Back Through The Looking Glass: The Kane Leaves Spain

It's taken me almost two weeks to make myself write this post. I've been back in Dublin some time now, even if I haven't quite managed to unpack and sort out my real life. Sure enough Seville feels like nothing more than a distant dream now. When I left my apartment, leaving my keys on my desk and double checking I had turned everything off, it was as empty as it was when I arrived in September. Back then everything felt so big and so impossible, and I felt so alone. But as we all know, things always seem impossible until they are done. I wish I could go back and tell myself how amazing everything would turn out to be, but I know myself well enough to know that when I am stressed out and scared, seeing a vision of myself claiming to be from the future probably wouldn't help.

saying goodbye to my room :)

I can't think of how many times I have told myself this past year that if this had been easy I wouldn't have learnt anything from it. For me at least that has turned out to be sound advice. Through all the times I wanted to just give up and go home I have learnt more about myself and other people than I ever thought I would. I'm still not exactly sure who I am or where I am going but I think I've accepted that uncertainty. I am however much more aware of who I am not, and who I don't have to be in order to be content. 

There were times on Erasmus that I felt I had been thrown down some sort of rabbit hole. I'm glad that I had friends to turn to and give "that look' whenever something particularly odd happened. While Sevilla to the very last sometimes made me want to put my head in my hands and weep in frustration at how little sense things made, more often towards the end I just shook my head and sighed affectionately at the city that I will never fully understand but which I have grown to love all the same.

some highlights. 

I am so thankful to have been given this year, I am very very lucky to have had this opportunity and I have never taken that for granted. Erasmus is a privilege, it is not something we should all consider our right to take part in, nor is it an excuse for a year off and a piss up. It is costly, but gives you so much in return. It is a learning and growing experience like no other. Like the dust that hovers in the dry air and clings to your skin, Spain stays with you and; unlike the dust, cannot be washed off. I don't feel Spanish, but I have observed and absorbed so much of this culture that I don't think this year will ever leave me, and while I never thought I'd say this, the country now feels like my second home. 

 I will probably be back in Seville, maybe quite soon, maybe a long time away, but it will never be the same as it was when I left it. I will never be the same person I was. The streets will not remember me but I will remember them, their twists and shadows imprinted on my memory. And when they begin to fade, there will still be stories to tell, those disconnected memories that stay with you even when the details are long forgotten.

Here is where this journey ends, for now at least. Thank you all for joining me along the way. Adiós amigos.

Cádiz con la Familia

As I struggle to remain awake for more than 2 hours at a stretch due to the relentless oppressive heat, I'm making my way through my last few days in Seville. On Thursday we'll be heading to the coast for a quick beachy holiday and then before I know it I will be drinking tea and looking at grey Irish skies again. I haven't quite decided how I feel about that yet, my brain is too occupied with trying to drink enough water to compensate for all the sweat (I'm sorry but seriously you wouldn't BELIEVE) and really, really struggling to study for one last exam. I can't even begin to tell you how much I am bored by the Modern Age of Spain. I can't even begin to tell you anything about the Modern Age of Spain, to be honest. I haven't studied enough.

As I won't be sleeping anytime soon, here are a few snaps from the day trip to Cádiz (remember I went at night that time and said I'd like to come back during the day? Well I did.) that I took with my family the other week when they were visiting for my birthday. 

by the seaaa by the wonderful sea

It's always nice to get out of a city when it's hot, and with temperatures in the mid 30s decamping to a rather blustery day by the sea in Cádiz was a good idea. Slight lack of forethought on my part left us with not much to do when I realised that on Mondays the museums would all be closed (Doh) but an open top bus tour, my mother's go to activity in a new place, accompanied by some serious levels of wandering filled the day.

We all know how much I love a cathedral, so of course we stopped by Cádiz's offering. Big, white, airy. Made of stone. Very nice colonial architecture though I must say, in fact most of the seafront in Cádiz is known for having a Caribbean look to it, and it certainly reminded me of Havana, which was a very important Spanish port back in ye olden times. Inside we were also able to go down into the crypts, which I can't see anyone not enjoying. Like Seville's, the cathedral in Cádiz is a great showcase for all the wealth that came flooding into Spain from the New World. 

