My last, and best, week in Italy

After I left Ca' del Buco, I slowly made my way to Pisa (after a long lunch break in Bologna, checking into Florence, and yet another train ride) where I met Bosse who was flying in that night from Spain to meet me for a week-long trip.  Both of us had already visited many of the place we had on our itinerary (mostly being selected because we couldn't afford going North, or to the sea, so back south it was!), but who could complain about seeing some of the most beautiful (and may I say, romantic) cities and sights in the world, again.  I certainly wasn't about to.

So happy to be back at
the Firenze Duomo!

Our first stop was Florence.  We were both so happy that we made a last minute change to our itinerary to include an extra night in Florence.  In our time there, we witnessed a brilliant thunderstorm, indulged in fabulous gelato (fig and ricotta/gorgonzola and walnut flavors - surprisingly delicious!) and piadinos filled with nutella and marscapone, and then we [attempted] to walk it all off by climbing the 400+ stairs of the Duomo tower and the rest of the streets around town.  Although it wasn't my first time in Florence (and hopefully not my last either, as I ensured with another rubbing of the wild boar's nose), I enjoyed it all the same (if not more), experiencing it with someone new.

We left Florence and headed to Naples.  Our trip there was a bit tumultuous having included a mix up with tickets (or rather, non-tickets), escaping a large fine by running off a train at the next stop, waiting two hours in a town called Arezzo (but not being able to do anything because of our big bags and a big hill), finally making it to Naples 3 hours later (and our pocketbooks a bit lighter) than anticipated and after the metro had stopped running, which resulted in us getting ripped off by a dishonest cabbie after also getting spooked by Naples at night.

Um, are we still in Italy?

But, we were there.  Our first day we had plans to go to Pompeii which were derailed (no pun intended) because of a transit workers strike which cancelled all trains running to the site.  So, we made the most of the day by wandering through the centro storico (which felt a bit more like Morocco than Italy), the port of Napoli, gaping at all the piles of trash overflowing into the streets and sidewalks, and making time for an authentic pizza napolitana as well as a cool, creamy gelato.

Yay!  Pompeii!

Our second day we woke up to rain, so we delayed Pompeii and did "Underground Napoli" which was a tour of the aqueducts under the city which were used as shelters during World War II.  By the time we finished the tour, the rain had stopped and we grabbed a pizza to go (we were sadly unsuccessful at the most famous pizzeria in Naples because of the massive crowd and had to settle for another) and made our way to Pompeii.  The site was much larger than we had anticipated, was fairly impressive for what it had, but was also sad because of the disrepair that it had fallen into (not including the actual archeological parts, of course).

The next day we forfeited the ultra-cheap train headed to Rome so that we could take an earlier train that would allow us an afternoon in our last city.  We were still an hour late arriving (apparently, Mussolini did NOT make the trains run on time in Italy), but after making our own pasta lunch in the B&B, we hit up all the Roman sites: the Colosseum, Forum, Pantheon, Trevi Fountain, the Holy See, Spanish Steps, a stroll around Trastevere and even got in a gelato before calling it a full day.  The next day we had early tickets to the Vatican Museum.  Bosse got us a museum book so we could read about all the old stuff as we saw it, but more importantly, the Sistine Chapel.  We took our time and took lots of mental pictures (since the real ones weren't allowed).  After sneaking out the back way into St. Peter's and then leaving the Vatican, we grabbed some amazing pay-by-the-weight pizza from a hole in the wall that I managed to find from the year before.  Still not completely satisfied with our finger-lickin'-good pizza, we bought ourselves the most amazing gelatos that were as big as our faces (even though it was the "small" size).  We sat for awhile in a plaza to digest and write our postcards.  For our last evening out, we managed to find a less-than-remarkable restaurant in a charming street (not sure the atmosphere made up for the lack of taste, but the evening was still memorable) and slowly made our way back taking in one last look at beautiful Rome.

On our way out, we took a direct train to Pisa (first one to arrive on time!) and caught a little bit of the sights there (sights = the tower and... ) before we left for the airport.  For me, it was the end of 7 weeks in Italy.  I can't say that my farm experience was all that I hoped it would be, and I can't say that I wish I had it all to do over again.  As for my two trips while in Italy with an incredible guy as my travel companion: I couldn't have wished for anything better.

Bosse and I in front of St. Peter's Basilica

For the complete Facebook album, click here.

Italy: Last days at the farm

Day 39 - Friday, July 15
       The last day of kiddy camp. We were all pretty excited to have it finished that as soon as the last kid left we dropped everything and went to the Mara's town.  She had prepared a marvelously tasty dinner and after we went out for a stroll of the street fair.  It wasn't anything too special, but it was so nice to be out in the cool night air and enjoying something different without a single ounce of work involved.

Day 40 - Saturday, July 16
       After telling Paula about what American like to do most with zucchini (um... add lots of fat, sugar, and carbs to it and then call it "bread"), she insisted that I bake some of it for the farm with the plethora of zucchini that was coming from the garden.  After learning to love a metric scale and pillow talking the difficult oven, I managed to make a couple pretty delicious zucchini breads.  After we hosted a family for lunch, we all called it a day.  It mostly because Paola was suffering from a pretty bad headache and the rest of us took it as an opportunity to do absolutely nothing, which is exactly what we did - not even bothering to cook dinner that night but instead enjoyed take away pizzas and a walk in Montepastore.

Day 41 - Sunday, July 17
       I was requested to make more zucchini breads (I started calling them cakes, because let's face it, once you start adding chocolate chunks and putting it in round pans, it had no semblance of bread anymore).  I also made the wonder that is buttercream frosting (vanilla and chocolate) as they had yet to be introduced to it.  They ate it like ice cream (yes, I told them how it was intended to be eaten, and yes, also what it was made of).  As I was working in the kitchen, I kept looking out and being startled at the sight of the large cow that was left out to wander for the day.  Later we went up to the church in the valley which was having its Saint's Day celebration to donate a couple cakes.  It was kind of cool to finally get a closer look at the building that had become my beautiful sounding clock the previous six weeks.

Day 42 - Monday, July 18
       My last full day was filled with a variety of tasks, from hauling a 30kg bag of grain up a hill (and yes, it broke upon arrival), picking some figs, took down the entranceway, cleaned a room for guests, and moved dry weeds for burning.  For my last dinner with the family, they bought gelato for the special occasion (how many flavors can you fit into one styrofoam container?  A lot, apparently.)

