike bought a necklace "for his future girlfriend." I thought that was both pretty smart and hilarious. I proved to be a terrible bargainer because I get guilty, but John made a reputation as a bargaining genius, saving something like Y2000 on a knockoff purse for his mom. There was also lots to do at the hotel, which was the nicest we stayed at all semester. We thought about going swimming until we found out it was a whopping Y60 to use to pool. But we did end up bowling in the basement twice-- the place had a real mini alley, I felt like I was back in Maine. The only indication of my location was the Chinese characters on the "high score" placards.

One night, the program took us out to a famous teahouse where pretty much all the political leaders that come to China go to experience Chinese culture. The evening features traditional tea snacks, tea (of course), and entertainment such as jugglers (one guy balanced a huge clay vat on his head), acrobats, Beijing Opera, traditional music, and shadow puppets. The shadow puppets were my favorite, the men doing them made all sorts of different faces with their hands and the faces lipsynced along to the unlikely musical choice of "Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go" by Wham!. Oh Chinese culture...

Doing some ca-razy stuff with a teapot at the famous Beijing Laoshe teahouse


After a few days in Beijing, my parents arrived, fresh from their cruise on the Yangtze River. It was wonderful to see them and catch up, and they hit if off almost disturbingly well with my friends, especially John. They took Tania, Sophie, Mike, and John out to dinner one night, and then the same group plus Kailey out to lunch the next day. They made an excellent impression-- everyone thought they were super cool. They came with us to Panjiayuan, too, one of my favorite places in Beijing-- an amazing antique market full of hustle and bustle, cluttered stands filled with wrought-iron carved Tibetan Buddha daggers, calligraphy, Miao minority embroidery. We didn't get to spend as much time there as I would have liked, but I can always come back another time-- here's hoping.

On the last night the whole program got dressed up and went out to A Fan Ti, a Uighur theme restaurant in Beijing. Uighurs are a Chinese minority that live in Xinjiang, China (incidentally where we were heading the next day. It was a good cultural preview.) The meal included traditional Uighur pita bread, "chuanr" (basically shish kebabs), specially made vegetables, and pomegranate juice. It also featured a show, with women doing a traditional dance with bowls balanced on their heads, traditional Uighur music, and belly dancing. SIT students got special attention throughout the whole thing, mostly because we were the only white people there (I think.) Kailey got to dance on stage with a male belly dancer; Chris got picked out for another stunt; and (craziest of all) John, through a contest and a series of unexpected turns, ended up with a snake around his neck and a scantily clad woman belly-dancing her way around him while the whole crowd screamed. The night ended, rather appropriately, with the MCs encouraging the crowd to get on the tables and dance (a Uighur tradition.) I wish I could say that I didn't have the image of John dancing on the table with my mom and dad forever etched into my brain.

That night, everyone went out to a bar district called San Li Tunr. Tania, Mike, Sophie, John, and I went, too, but as soon as we get there we were kind of turned off by the whole thing-- basically drunk Westerners as far as the eye could see. "I didn't transfer away from UC Boulder for nothing," Tania said, and so we went to a nearby coffeeshop for fancy dessert and then went back to the hotel to do the same thing we had every night in Beijing-- hang out, be really silly, give and recieve massages, and listen to music. It was an appropriate ending to an amazing program-- a mundane but lovely night spent with friends. At 4:30 AM Tania and Sophie said goodbye and headed to the airport, and later that day John had a protracted goodbye with my parents. There may have been tears involved. And then it was the three of us, off to unknown parts, intrepid explorers always.

Nextime: Kashgar, the China you (and I) never knew about

Banna Goes Wild, Part 2: Elephants and Monkeys

The culminating segment of my Xishuangbanna trip involved the most animals, which was pretty exciting.

As previously mentioned, I made a last-minute decision to set out for Banna Yexianggu (Banna Wild Elephant Valley) at around 6:30 PM, then found a cab to take me to the park's entrance. The woman at the backpacker cafe had told me that about Y200-250 would be an appropriate amount to pay the driver, and although that seemed exorbitant to me I decided I would be willing to pay. When the cost the driver quoted me was only 150, and I got him down to 140, I was thrilled. The driver and I chatted as we jettisoned out of the city and into the countryside, and he was so helpful with driving me around once we got inside the park that I was inspired to give him an extra Y20 (about $2.50.) Later I found out that he was grossly overcharging me and the ride should only have cost about Y100 and I felt kind of stupid and angry, but regardless, Y60 is about $8 and he definitely needed it more than I do. Being in China gives you that kind of perspective.