Next, because we could, we climbed one of the towers of the Cathedral to have a look out over the city. It was nice, but no Giralda.

During our epic walkabout during which we rounded pretty much the entire peninsula of Cádiz's old town we encountered a modern art museum hidden in an old fortress, some small beaches and the park Genovés, complete with interesting topiary and some completely inexplicable dinosaurs in the duck pond.

The day otherwise was punctuated by food and coffee breaks, and we got back to Seville at about half past 8. We then went out for a Japanese dinner which is entirely irrelevant but look at it, the sushi came in a boat. How fantastic.

Ah, short and sweet. I really am very tired. Lately I feel more and more like the fat puppy in 101 dalmatians who is forever sitting down and announcing mournfully how tired and hungry he is. (I'm quite hungry as well.)

That's all for now, there'll probably be one more post before I up sticks.
Gosh, time goes in doesn't it?

Trip to Morocco: Day Four

Well here we are, finally time to stop talking about Morocco. This shall be a short one as most of our last full day in this amazing country was spent travelling and sorting ourselves out with regard to hostels, but it still merits a post I believe. 

After two breakfasts (it was a buffet alright?) we headed to the bus station in Agadir to make our way back to Marrakech. Our plans were fluffed about a bit because the taxi drivers brought us to the touristy as opposed to local station so the timetables were different, but we agreed that for the sake of a few euro a direct bus was the way to go, given that we had already had the authentic experience the day before. The bus was about 20 minutes late but we were still saving an hour of travel time so it didn't bother us too much. At close to noon we started our journey, and I did read most of the way, so I saw a bit more of the country side than I did when I was asleep (unsurprising to say the least). We had very intelligently sat over the engine so the last 45 minutes or so, as the temperature outside was already climbing, were fairly uncomfortable and it was a relief to get back to Marrakech and immediately drink a large bottle of water straight from the fridge in the supermarket. 

The roof terrace of Waka Waka 2

We knew the quick way back to Waka Waka by now so we headed straight there only to be informed that they were full up, no room at the inn as it were, and we had to move to Waka Waka 2 down the road. This wasn't a major inconvenience and the hostels were the same quality and price so it was all good, but we did waste some time waiting around for this decision to be reached which was a pity. The beds in Waka Waka 1 had been uncomfortable enough (what do you expect for €6 a night?) but I have to say, the ones in Waka Waka 2 took the proverbial biscuit. Mine felt as if it was (and indeed turned out to be) stuffed with straw. Oh well, it was one night and we had to get up at 5 for the airport anyway so I survived. It also rounded off the First Christmas metaphor, which had been begun by being turned away from the first hostel, quite nicely.

Last minute look around the Souk

At this stage it was late afternoon so we just headed back to Jemaa el-Fna for another look around the Souk . Normally I'm not a shopping shopping shopping kind of tourist but it was such a part of the experience that it didn't feel a waste, and I was able to buy my mother a lovely scarf, which the shop assistant insisted on wrapping around my head (and the heads of my friends) Berber style. We think he had had too much shisha, if you know what I mean. We had some delicious fresh orange juice in the square and later on several dinners, walking around the open air restaurants. It was here that two of the most memorable moments of the trip occurred. Firstly, at 10pm, like the other nights, the call to prayer went out from the mosques, but this was the first time we'd been in the square to hear it. It was amazing, like nothing I had ever experienced before, all of the music playing in the shops and cafes suddenly stopped and the voice rang out from several directions at once. People didn't stop going about their business but it was as though a shift had occurred and a different atmosphere overcame the place for a few minutes. Amazing.

