The Wrong Bus.

September 27, 2010, Sitting on a Bench that is four inches from where people drive, and missing his siesta.

Bus.
Today, after being stood up, (or possibly there was confusion) by my Spanish exchange student, I went to the bus station at my school. Today is one of those painfully bright days, and my stomach was starting to hurt, so I got onto the bus as soon as they opened the doors. An oddly large number of people were waiting, and when I got on, I found the bus to be oddly large as well. Then, as I looked back at the line of people still filing onto the bus (with little chance of squeezing out) that I was on the wrong bus. I watched my bus take off, and decided to stay on, I've already paid the inflated bus fee, and this could lead to an adventure of wild proportions. Anyhow, so long as I can find a metro I can get home. By the Great Buddha's pants I do love the metro.

Architecture and understanding.
So today in my art class we moved on from paintings to architecture.
As any of my friends can tell you, I know so little about architecture it's painful.
So listening to its history and basics in Spanish was about as easy for me to comprehend as if the class were in basque.
I wasn't the only one lost, in fact at one point I noticed a fascinating sound. The silence created by five minds completely checked out of the room is deafening. This complete lack of presence filled my ears so strongly I could barely hear the teaching speaking, granted I wasn't much listening to her, but hearing and listening are different.
The teacher, who is Eddie Izzard in woman form, asked me to identify the and image of a 'polilobulado' arch structure and locate its origin. I did not have a color photograph, which is all google is offering me right now, what I did have was a draft of the arch (and only the arch) with the swiss-cheese hole design.



Cake, I'm sure, for a student who has had an architecture class of any kind. But for this kid? No, This kid took a wild stab at 'Mayan structure.'
The next student guessed 'Prague.'
Turns out its Spanish, and rather popular in Sevilla.
Balls.

I couldn't help but wonder if my past co-apartment inhabitant Laura G. would understand any of this, and if she would be able to translate any of the things currently flying over my head at speeds I'm certain allowed that low to the ground.
You see is a student of Architecture, actually a really good student of Architecture as I understand it.
However, I'm mighty certain she speaks french and not Spanish, but I imagine with the knowledge of subject matter she'd have an easier time understanding this hour and thirty minute lecture.
This lead me to a thought process about translation as an art form, and my mind drifted from there.

Busagain
Returning to the bus.
Okay I'm lost now, I live in the west side of Getxo, and now we are going to the east side of Bilbao.
Bilbao is east of Getxo. I think finding my way home
will be a bit more tricky than I thought, but I just saw a sign for 'Indatxu' which has a metro station that I go to rather frequently.
Fingers crossed people.

Aha!
The Bus dropped me off in front of a metro. Hot piss! Speaking of which, public restrooms here, lacking.
Lacking heavily, my bladder is most displeased.
I almost caught the train as I walked in, but there were people chilling on the stairs like they were a 'Totally Loiter Here Zone' and the girl in front of me was walking with a casual saunter.
Train!
Saunter when there's a beach to admire, or food smells to smell, or beautiful Spanish Urban sprawl to wonder at, but not when there is a Train!
Dharma protector's blood!
I can't wait four minutes for the next one, you have no public restrooms here!


Uhm, Wrong number, but congratulations?
Yesterday I received a text in Spanish, here’s my translation:
‘Julieta was born Sunday the 26th, the birth went well, and she is a healthy weight, 3.20. Her mother is healthy and well, and her father is very happy and very emotional. :-D’
This phone is new, and I don’t know any pregnant people in Spain.
However I am glad to hear that Julieta was born healthy. Happy 0th birthday Julieta.

Academic.
I got back my first midterm today.
I'm not entirely certain how it was graded, because while I am certain I answered less than 70% of the questions with any sort of accuracy, I still managed to get a 78.2%. Now a C isn't anything to run off and write a blog about, unless you happen to have believed you had failed the test. Honestly I only wrote three sentences in the first (Yeah first) essay bit, and in the second essay bit five. The test was timed, and I didn't know that. And I like to save essays for last.
Homework tonight? Here's a trick: In Spanish define 'Hole.'
Hell defining ‘Hole’ in English without using synonyms isn't exactly a short or very concise thought.
I went with ‘The lack of earth/ground.’

Now I have a list of movies to watch in Spanish (Apparently 'My Fair Lady' has a fantastic translation, and all the Disney Movies are good too.) and a list of books. This consumption/habit will never be sated. But I have almost finished Mamet's True and False and Yoshi Oida's Invisible Actor. Mamet is tricky, because half the time I think he's right, and the other half of the time my book is on the other side of the room as if someone with strong opinions had thrown it. Oida I also disagree with a lot, but for some reason I think there is something to be mined from the things I disagree with, exercises that can benefit my own philosophy of approach. However after these two books, I'm going to have to finish 'Dreamwork for the Actor, and turn around and start tackling Lope De Vega, and Spanish Shakespeare. My reading in Spanish has improved a lot, and I feel, with confidence that I am at least a 10 year old reading level. Which doesn't quite makeup for a 3 year old speaking level, and a 2 year old listening level. But average that out, and you get 5, which is one half year more than the amount of time I've been taking Spanish. Sit and meditate on that all you other 4 and half year old Spanish kids, in your respective faces!

Now I am off to buy wine, cookies, and try and get a hair-cut.
The hair-cut part is the 'Do something that scares you everyday.'


Kishpike Out.

4 comments:

  1. I was thrilled to be mentioned in your blog, as a really great student of architecture, no less. However, I must confess I know less Spanish than I do Italian, which is to say, I might be able to say hello and goodbye and count to ten. on a good day. In any case, I had no idea what a polilobulado was. So I google translated it (so reliable, I know) and came up with "poly-lobed". Makes sense, given the Swiss cheese structure... However, I would have guessed it to be Arabesque or Turkish, and not Spanish... Not sure I'd be much help in that department after all.

    Also, I'd like a postcard of the Guggenheim, even if it is ugly.

    Laura

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  2. Can do with the postcard.
    As for Google translate, I use it all the time.
    It's not fantastic at translation, but I imagine Google Compose, wouldn't write fantastic music, and Google Image Search isn't a would famous painter. It's a good tool if you know how to work it though.
    Well those two guesses are a lot closer, what with the Moor influence in Spain, than 'Mayan.'
    Hope things are going well back in the house and it the 'scow.

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  3. Dreamwork for Actors by Robert Bosnak and Janet Sonnenberg? I read it last fall. It's a great book and I wish I had someone here to try the work with.

    I'm so glad you're having such an amazing experience.

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  4. I've toyed around directing with it, mostly as a tool to help busy actors. I'm not certain I'm familiar enough with the content to use it to its full extent, but the concept of working while sleeping, and finding a new bridge to the subconscious is very fascinating. Thanks!

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