Rollercoasters and Turkish words

My flatmate Schieli keeps telling me off for not having blogged in ages, so I guess I gotta man up and blog.

Truth is, a lot of stuff has happened and it’s not gonna be fun trying to condense it all down into one post. On the other hand, I also really can’t be arsed to elaborately post about everything in different posts.

So here goes nothing:

- I made it to Granada in one piece. Our flat is small, but very cute and cosy. There are loads of bars and restaurants right outside, which means that our flat constantly smells of deepfried stuff when we leave the window open.

- @smurfpop moved out after just one week of me being in Granada, due to uni problems. Schieli and I madly searched for a replacement flatmate and ended up throwing our keys in the hands of Deniz, a (luckily) wonderful Turkish girl, who (unfortunately) doesn’t speak much English and/or Spanish. We communicate through pictionary and charades.

We're a happy little flatshare

- … which made me realise that I have quite an extensive food vocab in Turkish. I have also learned a few other essentials, such as “boobs”, “we are drunk before we start drinking” and “you are beautiful”.

- The guy that has been referred to as “The Boyfriend” in previous posts will be known as “the ex” from this point onwards.
- I am still having some trouble with enrolling at uni and deciding which courses I do finally want to take, but I have at least now received my student ID, a laminated piece of paper. How it took Granada uni almost a whole month to make, I do not know.

As a direct comparison: Badly cut out Spanish student ID on the left, English student ID on the right.

- We went to Córdoba, it was awesome. I was kinda whingey before going, because it ended up being more expensive than I thought it would be, but my God, it was worth it. It really was.

- Schieli has declared me “Iranian by association”, because I remembered it was Iranian New Year today, remembered how to wish her a happy new year in Persian, made some kick-ass doogh and then answered a few questions for a pop quiz about Iran/Kurds.

Food for Iranian New Year. Please note the authentic doogh.

- Our landlord misspelled Deniz’ last name in our contract. It says “Deniz Genital”. I can assure you that it’s not her name.
- Granada is awesomely beautiful and I can’t quite get enough of it. Which I guess is a bonus, seen I’ll still be here for a fair while.

Feels like I'm on holiday

- Gadaffi Duck is gonna win the pub quiz eventually.

Zoo, internet people and grandparents

My departure from Belgium went as planned, which in itself is kind of shocking.
But everything went well, I closed my bank account, found there was a bit more money in it than I thought, my mother got to Mons alright, Laura and I blinked at each other with slightly teary eyes, I popped to the Services des Etrangers and then my mom drove us over to @allyteration‘s safe and sound.

Ally got me a sign and I got her some English and Belgian goodies (the Belgian ones she refused, but I happily shared them with @maike1985 later on)

Ally’s mom, after having heard that not all cheeses are vegetarian, went out and bought ALL THE VEGETARIAN CHEESES. Madness.
I’ve spent quite a bit of time at theirs, cheese has never been an issue (what a great statement!), but now, with this new knowledge, she felt the need to provide even more and even more awesome cheeses than ever.
And provide she did:

I actually took that photo a few days in, after I had already finished two packs and opened another three.

We spent some time putting the world to rights, catching up on TV shows and exchanging trashy books for our kindles. As luck would have it, Maike managed to get a day off work and came down for a day and a half. So we hopped around the living room, singing badly and drinking a mad combination of beers, cider, wine and sparkly.

The next day, we had planned to meet @sirilfiel/Dani for the first time in real life and go to invade the zoo together.
Of course it was shockingly cold, so a lot of penuin dances and nose warming manoeuvres ensued.

Ally cures puppy nose

Despite the cold it was a pretty fucking awesome day, Dani is a nice one, she likes fennel tea (FENNELFIVE), speaks English like a proper person and I came up with some pretty bad puns about bears and wolves.
And then we went home and ate the (second) best auflauflauflauf the world has ever seen.

Unfortunately we had to drop Maike and Dani back at the station later in the afternoon.
We pretty much spent the rest of our time eating and watching Sherlock. Which is pretty awesome too. I’ve always managed to be out of the country when it was on TV in England, so I hadn’t even watched a single episode until Ally waved it in my face.

The Sherlock/food cycle was only interrupted by going to see Ally’s grandparents for her nan’s birthday meal. It went quite well, until I learned to play Rummy, to which I (appropriately) wanted to drink a shot of rum, (that I was offered, by the way, I did not just request some strong alcohol out of the blue) and Ally’s granddad was unsure if it would be “good for femininity”. So, small issue there, it was resolved with pirate songs which left him even more gobsmacked than before, but nevermind.

