Hasta luego, España

So it is official. It is 12:02 a.m. and I go back to the United States tomorrow. It is so surreal I cannot even believe it myself. I was talking with my dad via Skype and while he walked through the house, he carried the laptop with him, revealing the entire house crystal clear, as if I was there strolling through each room also. That is when it hit me. I will be there in less than two days. I could not be more ecstatic. And scared. And shocked. It's the most surreal and confusing mix of emotions I have experienced in my life. Last night was the first time I cried about leaving Spain. Hard. It was when I saw my old host family and Angel hugged me like I was his own daughter, which he often describes me as. I think that just made me cry harder. Today I went to their house for lunch and to say goodbye. Actually, I prefer hasta luego over adios, or "see you later" over "goodbye." I cannot stand to affirm such a finite despedido. I wonder if I ever will see them again. I fully intend on coming back here someday, but when will that day be? It is so confusing to just up and leave this place I have for so long called home, especially with the uncertainty of my someday return. Another uncertainty is how this has changed me. Will I go back to the US the same person? Will I appreciate more and walk a little slower? I guess we will find out on Tuesday. 

Walking from that bus stop in Polígono today reminded me of the first few months I spent here. It feels like yesterday when I arrived, immersed completely in a foreign culture surrounded by a language of which I only understood about every fifth word. Like one of those babies they throw into the pool hoping it will learn quickly how to swim and not drown. I have been swimming a long time now, so long I have forgotten what life outside the water is like. My home, everything I am used to. I am preparing myself mentally for the culture shock of my life, once again. 

Qué vergüenza

The other day I was walking home after class, enjoying a pleasant Toledo afternoon with the beautiful weather, when suddenly I heard English. Laugh if you want. But my ears always perk up when I hear people chattering in a language in which I do not have to think twice to understand. Sure enough a family of Americans emerged from around the corner, the father holding the conspicuous red rimmed Toledo map typical of any outsider. They encountered two Spanish teenage guys eating ice cream and just as I passed all of them, the mother said in the most obnoxious Yankee accent, "EXCUSE ME. WHERE DID YOU GET THAT CONE?" but slowly, as if the speed at which she spoke might affect his ability to understand. The kid gave her a blank stare and shrugged. "THE ICE CREAM, WHERE?" The two Spanish boys just walked on. I stared blankly in amazement and embarrassment and quickly hustled by before the woman realized I was American. With instances like this, I can understand why Europeans get so fed up with us. We expect everyone to speak English. To adapt to our ways and accomodate our interests. Next time I get frustrated with Spanish people and their (somtimes) intolerance for foreigners, I will just remember scenes like this one.

It is absolutely crazy to think that in one week from today exactly, I will be on that big Iberia plane on my way to America. The plane will have just taken off. I will just be getting comfortable and preparing for a long nap, maybe putting on earphones to listen to whatever movie the crew has selected. It actually did hit me today, as I was at the Tuesday Market doing some souvenir shopping. I stood there at the bottom of the hill looking up at the city and the Puerta de Bisagra, and I realized I will be actually leaving this city of Toledo, this place I have called home for the past eight months. When will I come back? No idea. Which is another thing that scares me a little bit. Do not get me wrong, I am ready to go. I just think that maybe this transition might be a little more shocking and emotional than I had originally thought.

We decided to stay here in Toledo this weekend instead of travel to Alicante, which is on the east coast but is calling for rain. Toledo is supposed to be in the 80s and sunny. I do have lots to do, including bid my farewell to both host families, so being here one last weekend will be nice.

SB09 Part III: When in Rome

(sorry, so cliche but I'm so glad that the one time I say that it makes sense.)

Mary accompanies me to the hostel where a ton of us are staying, which turns out to be in the middle of boofoo nowhere, Rome. We then enjoy some legit Italian coffee (which is delish by the way) and walk about 23480 miles around the city (my favorite way to see things.) She shows me her beautiful apartment, their school, the Tiber, the Pantheon, St. Peter's, the Trevi Fountain and this beautiful urban area I cannot remember the name to. And she takes me to the most amazing gelato stand in Rome, Old Bridge. All I can say is that if I studied in Rome I would be an absolute horse.

