Spain: Tarifa

The bus ride to Tarifa was the first real change of scenery we got since the mountains of Granada. Lush green hills snaked along the edge of Spain and the clear blue Mediterranean. The bus ride was interesting as well. We had a bus driver suffering from severe PMS because she got into an argument with one of the passengers and even after he got up and retreated to the back of the bus, she was still yelling at him from the drivers sear. She also decided to get off the bus at one point to bark orders at a bunch of construction workers who were just doing their jobs. They cooperated to avoid her hormonal wrath and redirected traffic so that we could pass the blocked off street on the opposite side of the road.

Arriving in Tarifa was a relief. We walked down the town’s main street which was furbished with surf shops and tattoo parlors. This was definitely a shore town. Carrie was actually very excited to go shopping on one of her days; I was hoping to distract her enough to forget about. We continued along to find our Hostal, Hostal Africa. The very affordable room was the best and most luxurious of the trip. It was a clean, well painted, and well lit room. The shower was perfect and we were adjacent to the roof top access. The roof garden was fitted with tables and chairs where we ate a lot. There was also a gazebo where we read and played cards a lot and took shade from the sun. From the roof is where we got our first glance at Morocco. Honestly, Africa looked so close I almost fooled myself into thinking I could simply reach out and touch it.

The first day we went to the beach. It took us awhile before we finally settled on a spot. It was along a little cove set aside strictly for swimmers; most of the other stretches of beach were being used by windsurfers and kite surfers. Although, it was cool to see the sky filled with a large range of kites varying in size, shape, and color. The water was cold but clear and really refreshing. The beach was of fine white sand. Most of the crowd was young and it made me feel connected to my generation in way. This is what people my age were doing on the coast in Spain. Carrie sometimes criticized me for being too touristy by wearing my technical gear when we explore places… But now I was just in my board shorts and sandals. The day ended and we each received pretty good sunburns, though I think Carrie’s chest was the worse of our burns.

The next day was very thrilling. I didn’t tell anyone I was considering this, but we hopped on a ferry and went to Tangier Morocco for the day. I feel it is quite an accomplishment to have made it to Africa on this trip, and I still can’t believe I was there. When we arrived we were introduced to Moroccan hospitality and friendliness immediately. A dock worker helped a complete stranger up a huge flight of stairs with his luggage. Back home, workers would certainly feel they were too busy to lend a helping hand… but everyone we passed in the city was always smiling and waving to us. It was a very welcoming atmosphere.

Before we even stepped out of the port, we were bombarded by tour guides looking to quickly grab any tourists upon arrival. We selected the guide who best suited our needs… a very experienced tour guide name Said. He spoke 5 languages and has lived in Miami and reminded me of a Muslim Obiwan Kenobi, especially since he was wearing a sagely robe. He taught us a multitude of things about Tangier and the Muslim culture. We went on a camel ride, saw a cobra. We ate in a very affordable restaurant where we were treated to a traditional Moroccan meal of olives, vegetable soup, couscous, pastries and chicken dishes accompanied by the tunes of Moroccan musicians. Tangier was full of cats, being the pet of choice; even in the restaurant there were two freely walking about the dining area, weaving in and out of the tables searching for scraps. Said took us through old town, where we looked in shops filled with crafts: carpets, jewelry, knives, tiles, traditional clothes, statuettes, and more. We saw a lot of normal Moroccan life as well. We were welcomed into tiny bakeries and markets to watch men work—we never saw a women working (must be a cultural thing). Although we left Morocco in a day, it felt like we experienced a week’s worth of the time. We returned on the ferry; I was quiet on the return ride still trying to take everything in.

The next day it rained in Tarifa, which was alright, because our sunburned bodies couldn’t take much more sun. We did get a chance to go souvenir shopping and run some errands. Carrie and I picked up matching cartilage earrings because I lost mine playing football at the abbey and hey, it was less permanent than getting matching tattoos… We had a great dinner that night. We dressed up and sat in a restaurant and had a great night. We must have stayed there for three hours. It was like a little date, we ate olives, shared sangria, and talked through the whole meal. When we had to leave we really wished we stayed one more day. This Hostal could never be beat and we were beginning to fear that Madrid, wouldn’t keep us as busy as we would like.

Spain: Sevilla

Sevilla really wasn’t that much to look out, but there were many treasures to be found if you looked hard enough—probably between every other street where a Starbucks wasn’t… For the most part, Spain was void of commercial franchises, Sevilla and certain parts of Madrid were the exceptions. However the culture stills survives amidst this debauchery of independent entrepreneurial establishments. Carrie and I got to attend a Flamenco performance, for example, and a bullfight in Madrid (I’ll save that story for later).

