Sometimes it's not so easy being so far away

Today my best friend in the whole wide world is getting married.  Needless to say, I'm only going to be there in spirit.

When moving to a far away place, even for a short period of time, inevitably you face the reality that life goes on without you.  Even important, life changing stuff happens, for which you can't be present.  This isn't the first wedding I've missed because I've been too far away to make it feasibly possible to attend, and it probably wont be my last.

There are definitely upsides to traveling and being far and away from home, all of which are obvious.  Sometimes the downsides aren't so obvious when we make the decision to leave.  I'm not at all implying that the downsides ever make me wish I had chosen to do things differently.  But when things do happen, it just makes it glaringly obvious that Skype sometimes just doesn't cut it for everything that life throws at you.

But it will have to do for now.

And with that, I am thinking of her constantly and wishing her all the best and sending her so much love for the beautiful occasion.

They didn't call it the Cold War for nothing!

Most of my adult life, I had wanted to travel to Prague.  I heard wonderful things from others who had, but never actually thought I would actually make it one day.  It always seemed like one of those "pie in the sky" hopes and dreams that would never actually come to fruition.

Luckily for me, one of my closest friends this year had the same hope and dream and the gumption to actually do something about it.  Fortunately, I got to come along for the ride.

Taking advantage of a long holiday break (before the actual holiday break), we snuck out of town on Friday to make our long journey to Prague.  I say "sneak" because upon our arrival in Prague, we were shocked to find out that only a few hours later nearly all flights coming in and out of Spain were grounded to an air traffic controller strike that continued for 3 days (apparently, they're opposing the upcoming privatization of airports which might keep them for earning unlimited overtime, and for some of them, over €1,000,000 annually.  I still have yet to understand why Spain is in financial trouble.)  Moving on...

Old Town Square, Prague

Prague turned out to be everything (and more) I ever imagined it could be.  I felt like I was living in a fairy tale for 36 hours.  The snow dusted everything spectacularly and gave that extra Christmassy feel.  The Markets stole my heart and the food my appetite.  When I didn't think anything could get more beautiful, we would turn the corner and the sight would then take my breath away, and probably a little bit more because of the extreme cold as well.  When we landed in Prague, it was 17° and it only got colder the remaining time we were there (warming up, of course, the day we left).  Unfortunately, due to the weather, we probably didn't see as much as Prague as we would have liked (frequently stepping into stores and cafes to warm up and defrost our extremities), but it didn't slow us down too much, and didn't keep us from loving almost every second of it.

Overlooking Budapest

Two days later, we made our way to Budapest via a 7 hour train ride (thank goodness it was great scenery).  Even though it was only in the 30s when we arrived, anything felt like a nice Spring day compared to brisk Prague.  Unfortunately, we didn't have much time in Budapest, a city that after all was said and done, seemed like the type of city that really would take time to discover and see all its hidden wonders.  But in the one whole day we did have, we saw a lot.  The Markets in Budapest, although not as spectacular looking, were my favorite because the stands were either full of handmade crafts or large pans of savory stews.  To finish the day, we went to the Turkish baths which offered us a warm reprieve under the stars.

Presidential Palace, Bratislava

Finally, the next day we took a much shorter train ride to Bratislava (leaving Budapest just as it was warming into the 50s).  None of us had a strong desire to go to this particular place, but as we were using it as an inexpensive flight back to Malaga and we thought we would take advantage of it in the meantime.  Of course, after our successes in Prague and Budapest, we immediately headed to the Bratislava Christmas markets where we once again indulged in delicious food and drink and spent way too much money on gifts (...for ourselves).  The next day we had a few hours before having to head to the airport, but even in that short time, we felt like we had seen the bulk of Bratislava and felt that it was surprisingly charming and beautiful.  We were glad we made the effort.

It was an amazing trip and I'm so glad I got to do it, especially at such a festive and magical time.  I'm hoping that maybe at some point in my life I'll be able to make it back to these cities to explore them even more (and preferably at a warmer time of year!).

The links to the full Facebook photo albums are here: Prague, Budapest, and Bratislava

Dar Gracias

By no exaggeration, when I think of all the things I have to be grateful for, I get a warm and fuzzy feeling inside and I seriously can't help but smile.

It happens all the time too.  I'll be walking down the street, LOVING everything and just the fact that I'm here, have people that support me being here, that I'm capable of being here (finically, emotionally, physically), and I'll realize that I have this huge grin on my face.  I'm sure I look ridiculous, but I have no concern in the world, least of which is looking totally blissful.

I know that technically Thanksgiving was yesterday, but for me and all my American friends with whom I'm celebrating here in Malaga, we're saving it for tomorrow: A day when we all have off and time to cook and appreciate the holiday to the fullest extent possible.  So, in honor of our Thanksgiving, I want to express my gratitude for all the blessings in my life.

Thank you for my mom and dad.  There aren't words or space sufficient enough to go on about everything I owe to them.

Thank you for my friends - new and old, close and far.  I am so blessed to have friends that have stayed so close despite time and distance and I am even more blessed to still be meeting incredible people throughout my journeys.  All of them have given me the invaluable companionship and constantly challenge me and mold me into a better person. 

Thank you for all the amazing opportunities that have been provided to me.  I have had the honor and privilege to do life-changing things that have taught me so much about myself and the world.

I'm even thankful for Thanksgiving.  Spending Thanksgiving outside of the United States only makes it all the more obvious how special our country and this holiday is.  There aren't other countries in the world that nationalize a day of gratitude and when I explain Thanksgiving to non-Americans, the notion even fails to translate.  Thanksgiving transcends religious differences, corporate-takeover, and economic hardships.  And although we should constantly be recognizing the blessings in our lives, it's especially wonderful that we celebrate them too.

A Tuna In the land of Paella

About a month ago, I was doing my routine I'm-bored-so-I'm-going-to-look-for-the-cheapest-flights-on-Ryanair.com and I found one that was from Malaga to Valencia, round trip for 20 euros and some pennies (the taxes were more than the flights!)  As we were already looking for a mini-vaca (because after working an exhausting 12 hours a week, we needed a vacation) me and my roommate Erica couldn't pass up such a good opportunity.

Thank goodness we were so smart.  It definitely had to be one of the best trips I have ever taken.  And quite possibly one of the most unique.

Besides a "free" guided tour provided by our hostel, there were no museums, no cathedrals, and nothing else out of a boring guide book (with all due respect, I usually live by and love guidebooks).

The first night we came to Valencia, we encountered a eerily quiet city, with few people out and dining on a Friday night.  Being that we weren't especially eager to go out (totally exhausted from our 12 hour week of course, and wanting to get a full day in on Saturday), we found an excellent eclectic restaurant around the corner, had a scrumptious meal, and immediately crashed at the hostel afterwards.

The next day we tried to get as much in as possible, which became nearly impossible as we were constantly distracted by the markets, gardens, and architecture of the city (ok, and a little bit of Zara and Calzedonia on the side).  We bought veggies at the largest market in Spain for our dinner that night (2.60 for eggplant, pepper, zucchini, onion, and a TON of basil.  love this country!)  We wandered through the city gardens (which was established by the city residents as a protest against the proposed freeway in the same location) and made our way to the famous Ciudad de los Artes y Ciencias, designed by the famous Valencian architect Santiago Calatrava (who is currently designing the WTC transportation hub in NYC).  In midwest terms, it was unreal, and the buildings seem to come straight from a Star Trek episode.  Making it to the end, we discovered that the aquarium was a bit out of our budget (and besides, it was close to lunch time), and we went back to the center to a recommended vegetarian restaurant.  We were so taken in by Valencia's ultra chill vibe, we took our cue and tomamos una siesta afterwards in preparation for our evening ahead.

