Czech it out

(sorry. Puns like that came out left and right this past weekend.)

This past weekend I went to Prague with my friends Flannery and Hank. The plans for this one go way back, when I, halfway in passing, mentioned a half marathon to Flan when we were in London. She said she would run it with me. These past months we have been training and motivating each other so much— and I am glad to say we actually went. Upon arrival in Prague, Flannery and I literally gasped at the beauty of the old city. It was a rainy and chilly day, but with the sun peeking through the clouds dramatically and casting this gorgeous light on the old buildings that lined the cobblestone streets, it was perfect. We proceeded from the Metro, in which we could read absolutely NOTHING, to the race expo to pick up our packets, which included the cooolest and most intimidating breathable race t-shirt. We made our way to the hostel, this adorable really cheap place in Old Town, and later met our friend Hank. We explored the Old Town and ate outside at this beautiful hotel restaurant for next to nothing. We got plenty of rest that night. (Side note: We had been preparing physically for this race by getting lots of sleep and not drinking for a few weeks and let me tell you how good I still feel right now. A little time off is always so refreshing.)

The next morning we got up and ran the 13.1 miles. No biggie. But wow. What a gorgeous way to see the entire city. Flannery and I saw this as the last big hurdle to overcome before the homestretch of April. Motivating ourselves with thoughts of America and our year's accomplishments, we killed it. And what's more is that the race was big and attracted runners from all over the world, so we heard tons of crazy languages as we fought through every last kilometer of that beautiful city. Hank, our trusty photographer, met us at the end of the race and we headed to the medical tents to enjoy the complimentary, much-needed post-race massages. The day got chillier, but we kept warm in our aluminum race blankets (yes, those actually do work.)

After stretching out and cleaning up, we headed out again for some sightseeing. We went to this great fair in the Old Town, where they sold everything Czech-made from hot wine to decorated Easter eggs, sausages to shot glasses. We walked across the St. Charles Bridge to the Prague Castle, which was closed by the time we got there but beautiful to see nonetheless. After that we walked back to the old part and, thanks to the hostel guy, found a great place for dinner with huge steins of delicious Czech beer for the equivalent of just over a euro. Then, while we were strolling through the streets afterwards, some Czech gentleman took it upon himself to back his car up full-speed, unfortunately forgetting to look over his shoulder (Moose, that femcop who failed me on my 2nd road test, would have hit the roof.) Bam. You're not supposed to laugh when you get hit by a car, especially at such force, but this came at such surprise that I just lost it. Half of the reason for this is that the car more or less sped away. I am fine, no te preocupes. It's just kind of fun to say I got hit by a car in Prague. 

Tomorrow marks the 4-week point. I cannot believe how fast this is going. In the blink of an eye I will be back in Charlotte. I cannot believe I only have one trip left in Europe. I am still trying to cherish each and every second, but I cannot lie, I am really excited to get back. 

Mad City

This weekend started out interestingly enough Thursday night when I went out with my friends Ellyn and Jim to this awesome bar we had heard about. When we got there we realized that everyone except for us was wearing one of these adorable felt flower pins. Jealously we demanded one from the poor bartender, who told us it was this girl's birthday party. This girl, Alicia, turns out to be completely awesome, and she and her friends showered us with lots of champagne and Spanish practice. It was such a chill night and felt like I was just another Toledana. I also like when we can speak Spanish with local people in non-academic places like bars. We all agreed to meet for coffee at some point soon. 

Saturday we all went to Madrid and I meet up with Ellyn and her family for drinks and tapas. Her dad did not cease to be amazed by the fact that the city comes alive when the sun goes down, calling it "kind of like a clean and less stinky Mexico." I love Madrid. Later that night we met up with some ND friends and somehow got suckered into going to Kapital, this insane 7-level club. I have now not been there just 2 or three times, but FIVE. I thought I had said goodbye to that place in October. Now I officially declare I will never go back to that place. Usually a good time, but it is time to move on. I came home today in hopes of getting some homework done and then going running, but my host dad just fixed my shower and I have to wait until tonight. Oh well. Basically a month?! whhat

Un fin de semana muy tranquilo...