Day 43 - Tuesday, July 19
     Before leaving, I only had time to write in the WWOOFer book (of which more than 50 previous WWOOFers had written in) and clean my room.  I was hoping to do a last walk around the farm to say goodbye to all the animals (yes, I'm serious), but as Paola spontaneous offered to drive me to the closest train stop into Bologna, I had to bid a quick adieu to the farm that I had come to know over those 6 weeks.  Paola said a brief goodbye at the metro station, and with that, my time at Casa del Buco came to an end, I must admit, rather anticlimactically.  But at least my time in Italy wasn't over.

Italy: Days 31 through 38

Day 31 - Thursday, July 7
     The day was calm without Paola there (at a conference for 3 days) and I used the day mostly helping Patricia in the kitchen or Caroline in the garden.  We finished fairly early (5pm by our standards) and enjoyed a quick beer with Roberto and a bar overlooking the beautiful valley below.  That evening Mara cooked fried zucchini blossoms which were divine and we ate a calm meal in the cool air outside.

Day 32 - Friday, July 8
       Another leisurely day without Paola.  I helped Patricia in the kitchen with her prep-work for the market the next day and prepping the pizzas for that day's lunch with the kids.  After lunch (and a brief dance party with the kids), Caroline and I tackled the pruning of the blackberry bush, after after it really felt and looked as if we really had tackled the bush; our skin was left marked and scratch as if we had been in a cat fight.  Paola returned that afternoon, but the day finished smoothly and I made it an early night to be awake for the market early the next day.

Day 33 - Saturday, July 9
       I woke up super early to catch the 6:45 bus to meet Patricia to help her with the market that morning.  I guess she didn't really need much help as the market was not more than 10 or 12 tents and not many were interested in the fresh pasta we were selling (I wouldn't be either as it was like 90 degrees outside and pasta's the last thing I would eat).  After the market, there was a long wait for the next bus back to the farm so I had lunch with Pati and Mara and enjoyed a large gelato on my walk to the bus stop.  When I got back to the farm, I was assigned the job of redecorating the dining room with "summery" things.  We all stopped early so that Paola, Roberto, and Gabriele took Caroline and I out to dinner to enjoy the most fabulous borlenghi (ultra-thin crepes filled with ground sausage) and torteloni (large tortelini) ev-ar!

Day 34 - Sunday, July 10
       I put up the decorations I had started the day before (paper cranes, leaf garlands, and big yellow suns) and did lots of other small duties around the kitchen.  Caroline and I picked figs so we could make jam later.  I ate a couple of really soft ones and they had to be some of the juiciest, sweetest figs I've ever had.  We learned how to make pasta by hand, and watching Paola do it definitely made me realize how much skill and practice it takes.  We weren't able to eat it (wasn't ready for cutting), so we ate some other fresh pasta and had a mostly lazy afternoon going between more fig picking and playing the pool with Gabriele.  That night, I made the requested paella, even though I this point it had digressed into more of just "saffron rice with meat" but it still turned out pretty well, and we were able to enjoy it with some wonderfully nice friends of Paola and Roberto.

Day 35 - Monday, July 11
      Caroline left early in the morning (we said all of our goodbyes the night before), but we woke up not too much later for the last week of kiddy camp.  The kids spent the morning cleaning out Paola's honeycombs and learning about beehives in the meantime.  After a paella lunch, Roberto took me out to the plum trees that were by the cherries and found that they weren't really ready for the picking, so I finished the day by vacuuming the guest house which had already been infiltrated by bugs (again).

Day 36 - Tuesday, July 12
       I started chopping down the jungle of grass/weeks that had grown in the short time we put the covering over the strawberry bushes.  After cooking and eating lunch, I must have looked as exhausted as I felt, as Paola suggested that I take a nap after lunch being that there wasn't much else to help out with in the afternoon.  I wasn't able to sleep much given it was so hot, but it was nice to rest for a solid couple hours.  I finally left my room because I was ready to stick my head under a cold tap, so I watered the vegetable garden so that I could be around water.  We finished later and had a later dinner, and when I got back to my room, I had a large infestation of larger-than-life moths, of which the vacuum and chair became my most valuable tools for combating the buggers.

Day 37 - Wednesday, July 13
       Nothing too special: weeded a small garden in front in the morning and then cleaned the kitchen in the afternoon.  It was beautiful when I finished.

Day 38 - Thursday, July 14
       I finally finished cutting the jungle of weeds under the cover.  Paola had prepped dough earlier and I finished making the little breads (not without burning a few first, of course).  After lunch and clean up, I took a little break for myself, and then finished with all my nightly tasks: watering the garden and feeding the animals.  We had a pot luck dinner with the parents of the kids that had been at Ca' del Buco the last two weeks or three weeks, since Friday would all be their last day there (and our last day with kids).  The kids put on a little "show" for all of us which was mostly just precious because it was just watching them play around and occasionally making jokes of which I didn't understand but laughed anyway.

A brief visit and break: Days 26 through 30

Day 26 - Saturday, July 2
      The morning was spent preparing for our two different groups of guests the next day.  There was a group that would be eating lunch here that afternoon, and it would also be the first time since I'd been here that the guest house would be all booked up (the other 5 rooms).  The morning was a bit slow to pass as I was waiting impatiently for the 3:15 bus that would bring Bosse, who was coming for 5 days to visit me.  After he arrived (big 'yay'!), I rushed through the rest of my afternoon's tasks so I could have some spend time with him until the dinner service.

Day 27 - Sunday, July 3
       We all woke up early to serve breakfasts to the guests that had stayed, and from there it was nonstop; cleaning up, preparing lunch, serving the 25+ people a three course meal (upstairs), and then cleaning it all up again.  Being that I was super eager to start my vacation and get off the farm, the hours leading up to departure were endless.  But finally, we left on the last bus to pass the farm on the way to the city and another bus, gelato, and train ride later, we made it to Rimini.  Being that it was after 10 by the time we checked into our hotel, there was only time (and energy) to take a sea side stroll and dig my toes into the finest beach sand I've ever felt.

Day 28 - Monday, July 4
      Spending a sunny 4th on the sands of the Adriatic sea didn't turn out as we had planned when we were unable to store our bags at the train station.  So, as we were stuck toting them around, we decided to do what we could in the historic center and head back to Bologna (with a train-picnic in hand).  Being that we were both back on the Spanish time-table, we weren't hungry by the time the early Italian dinner hour rolled around, so we got a late night pizza and enjoyed the simple marinara-cheese-basil offerings of Italian cuisine.