...Which was crazy.  We headed out with our new German roomies en tow (and our Italian roomie from the night before) and as we were trying to find a hoppin' place to put down roots, we ran into a tuna from Sevilla, and we never looked back.

First off, let me explain.  A tuna is a group much resembling a university fraternity, except that they dress in 17th century outfits, play ancient instruments, and have folk jam sessions for hours at a time.  It's way cooler than it sounds.

(Getting back to the story...)  The Tuna invited us into the bar to in order to serenade us, and it didn't stop until about 4:30 and two more bars later.

The next day after sleeping in and barely catching the free breakfast, we did the walking tour where we learned a lot about how the Christians conquered the Muslims in Valencia (pretty much the same story as every other city in Spain...) and had the mandatory paella that you must have while in Valencia (without rabbit or snails though - we went strictly seafood).  The Tuna had invited us to watch their competition in the Art Center that night, which not only gave us an opportunity to see the Ciudad at night (impresivo!) but also see other Tunas from around Spain give their best performances.  Our Sevilla group won for best original song and overall second place (the grammys of Spain?).  But even before the other performances were over, the Sevilla group didn't miss a beat (pun intended) and they started jamming in the lobby of the auditorium.

We followed them to the afterparty at this gorgeous hotel where they shoved food and drinks at us (including a sip of ceremonial beer out of the 2nd place prize cup!) and within moments started playing their instruments and belting their lungs to traditional Spanish songs, and even some we recognized from other places like Bamboleo and La Bamba.  The dancing and singing didn't end until nearly 8am (and another couple venues later).

Erica and I caught a snooze (maybe?) and rushed around to get ready and check out of our hostel, and even got a brief walk of the town and hot chocolate before catching the metro back to the airport.  At one point, Erica and I both remarked to each other that everywhere we went that day, we could still hear the guitars and singing ringing in our ears.  Not bad at all.

Fortunately, our goodbyes weren't final as we ran into a small group of the Sevilla Tuna men that we had been talking with the night before. So before our respective flights we had a conversation (without music, oddly enough) about travels, politics, life, and love (ok, not love, but any longer and it would have gone there!) with the guys.  We left with addresses promises that we would make them each a ribbon for their capes with our words of love and dedication.

It was an incredible and unforgettable weekend, and I definitely owe a lot to my extremely extroverted and fun travel buddy, Erica, who got me out there and meeting more people than I would have ever met on my own.  I saw a beautiful city, met incredible people, participated in a centuries-old tradition, and learned more about Spain, its people and myself in the meantime.

I'll post some pictures here, but for a fuller review, visit my facebook album here.

Erica and I in a gorgeous plaza 

Pausing a jam to take a picture

Trying on the capes!  Do we fit in?

The Sevilla Tuna performing

One of my favorite pictures: Erica with one of the Tuna leaders

Nonstop November

It's been a bit crazy this month, to say the least.  More or less, it feels like I haven't stopped moving in days, and haven't had a weekend to myself in a more than a month (that's necessarily a complaint either).  Here's a roundup of the last month.

Halloween costumes and dinner

Halloween weekend my friend from Cordoba came for their first visit to Malaga so it was a full few days of going around the city and fitting in as much as possible while also putting on a fabulous Halloween party.  The party was a huge success with our apartment looking gorgeous (full of candles and our own jack-o-lantern), a scrumptious meal (thanks to my new favorite website, Chow, for the great butternut squash pasta recipe), and fabulous costumes!

family dinner with Vanessa y German

The next weekend I finally got back to Granada to visit Vanessa for the first time this year.  I was a little stressed about the trip, knowing that I would also be gone the following two weekends as well, but was eternally grateful that I did go.  Spending time with Vanessa and being in Granada is always so rewarding and relaxing, and the weekend wasn't any exception.  We made cookies, went to a movie, had a couple "family dinners" (what I've now termed for the reoccurring group meals that have been a staple of the year so far) and slept in after it all.

A few days later my dad arrived in Malaga and I had the fortune of showing him around for a second time in Malaga.  The day after his arrival we flew to Barcelona for a beautiful weekend of exploring a beautiful city.  We didn't see everything, but my feet hurt so much that it felt like we did.  The first evening we went up to the Monjuic castle and we're there at the perfect time to witness the sunset overlooking the city.  It was amazingly beautiful, and could only be surpassed by the next evening when we saw the sunset from the tall towers of the Sagrada Familia (which was absolutely incredible itself, having most the construction cleared away for the pope's visit the week before, and the sun at the perfect hight to shine through the stunning windows in the nave).  Although I was ready to get back to Malaga, the weekend was so incredible and memorable (some of my favorite moments in Spain thus far), it was sad to see it end.

Which leads me to this last weekend in Valencia, which was so amazing, it deserves a post of its own.

The Nave of the Sagrada Familia

Sunset from the Towers

Nothing's perfect!

Today I made a sandwich and hiked up to the viewpoint on the way to the Castle.  It's a beautiful walk up supplemented with sweeping views of the city, harbor, and bull ring.  Half the postcards on stands feature the incredible vista at the apex of this walk.

Understandably, the ease of maintaining the hillside path usually leave it much to be desired.  The walkway is usually littered with broken glass, plastic bags, empty cans, and other post-party paraphernalia not to mention the dried spills and deposits of you-don't-want-to-know, and the consequential smells of the combination of everything.  Off the path scattered among the eucalyptus, oaks, and cacti, it looks like a time capsule of the many irresponsible individuals and their exploits.

Unfortunately, this is more of the rule rather than the exception around the city.  As much as I love Malaga, it's far from being a perfect city, and in many ways falls short where other Spanish cities seem to have an advantage.  The nearby Malagueta beach is notorious for its litter and cigarette refuse.  And going anywhere outside the tourist center means you'll encounter an inordinate amount of trash and animal excrement.  The general rule is: always look down when walking.  Near the stadium and site of the Sunday flea market the trash has formed massive heaps along the river banks where people have simply tossed their boxes, plastics, and whatnot over the side.  Most would have a difficult time discerning between it and a landfill.  It becomes more revolting to then think that when water does flow through the channel what it would then take with it to the sea.

As a result (it would seem), Malaga is infested with stray cats and flies.  I've heard a rumor that the Mayor is attempting to attack the cat problem, although not diligently, as they want to keep a small population to deal with the rodent problem as well (however, extra food from people and restaurants keeps either population to stabilize).  And the flies are so annoying that to stay in any one place for too long becomes unendurable.  Heck, it doesn't even take staying still for them to be complete pests.

It's sad to see and hard to understand a community that does not take more pride in how it presents itself.  Or maybe that's exactly the point: in most areas that are frequented by the massive amounts of tourists (most on pre-designated routes through the city) are well kept.  Everywhere else is treated more or less like a dump.  And there are no lack of trash cans either, which indicates not a lack of effort on the city's part, but rather places blame on the citizens and visitors.