Dear parents, I hope you're reading this. I have to be honest. In the US I used to not really mind the smell of cigarette smoke. In fact, because so few people did it, I almost thought, like Carry from Sex and the City, that it was something kind of dark and deep and really cool. Then I came to Europe, where smoking is about as common as chewing gum. I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate it. Can I say that enough? I think that if you were to put a cigarette in my mouth today I would vomit for several consecutive hours on end. I hate it. I have been having the worst allergies of my life lately (I know, I never used to) and walking into smokey bars these past few nights certainly has not made matters any better. I hate it. I am sick of my eyes watering and having a water fountain for a nose. I hate it.

OK done with my rant. Today a few friends and I laid out beside the river for a few hours, enjoying the warm Toledo spring day. I think I got some color, finally. We decided to just hang in Toledo and then go to Madrid for the weekend– something a little calmer and definitely way cheaper. I cannot believe I go home in 39 days. I keep having these dreams that I am on my way there and I wake up shaking it off, thinking it never will actually happen, but now that it is so close I am starting to feel like I am living in some kind of surreality. I cannot believe it, but I am so excited. Only thing I am really not excited for is saying goodbye to my host family and this amazing place. 

Pobrecita

I awoke not one or two but three times this week with a fever. I decided to ignore the pest on Tuesday morning, blaming it on a late night with little sleep. I missed my morning classes on Wednesday and Thursday and subsequently realized I might have a problem. I went with my theater class Thursday night to see La Noche de San Juan, a play we had just read, and halfway through it, I felt nauseous and feverish. I got home to learn my hot little friend had returned in all its 102 degree glory. I called my mom that night and she made me realize that if I decided to travel at 6am the next morning with my friends to Mallorca I would probably just worsen. So reluctantly I called my friends and let them know I would be sitting this weekend out, sick.

My fabulous host mom Jani then called the doctor Friday morning, who actually came to the house to check on me (I know! I thought they stopped doing that last century.) I was admittedly a little skeptical of miss Dr. when she walked in all sporty with her jeans and matching jacket, so casual. She took one look at my throat, though, and quelled my fears of having mono, which apparently is going around Toledo right now. I guess with that you get really puffy and swollen ganglios and a swollen spleen as well, which I certainly do not have. Doc prescribed me some antibiotics to take every 8 hours and I have been feeling progressively better ever since. I know I would have been miserable and probably crabby if I had gone to Mallorca, and, like my mom pointed out, maybe wound up in some sketch medical center in po-dunk Parma. It just completely bums me out though since my friends were here from ND, not to mention I was really looking forward to getting myself a nice tan this weekend. 

I guess I can look at this weekend as kind of a culture experience, though. I got to experience Spanish medicine first hand, as well as spend some quality time with the family— like watch a dubbed over Halle Berry movie. I also did two loads of laundry and some homework, which is more progress than I have made in the past week entirely. woo woo

Another thing: Thank you everybody who continues to read this tontería that is my life right now. It is seriously so cool to see comments and what not. I cannot wait to print this whole shebang out someday later and laugh at all these shenanigans.

Visitors!

Last weekend was the much-anticipated ND-paid excursion to Granada, which is a beautiful old city in Andalucia (southern Spain) with lots of interesting toques musulmanes, probs because it was the last Muslim stronghold in Spain, and for all those interested, fell to the Christians in 1492, año de Colón. OK I am done being a nerd, but that trip was fantastic. We visited first the mosque-turned-cathedral in Cordoba and then toured the Alhambra on Saturday, the night after my friend's 21st birthday celebration, which was real fun, needless to say. On Sunday a few friends and I, after checking out of the hotel, went and enjoyed some authentic delish tea at an arabic tea house, then continued with our cultural delving by shopping around at this cool eastern market, where I bought Jani some herbal tea.