Day 29 - Tuesday, July 5
       We spent the overcast day wandering the beautiful streets of Bologna.  The city is almost entirely done in colors of the earth - reds, browns, pale yellows - rendering "sepia" on your camera unnecessary. The city felt old and not very well kept, especially outside the areas around the main plaza.  The lack of tourist made it especially enjoyable and leisurely.  After eating paninis in the plaza, we walked the 498 steps up the largest tour in Bologna to see the best views of the red city.  Admittedly, we were both intrigued by the pistachio McFlurry and McDonald's and indulged (we were both, not surprisingly, disappointed).  We finished the day in a small plaza with another late night meal of crepes and some really wonderful gelato to make up for the day's earlier mistake.

Day 30 - Wednesday, July 6
       We passed the morning wandering the narrow streets behind the plaza filled with the produce market and delis.  We found the last visible canal channel, one of the many the city still sits on.  We intentionally ate a very light breakfast so we could sit for a marvelous 3 course Italian meal (Lonely Planet recommended!) that left us full for the rest of the day (only in Italy do they serve you a bowl of pasta for the first course and chicken and potatoes for the second).  After a stroll in the park and picking up some produce, we headed back to the farm on the next bus out.  I was very sad to have vacation be over and Bosse leaving early the next day.  But I was definitely not disappointed in how wonderful the 5 days had been.

To see the Facebook album of all the Bologna pictures, click here.

Italy: Days 21 through 25

Day 21 – Monday, June 27

            Packed a lunch to spend a while at the cherry trees, picking the last of them.  Actually, we were picking cherries that had dried on the tree so Paola could make her special jam.  After being brought home, I was called to fold the largest tarp in the world (took up the whole field) and then move huge rocks from one field to another.  After making more than 10 trips with the wheelbarrow, I discovered a great new exercise for personal trainers to agonize their clients .

Day 22 – Tuesday, June 28

            Started picking plums today, and I think I ate almost as many as I put in my basket, as they were the sweetest I might have ever eaten.  After lunch, Paola took me on a few errands closer to Bologna city.  We went to the mall (which blew me away with how much it actually looked like an American mall), then got the best gelato ever, then went to the bulk-supermarket, where we bought massive quantities of cheese and other things.  It was wonderful getting away from the farm for a little bit, and even more beautiful seeing the land around us: I just wanted to run through the sunflower fields that were along the way.

Day 23 – Wednesday, June 29

            It was a hot and humid day at Ca’del Buco, and we kept busy doing lots of small tasks.  After lunch, I started with cleaning out the wine cellar of all the empty marmalade jars.   Did everything I could to stay away from the zoo-escaped spider guarding it’s nest in the corner.  Having visions of Arachnophobia.  As I was in my room for the evening, one of the largest thunderstorms broke out and I sat in front of my window with the lights off (and flashlight in hand) to just watch the light show. 

Day 24 – Thursday, June 30

            It was blue skies and sun after the storm the night before, but back to many of the unfinished project from the day before: weeding, moving wood, cleaning the glass jars that were uncovered from the cellar.  In the afternoon, I was able to go with Roberto to the farm where they buy their meat.  The butcher was kind of unimpressive, but the ride there was absolutely spectacular: we drove along the top of the hill and could see through all the valleys below.  It’s hard to believe, after seeing this place, how Tuscany has all the Italian countryside fame.  On our way back, Roberto treated me to a beer in what seemed like the only pub in the area.

Day 25 – Friday, July 1

            There was a beautiful fog through the mountains today, and it was nice and cool for our couple hours of plum picking (eating one for one).  After lunch I finished the jars (finally!) and then started on lasagna.  Using a recipe from home that usually takes 5 minutes to put together with the no-need-to-cook noodles and the canned sauce.  However, when everything is made from scratch, instead of 5 minutes, it took about 5 hours.  I wish I were joking.  At least it paid off: it was Italian family approved (at least to my face) and it will be tomorrow’s dinner for the guests staying at Ca’ del Buco (as long as they can handle the spice!).  Of course, it also takes a long time to make when you have to stop midway to brace for a storm and then run around making sure the property’s not flooded in the middle of the torrential downpour.  Thank goodness for homemade trash bag ponchos.  

The first 20 days in Italy

I realize I’ve been absent nearly 3 weeks and for the entirety of my Italian WWOOFing adventure thus far.  It’s been long days without much of a break.  I’m mostly enjoying the work, but enjoying more being a part of the family, who are already experienced with volunteers like myself.

I’ve done a brief summer of each day thus far, and none have even remotely been the same.  I’ll do my best to continue this, especially now that I’m caught up.

Day 1 – Tuesday, June 7

            Left Spain, crying.  Got into Pisa and then Florence quite late and without much appetite. 

Day 2 – Wednesday, June 8

            Took a stroll around Florence before catching my train to Bologna.  I walked all the way to the old bridge, passing the Duomo, and remember exactly why I still think it’s the most beautiful city that I’ve ever seen.  Made my way to Bologna and got on the next bus to pass the farm.  Missed my stop, caught the bus going back the other way.  Meet Paola (the head of the whole operation), her husband Roberto, and son Gabriele.  Then ate pasta, picked cherries with her mom, Mara, and then we all played football before dinner.

Day 3 – Thursday, June 9

            Worked with cherries from breakfast until bed, piecing on them throughout the day – they had never tasted so sweet.  I noticed the beautiful church bells in that ring through the valley where the house sits.  We picked, we separated, we sold.  We finished the day with a little bit of gelato.

Day 4 – Friday, June 10

            No cherry picking, but helped to make fresh pasta (just cracked the eggs and watched the rest), cherry jam, cakes and cookies.  Hand pitting cherries was a seeming endless job, and I was surprised that the red stain washed off in the end (but impossible to clean out under my nails).

Day 5 – Saturday, June 11

            The day started out with a torrential downpour, muddying everything thoroughly.  I first put on the rain boots to walk around the farm and show the animals (giggling over a little boy frequently sticking in mud and exclaiming “momma mia!”) and then later put on an apron and served a the group of kids and their parents lunch.   Then prepped the guesthouse for the kids camp that would start the next day.  Got really good at making beds without fitted sheets.  There were a few karaoke breaks in between everything, of course.