I wont pretend to understand the psychology or demographics behind the phenomenon, and why it seems to be more prevalent here than any other Spanish city I've visited (and I still admit, my personal experiences are incomplete).  All I can confidently say is that as much as I love Malaga, it troubles me that the Malagueños don't necessarily feel the same sense of pride and joy for their inherently beautiful city to maintain it at the same high standard.

So much like home

This summer, I developed a theory about myself.  It's not very deep, or even very wise.  But I think being here in Malaga has only proved it to be true.

Since I was three, I've lived spitting distance from the airport.  Ok, maybe not that close, but pretty darn close.  Our home was so close that under the city ordinance we had to have all of our windows and doors replaced with those to keep the sound out of the approaching planes.  They don't have their gear down yet, but you can practically see the numbers under the belly.

I've fallen asleep to their dull (and sometimes not-so-dull) roar.  I find amusement in just watching them take off and land, even going out of my way to do so.  I spend summer evenings in the pool watching them make their final decent and I even run outside when Dad calls to say that Air Force One has just taken off (no matter who's presiding).  I usually wonder where they're flying to, or where they're coming from, who's aboard, why their traveling.

To me, planes and airports have always signaled progress, exchange, diversity, openness, communication, culture, and pretty much anything else that "traveling" also means to me.  Therefore, living far from a major airport also seemed like the absence of many of these qualities too (whether true or not).

I'm comfortable with planes.  But more accurately, planes make me comfortable, and their presence have always signaled "home" and a brought a certain peace of mind.  Last year in Cordoba, the absence of planes was practically deafening.  I searched the skies for any sign of life, and on the rare occasion of seeing a plane (so high up it was more of a shooting star) I would get so excited most would believe me to be crazy.  On more than one occasion, my friends made mention my uncanny ability to spot or hear a plane  in the far, far distance, and still thought me crazy for it (I don't really blame them).

This year, I've found myself more at peace, and feeling more at home and I think so much of it has to do to the proximity to the airport.  Often I can hear the planes taking off over our apartment and watch them as they start their journey.  And because it makes me recall a home I've always known, I can feel the comfort of that home even when being so far away.

Visit from home

This last week I had the pleasure of having my mom visit.  Although we had a rocky start (flying standby has it's risks, including being delayed by a day), once she got her, we did everything to make up for lost time.

Las Cuevas de Nerja

I met her in Madrid so that we wouldn't lose any more time and we could catch up on the train ride back to Malaga.  After arriving, we indulged in Lebanese food, a long walk around town, and tea and baklava at my new favorite place.  Tuesday we made a day trip to Nerja, a seaside resort town east of Malaga.  The trip proved even more fulfilling than anticipated: the caves were absolutely incredible, the ice cream delicious, the town quaint, and the beach beautiful.  Must go back with everyone I know.

Looking out at the beach in Nerja

On Wednesday and Thursday Mom took the map and spare cell and explored Malaga while I was teaching, and then had equally full afternoons and long walks.  Trying to squeeze in everything remaining, Friday we made it to the main market to pick up a few snacks before heading out to the botanical garden.  The garden was also better than anticipated, full of tropical plants, flowers, waterfalls, palms, and incredible views of the city from afar.  We found a fig tree that we maneuvered a path to and picked ripe fruit that we ate right there (and stored a few for later).  I could have stayed around the tree for hours trying to hunt down all the sweet pieces on that plant - it seemed too good to be true.  To finish everything off, that night I took mom to the 15th floor of the AC Hotel to catch a glimpse of one of the best views of Malaga (and there are a lot of good ones!) and one that's practically magical at night.


This morning, we woke up early to get her off to the airport.  Sad to see her go, but it's always nice to get back to a routine (and a diet - salad please!).  Today, I took a long run by the port and the boardwalk and at one point couldn't help but grin as I counted my blessings and how lucky I am to have this opportunity, again.

It's hard to get pictures together when you travel as a pair!
- Our self portrait from the hotel, with the Cathedral in the back.

Highlights of the week:

Monday: Returned from Scotland and met the new roommates and ate our hearts out at one of my new favorite restaurants.  They're pretty cool, and I'm jazzed for the next 9 months of possibilities (and believe me, there are a lot within an apartment of 3 young, beautiful ladies).

Tuesday: Took a post-siesta bus to Cordoba to pick up the remains of my things I had left behind for the summer.  I was completely excited when my intercambio, Gabriela and Juan, were able to meet me for dinner and we went to one of the tastiest restaurants in Cordoba.  It's always a feast of conversation and food with them, and we weren't short on either Tuesday night.  Salmorejo, jamon, clams, solomillo, wine, and flaming dessert could only be upstaged by Gabriela's wonderful news of her own little bun in the oven.  I couldn't be happier for the two of them.

Wednesday: The National Strike.  So, the Spanish don't strike as often as the French do, but they'll usually take any reason for an extra day off, and the huelga general was no different.  The unions claim that they protested due to "austerity measures" and budget cuts that effected workers' pensions and benefits.  I guess I'm just not all that sympathetic and didn't see much of anything being accomplished by a (half-assed) strike (most businesses stayed open, and those that closed only did so for safety reasons).  Walking through Cordoba on the day of the strike was odd.  Posters promoting the strike plastered buildings, vans drove around broadcasting support, and sloppy graffiti tags ("29-S Huelga") added that extra touch of class to the whole thing.  Alex and I had the misfortune of routing our way through the city that day passing (by NO exaggeration) between the riot police guarding the (open) department store and the massive crowd of protestors.  We hurried along a little faster when we heard a firecracker explode somewhere nearby.  There were reports of police cars burned in Barcelona and other minor bouts of violence across the country, but nowhere did I hear of the government suddenly reversing the cuts that have been praised by other foreign leaders.  Sure it sucks that the world and workers are having to pay for the sin of a few, but so is our current situation.  But having an extra cafe con leche and waving a union flag isn't going to solve anything, and only makes things worse for civil servants later picking up the slack.  I only would have been more frustrated by the whole ridiculous matter if my bus back to Malaga had been canceled (as most other buses and train services had).  The Spanish should be grateful it wasn't.

Thursday: Back in Malaga for more than two seconds, I was finally able to visit my school.  After a short 10 minute walk (followed by 20 minutes of being lost and walking in a circle), I found my school tucked away in the middle of the university.  I met many of the teachers I'll be working with and my bilingual coordinator.  The whole day gave me very good vibes and a spirit of collaboration and understanding.  They worked hard at getting a cohesive schedule for me (still in the works) and giving me Fridays off.  One teacher has already asked that I tutor her two children, already giving me a few extra pennies a week to play around with.  Leaving, I walked around the block to find the closest gym with a rockin' good deal, and I'm excited about becoming a Malaga gym rat.

Friday: Woke up super early to meet a new auxiliar to apply for our residencies.  Unfortunately in Spain, there is no standardized process - either from region-to-region, city-to-city, case-by-case.  Everyone has a completely different experience, all usually ranging from agonizingly long waits, to extra paperwork, to returning several times, to downright harrowing.  I expected all of the above, but hoped (of course) for the very best.  Luckily, even given a few initial misunderstandings and missteps, we got ours completed in less than 2 hours - a record by most standards and stories.  I finished a morning of productivity off by finding the municipal market across the street from the apartment and indulged in some cheap produce.