Later that night my friend Ellyn comes with me back to the apartments and we meet up with our roommates and our two other friends studying in Innsbruck and Athens. We go to dinner and then this fun bar where there are literally like 70 ND kids from all over Europe, all in Rome for the weekend. So great to catch up with people I literally have not seen in like a year. I am so glad everyone found this place also. I never realized how incredibly huge Rome is.

The next day Ellyn and I meet up with the roommates again and hit the town. They show us the market where they buy everything from fresh mozzerella to fresh flowers, the Colosseum (WOW), the Forum, Hadrian's Mosoleum, Vatican again and the Piazza de Popolo. It is a perfectly beautiful day, and what's more is that Ellyn and I are totally spoiled because our roomates definitely pay attention in history class and are able to tell us about literally every monument and piazza that we encounter.

Later that night the 4 of us make a delicious Italian dinner of pesto and caprese and plenty of white wine. We hang for a while at the apartments before heading out again to meet up with the other ND friends. We go to this bar right near the Spanish steps and call it an early-ish night since everyone has to get up early. My flight in the morning is painless and uneventful, my favorite kind.

One of my favorite trips this semester. MY NEXT FLIGHT IS TO JFK. omg.

SB09 Part II: Florencia y Cinque Terre

I get to Patee and Colleen's apartment (which is adorable and I am so jealous they got to live on their own in the center of that beautiful city) and I meet one of their other roommates/friends Marielle, who goes to State with Colleen. We get to catch up, get ready and drink Italian wine from juice boxes (love it) before heading out to this bar where all the americanos hang out. My ND Toledo friends of course are there, a great coincidence. We watch the basketball national championship game (Carolina!) but Colleen and I only make it though the first quarter (if that) since it started at 3:30am anyways. We wake up the next day, say our goodbyes and I catch a train to La Spezia (I so wish I could have stayed longer.)

Normally I would be so nervous to go on a train all by myself for nearly 3 hours in a country even more foreign to me, but this time it was totally fine, even though I had to transfer in Pisa as well. I get to Cinque Terre without any minutes on my phone (oops) but by shear coincidence run into my friends at the top of the hill in Riomaggiore, where our hostel is. We enjoy a beautiful sunset and Italian dinner, which is a little tough to coordinate with 11 people. The next day we go to Monterossa, the 5th town, and lay out on the beach before doing the big hike back (which actually is a pretty good workout, even though we did not do the whole thing.) Such a beautiful and perfect day.

I got up early the next day to take the 10 o'clock train to ROME. I wish I would have pregamed that trip with a thorough viewing of Gladiator because the entire time I was thinking of Russel Crowe. I met my roommate Mary at the Termini train station. We both nearly cried it was so good to see each other. Then we hopped on the Metro and began our fabulous Roman weekend.

SB09 Part 1: un dolor en mi culo

SB09 for us studying abroad in Europe this year certainly was not your tropical beaches, fruity mixed drinks- haze of a week like it is for most college juniors. It was instead filled with train rides, spending Euros like Monopoly money, gelato, hostels and reunions. It was a fabulous break and a great way to spend my last trip here. It was so weird to be on the Madrid Metro yesterday because I knew that that was the last time I would take that hour-long ride from the airport to the bus station. Well, the last for this year at least. The next time I will be on a plane will be back to America, and I am so happy to finally say that. I officially hate flying.

After a relaxing an low-key weekend in Toledo, I get up super early Monday morning to take a bus to Madrid. There begins the first of my problemas. I learn that the flight is delayed two hours because of, yep you guessed it, the earthquake, which I later learn killed more than 250 people (had I known that when I was flying that morning I would have freeeaked.) Not a problem, I think, since I have a 2 hour and 35 minute layover in Rome. But the idiotman at the Alitalia counter in Madrid tells me I need at least 45 minutes to connect. Which I later realize is something he completely confused. Checkout closes 45 minutes prior to the flight, but I can check in to both right there at the first flight. What an idiot. So he tells me I am booked instead for a 9:30pm flight to Florence from Rome. Whatever.