Day 6 – Sunday, June 12

            Still rising earlier than the family and it sort of catches up with me when picking cherries.  This is partially remedied by eating a lot of said cherries.  When picking the cherries, I usually went with Paola’s mom who cracks me up with her crazy ramblings and sounds, but makes incredible food and cakes in the kitchen.  Later that night, we check in 18 kids who will be staying the next 5 days for camp. Finish the night by reading a bedtime story and watching the fireflies before tucking them into bed.

Day 7 – Monday, June 13

             Ran around serving kids breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and all the activities in between.  Discovered it’s a rather interesting activity to try and tell kids what to do when you don’t share a common language, but we all seemed to manage.

Day 8 – Tuesday, June 14

            First day of complete sunshine!  We taught the kids how to make gnocchi, and they included a station for me to learn too.  We made the kids their gnocchi for lunch and low and behold they didn’t like it because it tasted like potatoes (crazy!). 

Day 9 – Wednesday, June 15

            A mix of activities between the kitchen, and watching the kids play football, and weeding between the lavender plants.  Come up with a crazy metaphor that compares the weeding process to solving life problems.  The heat has obviously gotten to me.

Day 10 – Thursday, June 16

            Was assigned the task to follow the kids around and take pictures with my camera (the only working one left), had a scare that it might have broken after some moisture got in the lens, but it was nothing that a bit of warm afternoon air didn’t cure.

Day 11 – Friday, June 17

            The kids left in the afternoon, which as kind of sad.  I had gotten used to the confusion of communication, and enjoyed their energy and curiosity.  I cleaned the rooms in the guesthouse and welcomed the new WWOOFer, Caroline, who would be here for the next 3 weeks.  We proceeded to clean everything from the kids, and I came face to face with a spider that had probably escaped from the nearest zoo and a scorpion, all within about 3 minutes.

Day 12 – Saturday, June 18

            Moved bed, cut lavender, fixed the goats pen, moved hay around, and weeded around the entire cow pen.  My back screamed for relief.  Don’t know how day laborers do it all, day in and day out, and I gained a new appreciation for those who bend over all day for a living.

Day 13 – Sunday, June 19

            Hosted the largest group yet, at nearly 100 people and I went between helping with them and picking more lavender.  There’s so much lavender.

Day 14 – Monday, June 20

            Only lavender: picking, organizing, bundling, hanging.  I really never thought it was such an intensive project (I didn’t think cherries were either, but those also turned out to be surprisingly intensive too.)  I guess I always assumed the work stopped once things were picked from the tree/plant.  HA.

Day 15 – Tuesday, June 21

            More lavender.  There was also a retirement group that came to spend a day at the farm.  It was quite funny seeing Paola do the same demonstration and activities with them as she does for the 4 and 5 year olds.

Day 16 – Wednesday, June 22

            Yes, more lavender!  We also had the chance to watch Mara build a fort out of wooden pieces and pieces of cloth and then play “Caveman” with the kids here for the week.  Listening to her shout “Oooooga ooga!” and pretend she was eating mammoth was one of my favorite moments so far.  Later, Paola and I covered the strawberry plants which entailed all things farm: jeeps, sledgehammers, wasp stings, fashioning homemade instruments. 

Day 17 – Thursday, June 23

            We started the day by wrangling a sheep, pushing it up a incline then pulling it down the hill (while it’s tied up and complete dead weight.  I never knew sheep weighed so damn much).  It was really like a bad joke: how many adults and children does it take to catch and drag a sheep to sheer it?  The answer: too many, and it takes too long.  Then there was more lavender.  Surprise, surprise. 

Day 18 – Friday, June 24

            It was little Gabriele’s birthday, so I helped with the party.  There were bouncy slides and a newly inflated swimming pool in the front yard, legs of lamb in the oven, a treasure hunt, and a gelato cake.  With the rest of the family, I later pulled on his ears 9 times (ending with a kiss!) to wish him good luck for the next year. I still managed to work a bit on the lavender.  It doesn’t stop for a 9-year old’s birthday.

Day 19 – Saturday, June 25

            Slept in until 8:30!  But was still so hard to get up.  Before our single group came later in the day, my assignment was to spring clean the barn-converted-restaurant.  The vacuum was my weapon again as I attacked all the cobwebs and their creators.  I’m pretty sure I could have started a zoo with all the critters I had gathered.  After finishing, I helped to roll out and bake lavender cookies with Mara, which tasted surprisingly wonderful.  

Day 20 – Sunday, June 26

            We hosted both a birthday picnic (completely with cookie demonstration) and a political meeting with lunch.  Everything had to be perfect for the big dogs, so hours in the kitchen were endless.  Usually the presentation is nice here, but the family tried extra hard this time and everything looked wonderful.  I was a bit scattered when I was left alone serving pasta to the group and had to ask “ragu o spinaci?” with the varying answers I would receive.  I managed, and the day went by quickly, despite the long hours. 

To enjoy pictures of the farm, house, and the wonderful children that have been here, click here.

            

Leaving Malaga.

I’m writing this as I’m flying away from a wonderful place and ending a wonderful 9 months living in Malaga, Spain.

To sum up the experience briefly would be impossible.   I have had such great fortune this year between the people I’ve met, the places I’ve traveled, and the city I lived.   I know that I am truly blessed.

My school this year was awash with wonderful, kind teachers and students that embraced me and made me feel a part of the team. 

My roommates were both beautiful, intelligent, ambitious women which made the entire year exciting and spontaneous.  I’m eternally grateful that they put up with me and my particularities.  They also introduced me to other amazing women that became such an integral part of my Malaga memories.  Our routine family dinners made this year a communal experience, which made it all the more valuable.

I met amazing Malagueños this year, who were some of the most kind and generous people I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.   Veronica will forever be part of my most precious memories of Malaga, and I hope that one day I can show her my home as she has shown me hers.

This year I traveled more than ever and witnessed some of the most iconic places in the world.  I made it to over 10 countries, countless cities, and still returned to many of the places I love most here in Spain. 

Malaga became the place of my fantasies.  Every day was a new discovery and breathtaking moment.  I will never forget the way Calle Larios looks at night, the chiming of the cathedral bells through the open terrace doors of our apartment that ushered in a cool sea breeze, and my morning runs on the dark beach sand of the Malagueta and finally catching my breath at the stone steps of the Roman Theater.  Every day was absolutely surreal.