Carts and stalls sold food and drinks

fruit, spices and nuts for sale

 Secondly, while eating our last bit of food, we were approached a number of times by people selling things, tissues and flowers mostly. One of these was a woman in blue, covered entirely except for her eyes which were ringed, as many Moroccan women's eyes were, with thick black kohl. Judging by this part of her face alone I would say she was between 60 and 80, we all know how a hard life can age a person. We waved them all away and continued chatting and eating. Some minutes later, when it became apparent that we weren't going to finish all the food we had ordered (too much, we wanted to sample everything you see), we sat back, drinking our cokes and talking. The woman in blue returned, but this time not with tissues. I don't speak French but she spoke to us, pointing at the plates, and I was able to roughly make out the words "no manger" which I knew to mean she was asking us if we weren't eating. We said no, we had received very big portions for about €5 each, and so we let her take our leftovers. She took two flatbreads, meat and some vegetables and sauce, which she put into a plastic carrier bag which I saw already had some food in it, and  after thanking us made her way back into the night. 

food in a restaurant on the square

Morocco is a relatively poor country, to put it bluntly. It is not as badly off as others in Africa or the rest of the world but it is by no means full of wealthy people and although there have been many social reforms in the last decade thanks in part to the current king Mohammed VI, the process is of course slow, as these things always are. We had already seen this. But this interaction was different. It is hard as a tourist, marveling over how cheap everything is, to grasp that the 50c or so we part with for a packet of tissues can make a big difference in the day of the person selling it. It could easily be the difference between food on the table or an empty stomach. I am extremely fortunate in that I can hardly imagine what it would be like to be so certain that you would not eat otherwise that you would take the leftover food from strangers' plates and put it into a plastic bag. Very humbling, and utterly unforgettable. I think I will always remember these few minutes of our trip, and this woman.

We returned to the hostel a little bit subdued, thinking all of us about the woman and all of the other things we had seen and done in the last few days. A few hours sleep, a short flight and we were back in Sevilla.

Wow, that didn't end up being short at all.

Trip to Morocco: Day Three

LORD ABOVE How has 3 weeks somehow gone by? I am so sorry (she said as though anyone was waiting impatiently to read her blog). In the time since we last spoke I have studied for and done two exams, passed one, had my family visit, been to Cádiz, lost a flatmate (she went home, I keep making it sound a bit like we had her killed) and turned 21. And now there are but 15 days left, one exam and a trip to Marbella until the non adventures of the Kane in Spain come to an end! Shocking stuff, once upon a time I sat on my bed like I am now and thought the year would never end even though I wanted it to right then... life, eh?

The mountain overlooking Agadir. The text reads: God/Allah, King, Country. A woman told us it sort of represented Allah looking over the sea and guarding it? I liked this anyway.

Today I'll get through the second half of that now forever ago trip to Morocco. I'm glad I wrote it all down in that diary I told y'all about because already I'm picking my brain to remember exactly what it was we did. We rose early for our 8.30 bus to Agadir as we had been told that there might be a scrum for tickets at the station. As it turned out, we arrived at 7.20 am, found an empty ticket office and, after a moment of thinking "yay, an hour in a bus station" were escorted very urgently by two men to the half past seven bus that we didn't even know existed. The rush of getting onto the bus was contrasted strongly by the journey itself. We had gone for the local bus because it was half the price of the 'tourist' bus, but it turns out the principal difference between local and touristy bus services in Morocco is not price but duration. Our bus stopped a number of times and seemed to wind its way south to Agadir through every second village, not, it seemed, to pick people up, rather to allow cigarette and tea breaks and to let people onto the bus to ask for money. An interesting mode of transport to say the least, but I did sleep most of the 4 hours there.

No rush, nowhere to be, let's stop the bus again for a snack.

Arriving in Agadir was as exciting as getting on the bus had been, we had to negotiate a taxi price to our hotel (the taxis in Agadir are blue, how novel!) and of course that was a bit stressful, as everything involving money in the trip was, but we all exhaled deeply when we arrived at our 4 star hotel Club Almoggar. Which cost €20 a night, I feel it necessary to add. Given how active the trip had been so far, we had a restful day on the beach where we were preyed upon intermittently by men who it seemed could spot a European a mile off. This took away from the relaxation aspect of sunbathing somewhat but it was not negative or harassing, merely tiresome after a while (though inappropriate in the extreme I do admit I found being asked "Can I smell your skin?" completely hilarious). 