What followed when we got to the Yexianggu hotel lobby amounted to the most stressful part of my trip. I had to do in Chinese what I barely would be able to do in English-- establish all the technicalities of staying in a hotel, plus the complexities of getting a security guard to walk you 4 km into the jungle to your tree house. It was exhausting and I think I was probably trying their patience toward the end, but ultimately I got all the information I needed. I waited around with some random guys (who probably worked for the park, although it was hard to tell) and they were surprised to learn I spoke Chinese, proceeding to grill me about all things American, including the Iraq war (touchy.)

The security guard who was to accompany me showed up after awhile and we set off into the jungle, which was such a cool experience that I barely even minded having to trouble them with arriving after hours. We walked on the paths clearly delineated all around the park, but everything around was warm, black, humid, and close around us, the dark filled with chirping frogs and the occasional night bird. As we walked, the security guard continually looked out for elephants we might run across (the valley is home to a large family of them, although I sadly didn't see any while I was there) and I taught him some English ("run fast!" "let's go!" "You speak English very well.") Eventually our walk took us to the elevated walkway portion of the park, which traverses the canopy, and then we were there-- "Home sweet home" was the last phrase I taught him, and then I entered the tiny tree house that was to be my home for the night. Two beds and a very basic bathroom without a sink, but quite cozy and filled up with the night sounds of the jungle. I fell asleep with those sounds in my ears. It was damn close to magical.

I had heard that the Valley becomes very touristy once it's open for the day, so I got up very early and walked the paths alone, watching the sun come up through the trees to dapple jungle streams and filter through hanging vines. It was incredibly peaceful, and I had a strong feeling that at that moment the rainforest around me was all mine. I saw some beautiful flowers and a couple tiny hummingbirds. Visitors are not supposed to go off the paths, but because there was no one around I had a chance to wander a little. I didn't go to far because my sense of the rules and my sense of direction (or lack thereof) kept me obedient, but tramping through quiet jungle was fantastic.

Around 9 or 9:30 the tour groups started arriving, all of them giving quizzical looks to the foreigner wandering on her own and expressing shock when said foreigner greeted them in Chinese. I had breakfast then, treating myself to some tea biscuits and peanut butter that I had brought, plus coconut milk drank out of a straw from the coconut itself (they were selling them at a cafe in a clearing in the jungle.) It was a delicious breakfast, and I sat by a stream writing in my journal and enjoying the morning.

After eating my fill, I began the slow process of exiting the jungle. On one path, Jinuo kids my age worked at a "jungle swing" that allowed you to sail out over one of the many trickling jungle brooks. It was only Y10, so I did it-- how many times will I be able to swing in the jungle in my life? I also made friends with the Jinuo workers-- one of them called me unexpectedly last night, actually. And one of the Jinuo boys declared that he wanted to take me out on a date, but although I gave him my phone number, he never called. Next on my way I met some men on vacation from Qinghai, which is next to Tibet. We had a long conversation as we all rested from the midday heat, and they asked me all about America. One of them even sang me a Chinese song as we walked, and I sang back a few bars from "Lean on Me" (which is quickly becoming an easy fallback.)

I spent a little extra time in the park itself, which is much more Disneyfied. There was an elephant show (depressing) that I quickly skipped in favor of the animals section. There was a beautiful butterfly garden filled with huge, exotic, colorful flowers and butterflies, as well as a monkey house where lots of different kinds of monkeys hung around on an island in the middle of a lake. Some workers were holding baby monkeys, and they let me hold one (something I've always wanted to do.) It climbed all over me and then stole my glasses, which was hilarious but only because I was quick-witted and got them back before he broke them or worse. The best part, though, were the wild monkeys who were hanging around the Monkey House. They were playing and swinging through the trees (although it seemed sort of cruel to the monkeys who weren't allowed out.) I've always loved monkeys.

It was a suitable ending to a fantastic trip. I caught a bus back to Jinghong for the night, where I met up with Lee and we spent the evening at the Mekong Cafe with my Bulang friend and a Swiss traveller who was my roommate for the night. It was sad to say goodbye to my Bulang friend, actually, just like it was hard to say goodbye to Banna, but I didn't take 150 pictures in 5 days for nothing...

Next time: A Portrait of My Homestay