The next day I travelled onwards in my mini Eurotrip to go spend some time with my family before I fly off to sunny slightly warmer Spain.

Things I have learned from YA 2.1

My time in Belgium has come to an end, and whilst it was fun, it was also throughly educational, as one might expect from a uni-organised year abroad (Hi there, year abroad team!)

1. I don’t think I should live in a shared flat with random people.
I have greatly developed my ability to write passive aggressive notes in French, inquiring as to why the kitchen is a fucking mess again, even though I cleaned it from top to bottom only 3 days ago.
I mean seriously.
Also, who cooks fish lasagne in a pan? Like, to boil stuff in? And puts that in the oven? And then doesn’t clean the dried, crusty cheese off? – Oh yes, it’s the same person that drinks Fanta because of all the vitamin C.
Idiot.

2. I really do prefer working a full time job to being in full time education.
Seriously, I cannot wait to be done with uni. I would ideally work a full time job in which I get paid though. Not like these past months in Belgium.
I just love coming home at night and not having to bother with anything. No essays, no presentations and deadlines. Work is at work. And when I’m done for the day, I can relax.

3. How things shouldn’t be translated.
Never believe the lady who translated her son’s birth certificate when she says she is a linguist and only needs it to be proofread and certified.
She will have mistranslated her own and her son’s birth date. Shockingly enough “le vingt août” is not “the twenty-eighth”. Make sure you double-tripe-quadruple read every sentence.
Also, talking to your wonderful friend about your plans for lunch whilst she is translating a thrilling text about trains is a bad idea. She is very suggestible and you should know better than to distract her from work.

Find out about mmmmmm

4. I appear to need proof of being bilingual
My papers say German. I am German. I speak German quite well. I can translate into German.
However, I also speak English rather well. Well enough to translate into English. But as the papers say “German”, no one believed it.
My Belgian supervisor gave me an evaluation certifying that I speak English “very well”. Why, thank you. My uni will be thrilled to find out.

5. Belgians have got to be the most helpful people on the planet.
I have met nothing but helpfulness these past few months. When me going home to England was jeopardised by the strike in December, my colleagues pulled together to come up with a plan to get me to Brussels. And then the means to get me to Brussels. Lovelove.

6. Do not expect vegetarian options. Not even salads.
The posher the restaurant, the more meat and fish is to be expected. But I guess that’s almost quite normal.
But no, expect for the restaurant to not be prepared to give you a vegetarian option, even if you have contacted them in advance to ask about it.
Learn to be able to sit still in awkward situations, waiting 15 minutes for a leafy salad with a luke warm lump of cheese to be prepared for you.

7. Brussels Central station is really comfortable
and a great place for a nap.

8. You can dance the Macarena to any song.
Fact. Though it works particularly well to “Our Mountain”, as their music is so bad, it can’t serve any other purpose.

El Carroto and the Eurotunnel

It was a cold winter’s evening and Columbo had just set off on his journey to England’s South coast. Because he left later than expected, Columbo decided to try to take a shortcut to the Eurotunnel. This wonderful brainwave of his, however caused him to drive little Fluffy, his vessel, straight into a traffic jam. Columbo wimpered with anxiety. The six lane motorway was full of French and Belgian drivers. And we all know what that means: No indicating, driving wherever there is space, not regarding the safe distance between cars and baguettes.

But as suddenly as the traffic jam appeared, it also cleared up again. All of a sudden there was movement and the French and Belgian drivers started to zip in and out of traffic even faster and more recklessly than before.
Hopping along to Jedward, our carotin friend finally made it to the Eurotunnel terminal. After he checked in and drove around the complete terminal, as he followed the appropriate signs leading around him in circles, he was finally able to enter the shuttle train.

El Carroto in the Eurotunnel

Upon entering this futuristic shuttle train, his carroty ears were greeted bilingual instructions back by the sweet sounds of techno music. This excited Columbo, as foreign techno is one of his favourites. Fondly he remembered the Scooter poster that used to grace his bedroom wall when he was only a baby carrot.
Happily bopping along to uhn tiss uhn tiss uhn tiss of the soundtrack of his journey, he almost missed the security announcement, forbidding only the English folk from smoking. Once the announcements were over, the train left, allowing Columbo a short 20 minute nap before the shuttle reached dry, new lands already.

As he disembarked the futuristic shuttle and breathed in the sharp, icy British air, our orange companion felt a sense of freedom that had thus far been unknown to him and he saw that his life was a vast glowing empty page and he could do anything he wanted.

Columbo the Cruising Carrot – an introduction

I am sure you beautiful people still remember Laura’s and my Christmas Carrot who has so wonderfully graced Randalf, our Christmas tree in the past month and has provided our living room with a sparkle almost as wonderful as that of a real Christmas star/angel.