The Flamenco performance was a great experience, never have I seen performance art fueled with such energy, passion, cooperation, and (believe it or not) anger. The dancers performed mainly solo pieces, protecting us from the cliché bombardment of partner skits that were growing ever popular in flamenco tourist traps. They stomped their feet, sending heart pounding energy into the audience as the musicians stomped and clapped in unison. The music and dancers complemented each other and made it obvious the one could not live without the other. No performer left the act sweat free. It was a very powerful performance.

Another charm of the city was the Barrows, the old Jewish corridor that consisted of tightly packed buildings leaving only enough room for tiny lanes know as kissing lanes (probably got the name because it looked like the buildings were close enough to kiss, but I like to think it is because if you and a certain friend stand with your backs to opposite walls you would be close enough to reach out and kiss them, at least, that’s what I did). These little streets were fun to navigate and get lost in—with their tiny plazas, shops and tapas bars.

The most impressive piece of architecture had to be the Plaza de España. The enormous half-circle plaza is a fine example of Moorish revival. The building has many archways and two tall symmetrically placed towers with traditional dome crowns. Most of the plaza was accessible for free and it was enjoyable walking between its dwarfing pillars and walkways.

Another monument in Sevilla, similarly built in the Moorish design was Alcázar. This was built over Moorish ruins for King Pedro of Castile. Pedro used Moorish workers to build his palace giving it a distinctly Islamic design. The palace is one of the best remaining examples of mudéjar architecture, a style under Christian rule in Spain but using Islamic architectural influence. One of the most obvious ways of telling that this monument was indeed an imitation of Moorish architecture was by looking at the great tile and ceiling work and seeing depictions and images of faces, animals, and other objects. Most Muslims would shy away from displaying images in their artwork because it goes against their religion. But for the most part, the Alcázar was just a smaller and less impressive Alhambra.

Carrie and I mainly went on long walks to pass the time. Walking in the Parque Maria Luisa and along the River Guadalquivir were definitely the most scenic routes. The park was also the best park we would see, in my opinion. But, we did find ourselves a little bored and it was sort of a relief to finally be heading towards Tarifa.

Spain: Granada

I know it has been a while since I have posted, in fact by the time I publish this I will already be home. I have decided to write about my trip to Spain in four parts; one entry for each of the cities I visited. Hopefully I will get all of these entries published within the next week.

First of all, I had very mixed feelings about the day I left Wroxton. Everybody was geared up to go home and excited to see their friends and family. I, on the other hand, was more concerned about saying goodbye to everybody so that I could catch my flight. At the same time, I was a little upset not traveling home with the people I just spent four months with. At some instances I even found myself jealous that these people were going to be eating a homed cooked meal that night. It had been a long four months and I was being to feel that a vacation home my not have been such an idea before traveling again. But Carrie and I had to say are farewells and rush off to the coach park to hitch a ride to another airport.

We landed in Granada late the evening. The skies were dark and we really couldn’t make heads or tales of our surroundings. In fact, I remember, while riding a bus into the city, seeing lights suspended in the sky in a hauntingly familiar circular pattern that reminded me of UFOs. First night in Spain and we had already walk into a full scale alien invasion… But alas, there were no aliens. They were the streets lights of distance neighborhoods nestled in the hills and mountain sides. But the night sky was like a tarp draped over the breathtaking landscape that wouldn’t be lifted until morning—but damn was it a great surprise.

I can’t really capture the words for my initial reaction to stepping out onto Granada streets and seeing the clear blue sky hovering over the tan city that almost blended in with the golden hills and red mountains encircling it. My mouth was gaping… But the full picture wasn’t revealed until we found our way to one of the viewpoints. San Nicolas Point was one such viewpoint. To put it simply, my mouth fell into an even greater gaping expression and I may have drooled a little. I took a picture… but nothing was as memorable as overlooking the city and looking across at the red Alhambra standing majestically over the whole land only having the whole scene dwarfed by the snowcapped Sierra Nevada mountains that stood behind it.

This was definitely my favorite city in Europe. The city attracted many hippies and attractive young people. There had to be at least one human for every dog, and yes that is how I meant to say it. Dogs ran freely next to their human companions and played together between groups of barefoot hippies who were generally gathered around someone with an instrument or a soothing singing voice.