I get to Rome (landed 10 min early, so obivously could have connected to my original flight) and enjoy white wine while peacefully readying my book for the several hours I had to kill (Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides- definitely recommend.) I get to the gate to board only to be told (whilst everyone and their mom is screaming and cursing in Italian, Chinese and I think every other language but English or Spanish) that our plane has something wrong with it and that we might have to be transported by bus that night, which would take us to Florence at like 4am. Finally, they say the plane is OK and that we can board (after like 15 mintues?! I am nervous to say the least and sure that I will die in some kind of freak plane crash.) We board and land safely in Florence (after a day of 14 HOURS of traveling) and I share a cab with some nice American boys downtown. Finally I get to meet Colleen and Patee at their adorable apartment. It has been SO long since I've seen them!

what is this

I am going through a weird time right now. I listened to my old messages on my cell phone today and cried and cried and cried. Why? Maybe I had too much wine. Or maybe it's because I can't believe I left my whole life behind and I feel so useless most of the time here. Tonight was so much fun-- I hung out with my intercabio Laura and her friends. I have been speaking Spanish all night with these awesome locals. But it just made me realize how much I really miss my own friends from home. And it makes me feel selfish to think it's OK to spend  a whole year away. What is going on? I am home soon. 

j-j-jaded

I have held out a lot to say this. I do not think I should and I know I will immediately regret this after I hit Publish Post. But. I just need to go home. I am starting to get jaded of the spontaneity of travel life, as well as the constant worry about my bank account. I know that I am going to cry my eyes out when I leave here, but there is something pulling me back. This urgency to start my life again. This year has been incredible, quite a vacation from reality. I have learned more here than I could have ever in a classroom back at school. But it has made me realize what I have. And what I miss. I cannot live this far away from my family and friends. I feel useless when I want to help my friends and out of touch when I hear about things going on at home. I need to snap out of it, and quickly. I just need to vent for a minute. Things I miss terribly right now about the US:

NPR
Summerlake
Harris YMCA
American Coffee
French Toast (I have not even eaten it in like ten years but today it just sounded fab)
my car
TiVo
English
Warm summer nights on the deck with Nobilo
c5
Lewis Hall
Notre Dame campus
oatmeal, soy milk, edamame
free water at restaurants

OK sorry. It had to come out.

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?

Midterms, already?!

Yep, this week is llena de midterms and I actually have prepared for them. I know, I know. You would not have thought as much with all of the festivities of this past weekend. But seriously. I have actually prepared pretty well for these suckers, and I have been having these light bulb, connect-the-dot moments with my learning of all this history and art. And theater and cine. Whew. I sound like a huge nerd, but I can say I am pretty pleased with the way this week has gone so far. 

I think that my host brother watches upwards of eight hours of television per day. Not even kidding. People talk about how all Spanish people do is chat, walk around the city, drink wine and enjoy each others' company. This I see... in the street. But so many people are constantly watching TV. I am suddenly glad I was raised in a house where watching more than two episodes of Boy Meets World was severely frowned upon. People say there is nothing to do in this town? Open the door and take a look outside... I beg to differ. 

Mood: jaded, yet surprisingly optimistic. I grind my teeth so hard during the night that my jaw aches the next morning. What the heck is my problem? One of my main sources of sanity now (and previously) is running, and Flannery and I recently signed up for the Prague Half Marathon... plane tickets and all. I am way beyond excited, especially after hearing what a cool city Prague is. It is so weird to think that by that time, at the end of March, we will almost be done. Seriously. I have learned the hard way my entire life that I only realize how good I have it when I don't have it anymore, and I am sure this year-long experience will be no exception, even if I do know every day how many days until I see my family again. It's hard not to have a countdown when you already have that number in your head, from a while ago during a bout of homesickness...

Carnaval

This weekend was Carnaval, the Mardi Gras-esque celebration that for some weird reason is largely neglected in the United States. Needless to say, my friends and I wanted to take full advantage of this wild celebration that here in Spain, seems for like Halloween. People dress up in the wildest costumes— men as dirty nurses, Pink Panthers, Smurfs, pirates. The list goes on and on. We were planning on traveling to Cadiz, a coastal town about 8 hours away by bus, but at the last minute ended up changing our minds and deciding to go to Madrid on Friday night and stay in Toledo Saturday night. Madrid was fun of course— us girls had our Carnaval masks and fun colored tights and the guys wore these hideous skeleton masks with neon colored long haired wigs. We ended up just bar hopping a lot in the city and were pretty surprised to find that we were some of the only ones dressed up for the night.