Nice but no Waka Waka ;)

Dinner followed, we ate like kings for ridiculously cheap prices once again, and ended up in bed before midnight because the ever present children asking for money did wear a bit... I don't mean to sound so negative about Agadir but let's be honest, a beach resort can be anywhere, so you're not really experiencing a country, and certainly if you don't want to be bothered constantly Agadir seems like the kind of place where you wouldn't want to leave the grounds of the hotel. Perhaps that is why the swimming pool was so nice.

Hotel grounds took inspiration from Edward Scissorhands

I promise I did enjoy myself on Day 3, though it doesn't read that much like it here. Day 4 will be better. Once again, sorry for the delay. I only have one more exam in 10 days time so there'll be more opportunity for updates before I leave x

Dry countryside :)

Trip to Morocco: Day Two

Look at me writing again. We are now on day two of my trip to Morocco. If you wish to read day one, well, scroll down a bit.

We got up early enough on Tuesday so as to make the most of the day. I went downstairs expecting maybe a cup of tea to eat my banana with, and I think we were all surprised when we were presented with Moroccan spiced coffee, a crossaint, a plate of three kinds of cake and pancake, and a cup of mint tea. Your money goes far in Marrakech! 

breakfast

oot and aboot.

Following a route given to us by someone at the hostel, we visited the 500 year old Saadian tombs, where about 60 members of the Saadi Dynasty are buried, and then later the Bahia Palace and gardens. All very lovely and well maintained. Excuse my uncharacteristic lack of enthusiasm for sightseeing (Who am I?) but for me the real appeal of Marrakech was what we did between the sights; wandering, exploring, and trying not to look lost.

Saadian Tombs

palace bahia

Ooh.

We took the long way around through an open food market where people were doing their grocery shopping, which was as good as the supermarket as far as I'm concerned. Once you got past the flies on some of the meat and fish (which wasn't on ice) the bustle and colours were really amazing. Bags of grain, vegetables, rabbits "sleeping... upside down... and inside out" to use a Simpsons euphemism, there was even a cage of the most ragged looking chickens I had ever seen.

On another square, when you could avoid women trying to sell bracelets, there were selections of pigments for paint and more spices and sort of inexplicable stones (I had to make a quick getaway, lingering too long or conversing with a stall holder can mean you have to end up buying something... or you're just not allowed to leave). 

No idea what half of this is but isn't it a good photo?

Later on in the main Souk (market) these skills of trying to ignore people and walk away from them while avoiding being completely unforgivably rude were put to the test again, as well as haggling. Nothing in Morocco is bought at the first price given (not even bus tickets, as we were to discover) and some amount of arguing is required to get anything at a fair or, to use the stall holders favourite phrase "democratic" price. This was a challenge for me, we know I'm a shy and retiring type, but I only had to do it alone once for a pair of earrings; the rest of my purchases were team efforts. 

Having had a three course meal in the afternoon for €6, we only needed a light dinner again and had an early night as we were planning on getting up at 6am to make our bus to Agadir. To be continued :)

I've just remembered that I never ate that banana.

Hasta luego x

Trip to Morocco: Day One

Well my lovelies, I am just back from a 4 and a bit day trip to the south of Morocco and I can tell you before you read any further that it was certainly the highlight of my Erasmus and also one of the best experiences of my life so far. As if I hadn't already caught the travel bug! Now I'm itching to see the rest of the world (Or is that the bed bugs?), but of course there is one month of Erasmus left and then real life to return to. Some day though.