And now, at the beginning of October, the start of the school year, and the completion of a most eventful (and positive) week, I'm extremely eager to settle down into my Malagueña routine and make the most out of the next 8 months.

Old friends, new places.

A long time ago, my sunday school teacher paired me up to be pen pals with the daughter of her pen pal in Birmingham, England. I'm not exactly sure of the sequence of events anymore, but when I was in 4th grade, I met my pen pal when she came to Arizona for the first time (I can't remember if we were pen pals before meeting or only after). Since then, we saw each other 2 other times (once in high school, and again during college), all being on my home continent. This past weekend, I finally had the privilege of finally seeing her on this side of the Atlantic. Chantal, not in Birmingham anymore, lives in St. Andrews, Scotland after graduating from the University (a university older than when Columbus rediscovered America - still can't really wrap my head around that). So I had the excellent opportunity of actually having a (legit) reason to go to Scotland, a place forever on my bucket list.

Extremely optimistic after my first failed attempt at getting to Scotland (thanks to Eyjafjallajokull), my second attempt was nearly derailed as well thanks to strikes in France that made flying through their airspace minimal. Many flights were cancelled. Fortunately, mine was only delayed 4 hours.

After a bumpy beginning, the rest of the trip couldn't have been more perfect. Seeing Chantal was lovely, and she was the perfect host. The first day when Chantal was at work, I did exploring on my own of St. Andrews and found some peace among the wind in the beautiful botanical gardens.

The next day, we took the train into Edinburgh (and hour from St. Andrews). Edinburgh could be considered the birthplace of Harry Potter (we even ate lunch at the cafe where they claim Rowling wrote on her first napkins), and I could definitely see why:

Edinburgh is, in every single way, enchanting. We visited the castle, pieced at delicious fudge, walked down Royal Mile, drank bowls of hot chocolate, shopped on Princes street, visited the cathedral, and listened to bag pipers in between everything. That night, after returning to St. Andrews, we finished it all off with greasy fish and chips. Perfect.

Sunday, we roamed St. Andrews a bit more. We dawned the red University robes to get into the Castle ruins for free, and thought we would do the traditional pier walk while we had them on (although, we then took them off because we didn't want them, or us, to fly away in the sea breeze). As the weather was really nice, we took a long stroll from the East Sands to the West Sands and then made our way through the Old Course (apparently well known through the golfing world), and before calling it a day, we had to get ice cream at world famous (in St. Andrews) Jannette's. The final send off that night was a homemade roast dinner with a pie and custard that was freshly baked and less than 2 pounds (I couldn't NOT get it!).

Chantal left for work and I left for Edinburgh the next morning, with a hope that the next 8 months wont pass before we get to see each other again (although, 8 months is nothing compared to the years that have passed before!). I ate again at the Harry Potter cafe (it's not actually called that, but in my head that's what it is) and wandered around a bit more before having to sit for the rest of the day. Finally, the trip would not have been complete without a trip on top of the double-decker bus (even if it was the bus to the airport).

I'm already fantasizing about a possible trip back to Scotland, and I hope that she'll be able to make her way down to Malaga too before the year is finished.

Moral of the story: Pen pals rock.

Chantal and I at the Castle overlooking Edinburgh

On My Own

Dad left early this morning. It was sad to see him go because it's always nice to be with family. For me, it also marked the end to the summer. Now, everything else begins.

We got a lot done in the time he was here, but it didn't feel like as much as we could have gotten done, at least on the apartment end (which, I only have myself to blame). But, in the end, I think he got a good sense of Malaga: the Castle, Alcazaba, Cathedral, flea market, the beach, and everywhere in between, also counting the few times we got lost too.

I finally moved into the room where I'll be living the next 8 to 9 month and got everything out of the suitcases. The first night I slept in the room, I woke up with a swollen eye from the worst mosquito bite ever that made me look like the Hunchback until lunchtime. If I believed in omens, that couldn't have been a positive one. Last night (my second night in the room), I got the same devil mosquito bite, this time swelling up my nose to twice it's size, and a third bite between my eyebrows, making for a nice unicorn-sized-lump. Thank goodness I'm not a vain person (ok, not THAT vain). The rest of me is itchy from more normal-sized bites (and the anticipation of them) and has convinced me that until I get the best bug repellant money can buy, I'm keeping the screenless doors closed and the fan on.

And now it's just final preparations of the apartment before I leave for Scotland on Thursday. I'm a bit worried that my body might be thrown into a state of shock from the 20+ drop in degrees. Thank goodness I'm there to really visit a friend and not to do serious tourist activities. I might be looking forward to the weather more if it was actually possible to freeze your butt off. But for now, I'm super excited to see old friends and new places.

The first day

Finally fell back asleep this morning around 5. Woke up at 10. Definitely would have slept longer, except that I knew if I was going to have any chance of finding a rhythm sooner rather than later, I needed to get moving.

At least I wasn't alone. I had to muster Dad from deep slumber as well. But it didn't take him long to get up and ready - the idea of tostada con tomate was enough.

It only needed a short jaunt around the corner to find a cute plaza and some outdoor tables to enjoy our cafes and breakfast. After running back to grab an umbrella (of course I had to get a new one this year as my one from Cordoba was completely obliterated) we did some walking around and ducking under eaves, and eventually going back to the apartment before the sky fell for the second time today. We enjoyed some tasty tapas for lunch under the awnings of one of the more popular places in Malaga while the sky fell for the third time and we watched everyone else in the streets run for cover. On our way back from the supermarket, we accidentally came across my school (not quite as charming as Góngora, but I have higher hopes) and immediately got lost (not a good sign!) and ended up walking directly to the opposite side of town with 5 heavy shopping bags that were ripping at the plastic seams. We eventually found our way back and called it a day in terms of "work." It was pleasantly finished off with delicious white bean and quail stew at another central taberna.

My two closest friends that stayed in Spain through the summer have both asked me since returning (slightly more than 24 hours ago) how it feels. And I've really been trying to figure that out. But it does feel strange - strange at the lack of strangeness. Everything seems quite normal. Granted, I'm in a different city, and having to get used to different stores, food, lingo. But being back in Spain feels quite normal at the moment. And I'm actually really excited to be using Spanish again, despite having to make up for the summer deficit now.

So, as I wasn't particularly excited about another 9 months in Spain before getting here (having to first overcome actually getting here), I can say that I'm now super-duper excited.

Hi Jet Lag. Nice to meet you again.

Oh gosh. Tomorrow's not going to be fun. Up all night with jet lag.

How is it possible that I could sleep for less than 3 hours and not be exhausted enough to fall right back to sleep. Instead I've already been up for nearly another 3 hours. Nothing makes sense, and even less does as time goes by.

I think I'm just excited to start life in a new city, and it's difficult to quell my mind of the list-making of all things to be done and seen.

But still, top of the list is sleep. Must sleep!!

A long-awaited arrival

I woke up at 5:30am California time on September 15. Finally, I get to go to bed at 11:oopm on the 16th, Madrid time (or 2pm California time). That would be 33 hours, with only a few cat naps here and there, whenever we were comfortable enough to take them.

But, it's all paid off. Because now, I am sitting pretty in an equally pretty apartment in the historical center of Malaga. At this moment, I couldn't be more thrilled.