No the case in dear old Toledo. Last night people started packing the streets early in the afternoon to watch a parade, listen to concerts in the plaza and take full advantage of the makeshift bar set up for the night. It was the liveliest I have seen Toledo since New Years eve, and people were absolutely nuts. It was awesome because a ton of our friends stayed here in the city, one key reason being that we have midterms this coming week (what???) Theoretically, there is absolutely no reason I should not have had a blast last night, but one of those overwhelming waves of homesickness and mental exhaustion hit me hard early in the morning. I only stayed out until 3 or so, telling people I was not feeling well (halfway true.) I do love it here, but I am starting to just realize I miss my life back home a lot. Maybe I am just being a huge baby. It's just so ironic that this happened on such a wild when seriously the rest of the world it seemed like was on cloud 9. I need to snap out of this. I am in Europe for a year. Poor poor Katie.

no pasa nada

Notorious phrase here in Spain. Upon arrival, I actually thought it meant that nothing is happening. It means something more like "don't worry about it," "whatever," or, perhaps most accurately, "Hakuna Matata." Little did I know initially that this simple little slogan not only is meant as a passing phrase, but it more accurately describes the Spanish way of life. Don't feel like opening your shop for three more hours after siesta? No pasa nada. Don't feel like checking my backpack for the 6oz of perfume I forgot to put in those little Ziplock baggies before boarding my flight? No pasa nada. Don't feel like finishing a sidewalk repair in less than 5 months? No pasa nada. This mentality is both endearing and terribly irritating. But mostly I feel like it is just something I have gotten used to about this place, something I know neither I nor no one else can ever change. 

And something that has begun to rub off on me. I have started getting incredibly irritated by the prospect of going to class (don't worry mom and dad, I always go) and writing essays. I currently actually am evading a terribly boring Cine essay by updating this here blog. I honestly always feel like there are more useful things I could be doing to further my comprehension and appreciation of this wonderful country. I sincerely believe I learn more about Spain when I am out and about the town with my friends, when I am dining with my host family, when I am running the gorgeous Ruta de Don Quixote around the city. Like Mark Twain always said, I will not let my schooling get in the way of my education. 

Happy Valentine's Day

Today is February 14, Valentine's Day. I cannot say that this is a day I miss being home because of some romantic annual event I inevitably will be missing out on. I miss being home on days like this when I know my mom does cute stuff around the house and makes things really special. OK enough with the sad stuff. I am so excited to get home, but I know I have a lot more to learn here. And I continue to feel more and more comfortable, which may or may not be a good thing. 

I know I probably think about this a little bit too much, but I am going to need a mammoth sized makeover when I get back in April. I will look like someone who has not had a haircut since August and who has been wearing and rewearing the same grungy clothes. Oh, wait, I have done that. Yuck. If I can just vent a little bit. I cannot wait to get back and meet the new puppy (Boo), wear my other clothes and buy some new ones, go on hikes with mama, visit the friends at ND, scope out the new car, enjoy warm Carolina nights on the deck and finally live in Chicago for the summer. OK I know I cannot dwell like this for too long.

I am staying here in Toledo this weekend 1) because my friends are going to Dublin, where I have been, 2) because I have some work to get done which probably will not even happen 3) because I am giving the bank account a rest and 4) because I am giving my poor body a rest. Even though it's not exactly so, I feel like I have been going a million miles an hour and I need some rest to appreciate everything. Alright gotta run. Spending the day with Jani and Ricky. She is so into holidays so I think today she will pull all the stops out. 

4 weeks down

This weekend was to be one of those perfectly planned out and simple weekends. I had been to London twice already, so I was not worried about much. I was excited to see my friends there and was excited to be traveling with my new Toledo friends. We slept a little less than 4 hours Thursday night so that we could get to the airport early enough Friday for a 8:30 flight. When we got to the airport, however, we learned that our flight was canceled because of bad weather at Luton Airport. Frustrated and exhausted, we haggled with the Easyjet people, who told us that although there was no flight available to London during that day, we could fly out first thing the next morning. In the meantime, they were to put us up in a 4-star hotel in Madrid, complete with paid-for meals and transportation to and from the airport. So not exactly the ideal situation, but it worked out. And we got a nice breather from the hostels we have been used to. 

We got up again the next morning after about three hours of sleep and headed to London, where we learned our hostel reservation had been canceled also. They put us up in one about 30 minutes away from everything. We spent a grand total of about 2 hours there. Although we had less than a day in the city, it was a lot of fun. I got to spend some time with Mary, who I had not seen since August. And it admittedly is always nice to be in an English speaking country. 