The Alhambra was another story… I could write a whole entry on this place alone, however I won’t. I will just say that I took many photos (went through two sets of batteries…), gained a completely new appreciation for Moorish architecture and Muslim art, and gained an understanding of the Muslim world—which brings me to another point. One of the greatest benefits of touring Andalucía, is that I got a great taste of multiple cultures. This part of the country was once ruled by the Moors and they certainly left behind a lingering taste of their vast empire, the Alhambra being the biggest (this fortified city used to be the capital of their empire in Spain). Carrie and spent all day exploring and appreciating the palaces and Alcazar (Moorish fort), the gardens and General Life Gardens. It was like a Disney Land of culture and history—fun for any nerd who loves this kind of stuff like me.

Before we knew it, we were on our way to Seville.

Final Days of Wroxton

I tried looking back on my experiences here, and I feel as though I dreamt it all up. A few weeks in Spain and then I will wake up one morning to find myself in my own bed back in my little white house with purple shutters in Pines Lake NJ—wondering if it actually happening. Or will it hit me that I was here! I did it!

I did my best to get a lot out of my few weeks left at Wroxton. I went to Stonehenge and visited London twice. Stonehenge was far better of an experience than the underground vaults in Edinburgh. I discovered that I feel a connection to the tangible world. Looking at the stones and wondering about the people who constructed this masterpiece helped me feel connected to mankind in a very special way. I get more by looking into our past than I ever would if I was looking for some form of otherworldly spirituality. It feels good to look at something my ancestors built and gain this great appreciation and sense of belonging to a history of tremendous achievement and marvel—like the very same feeling that came over that guy who, thousands of years ago, stood over an amber campfire and roared, “I AM MAN! I HAVE CREATED FIRE!”

The first time I went to London, Carrie and I spent the whole day at the London Zoo. It was an unbelievably gorgeous day. The zoo was also incredible. I saw the gorilla who actually taught Andy Serkis how to play Kong in the new King Kong movie. Apparently the two of them just spent time socializing and the female gorilla had fun showing the actor the ways of the gorilla. We also got to see giant bats from the Amazonian Rainforest. The second and final visit I spent the day in theatres. I saw Spamalot and Wicked. Spamalot was worth a few laughs but I wouldn’t suggest going to see it. Our school showed how ‘generous’ it is once again by purchasing seats as far away from the stage as possible… Wicked was a far better experience. It only cost ₤26 for the night show. I really loved it and highly recommend it. I saw another play a week or two earlier in Birmingham called Testing the Echo. It was interesting—about the citizenship test in England. Finding out what countries think is important for aspiring citizens to know is funny if not disturbing. Like, is it vital for every citizen to know when pubs open on Sunday???

I finished my papers and exams! I did worse on all of my papers by a whole marking. So if I got an A on the first paper for a course, my second one was an A- and so on. It was a little discouraging, but my grades were far from poor. The exams were really tough. I don’t really know what to think about them. I can guess which ones I performed better on but that is the best I can do. I think my best was CORE, which I hope is an A so I can get an A out of that course. My worst was probably Modern Novels which was the class I was doing the best in. That is the problem with these exams. They constitute 50% of my grade. So my A in that class good drop significantly because of the exam. A semester worth the work shot because of a 3 hour exam… Something’s a little off with that system.

Last week I went to the Banbury Beerfest. It was fun and I know can appreciate the horror of drinking warm beer…

I have just been trying to pass the time and enjoy myself these last few days… I am packing today and tomorrow I leave for Spain… I’ll try to get a blog or two up, but I definitely post again when I return.

Good-bye Wroxton…

Guess What's Up My Kilt

This past weekend there was a class trip to Edinburgh, Scotland for two days and two nights. I wish we had more time there, considering it took an uncomfortable, overnight, and 8 hour bus ride for us to get up to the city. But I spent my time there as best as I could. The bus left at 12:30 Friday morning. One of our classmates, now I won’t mention names (ok… Michael Beni), decided to have a power-hour before getting on the bus. That’s when you drink a shot of beer every minute for one whole hour. It sounds easy, but that is the equivalent of about 5 tall beers in an hour. He vomited on the bus 15 minutes into the drive. We actually pulled over outside of Stratford to clean up his mess.

After getting virtually no sleep, we had to occupy ourselves from 9:30 to 2:00 pm before we could check into our hotel room. So we put our belongings in storage and headed out into Edinburgh for some breakfast. Let me not fail to mention, it was pouring rain that morning. After breakfast, Carrie and I went off with random classmates to see the main part of the city and catch a glimpse of Edinburgh Castle. The castle looked alright. It sat high up on the hill of the volcano the whole city was built on top of. It was fun window shopping on the way. You know you are in Scotland when every other building has ‘Kilt Sale’ signs in their windows. I really wanted one, but I couldn’t find my clan colors. I even stepped inside a store that produced Kilts in front of the customers. It was fun learning about what all the machines did and how Kilts were woven in the past.