The trip over was rather uneventful, unlike my adventure last year. And I am most grateful. Dad was able to squeeze onto the last remaining seats on the planes coming over (even "having" to sit in first class on the trans-atlantic flight - he more than paid for it in helping me lug my bags around though) and we were able to make all connecting trains and buses and people and even linger over tasty berenjenas con miel in Cordoba.

Upon arriving in Malaga (completing the 27 hour travel time) we met with the father of the landlord who showed us to the place I'll call home for the next 9 months. It's new, furnished, and super cozy and I'm so excited to start the year and meet the other two girls I'll share it with.

Tomorrow, there's not much on the plate for things to do other than an andaluz breakfast, grocery shopping, and meandering about town.

But not before a good, long rest.

Final Countdown (Music included)

Forget 'preparations'. Judgement day has come. Well, tomorrow it will.

The bags are all but zipped shut, and I'm just praying that they're under the weight limit. I don't care so much for paying the extra (which I've been lucky and have always had the really nice and lenient ticketing agent), but mostly because I'd rather not endure a back injury (or be responsible for anyone else's either).

I'm having to leave more behind than I thought, but nothing that I need right away. I'm also taking a lot more that I anticipated. I originally thought that because I had stuff over there, or because I knew exactly what I needed (and, more importantly, didn't need) there would be many things that I would leave behind this year that I had erroneously taken last year. But then, there's all the extras that now I want this year, to make things just slightly more comfy and cozy. And all that more than makes up for what I have decided to keep in Arizona. I'm also eternally and deathly afraid of the cold (thank you Phoenix, Arizona, for making me a complete wimp below 68 degrees), and I tend to overpack the warmth-layers (hence the 8 different sweaters, 5 light jackets, and 3 heavy jackets I've packed. And no. It's NOT too much.)

But if all else fails, I have the back up duffle that can be whipped out in the flash of the eye and be my second carry on. I definitely plan ahead. To a fault.

Most people keep asking and pressing me about how excited I am and must be. To be honest, it's too difficult for me to be excited. For me, prepping for a trip is an endless routine. I feel like I have been making lists and running errands and building boxes for months now, and I'm ready for it all to be done, and it isn't until I'm there. So, I anticipate, that as soon as I drop off my bags in a place where they'll stay for the next 9 months, I can allow myself the joy of being excited.

So tomorrow. 8:55am. I officially begin the next journey and string of adventures. And I hope that anyone that's able to, can find their way to Malaga, Spain and count on having a warm place to stay and an eager tour guide.

Final Preparations

The visa has arrived. It arrived about 3 weeks ago.

The plane ticket is purchased. Did that about 12 hours ago.

I guess that's all I really need, ultimately.

Everyday I run through my mental list of everything I need to do, get done, go, finish, return, buy, save, pack, find, and anything else before I leave for another 10 months.

My mind is partially quelled. After being there this last year, I definitely feel more prepared about what I need and what I can leave behind. That doesn't necessarily mean my bags will be any lighter (I've already bought my yearly supply of PB and other mandatory spices). I also know I have an apartment in Malaga that I'm pretty excited about. I'll be spending significantly more this year on boarding (2/3 to double more!), but that was anticipated (and totally worth it). More than anything, I'm just excited to know I have a place once I'm there, even if it's lacking an oven (This was almost a deal breaker, but decided it might be a good change of pace not to be tempted to bake every day. And besides, there're always toaster ovens for the mandatory baked potato and fish-in-foil.)

And my dad is going to try and come with me. Originally we were both going to non-rev it over, hoping I could get over on employee passes and brutalize the wallet a bit less. But after looking at loads last night (recession what?), we had to face reality and buy a ticket over just to make sure I got there (I WILL make it to Spain and Scotland this month!). Although it was last minute and we probably ended up spending more, we had the foresight to actually buy a round-trip ticket this time, so I have a definite return date in the summer too (and wont have to endure a 3rd round of last-minute transatlantic ticket purchases). Dad's still going to try and come out on the same flight (and with his luck, minus a volcano in the spring, he'll probably make it) so he can help me with the bags (he gets an unlimited allowance!) and we can do a little traveling on the side.

So, all seems well, on track, and (almost) ready to go. Again and again I learn to just breath and there's really no reason to fret. Because everything's going to be just fine and work out beautifully.

But I'm sure I'll be saying this again, the next time I need to panic.

Sidenote: My Exciting September:

3-6 Orlando, Florida with Marina!

10-11 Denver with Dad for Dbacks/Rockies game (and a little Coors on the side)

15- Leave for Spain

24-28- Scotland to see Chantal! You can't get me this time Eyjafjallajokull!

Deja Vu: The Spanish Consulate

Phew. Got that over with. Mostly unscathed too, with just my wallet feeling a bit lighter.

I think that's actually my biggest problem with the whole visa process: it's hardly for the poor. Any American that's trying to work, study, or live abroad in Spain has to spend a ton of money to even submit the correct paperwork (with no actual guarantee that it will all be approved). Granted, most people that even apply probably already have the means to do so, but the numerous number of fees associated with the visa do eliminate a large group of people that simply cannon afford it.

Let's chalk up my visa expenses for this year:

Fingerprinting for FBI Clearance: $6.00

Processing fee for FBI Clearance: $18.00

Rush USPS delivery for FBI Clearance: $5.60

Tempe Police Certificate: $10.00

SOS Apostille for Police Certificate: $3.00

Medical Certificate: $60.00

Passport Photos: $9.83

USPS Prepaid Express Envelope: $18.30

Copies: $1.97

Visa Fee: $100.00

Plane Ticket: $119.90

Food, etc for LA: $47.86

That's an astounding $400.86 + gas. That's also not even counting the paperwork costs for applying to the program to even get a position for the next year. Ugh.

What's unfortunate is that after all was submitted and paid, the FBI Certificate requirement was waived. It also turned out that I didn't really need to buy more passport photos as I found some after the fact that would have worked (and that I actually ended up using). Admittedly, I could have also spent a little less in LA on food and such but just I couldn't resist getting delectable Indian at Akbar and going around to 21 Choices - twice.

However, I know I was also cut a few breaks. Not only was I able to get discounted airfare with Dad's passes, but I was able to stay with Marina and use her car to get to the Consulate (not to mention that she managed to snag one of the lunch bills while I was not paying attention).

Overall, it's really just an insightful experience, and additionally, a much more pleasant one this time around. The people at the Consulate were pleasant and worked quickly, and assured me that everything should go through without a hitch. I was also able to work out seeing Marina on the side which meant I got even more out of the trip too.

Bottom line it: I'm deeply grateful that I'm afforded (and can afford) this opportunity again this year, because I'm also very aware of so many others that would love to do the same, but can't.

Oh yeah,

the next ten months living on the Mediterranean in the south of Spain: Priceless.

This again?

Today I leave for Los Angeles for my visa appointment tomorrow.

After months of preparation, untold amount of cash (with the tab still open), and endless anxiety, hopefully, it will all be over tomorrow morning.

Wish me luck!

Brief Reflection and New Adventures

I've been home for over a month now. I thought I would do more reflecting on my past months in Cordoba than I in fact did. Too overwhelmed with the excitement of getting home, there was little time and energy left to actually "reflect." Should have done more of that when I was in Spain and clearly had more time.

