Study Abroad Spain – DU Abroad

Driving down a long, flat stretch of highway off the coast of Spain, the earth was a burnt-sienna on either side of the road, with rows and rows of orange trees, all the way to the horizon. Where distant layers of hills met the sea, and sat in fog and mist, still not burnt off by the mid-to-late afternoon sun, we left Catalonia behind and crossed into Valencia. Known for oranges, and beaches, it truly lived up to its name.

The past two weekends I was able to explore Girona for a day trip, Valencia for the weekend, and Peñiscola for the afternoon, with my program ISA. I have to say, Peñiscola stood out to me the most, and was my favorite by far. It had a certain speciality to it. Despite having visited various small, costal and even medieval towns in Europe, this small, historic city had a very unique feel. Peñiscola is exactly as you would expect from it’s name, a peninsula, surrounded by azure ocean, thanks to the white sand and beaches of the Valencian region. A small, fortified sea port, perched on a high, cliffy peninsula. Across the bay, hugging hills holding the Sierra de Irta natural park. It was a truly spectacular sight. The town, if you could even call it that, is nestled in the fortified walls, and is mainly composed of a large, yet simple fortress castle, and its grounds. My friend and I, along with the trudging 45 American ISA students, all bought a 3.50 Euro ticket to get into the castle atop the town (by far best value I have ever spent to enter into any attraction in Europe).

The cliffs that the castle was built on, was tall enough to make you step back and wonder if they should raise the stone wall overlooking them. Very impressive, to say the least, with how to town (and castle) was incorporated into the tall, rocky cliff of the peninsula island. The castle had the most wonderful views, with so many stone rooftops and narrow stone staircases offering a full 360 of the coast. It had been a completely cloudy, gusty day so far, but finally, when walking around the castle, the sun peaked out for a while. This transformed the water from a beautiful and deep teal, to an absolutely glowing aqua. If the sun had fully come out, I just know the entire ocean view would have been even more breath-taking and luminescent. Let’s just say that day, I thought I was going to fill up my SD card with the amount of photos I was taking.

You could exit the castle and walk around to the castle gardens and grounds bellow, included in your ticket. That is when the sun came out again and the water showed off and shone. This vantage point from the garden was stunning, looking up at the castle, as well as across and up the cliffs. It also had a wonderful view across the bay, and the ribbon of the white sand beach, stretching all the way down the coast. There was a small city consisting of some high rises, solely lining the beach, and so many houses and buildings packed into the hills beyond. It looked like the Palisades… and the hills stayed moody and misty the whole time, with a low line of clouds laying lazily at top of the hills, among the houses.

The town itself was the quaintest, cutest costal town, down to every detail. From the white painted buildings, blue and teal doors, down to the flowered tiles that made all the balconies. The streets mainly consisted of wide, rocky cobblestone steps. Most all of the streets were lined with large potted plants, a lot of them in beautiful ceramic pots. Everywhere you looked was just so special, with so much care and details shown in little ways, building up a beautiful, costal town that looked straight out of a postcard.

The whole style and feel was very Grecian and so picture-perfect quintessential. One house was even entirely covered with sea shells, incorporated right into the white plaster of the house! It had a freshly painted teal door (matching the color of the ocean) and a matching sign which read ‘La Casa de las Conchas’, so it was quite literally ‘The House of the Shells’. I later researched and discovered that it was made around the ’60’s during the Spanish economic downturn, by a woman who was searching for a way to provide for her family. She set out to learn everything about the town, and sell her tips to tourists who were just starting to discover the town. She then turned this into a career, and became the first tour guide in the area. Her and her family built the three story house with the facade of shells, and opened a little gift shop. She adorned it in shells to show her love for Peñiscola and the ocean. It’s little stories like this that is the best part of traveling, and seeing the beauty and love put into special places like the Casa de Conchas.

The approximate three hours allotted to explore Peñiscola flew by, and even though I was so drawn to this seaside town, with artistic touches and history everywhere you looked, it was time to run back to the buses. There are only really a few entrances into the fortified town, I accidentally headed in a dead end direction. But this walk brought me into the quaintest, yet grand courtyard, with the Peñiscola style buildings, shutters, and plants, with the immense grandeur of the medieval wall looming above. Worth the accidental detour. All 95 of us American students poured back into the buses, and started our drive back to Barcelona.