When 2:00 came around, almost the whole class found its way back to the hotel for a nap. With saggy eyelids and beat red eyes, I laid my head on the starchy hotel pillow and woke up 3 hours later in the same position I fell asleep in. It was Matt Krayton’s birthday, so his girlfriend Ashley organized a group whiskey tour (Matt’s drink of choice). The tour was a lot of fun. It didn’t compare to the Guinness tour, but I did learn the 5 steps of how one would properly appreciate a shot of whiskey. Afterward, I went out to dinner with Carrie and the girls she went on travel break with. I worked up the courage to try an authentic plate of Haggis at a local pub. It came in the shape of a tower with three layers of yellow turnips, white mashed potatoes, and brown haggis, which sat in a pool of brown gravy. It was delicious. Tasted like a light and spicy hunk of meatloaf.

The next day I went on two tours. The first was a tour of the Britannia—once the Queen’s royal yacht. The ship was, as you can guess, very elegant and prudish, but my fascination with sailing and ships kept me very interested in the ship’s history. In its lifetime, the Britannia traveled so many miles, that if you were to average out the distance it traveled annually, the boat could have circumnavigated the world twice a year. Most of the ship was open for exploration. One of the kitchens, in fact, is still being used to make fudge to sell aboard to tourists.

That night, a large group of us went on a walking ghost tour of the city. The underground vaults of the city are considered the most haunted place in the world according to the Guinness Book of Records. So my hopes of experiencing some paranormal activity were pretty high. The tour guide walked us about the city explaining the gruesome history behind Edinburgh. Apparently, the concept of high heeled shoes was thought up here because women wanted to be able to walk around the streets without covering the feet in human waste which was previously discarded from the tenement windows the night before. This was before plumbing came along of course.

When we got to the vaults, I was pretty excited. There was an actual active Wiccan Temple in one of the vaults. The inhabitants chose this location for worship because it had extraordinarily high levels of spiritual energies. I could see the black and white pillars of positive and negative energy and the pentagram of the five elements in the center of the room. Then we moved to a vault that the Wiccas previously occupied. They abandoned the vault because they disturbed a large force of negative energy. But before they left, the Wiccas cast a circle of containment to imprison the negative energy. A circle of stones was set in the center of the room. The tour guide advised strongly against anyone walking through it. Determined to feel something, to encounter the otherworld, I entered. Being the first to step beyond the seal I heard gasps of worry and fear from a few of the people around the circle. I stood my ground and presented myself to the other world and, to my disappointment, felt nothing. I often wonder why I am so disappointed when experiences such as these are unfulfilling. Perhaps that is because I am a skeptic and void of any definable spirituality. But my disappointment also shows my hope of there being something more. Therefore, this is why I fittingly claim to be an agnostic. Perhaps the next time I reach beyond my earthly bounds, something else will reach for me in return.

The bus ride back gave me a glimpse of the marvelous scenery Scotland had to offer. I wish I had more time to explore the Highlands and maybe see Loch Ness. But at least I have reason to return. We did drive along the coast facing the North Sea. It was pretty impressive. That was the last of the weekend trips the Wroxton Program has to offer. So besides a few day tours and trips to London, my exploration of the UK has come to an end. Now I need to concentrate on papers and finals before heading off to Spain.

How I Conquered Wales in a Day

On April 12^th, the college offered a day trip to Cardiff Wales, the capital of the very country my namesake originates from. Well technically, the Battersby name came about in England but my ancestors had to flee because of severe religious persecution. Any Battersby who survived the stakes either fled to Scotland or Wales, or was shipped off to Australia, where the English sent most of their exiles. I took advantage of the trip of course and spent most of my time at Cardiff Castle.

This remarkable piece of architecture has more than one thousand years of history behind it—previously being occupied by the Normans, who built a keep over the foundations of a Roman fortress, and then the Welsh and English, who erected a great walled castle of the medieval variety. A group of my classmates and I went on a tour of the renovated castle that was previously the home of the Bute family, the lords and rulers of not only Cardiff, but most of Wales. I really enjoyed looking at the interior of this amazing home. Lord Bute and his best friend William Burges spent a decade or more renovating and adding to this wondrous piece of history.