But I have done a little, especially while waiting to hear from the Ministry of Education to find out what my exact placement would be for the next school year. I had applied to return and do the whole thing over again, and had been accepted for the Andalucia region. But I still had not been informed of my exact placement, and therefore, still did not know if I was going to return, especially with so many unknowns still hanging.

My year was far from smooth, but it's usually the rough road that makes life more interesting. I had my challenges and frustration, but what I realized more than anything after getting home, was that all those things that seems like such hurdles to my smooth journey seemed to fade into the background and most of what remained in my memory was the journey. So is life. One would think I would have this lesson down pat for as many times as I've "learned" it. But I don't mind learning it all over again in Spain, one more year.

So, one more year it will be. This year I have been placed in city center of Malaga, Spain. Thank you to whoever pulled the invisible strings and granted me my first choice placement. Malaga is a beautiful city by the sea, complete with a high-speed train stop and major airport. Most importantly, it's a short journey to some of the most beautiful beaches in the world (Costa del Sol). I couldn't be more excited.

And so the story begins again. This time, just a bit further south.

The view of Malaga, from our December Visit

One of my favorite pictures, from the Castle in Malaga

The Last Week (or two)

During Patios, I picked up a bookmark that seemed so perfect for the moment: “When I can, I come to Cordoba in the month of May.”

We had already survived Cruces and Patios, and were embarking on the next and last adventure: FERIA. I was astonished at how fast the last month had flown by, and when Feria camearound the last week and a half, it was even harder to believe that the end was more than near – it WAS the end. Here is the briefest retelling of events of my last week in Cordoba.

Thursday, May 20 – Blues festival in the Corederra. It was kind of weird watching American blues bands perform in Cordoba. But the weather was perfect, and so was the backdrop.

Friday, May 21 – Delicious grilled dinner outside in a little hole-in-the-wall with Gabriela and Juan. Walked to a great spot just in time to see the official kick of to the Fair, including fireworks and the lighting of the portada (entrance – huge temporary entrance modeled off the Mezquita and Medina Azahara, complete with lights outlining every structural detail). After watching the lighting, we met up with Alex and Jen and Gabriela and Juan took us to one of their favorite tents where I made my first public attempt at Sevillanas – the traditional Andaluz dance usually seen at fairs and other cultural events. Needless to say, I’m glad my threshold for embarrassment is high.

Saturday, May 22 – took an evening stroll of the Feria, taking special care to sneak pictures of women and girls in their traje gitanas, and kind of wishing that I had a cool dress too. The night wouldn’t have been complete without a cheap caramel apple.

Never-ending Tuesday, May 25 – The wonderful Maria Jose who had already volunteered to teach me the Sevillanas had her daughter come to school where they both proceeded to dress me up in the traditional dress (after I protested to the tiny size of the dress, they managed to convince me – and themselves – that I could “fit” into the dress. I guess “fitting” didn’t necessarily mean being able to walk also.) I was excited to have the opportunity to be part of this segment of Cordobese culture, but was equally excited to take off the dress and gobs of blush on my cheeks after all the pictures-for-proof were taken. After school, I followed many of the teachers down to the fair to take part in the school lunch where we (endlessly) indulged in Galician food and drinks. It was exciting to see my teachers in such an informal setting (however unfortunate that it came at the very end of the school year). The women all gushed over my traje pictures and giggled at my poor attempts at trying to gracefully open up a Spanish fan. After we finished (and many pictures later), Andrew and I made the warm walk back (even indulging in a necessary ice cream cone) and I started on the evening’s activities: Isa’s pre-birthday Mexican food party (since I wouldn’t be around for her actual birthday). With Arizona-imported tortillas and sauce, we indulged in restaurant style green enchiladas. After digesting, we made our way to the river for a chilly botellón, and then into the fair where we stayed until the tents closed at 5am (my roommates being none-too-pleased that they closed the hour early given it was a Tuesday).

Thursday, May 27 – after a Wednesday of school and rest, it was time for a Thursday off (the school cancels classes for the Thursday and Friday of Feria for, well, Feria). Knowing that I had committed to another “night” of Feria with the roommates the next night, I took it easy and partook in delicious tapas at one of Córdoba’s famous restaurants (La Casa de Pepe de la Judería) and walked down for another stroll of the Feria while munching on the fresh coconut and candied almonds.

Friday, May 28 – that evening, the roommates surprised me with a going-away party (I was indeed very surprised). It included three of my American friends and homemade salmorejo, tortilla española, flamenquin and even a cake from the very nice pastry shop in Cordoba, Roldan. After the party, we once again made our way to the Edge of the river outsider the Feria for another botellón and then to enter the fair around 3am to stay again until the tents closed at 6. When we finally managed to get home and into bed (no earlier than about 930), it was high time for an actual day of rest, sleeping until almost 5 in the afternoon.

Saturday, May 29 – although I had already watched the sun come up at the Feria, being that it was the last day, me and my friend still made it back for one last (but ending MUCH earlier) hurrah.

Sunday, May 30 – drinks and tapas and more goodbyes to friends found. No fun.

Monday, May 31 – Last day at school. My youngest kids surprised me with a t-shirt and a fan. I felt very honored. My oldest kids gave me a standing ovation, which seemed only appropriate coming from them. That night the roommates took me out for a last meal together.

Tuesday, June 1 – Waking up early to finish up the last bits of parking, the roommates drove me to the train station to say our final goodbyes. Obviously, it was sad, but more than that, I was excited to get home and get rid of the bags I had now been staring at for weeks. I knew that my journey home was going to be long, and I was ready to get it started.

Wednesday, June 2 – After a great afternoon and evening in Madrid, sharing it with a friend that was all too kind in his assistance with my very heavy bags and finally having the opportunity to go to the Prado museum, I embarked on my trip home. It included a frantic layover in Zurich (a scheduled 55-minute layover and a delayed flight in! Thank you Swiss Air for holding the flight!!) and a night stay in New York, but I finally made it back to Tempe, Arizona 32 hours later.

PAAAATIOS!!

As exciting as Madrid was, and as beautiful as Granada was too, I was very excited to return to Córdoba to see the festival I had been waiting for since I found out I was placed in Córdoba: Los Patios.

Los Patios in Córdoba, infamous through the entirety of Spain, is a 10-day celebration of flowers and tradition. Private homes prepare all year long their patios (different from American ‘patios’ in that traditionally they were the open-air areas that a certain private community of people would share amongst themselves, usually being the central-most area of all the homes within the group of neighbors). Some patios are less-than-spectacular, but still maintain their own sense of charm (especially the ones located within restaurants which weren’t necessarily made any different for the occasion). On the other hand, there were other patios that when you turned the corner and entered the space, they just took your breath away. Upon entering what became one of my favorites, there was nothing I could do to hold back a loud and astonished gasp and “ohhhhhh” (and after doing so, the owner even made the comment that his patio should be named “OH” because it seemed to be the general reaction of the visitors to it)

For the first couple days after returning to Córdoba, wonderful local friends of mine, Gabriela and Juan, graciously offered to help show me and my parents to someof the best patios and then afterwards, the best food around town. After my dad left to France the next day, my mom and I still took part in more patios (Dad was probably relieved he had a way out of seeing more flowers) and even a homemade lunch prepared by sweet Juan and Gabriela.