My friends Tracy and Alex (who studied here last semester) came this weekend to visit for their spring break. Oh. my. God. I was so excited to see them on Sunday I almost cried. We chatted about life updates and reminisced about last semester. Alex lived with my host family last semester so they stayed here the first three nights they were here. Jani of course has been so completely welcoming and hospitable, insisting on feeding everyone her ridiculously tasty Puerto Rican-Spanish cuisine. Needless to say have been going out every night since they got here (or since Wednesday more like) so I guess it really does not really surprise me that I woke up this morning with a fever. 

I have not had a fever in like 58 years and I have always prided myself on the fact that I have the immune system of a man. My host mom said it maybe is because I have been wearing flip flops. I cannot help it, though. The weather here is so gorgeous it is impossible not to treat it as spring and dress accordingly. My head feels like it is going to explode and this makes me miss home of course, because being sick and away from home is the pits. I just want to get better before this weekend in Mallorca, where I will lay out whether or not it is 60 degrees, like they are predicting. 

Bonjour... the extent of my French

This weekend I traveled to Paris with a few friends. Let me first say how glad I was I finally went. For a while, for some reason, I had it in my mind that Paris was not a city I needed to see. It was spectacular. Such a European melting pot of fabulous art, beautiful architecture, rich history and posh people. I met my friends there on Friday afternoon and we walked around the Luxembourg Gardens for a bit before hitting up a little French market for some wine. We walked around the city a bit more before enjoying a fabulous French dinner right near our hostel in the Latin Quarter. The next day (something I am so proud of) we woke up early to walk to Notre Dame Cathedral. Wow. Of course after a while all of these cathedrals and palaces kind of seem to run together in my head, but this one was incredible. Being in there somehow took me back to a time where everyone went in just felt cold and hunger, where their only comforts might be their own prayers and thoughts. Probably the recording of a Gregorian chant echoing throughout the vaults contributed to this feeling. It was stark and plain inside, save for its extravagant stain glassed windows. 

From there we walked to the Louvres. We walked around the entire museum for several hours, seeing all of the famous pieces like the Mona Lisa, Venus de Milo and Hammurabi's Code. My favorite part were the French paintings, where I discovered an affinity of mine for the combination of pastels and gold. Those paintings were all just pretty, which is basically all I care about when looking at art, sorry if I sound ignorant. It was all beautiful, but admittedly, naturally, I got museumed-out after about three hours. We walked across town a bit to the Hôtel des Invalides, the place where the wounded soldiers from war went back in the day (don't know when.) Here also is the tomb of Napoleon and his brother Joseph, which was pretty cool to see. The building also houses a museum of World War I and II. It was interesting to see the history of the two from a non-American point of view. 

From there we strolled down this little street, I think called Rue Cler, to buy some wine and cheese for a picnic dinner on Champs de Mars, the field that extends under the Eiffel Tower. It was a beautiful night and tons of people were on the field— playing frisbee, strolling, chatting, singing and playing guitar. We lingered on the lawn until the sun went down and saw the tower lit up. My favorite part was how, every hour on the hour, it sparkles. I know up close it's an awkward rusty metal giant of a structure, but it is really pretty with the lights. We got lazy and took the elevator up to the top, where it was freezing but we got some good pictures. 

That night I bought a bottled cider for 7 euro. I gracious changed my mind but the bartender replied with "What do you want me to do with this one, shove it up my ass?" in broken English. hmm. I would not have minded. I think it is true that the French are not particularly fond of Americans as a whole, but most of the people I encountered this weekend were very gracious. It is their country and they have the prerogative to treat us however they want. The language barrier, however, did make me miss Spain, and as always I was glad to get home Sunday night. 

My eyes have been so dry all weekend. I could not even keep my eyes open last night to do homework because they were so watery. So I took my host mom's advice and bought some lágrimas artificiales, or fake tears. Feeling a little better but I look like a freak. Also I am pretty sure we walked many many miles this weekend. I am feeling it, which is a good thing because I never exercise on the weekends anyways. Also, I go home next month?