My favorite room was the Men’s Smoking Room in the Clock Tower. You see Lord Bute themed every room in the castle. The clock tower fittingly implemented the theme of time. The ceiling was a mural to the signs of the Zodiac, while the stained-glass windows represented the days of the week, the four corners had intricate carvings of cloaked figures holding the sun or the moon at the four different points of the day, and the four seasons were embroidering the room at the junction where the ceiling meets the walls. There is plenty more I can describe to you but the room, as well as every room in the castle, was crafted with such fine and intricate detail that it could take a week to appreciate everything in it let alone describe it to you.

Afterward I picked up many souvenirs and ascended the Norman keep where my Welsh Flag waved majestically through the crisp Welsh air. That’s where I got the picture!

The rest of the week was spent preparing for my last class of my Social Policy course and my final exam in my Modern Britain course. With these two classes out of the way, I will be able to concentrate on my final papers and study for the other finals I will have in the next four weeks. I feel like I did alright on it the Britain exam. The exam was a fierce test of my knowledge, observations, and experiences. I also had to pace myself appropriately. I know people who didn’t have time to answer 5 of the 12 questions… I finished the bulk of the test; I just didn’t do to well on the current events section. But I feel confident and pleased to have gotten that exam out of the way. There was one other highlight of the past week. Tuesday night at the North Arms, Nicky’s father Steve, hosted at track night where we walked into a mach-racetrack for dog racing. I learned a lot about the strategy behind betting and the game of dog racing. I didn’t do too badly for a first attempt, but I didn’t win anything either. If I was at the real tracks I would have walked away with six pounds. Unfortunately this was a type of tournament where only the three best gamblers took home any money. The night was very exciting and a great break away from studying.

Keep a watchful eye. I went to Edinburgh, Scotland this weekend. I should be putting a post up about it soon.

News from the Abbey

This will be a lighter post than normal: a quick recap of this week, some good news and bad news, and a little more attention to what an average day at the Wroxton Abbey is like.

Last week marked our return to class after travel break, all of our professors marked our first set of essays and I am very happy with my grades to say the least—yet at the same time surprised with every grade. Professor Parsons and Dr. Mason are my co-tutors in my Shakespeare class and Modern Novels on the Screen class. They scared the crap out of everyone saying that they were disappointed in a lot of the work saying how “it didn’t accurately reflect the effort we have been showing all semester.” However I got my two papers back. I received an A on the Shakespeare paper and an A+ on the Modern Novels one (I really felt the Modern Novels paper was my weakest but what do I know). In CORE with Professor Hone (Creative Writer and World Traveler… sounds like me) gave me an A- on my Modern China paper. My last paper, which again I was surprised with my result, was on the National Health Service. I wrote it for Dr. Morris’ Social Policy of Britain class. It got a B, but again I felt that that was a stronger paper than my Modern China Paper. Again, overall I am very pleased with my marks. They were a nice confidence booster; now all I have to do is finish strong.

My next bit of news is more exciting for me than a bunch of grades. I received the Beverly Saul award for excellent performance and achievement in Creative Writing. If I were home, I would have received it during my induction into the English Honors Society, Sigma Tau Delta. What makes this award extra remarkable is that it is only given to one student a year and I am pretty young to have received it. I am very, very proud of this award and I will not take it for granted. Thank you everyone, who encourages and appreciates my writing (a special thanks to Mr. Summers).

But now, onto the bad news. There must be an intricate check and balance system for success in the universe and I must have hit the cap of good news for this month. I was not accepted as an RA for the Fall term. I felt like I was highly qualified and capable, I let myself believe I was a shoe in, but I was wrong. Now I have to consider finding another job close to campus and I need to think about commuting in the spring and even all of Senior Year. I will apply again for the Spring; I can only hope things will be different. In light of my failures I do wish to congratulate Carrie who was selected and Chase (another student currently at Wroxton). You both will do great.

Life at the Abbey is really comfortable. Many of us play football (American Soccer) on nice days. We use benches as goals… We generally get enough people to play no less than 6 on 6. A lot of the players are really good. Even if they are just athletic, they are smart and fun to play with. It actually snowed for the first time yesterday—stuck to the ground too. We have a duck nested in the front of the Abbey ready to hatch a family. Her man and a gang of about 5 drakes patrol the path leading to the Carriage House, quacking at anybody who dilly-dallies too long near the nest. It is warming up here, and everyone is getting more active. Things have just been more lively and fun since we have returned from travel break.

Also this past Saturday, the class went to London to attend the performance Blood Brothers. It wasn’t a musical, more like a play with music. It was a brilliant work of art, I highly recommend seeing it, and I’m not saying much more about it because I wouldn’t want to spoil such an epic play. Carrie and I also went to the London Dungeon on our free time. It was more informative than scary, but it was a fun experience nonetheless.