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...