We got up ridiculously early again Sunday to make it back to Madrid, and of course I felt sick the entire time. We did not even have time to shower once in London (sick, I know) so I was feeling extra grungy. Later Sunday night after dinner I mentioned to Jani that I felt slightly under par because of all the traveling and lack of sleep. When I was working on an essay later, she brought me up some delicious Chai tea, milk and honey to help me feel better. I was about to cry. I just miss that feeling of being taken care of, and I realize how at home I feel here. This family is so wonderful and i feel really lucky. 77 days. Why am I counting?? I don't know. I feel so exhausted lately. I love it here and I am still learning so much everyday, but being with this great family makes me miss my own also. And then there's the prospect of Chicago this summer, and Marion next year...

Servicio

Today we had our first day of work for a Aprendizaje-Servicio class (Service Learning.) I, along with another girl named Maggie from the first semester, was assigned a new location, the Hospital Virgen de la Salud, a hospital just outside the city walls where we will be working with children. Well, I guess when I say working I mean playing. Seriously, it's like a foreign babysitting course. These kids, who range from diagnoses of brain cancer to appendicitis, are so sweet and gracious. There is a little girl named Jennifer, who has some kind of respiratory condition, who fussed and frowned when I tried to leave after reading spanish Robin Hood to her. Our supervisor, Berna, told us that we are kind of a breath of fresh air, a light from outside, because a lot of these kids have to stay in the hospital for days and days on end. It made me, for the first time in months, feel somewhat useful. I have felt like I have been this useless loaf whose sole purpose is to galavant and travel and try to speak the language. I felt, today, like all I had learned is good for something besides my own benefit. I guess that is what service is all about.

I hate shopping. More than anything in the world. More than that, I hate trying stuff on. I would rather have one of my fashion-savvy sister pick out stuff on the internet for me to have shipped directly to Summerlake. And I realize this will definitely be the case come May. I am so incredibly sick of looking at all of my nasty grungy clothes I would not care if they all got stolen overnight. I feel like I must be the frumpiest looking little college student, and I am sure my overgrown mane only adds to that effect. I just feel like haircuts are definitely something unnecessary, which is why I purchased a pair of just-fine stainless steel scissors from the local alimentación to fix those split ends. I know this was random. I just need one heck of a do-over when I get home. But hey, that is what European travel is all about, right?? Grungy, uncomfortable, yet happy and worldly. 

Look out for the falling oranges

Just got back last night (muy tarde) from Sevilla. Wow. What a gorgeous city. To be honest, I originally would have liked to wait until it was super warm outside to go there, but I am so glad we went. I even wore flip flops (maybe not the wisest choice in the end but whatev.) We arrived after an overnight bus at 6:30 in the morning. The bus ride was fine, though, thanks to this extraordinarily kind Chilean guy. I had originally been placed on the bus next to this extremely creepy old man who had a glazed over eye and reeked like spoiled milk. He blabbered unintelligible Spanish in my ear for about half an hour before this guy across the aisle leaned over and said, "Switch with me. You are not comfortable." I had never been more pleasantly surprised, and this guy seriously restored my faith in kind strangers. It's the little things like that, ya know?

OK so over the weekend we saw all of the major sites in Sevilla— the Cathedral, Alcazar, Torre de Oro, Guadalvivir River, Plaza de España, orange trees lining the streets and teeming with fresh fruit. Like I have always said, I love nothing better than walking in a foreign city and absorbing all I can about the place. My host father, before I left, told me to forget about the museums and all the cliché tourist attractions. Instead, he said, ask local youth where the botellón is, where is the best place to grab a café con leche and sit for hours. I loved every minute of this weekend. Except for Saturday night, circa midnight.

My parents were supposed to call around then so I could wish Neita a happy birthday. I thought I would check my e-mail while some friends killed a few drinks at the hostel bar. I learned Lily died. Our poor little pug, more like a third little sister to me. I could not help but burst into tears right then, in front of everyone. I just kept thinking about how badly I felt for my family at home and about how young the poor little thing was. She is, at least, as I have reminded my sister, in good company with our old lab, Danny, up in dog heaven. 

I still went out that night. Ended up turning back around and being as fun as it could be.