the pension

It is so interesting how a place so far from home, and so unlike home, can begin to feel like home so quickly. When I first arrived in Guardamar, Pension Jaen was nothing more than a hotel lacking air conditioning, with a café downstairs operated by what I believe to be the kindest man in Spain. But now, the Pension feels like home. This feeling of home becomes even more evident after our excursions, which keep us away from the Pension for several days at a time. Though time away exploring the rest of Spain is an incredible opportunity, arriving at the pension doorstep after five or six days gives a great feeling of comfort. The daily routine of the pension can once again commence. The repetitive action of climbing up and down the five flights of stairs to get to my room or the terrace. The daily meals at café Jaen. The daily conversations with Vicente. The bread and the alioli. The beer. The sangria. The wine. All so foreign, but so comforting. Sure, I’m about four thousand miles away from my home in Penngrove, CA, but the Pension Jaen is my new home; well at least for the remainder of my time here in this beautiful country.

- diego

Transitions

A journey with no clear destination

A trek in the grays of the unknown

I take the narrow road that few go on

As the hot summer wind blows

Questions run through my mind

Doubts arise

My body is weary

As my resolve defies

A battle between mind and body

A conflict between two

Like the clash of a clanging cymbal

A fury of disjunct chords ensue

The levant whips my long hair to and fro

Rays of sunlight strike my bare face

I close my eyes, surrendering control

A fade to black

A fade back

Flashes of the past pierce the darkness

Glimpses of blue and red

Textures and sound run through my head

I lift my fingers in the air

Only to grasp nothingness

Soon the hazy blur begins to sharpen

As darkness gives way to light

Jolts of energy pump through my veins

My eyes adjust to a familiar yet foreign world

The destination is still unclear

Yet the hills and valley of the journey

The standing at crossroads

The sharp turns of the rocky path

The meeting of unfamiliar faces

No longer break my resolve

For the moment is all I posses

The past has past, the future is a mystery

All I can latch onto is me, myself, and I

As I face the expanse of infinity

- Jocelyn Chiou

General Traveling Tips

Don’t ask the waiter of a pizza place, where another pizza place is.

Don’t buy fabric softener and try to use it as detergent for the first two weeks.

Don’t sit in the sun all day at the mercadillo, even if you have an umbrella and a fan.

Don’t forget running shoes and then buy D-Max shoes at the mercadillo.

Don’t forget your camera lens cap and run around scratching it on your friend’s watch, making a grey spot on all your photos and videos.

Don’t fall asleep on the beach in Alicante for even fifteen minutes and get all your stuff jacked from right under your head.

Don’t stay out all night, after getting sprayed with a fire hose in Alicante and then get sick after.

Don’t sleep too much, but enough to wake up in time to catch the bus to Santa Pola.

Don’t order Burger King right before your train comes and then miss it.

Don’t walk into the ocean with your smart phone in your pocket.

Don’t get caught trying to sneak into Calatrava’s Hemispheric.

Don’t freak out on your mom for sending you a phone with no sim card in it, just turn it off and back on again.

Don’t take a drink if someone is about to say something so funny you spit it all over your MacBook or your friend.

Don’t climb a hill and a million stairs to get to a lit up cathedral only to find it’s not lit up at 3 am. Just don’t.

Don’t become a third wheel.

Don’t make these mistakes, or do, and some of your own; but don’t dwell on them. Don’t stay angry or frustrated, maybe come up with some hand and arm movements to let it out quickly. Appreciate every experience for what it is and enjoy where you are and who you’re with whether its hot, you’re hung over and exhausted, or you just got a million cuts or bug bites.  Embrace the nine hours of fish smell at the mercadillo, the “25 hour” sight seeing train, and the time you have to think after your phone gets stolen.

CALATRAVA

VISITING THE CITY OF VALENCIA HAS BEEN AN UTMOST REWARDING AND EYE OPENING EXPERIENCE.  FROM THE IMPOSITION OF CALATRAVA'S WORK UPON ENTERING THE CITY TO THE 'BEST BAKERY IN THE WORLD',  VALENCIA OFFERS ENDLESS AMOUNTS OF RESOURCES.

