It hasn't been so weird adjusting to life back in Santiago after being at home for two-and-a-half weeks/traveling with my parents--I can't believe that I only have five months left in Spain. I've kept myself pretty busy this week (on an independent research grant like this one, "keeping myself busy" really is the appropriate phrase because I have a lot of free time and not-so-much guidance). I've discovered that I can really only put in about 5 hours of hardcore research a day and, once you factor in the time I spend fighting with the librarians, going to the supermarket, preparing meals, skyping/gchatting/e-mailing family and friends, watching episodes of Greek online, and visiting with friends...it's already a full day.
After four months, I met with my research professor once more. I sent him an e-mail Sunday night and, still completely jet-lagged and tired from staying up late watching TV, woke up at 11:00 to see that he had responded and told me, "by the way, a professor from the United States is visiting this week and I want you to come to his lectures. The first one is at 12 p.m." The professor was okay; his lectures were about Spanish immigrants and immigrants in Spain and he kind of explained racism in the United States (in the past and present) as a phenomenon limited to lower-class Southern whites and also kind of made the U.S. sound like the most racist country in the world, but it was nice to see someone who used humor in his lectures. I have discovered that part of what makes my classes here so different is that none of my professors ever even attempt to be funny (and no one participates), so classes can be kind of dry.
I met with my professor after reading all of his books and he finally told me where to do research, but that he had never heard of anyone doing my project before so maybe I should try to research something easier, especially since I'm coming from an undergraduate education. While the new topic is giving me some kind of guidance, I can't help trying to research my original topic--which, now that I'm actually in archives instead of reading books is seeming a little bit more feasible. I don't think that his topic is bad, but the fact that there are already books about it (which he admitted) makes it seem kind of redundant and project-like. Then again, I have to remind myself that maybe he wasn't trying to be so condescending--even with some of the classes I've attended, the professors write a list of the paper topics and the graduate students pick from there.
I'm not sure if it's something about me or Spain or if I'm imagining it, but I feel like the people I meet in my daily life who aren't in my own peer group are either the nicest people I've ever met or the most frustrating. For example, I was in the library trying to procure a guide to microfilm, which, in this case, was one large volume (according to the library catalogue. Since most libraries in Spain have closed stacks, in order to look at a book you have to fill out a little slip and hand it to the librarian at the desk and then they send someone to get the book for you. The woman at the desk was really nice and I explained to her that I just wanted to see the microfilm guide before I requested specific reels (as I had written on the slip I gave her), but when the book-fetcher came to the desk, he started giving me problems, saying that I was requesting to look at microfilm and that microfilm is not a book (duh) so I would have to give him a reel number. I showed him the library catalogue entry, which clearly stated that there was a guide in book-form, and he kept telling me that "it was impossible" and that there was no way for me to look at a guide. He led me to the researcher room, where the librarian there told me that I would have to tell her what reel I wanted to look at because the guide was on a microfilm reel, to which the book-fetcher man nodded and said, "That's what I've been trying to tell her for the past ten minutes." I was pretty insistent, though, so finally she led me over to the cabinet where the microfilm is stored as if to prove me wrong and, of course, there was a guide to the microfilm in book form. No apologies. I am not sure why the librarians--or a lot of people here-- like to treat me like I don't know anything. I don't know a lot of things, but when I do know something, I know it, and just because I don't have a Spanish accent doesn't mean that I can't understand what people are saying about me or that I can't understand basic Galician (after all, it's a mix of Spanish and Portuguese, with a lot of Spanish words that have been Portuguese-ized).
I am always amazed not only by how quickly I meet new people, but by how small Santiago is and how difficult it is to meet someone who doesn't already know someone you know. For example, in September I went on a trip to the beach with the lovely Sally and the "International Club," which consisted of Peter, an American from L.A. and Emily. Anyways, Peter and I had several unsuccessful reunion attempts, involving my cell phone battery dying or one of us already being busy, so we had pretty much given up on ever seeing each other again. My friend Puneet was having trouble sorting out his visa here so he went back to India for a few weeks and, when he returned to Santiago, had to find a new apartment. As it happens, one of his new apartmentmates was Peter, with whom I have hung out a few times this past week. Peter enjoyed hearing the Sally stories, because he never heard about our dramatic "move-out," "being-accused -of-stealing-blankets" or "Sally's-absconding-to-La-Coruna"/two-week-vacation-to-Paris" stories. Speaking of Sally, I thank God every day that I have not seen Sally since I moved out (though, now that I've said that, I will probably see her tomorrow), but she recently e-mailed Puneet offering him one of three rooms in our apartment for the reduced price of only 100 euros a month, including internet and electricity. She has said that she lives with an Italian man and that she has been keeping busy by working for the rights of women (and all through her computer, no doubt), but it is pretty obvious that she is desperate because she swore to us that we would never find as wonderful of a deal on an apartment and that she would raise rent substantially to reflect the "true value" of the apartment.
Steffi has two friends visiting from Germany this week--they arrived this morning and have brought us chocolate, Kettle Chips, and some kind of pure alcohol that is good for "stomachaches." Ana and I shared our meager repaste with them--which usually consists of something that we bought on sale with a salad and other sides. We certainly don't eat poorly, but imitation crab and kiwi were on sale at the supermarket this week. FYI, unless you're a sushi chef at Ukrop's, a 67-cent packet of imitation crab is enough to feed two women for more than a week. We've put imitation crab in our salads every day; we hosted a dinner party with Peter and Puneet on Friday and had an imitation-crab dip; and today we made "crab surprise" ["sorpresa de cangrejo"], a creation involving the aforementioned item, tomato sauce, spinach, and onions. It sounds disgusting, but it tasted like pasta and Ana is pretty good at throwing things together and making them taste good, a skill that I seem to lack. We have finally finished the last of the imitation crab.
I've been sitting in a bar with Ana for the past few hours(it's probably the closest thing to a Starbucks in Santiago as far as a study-space goes). By day, it's a normal bar/coffee and juice bar, by night, strictly a bar, but it has free wireless and delicious tea. At any rate, I am craving a PB&J sandwich, the couple next to me is getting pretty hot-and-heavy, and the air is getting smokier, so I think I'll head home. Hasta luego!