I could have never anticipated it being so hard to leave this year.  The last days have been a roller coaster of emotions, between parties and goodbyes.  Last evening, after dinner I was walking through the city one last time.  As I came upon the cathedral steps a man was playing flamenco guitar on the other side.  I couldn’t have envisioned a more perfect moment if I had tried.

This place is too beautiful to be pushed into the corners of my memory.  It deserves a place as special as it is.  It needs to be at the forefront of my thought, just behind my eyes, forever filtering my world through the high standard of pure joy and beauty that it has become to me.  It will forever be a home to which I will always be drawn.

There nowhere to be but Córdoba en Mayo

After [unintentionally] going the whole year without returning to Córdoba, I finally made it back at the end, twice.

The first time I got back this month was for the glorious celebration of Los Patios.  Ok, so a lot of people probably wouldn't think Patios is nearly as awesome as I do (and as my dad commented last year, once you've seen one, you've seen them all). But I love flowers and gardens and I love the love and dedication that goes into each display.  

One of the award-winning patios

I arrived early on the high speed train to catch the morning session (because of course they close for siesta) and being sola, I was able to weasel my way through the narrow streets of the juderia quickly and skip the lines of seniors waiting to see a patio.  In the morning, I was able to get 2 of the 3 routes done, minus a couple of the patios on those routes.  After lunch and a quick respite (no time for siesta!) I headed back out to see the rest with my friend Alex, who had yet to really see the patios.  In the evening, we did the whole of the third route and even made it back to the patios I had skipped in the morning.  Counting them, I had managed to see all but one of the patios in the contest (plus a couple that had been disqualified, but refused to die quietly).  In all, I saw 50 patios, probably about 35 more than I saw the year before (ironic?).  Because the heat had already been strong this year, without the sheer amounts of rain of the year before, I must admit that they weren't as spectacular as last year.  And maybe my dad does have a point: many started to look and feel the same after hitting the midway point.  But I can't say that any of that took away from the beautiful and unique experience that is the Patios festival.  Sharing something you love with the world is always a treasure.  

Even the very-young must
get in their trajes.

The second time I went back was not even two weeks later, for the Córdoba Feria.  There's not really an experience quite like the feria celebrations of Andalucia, and for the three of you who read my blog from the last year, you might already be a little familiar with it.  

During the days, the fair grounds are a mesh of air-conditioned white tents filled with the smoke of grills and the colors of the traje gitana the women and girls are wearing.  Older men dress in their traditional suits and hats and ride their horses through the dirt streets, occasionally donning a beautiful woman riding sidesaddle behind him with a flower in her hair as big as her face.

Fireworks for the Alumbrado
seen through the main entrance

At night, few traditions remain as the hotter-than-hell dresses are kicked to the curb and exchanged for clothes more appropriate for a night at the discoteca, which is what has become of all the casetas, tents, after dark (which isn't until nearly 10:30 or 11 this time of year).  Outside the enormous portada, thousands of young kids and adults gather to drink their homemade cocktails in a mob that would leave few unintimidated.  Inside the fair, the ground almost vibrates with the loud music coming from the 100+ tents.  Young adults mingle with the not-so-young-anymore, where they enjoy dancing to the traditional Sevillanas as well as bouncing to Black Eyed Peas.  It's the ultimate meeting of young and old, traditional and modern, Córdoba and the rest of the world.  But mostly, it's Córdoba. 

I loved being in Malaga this year.  But in May, Córdoba is the place to be.

Lagos, Portugal

Lagos buddy, Haley

A couple of months ago, my friend Haley suggested we sign up for a trip to Lagos, Portugal which was organized by a travel company in Sevilla.  After hearing all the wonderful reviews of the same trip from my roommates and friends here in Malaga, I hardly needed convincing.

I don't think I realized it at the time, but it was certainly obvious once we arrived at the meeting point that we were probably the oldest people there and that the majority of our 150+ travel companions were there on their final trip of their study abroad semester.  Although this was extremely intimidating, the situation mostly added laughs rather than frustrations to our 72 hour trip.

The beach next to our hotel

Lagos, part of the southern region of Portugal, was absolutely stunning to say the very least.  I’ve definitely been to my share of spectacular beaches around the world, but this may have taken the cake (although, without an absolute side-by-side comparison, this statement is impossible to quantify; if only one could have every beautiful beach lined up side-by-side!).  The steep cliffs of the coast fell into beautiful clear blue waters.  Where the rocks met the water, grottos were worn into their sides; some only small enough for birds and their nests, others large enough for a small boat to pass.

Our hotel was spitting distance from one of the most beautiful beaches in the city.  The weather on our first and last day was beautiful and perfect for enjoying the pearly beach and even cooling off in the Atlantic waters.  The second day was a bit disappointing once we arrived at the sand, but it hardly dampened our spirits during the sangria-grotto sailboat tour. 

"Welcome Americans!
Safe Zone --> Go Get Loose"

The nights were filled exploring “downtown” Lagos, a sleepy little place which might have seen livelier days in the times of Columbus and the slave trade.  We were given the opportunity to see a couple of Lagos’s more “happening” places, including a particularly enjoyable bar called Joe’s Garage which looked more Los Angeles than borderline-Mediterranean.  Given the large mass of the group we came with, we didn’t stay out too much, as we also preferred to get in a good night’s rest before a rough day and the beach.

Overall, Portugal was inspiringly beautiful, and my short trip there has only made me want to see more of the country.  I don’t think it would be too much of a stretch to say that Portugal is one of the most overlooked countries of Western Europe, as most people probably think of the UK, Ireland, France, Germany and Spain more.  But I for one will never forget my stay there and will always tell others that Portugal is worth any effort to see.  

My Emo Moment

Note:  I wrote this on May 12, but do to technical difficulties, have not been able to post until now.

Today as I was walking to my classes I recalled the day last June that I received my letter informing me of my placement for this year.

Last year in Cordoba had been challenging on several levels and I wasn’t entertaining the idea of repeating it.  I had vowed to myself that unless I received my first choice placement, I wouldn’t come back.  I didn’t really expect this to actually happen. 

Low and behold, it did, I came back, and the rest is history. 

After a very positive year in Malaga, the sadness of leaving is creeping in.  I’ve already begun to develop the nostalgia for what I’ll be leaving, more than likely for good.