The drive back to Barcelona after Peñiscola was like the PCH of Europe. Waves progressively rolling and crashing into the rugged coast, white and foaming, along the eroded rocky coast. The costal road winding above the rocky cliff, with nice standalone homes in the hills, facing the Mediterranean. We passed Sitges along the way, another well known costal town of the area. Small day trips like these are truly spectacular, and the Spanish Mediterranean is truly something special.

See my photos and get a good feel of the ISA weekend trip here! https://www.instagram.com/p/DGOMhm-OhONYvQ45d1Vbz_V-oCQrtKSFV1OEkA0/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link&igsh=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==

I guess I first realized it at El Escorial in Toledo. To most people, the 16^th century monastery/palace is a grand and awesome display of Golden Age architecture, brimming with culture and reverence. For me, it was a maze of lethally low doorways and staircases that I probably would have been better prepared for by watching the classic montage from “Dodgeball” rather than the historical pep talk our group received from the tour guide.

I remember thinking, “Man these doorways are really low, but then again, it was built in the 1500’s – people were way shorter then. I’m sure Spaniards have accounted for evolution and the overall growth of the human body.” Well, it seems that wave of science hasn’t quite made it over here yet – that or there is something in the water in America, because everything in this country seems to be just 3-5 inches too short/small/cramped for my lanky 6’5 frame.

I realize I’m not exactly a skyscraper by American standards, but to Spanish eyes I seem to come off as this uncannily large person and someone with dimensions there simply has never been a need to accommodate for.

I have had to do some serious adjusting in the way I carry myself, my posture and even the way I wake up in the morning. To name a few particularly problematic structures:

1.) Doorways. – This one is probably the most obvious, but also one of the most injury-inducing. All of the doorways in my homestay have been pleasant greetings for my forehead on many a morning. These greetings are often accompanied by a cackle from my host-mother and a semi-concerned, semi-sarcastic “Hombre, Cuídate!”

2.) Desks. – Freshmen year at DU I put three bricks under each corner of my desk in halls in order to elevate it and try to fit the stilts that are my legs. I don’t know how practical it would be to carry around a bag of bricks with me at all times, but I am seriously considering it. The desk in my bedroom is all but unusable and everything at the university is essentially the same. Although, at school I don’t have a choice so I end up kind of swinging my legs to the side, or, if I get agitated, just putting them to their normal, natural height, causing the desk to come off the ground 2-3 inches. I have gotten some puzzled, freightened looks, but it just feels so right.

3.) Beds. – I have a twin bed in my homestay. Here is what it looks like when I lay down with my head as far back as possible. ‘nuf said.

4.) Lights. – The soul source of light in my bedroom is a jerry-rigged lamp hung at an uncomfortably low level, so that when I wake up I either hit it, or end up wearing it like a hat. Although it looks extremely fashionable, it isn’t exactly an ideal wakeup routine.

One more example that is not really a structure but more of an item is that I had the naive impression I would be able to buy shoes here once I arrived, after I lost a pair at the melee that was Tomatina. To my chagrin, my requests for a size 50, or just anything larger than a 45, were met with puzzled stares and a few mutterings of “hombre…no,” which in this case can be translated to, “’Da heck you mean you looking for a size 50? You crazy?” The most comical factor of this in my mind was that nobody even apologized or offered to check the back room, it was as if they had simply never heard of a company manufacturing such an absurdly unnecessary size.

Please don’t get me wrong, I am not trying to complain and vent about my femur frustrations. I realize that in the scheme of things, a few bruises is a small price to pay for the dream life I am able to live here – I mean the idea that I am allowed to galavant around Europe for a year is almost too awesome to be true, but it is and I am. I am simply pointing out the, often comical, differences in size appropriation between America and Spain. If anything, my bruised noggin has in fact taught me something, that being that while you are abroad, you can’t change the culture of the country you are in, but the country certainly can and probably will change you. So while I may not be the biggest fan of having to walk around my house like Quassi Moto, I’ve gotten used to it and adapted to the situation and culture around me. I think that is the entire point of studying in a foreign country, so although I may have had to endure a few welts on the forehead, I’m slowly but surely letting Spanish culture sink into every aspect of my life, and that feels pretty awesome.

Also, I’ll gladly endure hitting my head and scrunching my legs for the rest of my life if I can continue seeing things like this:

— Quincy Snowdon, DUSA Blogger

Tag: Study Abroad Spain

Peñíscola- a Spanish seaside hidden gem

Big(ish) Person, Small(er) Spain