The things I jammed into my first week in Granada, most people take a month or so to do. In one week I moved into my new apartment, started classes at the University, joined a gym, and began to secure employment for myself at this same gym and a dance studio teaching Worldanz. Am I crazy or something? Everything seems to be happening so fast that I have trouble trying to keep track what exactly is going on. Was it really two weeks ago that I was at a zumbathon at Aptos High School freaking out about coming to Spain? In the time frame of my brain that was a year ago.
I arrived in Madrid at 8 in the morning, greeted by Francisco after not having slept in about three days. He had secured everything ahead of time, so all I had to do was hold his hand while he lead my dead walking self to the hotel, the cell phone store, and around the city. It was the best welcome I could have asked for. After having slept about 11 hours we went right to the bus station and took the next bus to Granada, duration 5 hours, arriving in Granada at about 7 that evening.
The first thing I noticed after the bus disembarked and we caught the next available taxi was that not only was the bus station flooded with young people but the streets were as well. Unlike the buildings of Cordoba or Madrid, almost every one here was tagged with some sort of graffiti, most of it proclaiming some sort of revolutionary statement. When we walked around the streets later that night I couldn't help noticing that the 21stcentury fountain of youth had flooded into my new home. Dreadlocks, piercings, cigarettes, saggy pants, oh my! I started to feel like I was back at Porter College or on Pacific Avenue in Santa Cruz, just taking a stroll. Or in Portlandia. I took a sigh of relief as I surveyed my new home, Granada, where the Iberian youth go to retire.
The next day we began by going to see my new apartment, which is located right in the center of the city. (Really if you looked at a map of the city and put your finger right in the middle of it, you would land on my new home).We met with my stereotypical Spanish landlord Pablo (who showed up 45 minutes after the scheduled meeting time and even forgot how much I owed him) and signed all the paperwork for the flat. The place is incredibly spacious, with five bedrooms and two bathrooms and a huge living room. My housemates had already been living there for most of the year so all I had to worry about was buying my groceries and unpacking my stuff. I could not have asked for a better living situation. I live with three Spanish girls and one girl from Greece, who are all incredibly nice and welcoming people(and who are in to the idea of me teaching a practice Worldanz class in our living room). Woo!
After saying goodbye to Francisco on Sunday I began my classes the next day at the University of Granada. My first class? Advanced Instrumental Spanish. Class demographic? 13 Americans. Could any of us understand what the professor was saying? Hahahahahaha......no. Ahh and so it began!
Most of my classes were the next day at the school of philosophy and languages. (Unlike California Spain has real Universities where there are about 8 different schools within each one, spread throughout the city. AND if you want to study something within the Humanities department you don´t have to live in a constant state of fear that some transfer student from a community college will take your spot in the class, and it will fill up or that if you turn away from the enrollment page of your student portal for three seconds to sneeze, the class is cut from the University) That day I went to three other classes that I had enrolled in, and had to crash one at the end of the day because my second class of the day was so boring that it was imperative that I drop it. The last one i decided to crash, and eventually add to my schedule was entitled ¨North American Literature¨.. taught in English. In case you were wondering I am not ashamed that I copped out and took this class because I am still unable to understand what 3/4s of my professors are saying!When I say this to Francisco and my housemates they tell me ¨poco a poco¨¨ meaning little by little I will start to pick up the language as a fluent speaker. Oh great spirit I hope so!
The last great events of this past week have been the beginning of my Worldanz journey in Granada. Right when Francisco left last Sunday I went home and sent emails to all of the owners of the gyms and dance studios in Granada that had expressed their interest in me teaching Worldanz, telling them that I was in Granada and ready! The first to respond and meet with me was Maria, the owner of Club Salud de Imagen. I met with her on Monday, nervous out of my mind. In reality, I had nothing to worry about because before i opened my mouth she was already convinced about the idea, and willing to have me teach the class in her space even though she didn´t have room in the permanent schedule, and was completely convinced that people would like it. She said we would talk more the next week since it was a long weekend coming up and her and every other Granadian would be out of town for the long weekend. I decided to join her gym as well since it was incredibly close to my flat, clean, well-run, and wasn´t full of cologne soaked weightlifters. They also offered a great variety of classes. The first spin class I went to the teacher adorned a huge curly headed wig, and a clown nose and kept telling everyone he was a hippy. Again. Am I in Santa Cruz?
My next meeting was the next day with Vera, the more whimsical owner of 4X4 Multidanza who greeted me in her dance clothes adorned with leg warmers. Multidanza was a small dance studio completely hidden in the old part of the city. (Honestly I had to ask about 5 people where it was along the way.) When I talked with her about Worldanz she was excited, intrigued, scared, and confused all at once. In the end she told me she could give me two classes a week. The only problem was that she was scared that we might have trouble getting students to come, since she herself has trouble getting students to come to her own classes. I told her not to worry, that I would help her put up fliers and get the message out because I was sure people were going to like it. (At least this is what I hope) Walking away from the meeting I couldn´t help having the same exact emotions as Vera. I was of course excited but at the same time completely terrified that this whole thing was not going to work out. But this is the journey I have to take, and after all I have only been here one week.
As I walked through the streets of Granada the first week I couldn´t help seeing signs of my home. Every day I’m approached by young people in the street passing out fliers about some political agenda only to turn my head to see young people with dreadlocks, musical instruments and cute dogs lining the street. The second day we witnessed a protest by the Communist party of Spain, only to pass by at least 5 buildings that had that mysterious unnamed but well known skunk smell that flooded the Porter dorms my first year of college. I´m so far from my home and miss it, but am reassured that this place I chose to live in has signs of familiarity. I´m anxious to know what will happen in the next 6 months, but am so incredibly thankful that I chose to take this journey, because a journey it will definitely be.
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