And as I am preparing to leave Mons and Belgium behind for my Mini Eurotrip and part two of my Year Abroad, Columbo (that’s the carrot’s name) is getting a bit cranky too. He wants to cruise and see the world. And because both Laura and I do love our vegetables, we are eager to grant his wish.
If all goes to plan, we will both blog about his wonderful adventures and carotin travels, because, as you can see, his arms are quite short and feeble. His word processing skills aren’t that advanced.

Columbo the Cruising Carrot

Columbo the Cruising Carrot

Nickname: El Carroto. Columbo likes to think of himself as a well-travelled and very cultured cosmopolite and believes having a Spanish nickname will indiciate just how much he has ventured out into the world. He is unaware that “carroto” is not the Spanish word for carrot. He also pronounces it with a heavy English accent.
Nationality: Swedish. Only on paper though.
Height: 18cm
Favourite song: OPA! by Giorgos Alkaios & Friends
Sexuality: unconfirmed
Favourite drink: St. Feuillien
Favourite seat: Randalf
Favourite author: Jack Kerouac

Stay tuned for thrilling travel updates about this orange cosmopolite.

Stress, stress, stress and tequila

Remember how in my last post I whinged about how time was running out and I had too much to do?
Yeah, that hasn’t changed.
BUT we now have a flat in Granada! Thanks to the help of wonderful Marta, she called the landlord, arranged a viewing, decided the flat was worthy and told us where to send our money to.
We did, and now we have a flat. Hooray!
The flat is just of La Ronda, which seems to be a crazy busy studenty part of the city. I can’t wait!

There is also a beautiful park right by our flat. Can't wait to run in it!

(Source)

So whilst I can now await my depart for Spain a little more relaxedly than before, I have also remembered that I have a deadline for a first draft of my Year Abroad Project in a week’s time. Mega oooops.
So I am now spending valuable free-time researching academic books on translation blogging about not having enough time.

I like to think I will be able to compile all my resources tomorrow and then send them off on Thursday. We’ll see how that goes, won’t we?

Other than that, I spend the last weekend in Belgium drinking loads with Laura (like every weekend we have spent together thus far) and dancing like maniacs. Our calves and also abs were ON FIRE for two days after. We must have some pretty strange dance moves.

These are our drunken faces

I have also spent some time terrifying poor Abbey, my future flatmate in Spain. Laura and I had a few beers before we headed out and went kinda crazy on Jedward’s Lipstick (it’s a gem of songwriting, I tell you) and I made the mistake of sailing the interwebs on my little laptop and commenting on anything and everything and most possibly scarring and scaring the poor thing before she’s even met me.

(Source)

Must act more sane for at least a few weeks now.

Almost time for a change again

My time in Belgium is almost up. Quite hard to believe, but as it turns out, 5 months are over even quicker than I thought. I’m still at work, as usual, obviously, but my free time has started being taken up by planning.
I need to find a flat in Granada, because I really don’t have the guts of flying there, being in a hotel/hostel and searching whilst there. I’m getting there only 3 days before classes start and I think it would just stress me out too much.

I am also planning what to pack and how to get it to places. Places being Germany, England and Spain. In the period between Belgium and Spain, I will going on a mini-Eurotrip, which will include two cities in Germany, to see my lovely friend @allyteration and then my family, from there I will fly to England to go see Brand New in concert and also to be able to spend our 6 year anniversary with the Boyfriend. And from there I will then eventually fly off to Spain, where I will hopefully not be homeless.
All this fun in just under 3 weeks. Awesome and also scary at the same time.

Google tells me my journey is going to look a little bit like this.

Luckily, my mother has volunteered to pick me up from Mons by car, which makes my packing arrangements a lot easier, but on top of that, Laura and I are going on an impromptu roadtrip to England at the end of the month.
Laura has to pop home for a dentist appointment and I’m, well, I’m tagging along to get some stuff back to England that I don’t like taking on the plane, like my Xbox. I am also bring the Boyfriend a beautiful little delivery of Delirium Tremens. I got him some for Christmas and he wouldn’t shut up about it.

Yes, I have a crazy look on my face, but I needed to move out of the way so I wouldn't be in front of his name.

So hopefully, this travel madness won’t be too bad and will go well with a bit of preparation.
Regarding the flat hunt, I am going to live with lovely Schieli and @SmurfPop aka Abbey, who I’ve met through Twitter/thirdyearabroad.com.
We have found a flat we like and have contacted the landlord, but the flats seem to be going faster than we can look.
Fingers crossed we’ll get it!