At the end of the week when it came time to say goodbye, I went back up with Mom to Madrid to help her with the immense bags filled with my clothes and goodies (including the paella pan I wanted to get home). The next day I returned to Córdoba to be able to then show Vanessa and her boyfriend around what few patios we could get to (being it was the weekend and the weather had cleared, lines to get in to see prize-winning patios were up to an hour long!), the Alcazar (which was stunning and full of flowers of every variety after our heavy winter rains), and the best places to eat in Andalucía (including a wonderful chill dinner at home with my roommates).

Despite the bad weather during the first part of the week (including a downpour during siesta when there was no shelter around – and again, only one umbrella to split between three), the patios and company with them were nothing but spectacular, and I’ve already reserved a place on a friend’s couch for next year’s pandemonium.

Gabriela and Juan - LOVE these people!

Mom in the 1st Place patio

Vanessa and I in a nook of the "OH" Patio

The Padres Return

The following weekend after Cruces I had the great opportunity to welcome my parents back to Spain, and this time during a much warmer season. The few days we were together were certainly not without their share of exciting moments.

The first day of their arrival, I rushed out of work to take the high-speed train up to meet them in Madrid, and we hardly stopped from there. After seeing Madrid in the cold winter, my parents (and I) were excited to see it on a warm day in May, and we took every opportunity of the weather and got back to many spots previously seen under the shadows of rain clouds and umbrellas as well as many new places– like El Retiro park – and taking many moments to pause and bask in the warm sunlight (and even taking a snooze or two).

That evening as we wound down, we decided to enjoy a last café before turning in for the night. Within moments of sitting down and getting our coffees in a restaurant in Puerta del Sol, we were transported back to Watts as we heard gunshots fired from the sidewalk across from us and looked out the window to see a stampede of people and two others fall to the ground. In the next hour, we drank our coffees as we watched the ambulances, police, and detectives swarmed the area around us as I strained my ears to understand the ambient conversations to understand what actually just took place before our eyes (our own speculations as to what happened ran the gamut as if it was instead a game of Telephone). After the action died down a bit and our coffees were long gone (and none of us having actually established our goal of “winding down” for the evening), we left the restaurant to be escorted outside of the police tape to finally navigate our way back to the hotel.

The next day after a leisurely stroll through the city and a fabulous meal at my favorite restaurant (even got Dad to enjoy the vegetarian!), we made a hasty dash to the bus station to catch our ride to Granada.

Even though I had been to Granada numerous times during the year, I was particularly excited to show my parents the city that originally made me fall in love with Spain and gave me the inspiration to come back. Our first day, with beautiful skies above, we trekked the city all around and even spend the afternoon exploring La Alhambra, one of the most beautiful spots in all of Spain and the whole of the world. We were even able to finish off the day with a relaxing session at the baños árabes and indulge in delicious Moroccan tapas.

The next day, we were able to get in a walking tour of the Albacín before the weather turned and the umbrella (not plural because we only had one) came out. But all was certainly not lost and we still took part in a delicious seafood paella with my old college roommate before leaving on another bus to Córdoba.

It was definitely good to have them back in Spain.

Las Cruces

Las Cruces ushered in the first weekend of May – and it was one great celebration. Not knowing entirely what to expect, the weekend was full of surprises around every corner – quite literally!

Cruces, generally speaking, is one great botellón scattered across various locations in the city center. Neighborhoods and organizations participate by putting up a large cross that is decorated in red or white flowers then placed on altars of more flowers. Usually, a large tent accompanies the crosses where wafts of savory smells draw in large crowds who indulge in great food (chorizo, pimientos, salmorejo, pinxtos) and refreshing drinks (the rebujito – a mix of fino and Sprite – being the most popular)

Through the three days of Cruces, my friends and I made a goal of visiting as many of the crosses as possible, as each one definitely had something different to offer and share. Some were in beautiful plazas, in front of old churches, or historic centers. Other’s had amazing food, some were filled with students, others with adults. There were even some that were an oasis of peace and serenity amongst the madness that was Cruces.

At the end of the weekend, it was a partial relief that the festivities were over. Not only did it mean that other parties were just around the next weekend’s corner, but I would no longer spend long days out in the warm sun partaking in the endless food and drinks. It was a hard life to lead indeed.

New Nirvana: Barcelona

After enjoying Beerfest despite my cancelled trip, I was at least looking forward to a visit from my dad and a short trip to Barcelona the following weekend.

Well, apparently, the icelandic volcano wasn't done messing with me yet.

Needless to say, plans had to change quickly. We had two roundtrip train

tickets to Barcelona but not two people. However, thanks to the generosity of my dad, I was able to invite my friend Jen to B

arcelona for the weekend so the trip wouldn't be completely bust.

The trip was indeed amazing, and started out with an adventure on the night train in our "Gran Butaca" seating (or, 'Grand Armchair') and seemed non-stop from there.

We had the fortune of coming to Barcelona during their Saint's day which meant that the streets were crowded with people, flower stands, and book vendors (on Barcelona's saint's day, the tradition is for people to exchange books and flowers and in massive quantities, apparently) We could hardly make it through La Rambla, Barcelona's main street and walkway, it was so full of people.

That first day we made it to the famous La Boqueria market in Barcelona which instantly became one of my favorite places in the world. Filled to the brim with fresh fruits, vegetables, fish, meats, nuts, cheeses, chocolates, spices, and anything else this girl could imagine. I wanted to set up camp and live my life sampling all the foods and flavors packed in under one roof. Almost immediately I decided that our beach day would have to be put off until Sunday so I could have one more day to spend at the market.

Later in the afternoon, we also made it to La Pedrera - Gaudi's famous apartment building - and then to Sagrada Familia - Gaudi's last project that is still unfinished (and according to most natives, will never be despite the 2030 promise). Not knowing much (or really anything) about Gaudi before coming to Barcelona, these spots were particularly fascinating. I loved seeing Sagrada Familia and being a visitor during its building process, and I'm more excited to come back when it's all finished and see the final product, because it's sure to be grand.

The next days in Barcelona included more exploring of the market,

walking of the pier, Park Guell (another Gaudi masterpiece), a day at the beach, and some of the best food I've had in Spain (although many in Barcelona would argue that we weren't in Spain but in Cataluna).

At the end, we made our way to our night train back to catch a few winks before having to be back at work the next morning. I was sad that the trip came to an end and that I wouldn't have more opportunities to return to Barcelona before leaving at the end of my post. But at least I know I have to get back eventually to see the completed Sagrada Familia.

Time Speeds Up

Once I returned from Italy, I knew life would move a bit more rapidly than before. Before leaving, I worked straight for a couple of weekends to ensure I had all my lesson planning done for the 6 weeks ahead.

After getting back on Sunday, my friend Lindsay - arriving all the way from my neighborhood in Tempe - was coming for a visit that next Wednesday. It was a fun-filled 7 days starting off with typical Cordobese foods (Salmorejo ended up being a favorite), leaving for Sevilla the next day, then two days in Granada, 2 more days in Córdoba, and 2 days in Madrid where we found some of the most excellent restaurants (Possibly the best sandwich/burger place globally? Modeled after an American diner, complete with ketchup & mustard bottles and Johnny Cash playing in the background).