HOWEVER,  PERSONALLY, THE MOST ASTONISHING EXPERIENCE AND SIGHT IS SEEING CALATRAVA'S WORK EMERGE IN THE NIGHT SCENE.  THE BACKDROP OF THE SUNSET REFLECTING UPON THE WATER POOLS TRANSCENDS YOU INTO ANOTHER WORLD. THE SHEER SCALE AND SHAPES OF THE STRUCTURES EMIT A SCI FI EXPERIENCE. THE MUSIC PLAYED LIVE COURTESY OF (BERKLEE) SCHOOL OF MUSIC PERPETUATES A FEELING OF A DISCONNECTION TO THE REST OF THE CITY AND THE LARGER WORLD.  CALATRAVA REALLY UNDERSTANDS WHAT IT MEANS TO CREATE ANOTHER WORLD THAT AN INDIVIDUAL CAN PERSONALIZE.

YET,  CALATRAVA SURPRISED ME THE MOST WITH HIS WORK AT NIGHT FOR [PURE NIGHT LIVE FUN] :). THE SMOOTH TRANSITION FROM L'UMBRACLE,  A TOURIST HOTSPOT BY DAY,  TO AN EXCLUSIVE SOCIAL PARTY AT NIGHT BLEW MY BREATH AWAY. MR. PALOMAR, IS THIS THE PURE ESSENCE OF ARCHITECTURE?

SO STUDENTS OF SUMMER SPAIN 2015, I HIGHLY RECOMMEND YOU STOP BY CALATRAVA'S WORK BY NIGHT AND TRULY EXPERIENCE A MAGICAL EXPERIENCE. :D

ELLEN PARK '14

Studio Poster 2014

Studio Poster 2014

Still learning to be messy ...  

Archdekk. 

Poncho's Cajones

My loud pattering steps up the stairwell of the Jaen Pension echo through the soft cluster of hair at the nape of my neck. It's loud, and I often wonder if anyone awake at those ungodly hours can hear my tread. 

Without fail, I'm always pleasantly greeted my a rough gruff coming from behind the first floor door. Like a warm welcome home, the unwashed cajones of the pension dog, Poncho, are the first to greet me, no matter how long I had been away. 

I don't know if he understands a single thing I ever say to him, but man is he a cute little bugger. 

- Yi "Chino Malo" Zhong

The Happiest Man in Spain

           In an effort to produce a profound blog entry about my experiences in Spain thus far, I had a plethora of options to choose from. I could have spent a whole page on the Great Mosque of Cordoba, a spectacle which people flock from all over the world to see. I could have chosen to write about the Alhambra and the powerful way it controls water throughout its expansive complex. I could have even discussed all of the Picassos and Dalis I’ve seen in museums around Madrid. Yes, all of these would have been valid, albeit cliché, potential blog entries.

You may be disappointed to hear, however, that I’ve selected none of these.

Rather, I’ve chosen Vicente, the charismatic barkeep and co-owner of our class’ home-away-from-home, the Pension Jaen. Now, it may come as no surprise to anyone who has traveled—especially those in this Berkeley Abroad program—that tourists are not necessarily welcome with open arms in many parts of Europe, especially when you don’t even speak the language of the nation. In fact, my initial impression of Spain was tarnished by a few rude cab drivers, waiters, and residents I’ve encountered during my first two days here.

Luckily for Spain, Vicente turned my negative impression of the country around immediately.

            But what is it about Vicente that makes him such a lovable character? Is it his distinct, fast-paced walk? His contagious smile? His tendency to spike our 9 a.m. coffees with cognac? The fact that the portrait in the restaurant of him as a child oddly resembles Manny from Modern Family?

                Perhaps it’s all of the above. Even though there is a language barrier between us, Vicente still greets me with a kind “Buenos días!” every morning as I’m walking by the bar and an occasional pat on the head before we sit down for lunch. And whether you’re craving some sangria or Fanta at lunchtime, Vicente will hook it up. When one is feeling homesick, it’s nice to know there is a happy and hospitable person who will treat you like familia (that’s “family” in Spanish). And although I believe he still hasn’t gotten my name down yet (hence his tendency to call me “Japón”, accompanied with pressed hands and a bow of his head), Vicente sure knows how to provide a warm welcome to both locals and tourists alike.

Muchos gracias, Vicente.

Or, rather: domo arigato, Vicente-san.

-Trenton “Japón” Inoue