Last Monday we set off to Sevilla airport to catch our plane. This trip was planned in April fairly impulsively, a German friend found €50 return flights from Seville to Marrakech and what can I say, I got swept up in the excitement. We booked hostels some time after that and before we knew it the eight of us were on our way to AFRICA, which sounds very dramatic entirely. Marrakech is only  a short hop from Seville so we arrived at about 5pm and within 10 minutes on the airport bus, costing €3 in Moroccan currency, the Dirham, I could tell that a) this was like no place I had ever been before and b) I was very, very excited. This was a proud moment given that while I was packing I had my customary "I don't want to go" fear of the unknown moment. The bus let us off at Jemaa el-Fna, which a friend who had done more research quickly informed me was the largest square in Africa. 

Jemaa el-Fna at sunset

The noise and smells and colours had me transfixed, but no sooner had we taken a few steps than a small old man swooped down upon us saying "Waka Waka?" (the name of our hostel). It was with some trepidation, and the encouragement of a police officer, that we allowed him to lead us there, given how difficult it was supposed to be to find in the winding streets of the Souk. We soon realised that this is how things work in Marrakech. If you are lost or uncertain then there is always someone to help you find your way, for a small fee of course. Paying him 10 Dirham (€1) each seemed fair enough gvien how long it would have taken us on our own, and then we were home for the next few days.

this time for Africa!

Waka Waka was a different kind of hostel, similar in atmosphere to the very hippy one we stayed in in Granada, and was laid out in the traditional Riad style of windowless rooms around an internal courtyard lit from above by a roof which could be drawn back to let the air in. Despite reviews warning us of them, the dorm, while basic and a smidge uncomfortable, seemed thankfully bedbug free. The staff of Waka Waka are the best part, however, and we were very pleased to be welcomed in the common area by a cup of Moroccan mint tea (which we would drink a lot of) and a slice of cake. All this and breakfast for €6 a night!

Riad style

After settling in we went and found a supermarket to stock up on provisions. I love supermarkets in foreign countries. Of course, Spain's have lost their novelty at this stage but there's really nothing like looking at packaging you've never seen before and what people eat every day. We asked when we got back to the hostel where was good in the square to eat but were told everything closed at 10 after nighttime prayer in the mosques. We found this to not be true a few days later, but we'll chalk it up to a misunderstanding. 

one of about 20 million

My first observations of Morocco? There are cats everywhere, and I do mean everywhere. Feral cats and kittens were as present as pigeons are here, and if you have a phobia of them I'd ask you to think about it before going to Marrakech. Secondly, it is not as dirty as people tell you it is (at least in Marrakech). Also, in the evening there were far more men out than women, and the women who were out were covered up. In a country almost 99% Muslim that's not surprising. The attitudes are simply different to what we're used to in Western Europe. Basically what I'm trying to tell you is: dress modestly. Fortunately we knew about this and it was long skirts and loose trousers all the way. If you wear a mini skirt, shorts or strappy tops which show off your chest/shoulders, you are going to get a lot of attention. And it won't necessarily be positive.

modest dress: protects you from the sun and unwanted leering. 

Stay tuned for Day 2. I'd say "tomorrow" but we know how unreliable I am. Hasta entonces x

A list of things I have bought in Spanish Chinese Shops

I have told you all about the phenomenon which is the Spanish Chinese Shop (Chino), and of course I made it very clear how much I enjoy spending time in them. But since doing so I have realised how utterly lost/broke I would be without them. And so today I give you all a list of the things I have bought in Spanish Chinese Shops SO FAR.*

• clothes hangers
• clothes pegs
• cheese grater 
• slippers
• mirror
• pritt stick
• copies
• pens
• folders
• hairbrush
• a halloween costume
• hair clips
• bowls
• mug
• towels
• cushions
• purse
• christmas decorations
• birthday cards
• school diary
• turban towel
• nail brush
• wrapping paper
• sellotape
• clothes horse (household purchase)
• yoga mat
• lunch box
• candle
• matches
• lock
• colouring pencils
• bleach
• washing powder
• superglue
• a lamp 

Truly, we all need one of these amazing places in out life. Still haven't managed to get one of those cats that does the thing with its arm but mark my words, I will possess one. Mark my words.

On that somewhat threatening note, hasta luego!

*except for food, if I had included that we would have been here all night.