There’s a lot I wont miss and am looking forward to upon returning to my American home.  But my two years in Europe are coming to an end and the sights and customs that have become familiar and comfortable will slowly fade into memory and back into the novelty they once were: the rolling hills of olive trees, the uneven cobblestone streets, the lazy and self-indulgent days, the bustling market, the loud smokey restaurants, and the random graying man singing flamenco under my window, on the bus, or in the bar.

After denying it long enough, I’ve fully accepted that this has all been real life; nothing about his experience has been fake, a work of fiction, or something to do until my “real life” eventually began.  But because I’ve accepted that, I must also accept the need to move on and progress.

Too soon this period of my life will become a part of my personal history.  But what makes it OK is my knowledge that this place and my memories of it don’t cease to exist once I leave.  Furthermore, I have the upmost confidence that I’ll be back eventually, even if I don’t yet know when.

Gutten Tag: Switzerland, Germany, and Austria

For my 10 days of Semana Santa I got to go galavanting around Central Europe with my dad.  No Spanish  vacation it wasn't: it was early mornings, no siestas, and early nights to do it all over again the next day.  We wanted to see as much as possible, and indeed we did.

Geneva - Place of reunion!  We enjoyed a tour of the United Nations and a visit to the Red Cross museum.  Our tour guide of the UN, a Romanian who passed for a Brit, was understated and passionate about the organization he worked for, and it became one of the most inspiring moments of the trip.  Overall, the weather was beautiful, the tulips were blooming, and the swans were picture-perfect.  We managed to catch a few of the fountain in Lake Geneva on the night before we left when it was running briefly.

Zurich lake

Bern - On our way through to Zurich, we made a pit stop in the capital Bern.  We certainly didn't regret it, as it was quite charming and full of life.  In many ways, I wished we could have spent more time in Bern, but we were there long enough to grab a kebab and a warm soft pretzel.  

Zurich - Admittedly, I didn't expect much out of Zurich, but my opinions changed after we met the kindest ex-parliament member on the remainder of our ride from Bern.  He taught us all about the landscape that passed by our windows and then escorted us to our hotel upon our arrival (not without pointing out the main features of Zurich along the way).  It was a prettier city than Geneva, but without a lot to do.  But we set our priorities straight and in our short time there did manage to make it to the Chocolatier and have an amazing meal in a local restaurant.

Munich - Four days in Munich was certainly not enough, especially considering that we didn't actually spent that much time in the city itself.
      - Our first full day after arrival we decided to skip town all together and take a guided tour to the nearby fairy tale castles, Neuschwanstein and Hohenschwangau.  We were supposed to get back to Munich in time for a leisurely dinner, but after our train was delayed (only 15 minutes away from our destination) and we were told to get off (in the most rural station I've ever seen) and wait until the next train came along.  We would have all been disappointed had our guide not been more flexible, but we just put off returning until later, and had all the time we wanted to explore the inspiration for Disney's Sleeping Beauty's Castle and the surrounding alpine wilderness (complete with even the smell of burning firewood).

Need I say more?

     - Our second day we made the much shorter trek to Dachau to visit the first concentration camp of the Third Reich.  Probably fortunately, I didn't know that much about the camp before visiting, which also probably made the visit a lot easier to stomach.  But I was all to excited to leave and get back to exploring Munich itself, especially the local market where we indulged in a BioBrat and BioBeer and bask in the warm sun before running through the Deutsche Museum in the less than 2 hours before it closed.
     - Our third day we skipped town again to go an hour and a half north to visit Tempe's sister city, Regansburg, and which happened to be 1) another UNESCO sight, 2) one of the few German cities that escaped the carpet bombings of World War II, 3) the northernmost point of the Holy Roman Empire, and 4) the largest medieval city center in Germany, including the Roman stone bridge and Gothic cathedral.  Even cooler, it's home to what is thought as possibly the oldest "fast food" restaurant in the world, which of course was sausages and kraut, and which of course, we ate at, though hardly very fast - who'd want to rush delicious breakfast-size sausages on the edge of the Danube on a beautiful sunny day.  When we got back to Munich, we repeated our sandwiches-in-the-plaza and then went for one last German beer at the Haufbrauhaus, where over it's last 400 years, it's hosted Mozart, Lenin, and Kennedy. Hitler even kicked of the Nazi Party in the beerhall.  Ah, history.

Salzburg - I was sad to leave Germany as I had grown quite attached (work hard AND play hard philosophy with all the European charm and delicious bread), but I quickly learned that Austria wasn't going to be huge adjustment.  Just like Bern, we made a pit stop in Salzburg on our way through to Vienna.  We weren't too interested in any of the Sound of Music tours, but we did enjoy walking around some of the most beautiful streets and sitting on the steps of a church in a plaza enjoying a spicy sausage dog and then a large sweet pretzel.  Life was good.

Vienna at dusk

Vienna - And life stayed pretty good.  We arrived in Vienna and within moments of coming to the center the sun was setting and everything had that pregnant lady glow to it.  Dad convinced me to go to our second vegetarian restaurant of the trip (who says an old dog can't learn new tricks? ;) ) to give our stomachs a rest for getting in our last days of delicious sausages, weinerschnitzel, carbs, coffee and ice cream (the 5 basic food groups in Vienna).  We took a tour of the Palace and grounds which randomly included the (awesome!) apple strudel demonstration, wandered around the market and flea market, and even managed to squeeze in an art gallery, which ironically was highlighting two different American pop artists and Picasso.  We finished it all off with an authentic Sacher torte and coffee and a song or two of the live broadcast of the opera.

 On our last morning, Dad and I departed before the crack of dawn.  He made his way to the airport and I to the train station to make it to my outgoing-Bratislava flight.  Luckily, I found the station and an open bakery before my train departed where I was able to enjoy my last warm bread roll and strong coffee while watching the sun rise.  It was a great trip, indeed.

The complete picture albums can be found here for Switzerland, Germany, and Austria.

Dad and I at Neuschwanstein

Can life just slow down, please!

Since London, a brief summary of the past few weeks:

Chantal visits!  It was so nice to have the opportunity to show Chantal around my side of the globe (this side of the Atlantic).  We went to Marbella one day, indulged in great food and desserts around Malaga, and even got to the mandatory tourist traps.  Unfortunately the weather wasn't great, save for the day she left (we did manage to get some beach time in before her flight), but it was still a wonderful visit.