Taking Lindsay to the airport that Thursday, I was meant to fly out to visit a friend in Edinburgh, Scotland a few hours later. Upon our arrival at the airport and after checking Linds in, I unhappily discovered (along with millions of others across Europe) that might flight had been canceled, the next available one not until Sunday (of course not knowing at the time that all flights would still be grounded on Sunday). I was bummed and made my way back to the bus station to catch the next ride back to Córdoba. Fortunately, all was not lost, and I gained a weekend back to myself to catch up on all that I had neglected and was even able to attend the most recent party in Córdoba - Beerfest, held in the Plaza del Torros. Complete with polka dancing, outdated Spanish pop, grilled bratwurst, and delicious beer, it hardly replaced Scotland, but it was good enough to take my mind off a silly volcano and have a good time with friends.

So Sorry...

I'm fully aware that I've neglected this for weeks now, but it's not for lack of my mental wheels spinning with things to say. Since spring break, life has felt non-stop and at times extremely overwhelming. Thus, I'm waiting for a calmer, more appropriate time to write, to give it the perspective it deserves.

Brief bullet list of everything that has gone down since Italy:

• My friend Lindsay coming for a visit (which included trips to Sevilla, Granada, and Madrid)
• A cancelled trip to Scotland because of now-infamous icelandic volcano.
• Oktoberfest in Cordoba, in April
• Spontaneous trip to Barcelona with friend Jen (originally supposed to be with Dad, but those plans also got volcano-derailed)
• Las Cruzes - a weekend full of exploring while drinking and eating tons of good stuff.
• Parents visited, which included pickups and drop offs in Madrid, a trip to Barcelona, and lots of Patio viewing.
• Los Patios - Córdoba´s reason for life. Seriously, they live for it. And so did I.
• Visit from friend Vanessa and her boyfriend. More Patios and good eating.
• Finally, premiering today, the Fería. The second most important thing Córdoba lives for. Seriously.
• End of year, school, moving out, roommates, everything.

Summary: Updates (many updates) coming soon.

Ciao Bella!

Phew! Finally getting back into the swing of things after one of the greatest adventures.

As most (if not all) of you know, I returned Sunday from a 10 day/10 night trip-of-a-lifetime to Italy. Funny enough, I feel like it's all still sinking in and I'm still trying hard to believe that it's all said and done - a trip that has been in the works since October is already behind me and lived above and beyond all the high expectations I already had.

In our 10 days, I feel like I saw everything, walked the distance of the equator, and ate everything under the moon, and regret nothing (ok, maybe just the bowl of tortellini-with-broth in Venice, but I certainly learned the "simple-food" mantra in all ways).

I still feel full of emotion but also still lack most of the words to describe the trip. The truth anyway was that most of the time I was there I was rendered speechless - from the art and architecture, the history and people, the food and culture, I felt completely overwhelmed and fulfilled. I felt a connection with the country and culture, which I know wouldn't have been hard for anyone due to the warmth and kindness of the Italian people, their lives, and their traditions.

We saw the country in the best ways. We stayed long enough in a place to see it and even get around without maps and with the help of strangers at many times. We bounced from city to city in trains (and one bus) which allowed us to see the blooming and colorful countryside and many nooks and crannies that will not be easily forgotten. We met wonderful travelers along the way to share our experiences with and come away with more friends than we began the trip. And finally, my fellow traveler Jenna will now always hold a special place in my heart after our 10-day harmonious adventure.

Because there's really so much - too much - to really write about in detail (and I know I'm already terrible at writing blogs that are too long), I'm going to break it down into lists of the most memorable things and moments by each city.

Pisa:

1. Duh! The Leaning Tower!

2. The Duomo - beautiful golden ceiling.

3. Our first Italian Caprese salad - delish!

Florence:

1. Ponte Vecchio - so much history, from the Medici family to Hitler. Wow.
2. The Duomo - absolutely incredible. Couldn't believe my eyes.

3. David - he's got really big hands. No really, I mean that.
4. Dinner in the hole-in-the-wall-and-family-run trattoria. Bruccheta and pasta with meat-mushroom sauce that still make my mouth water.
5. Sunset over the river looking at the bridge.

Chianti:

1. Monteflore - Rennaissance village on a hill. So quaint.
2. Meat shop - more ham legs than Spain!
3. Artisans market with fire-blowing Gypsies.

Rome:

1. St. Peter's Basilica - largest cathedral in the world (holds 60,000) and absolutely beautiful on the inside.

2. Sistine Chapel. 'Nough said.

3. Pizza-by-the-weight. Amazing. Best thing ever tasted.
4. Gelato. With cream. Also best thing ever tasted.
5. Trevi Fountain - the water was so blue!

6. Sunset over river with sillouette of St. Peters. Breathtaking.
7. Arch of Constantine. Even better with the backdrop of the Colosseum.
8. Pantheon - beautiful in its simplicity.
9. Villa Borghese Galleria - ceilings and as impressive as those in the Vatican not to mention the statues by Bernini.
10. Watching PDA in the Villa Borghese park. I think the Romans have the French beat when it comes to matters of love.

Venice:
1. The sky. Yep, it's that good. Looked like a painting.
2. Rialto market and fish market. I'm a sucker for fresh food and produce, and this had to be my nirvana. I couldn't resist buying some sun-dried tomatoes from one of the stands.

3. The Duomo (San Marco's Basilica) - taking almost 900 years to complete means that it seems more like a 3-ring circus with everything that's going on inside. Most impressive were the golden - GOLDEN - mosaics. No wonder the Vatican had a problem with the Venitians. They were just jealous.
4. Every corner you turned seemed to be equally stunning as the next.
5. Pastries. The Venitians win the award for the most mouth-watering window displays ever!

As much as I loved Italy, there were also some ridiculous things that only made the trip more memorable:
1. No tap water! The restaurants refuse to serve tap water (even when it's perfectly safe and tasty). During an age of more ecological responsibility, this seems like a silly (and irresponsible) thing the Italians have stuck to their guns about.
2. Coperto: In most restaurants, there's an additional fee for just being there. Literally. You pay an additional €1.50-3.50 just to be served a meal. Sometimes they'll even charge you a service charge (essentially a tax) too. Needless to say, getting the check for the meal sometimes came as a shock.
3. Table v. Bar prices. Although this makes sense to a certain degree, the €2 difference between having your coffee or drink at the bar versus sitting down at a table seems mostly silly. This is especially the case when you still get your drinks at the bar, bring them to your table, and take the empty glasses back up. What exactly are they charging for? Certainly not the extra service.
4. If you want to find a monument in the cities (especially Rome) and you don't want to look at your map, it's actually fairly easy. Just look for the nearest McDonald's sign. It'll point you to the restaurant which is just spitting distance from what you actually came to see.
5. Buses and trains. Still don't understand the system they use. With the trains, passengers must get their tickets validated before they board, but the tickets are still checked by employees during the trip (so why the validations?). For city buses, you must buy your ticket ahead of time (usually at a news or tobacco stand) and then validate it on the bus. What this means, is that the bus driver does nothing and most people end up riding the bus for free.

6. Of course the U.S. Embassy is on Rome's equivalent of New York's 5th Avenue. We would have it no other way.

As they say, a lifetime is not enough for Rome, and I think that can apply to the whole of the country. Overall, the trip lived up to every expectation, big and tall, that I had for it. I'm already excited for the day I get to return to Italy and see it all again. And maybe next time, I'll take a gondola ride.

Here are the links to the Facebook photo albums:

Pisa, Florence and Chianti

Rome

Venice and Bergamo