Open Windows: An Introduction

(It's not perfect, polished, or even especially creative. But I thought some of you might like a brief introduction. Enjoy!)

There’s only one other student in my May Intensive program in Granada, Spain. That’s unnecessarily dramatic: in fact, there are 51 other students studying with CEA in Granada for the 2012-2013 spring semester, but in the May-intensive program, there are only two of us. By a stroke of luck, we were scheduled to fly from Madrid to Granada on the same plane Monday morning; an untimely delay, however, found me arriving in Granada alone.

Nevertheless, I asked a few other 20-somethings in the Federico Garcia Lorca airport, green American college students like myself, if they were the “Justina with CEA” I was looking for, but they were with another program. Thus, feeling very independent—and equally terrified!—I handed my suitcase over to a cabby and gave him my address, carefully printed on a notecard. (I was tempted to save 22 euros by taking a bus into the city, but since I’m no spendthrift, it seemed needless and foolish to start—of all times—now).  Having become somewhat familiar with my building thanks to google.maps, I pointed it out to the cabby, paid him in euros (25!), and buzzed my apartment: “Bajo A.” My host mother, María, answered.

Thus began my Granada adventure.

In the days since, I’ve explored the city, gotten myself lost more than a couple of times, toured the winding, narrow streets and white buildings of the Albaicín—the Arab neighborhood—and attended class only as much as I’ve been on holiday. I’ve taken my first spanish siesta, languished in bed beneath a window thrown open to a partitioned courtyard, and watched a lot of spanish TV. I’ve eaten large spanish almuerzos with my host family, fumbled through countless conversations, and eaten over-priced gelato at one of the many venders in the city’s center.

I have no doubt there will be challenges, but I’m also convinced that this summer in Granada is a gift—a gift of open windows, long walks without destination, and lots of flaky pastries.

While I like the book of James, I’ve often commented earnestly that if the book ended with the first phrase and the finality of a period, that would be enough for me.

“Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters.”

I intend to do exactly that. 

Nina