Vanessa visits!  Despite finishing her third year in Andalucia, Vanessa had yet to visit Malaga (Malaga gets a bad reputation from all the other Andalucians just jealous they don't live in a big city by the sea) so I had yet another opportunity (twice in one week!) to show off the city I've fallen in love with.  I must have done all the right things, because by the end, I think Vanessa liked Malaga a lot too; but who wouldn't after two beautiful days at the beach, grilled sardines while we digged our toes in the sand at a chiringuito, and a late night out jumping from discoteca to discoteca.

Training in vain?  Maybe not, but in the end I decided not to actually do the half marathon.  It was hard decision, but something I had to refrain from.  I had trained a lot, but realized that my knees weren't exactly holding up, and I didn't want to risk and injury days before leaving on a 10-day walking trip of central Europe (not to mention that not being able to walk in Malaga is like not having a car in LA).  I figure, there are other marathons to conquer in my future.

Which brings me to my last large adventure...

Seeing London through Spanish eyes

New concept:
Stand to the right!

In January, my IT class invited me to come along for their end-of-studies trip to London.  Honored at the invite (but really, it didn't surprise me - after all, I am their favorite) and excited at the opportunity to go to London (a city I've always wanted to see and couldn't miss this time around), I of course accepted.

Let me paint you this picture: 13 chicos/4 chicas students (aged 18-28), 2 female teachers, and myself.  Often, it was a battle of the wills. At its best, it was utter chaos, but nearly always it was thoroughly entertaining.

I'll start by painting you another picture: 13 boys, Veronica, and myself.  We are all packed into a room smaller than any of my college dorms.  I actually had the option of staying with the profesoras, but decided that more lasting memories would probably be happening back at the hostel.  And indeed that was the case.  For 5 nights, it was a bit like reliving freshman year of college: musty smells, bunk beds, late night convos, lights on all hours, and snoring that shook the foundation (ok, so maybe they weren't exactly like my freshman year roommates).

Lesson #1: When traveling with Spaniards, I learned that it will entail frequent outbursts of flamenco singing and clapping in public places.  I might have peed in my pants laughing a little (out of sheer humiliation and hilarity).

Lesson #2: When traveling with students, I learned that it will entail many kebabs and meals at McDonald's.  In the meantime, I fell in love with Mark & Spencer's prepackaged salads which helped to keep me scurvy-free in London.  Also, they were about the only places open when they wanted to eat at the normal Spanish hours of 3 and 11pm.

At the British Museum

I was definitely the token English speaker (ok, there was Victor, but I definitely had the whole "native-english-speaker thing going for me) and main resource for Q&As of any importance.  I spoke Spanish 95% of the time.  Looking back, I could probably recall every english dialogue I had while visiting, all 1.5 of them (excluding Starbucks). Even besides my own students, walking around the city I heard a surprising amount of Spanish, which they even noticed and joked about ("Españoles del mundo!").

On several different occasions, I also had to explain that the pace of walking in the streets and subways didn't indicate a significant higher level of estress; merely that the pace of life was faster, and the quality of life didn't suffer just because we walked faster than the average Spaniard.  I think they remained skeptical.

It doesn't get more fun than an
oversized elevator - excuse me, lift.

My impressions of London were only positive, and easy biased as I'm at the 7-month stage of missing everything.  London, in many ways, reminded me of New York City; large, classy, cosmopolitan, diverse, efficient, and easy to get around with more museums, galleries, restaurants, markets, and cafes than one could explore in a lifetime.  But then, it still retained so much of that European charm; city along a river, old [looking] buildings, a history that extends more than 400 years.  I was able to indulge in Starbucks AND baguettes.  Gap AND Zara.  Capitalism AND public health care.  The best of both worlds? I think so.

In the 5 or 6 days, we got a lot done: British Museum, Tate Modern, Hyde Park, Changing of the Guard, Camden Town, St. Paul's Cathedral, Harrods, Science Museum, Notting Hill/Portobello Market, Natural History Museum, Tower of London, St. James Park, Tower Bridge, Buckingham Palace, Big Ben, Millenium Bridge, Parliament, Westminster Abby, Hamleys, Covnent Garden, Picadilly Circus, and all the places in between.

Was it my ideal trip to London?  No.  But it was unforgettable and I am so grateful for the opportunity I had.  Indeed going with a large group of young Spaniards lent to a completely different experience than I ever could have had going with myself, my family, or any other group.  I learned as much about Spanish culture as I did about London, if not more so, simply because I was able to experience their reactions and impressions to a different culture and one outside of Spain.

I didn't get to eat at any of the restaurants on my list, linger over paintings at the National Gallery, or take in a world-class show.  But how many people can say they were serenaded by flamenco in the middle of the London Underground?  I can.

For the complete gallery, go to my Facebook album. 

This is a sprint, not a marathon... but there actually is a marathon...

Brief schedule of my remaining time here:

March 24-29: London, England with school
April 2-7: Wonderful friend Chantal is visiting
April 8-10: Wonderful friend Vanessa visits Malaga (por fin!)
April 10: Malaga Half Marathon (wish me luck!)
April 14-24: Geneva/Zurich/Munich/Vienna with Dad
April 28-May 2: Long weekend, hopefully traveling (and Cordoba Cruces for backup plan)
May 6-8: Lagos, Portugal with superfast bff Haley
May 10: Cordoba for Patios
May 13-15: Jen visits Malaga (por fin!)
May 20-22: Cordoba feria!
May: 27-29: Last weekend before everyone leaves!
June 1-4: Possible trip to Santiago with superfast bff Haley
June and July: Italy.  'Nough said.
August 1: USA

Now in Technicolor

Barely more than two months left.  If I were really counting, it would be less than 9 weeks of school, divided by a week-long spring break.  As the end becomes more and more palpable, and options-for-later need to become solid plans-right-now, feelings about "the end" and my daily experiences seem to get more vivid and meaningful as well.

There are days where I feel like I'm going to scream at the next creepy old man who so much as mutters an "hola guapa" when I pass.  And I just want to go home.  Then there are the days where I wish the church bells would never stop ringing, and I never want to leave.

There are days where all I want is to be able to go to the bank without having to worry about endless lines or system failures, and I just want to go home.  Then there are the days where I indulge all my senses and revel in the bright colors, sounds and smells of the central market, and I never want to leave.

There are days when I tire of slow internet, ego-centric cruise tourists, inconsiderate drunks outside my window, bad service, late hours, and too many siestas.  Those days I could hop on the next flight home and never look back.

