It’s sort of difficult to get myself to sit down and recount the niftiness that is Granada while said niftiness is everywhere around me. That, and, when I do finally sit down, if I’m in the same spot for 5 minutes I have a tendency to fall asleep. I’ve adapted to siestas quite well.
So, here we go—
First, I took a placement quiz to figure out which level of Spanish I’d need to take during the "intensive language" session. I pretty much got exactly the level I wanted, and my profs have been awesome! We make jokes and play taboo. And, uh, we review grammar too. And vocabulary. Yes…that. It seems so easy when we talk about it in class, and yet, as soon as I pick up a book or a magazine, my Spanish-English dictionary becomes my respirator. Notes from the diary: Still not fluent yet. Doh!
In Spain, along in many other places, public drunkenness is not a cool thing, although it is still legal. However, apparently public urination and public nudity are okay. One time as I was leaving my host family’s building, the first thing I see is a random guy urinating in a bush in the middle of the plaza, right where anyone can see him….perhaps he was drunk? (It was pretty early in the morning though, that seemed a little unlikely…) Then, I went with a group of students on an excursion to the beach, and toplessness seemed to be in chic—which, okay, I guess I’ve heard of that before. What I found surprising was how completely nonchalant it was. No one was being rude or hassling the women. Which was a little weird, considering that catcalling is pretty normal in the cities. According to a Spanish local, catcalling is a result of guys wanting to let random girls on the street know that they think they’re pretty. (When you think of it that way, it doesn’t seem like that bad of a thing—the jury is still out on whether or not that’s twisted logic.) It doesn’t happen that often anyway (at least, not to chicas who look like they’re Spaniards: Any given time I’m with my blonde friends the catcalls multiply by 8 gazillion.)
Although in my previous note I remarked that Jaime (our director) said that I do not look like a Spaniard, I have received conclusive evidence to the contrary. Within three weeks of being a granadina, I have been asked not once, not twice, but THRICE for directions from local Spaniards! That’s almost more than I’ve heard, "hey, chica!!" The irony is gorgeous. (For those of you who are 
unaware, if my sense of sight were as bad as my sense of direction, I might see a fire-breathing dragon and think it was yesterday’s cold turkey sandwich.)
In Granada, every night is a party night. Everyone stays up ‘till the wee hours of the morning, checking out restaurants, going to fiestas, and spending quality time with family and friends. Well, the other students from my program decided—hey, we’ve been here for two weeks. It’s high time we get out there and check out the night life! We’d heard about a music festival that was taking place this weekend, and figured that was a good place to start. We met up about 10:30pm, and attempted to go out for tapas. In Granada, tapas, random appetizer trays from restaurants, are free when you order an alcoholic drink…Unfortunately Irish pubs don’t seem to offer tapas for free (oops..) We hung out in the pub for a while, trying to get to know each other better (What’s YOUR favorite color? How many bones have YOU broken?), and then headed out for the street again. We walked around for about an hour trying to figure out where exactly we were going, and which bus to take to get there. Eventually, maybe after…hm…half an hour to an hour, we decided a taxi was our best bet. (taxis are WAY cheaper in Spain than in Cal. I shudder remembering a half an hour taxi trip in LA costing $60…)
Wow. We get there. Wow. It was a CARNIVAL!!! There were stands selling things (for some reason the playboy bunny is very ch
ic here…), carnival games (bumper cars! Racecars! Throw things and get a prize!), people dressed up like woody woodpecker or Winnie the pooh, HUGE jump houses with Monster’s inc theme, Shrek theme, and loaded with…LITTLE KIDS….playing soccer! (at ONE A.M. Wow! ) There were tons of people milling around, sitting at side-shop restaurants, just chilling. At ONE A.M. What were they all doing there at one am???
Then we headed over to the concert area. Soo…crowded. And such an amazing conglomeration of people! Sky-high highlighted dreadlocks, go-go boots, sports jerseys, suits, gypsy costumes….crazy. I would have loved to have just people-watched (if I could have managed it from a distance—I’m not a huge fan of crowds…)
We finally get near the stadium, and some people are climbing on it playing with the projector, fidgeting with the lights. By TWO A.M. the concert hasn’t started yet. We were considering leaving, and then, at 2:15, rock stars take the stage and the already vibrant audience comes alive. The band was GREAT!!! But…we were tired. So we only stayed for about three songs, and then attempted to escape the area. (this was easier said than done—the stadium was already crowded, but MORE PEOPLE kept pouring in! We felt rather like party poopers. (or, the Spanish term, "aguafiestas": meaning someone who throws water on a party. The comparison of terms makes a good data point for linguistic argument about how words form culture and backwards.)
As we waited for a taxi, we noticed there were STILL kids playing in the jumpers, STILL people chilling out at the side restaurants, STILL people looking at all the stalls—of all ages. One parent was dragging a crying kid away from the festival, and we started laughing (we’re evil, yes), imagining the kid was probably saying, "I don’t wanna leave! It’s not even three a.m yet! It’s not fair, all the other kids get to stay ‘till five am, you’re mean!!"
All in all—crazy amazing.