Then there are the days where I can't pull my eyes away from the cityscape lined with castles and cathedrals, I linger at the sounds of street musicians and flamenco singers, dig my toes even more into the sand of the Mediterranean beach, and overwhelm my nostrils with the smoke of grilling sardines.  Those are the days that the idea of leaving this place and ending this phase of my life seems almost too hard to bare.

Being pulled on a daily basis in such extremes can leave me feeling a bit scattered and listless at moments.  In many ways though, it is such a confirmation of everything I love and for which I'm grateful: where I'm from and where I've been.  Which then also leaves me so excited for what lies ahead, and the challenges and gratitudes I have yet to uncover.

Semana Blanca Part 2: What I actually did

Now that you know the people...

My first night at SDT was quite of blur of learning names by candlelight, eating flowers in my fresh-from-the-garden salad, brushing my teeth with the milky way above, and having slightly awkward conversations about veganism.  After that, things just took off from there, and my week was filled with new things and interesting people, all of which I will hardly ever forget.

Day two (after arrival): Woken up by the didgeridoo, which I can only assume was played by Mr. J.  Composted for the first couple hours with Ms. K and Mr. Ma in the gardens, then with Ms. A in the nursery after break.  In the afternoon I took a stroll around the property which confessed of years of many projects big and small, some successful, some unfinished, and some suffering from a bit of neglect.  That night I helped Mr. A make dinner and witness him throw nettle soup and leftover porridge together with some spices to make an interesting lentil curry.  Nothing, nothing, goes to waste.

Ahh!  A proper welcome

Day three: We started with a communal “flash weeding” and working of one of the vegetable patches.  I enjoyed this time immensely as it meant that most all the volunteers were in the same area working on the same thing.  It gave me a chance to talk with Ms. F and Ms. C and learn more about each of them.  In the afternoon Sra. P gave me and some other guests a thorough tour of the property and I had the opportunity to learn more about the workings and rationale for the solar oven, cooker, compost and dry toilets, and why exactly the fireplace really isn’t that warm (apparently because it’s actually quite efficient: quite the paradox).  The night finished with the Jam Session in another house in the village which could only be described as the most “hippy” thing I did all week: pick up any instrument – from the didgeridoo, to the triangle, to the kazoo – and play it, continuously, for a very long time.

Day four: What was supposed to be a rather quite journey with Ms. A to the Almeria nursery to pick up deadly date palms turned into an all morning excursion of nearly running out of gas, getting lost, and then wandering the botanical gardens with one of the most helpful Spanish women I’ve ever met.  In the afternoon I helped unload the plants from the full van to various parts of the property before heading off to yoga at the Sorbas community center.  I should have known better, for all my other time witnessing yoga in Spain that it would probably leave a lot to be desired, but it gave me a chance to see a corner of Sorbas and a breathtaking sunset over the valley.  Finally, after cleaning up the dinner dishes as fast as humanly possible (my chore for the day), I took my first speed shower, managed to keep my hair dry, and rushed into bed before the residual heat wore off.

Day five: Another communal work day, this time cleaning up a SDT property up the hill a bit.  It was obvious that this must have become SDT’s secret closet of junk, and I was surprised to find out that the property was actually in use by the staff.  On the way back I picked prickly pear fruit for use in that night’s dinner which turned out interesting, to say the least (my Chumba sauce was great – I was more skeptical over the potato-spaghetti type creation, and the reappearance of curried porridge that ended up on everyone’s plates).  The night ended with an interested and tense conversation about racial jokes and stereotypes between me, Ms. F, and Mr. Ma in the kitchen.  Even in a place like SDT, radically different opinions do exist.

Day six: Spent the morning on house clean up (sharing the chore with Sra. P, don’t know how I, or anyone else, could have possibly done it by themselves).  I washed the towels in the retrofitted washing machine, churning it with the bicycle pedals attached to the back.  After lunch I picked flowers around the property and arranged them in recycled jars to welcome the guests that would be arriving for the weekend’s permaculture course, then picked more prickly pear fruit for Sra. A’s bread and jam session the next day.  After failing at making vegan cookies for the course (I’m convinced just one or two eggs and a bit more of the rationed sugar would have solved everything, not to mention a calibrated oven) I attempted to wash my hair and realized how easy it actually was to end up with dreads in a place like this – between the natural oils and the hard water, I was halfway there in less than a week.

Day seven: Took my time getting out of bed, and enjoyed the special crepes prepared for the volunteers and the guests.  I peeled the basket full of prickly pear from the day before and joined Sra. A and her one other student for her course.  I was a little bummed when she combined the fruit and butternut squash to create a singular jam, but was pleasantly please with the results and eager that I got to take one with me for the road.  I had to catch my cab to Sorbas before that day’s late lunch, but had the opportunity to say goodbye to most of the people that left the biggest impression on me.  Well, all but Mr. A, whom I assume was caught up screwing wheels from the chair to his pottery wheel project.

Mailboxes for Los Molinos

I made all my bus connections by the grace of God and the help of a few kind people and arrived at home less than 5 hours after leaving SDT that afternoon.  Without even checking my email first, I jumped into the shower for the most rewarding 15 minutes of the last week. 

I’m so happy I spent my week at SDT and will go back (during a warmer season) if I have the opportunity later.  I liked people and was niether bothered by the rustic-ness of the property nor the toilets.  I would whole-heartedly recommend anyone to participate and witness the good things and people that are hidden away in the Los Molinos pueblo.

Admittedly, I have mixed feelings about the project and what is actually being accomplished at SDT: at moments it felt like a wash of big ideas but less drive.  Piles of junk that were clearly intended for something, someday just seemed to result in more trash that wasn’t being counted for what it really was.  Nestle products weren’t allowed, but iPods and laptops were abound.  Yes, we all must pick our battles, but the message should stay consistent. 

Gotta go? Compost toilet

If SDT is meant to demonstrate to others how to live sustainably, I suppose it did.  But I can’t say it did so in a way desirable to most.  I personally believe that individuals and families can live in a sustainable manner that doesn’t involve cold showers or refraining from meat.  Undeniable it takes a lot of hard work and change of habits, and all people will draw the line of change in different places most comfortable for them.  But I can honestly say that being slightly out of my comfort zone last week made it all the more obvious how rewarding it could be.  Just as long as I never eat curried leftover porridge again.