Venezia, Firenze!

Venice is like a storybook. You arrive at night, stars glittering overhead, passing alongside crumbling little shops with dainty treats in the windows, trotting over tiny bridges over still water. It's magical that first day, hopping for "free" onto the Vaporetto water taxis from island to island, treating yourself to a cappuccino and pistachio gelato. By the third day you realize that you haven't seen any Italians yet, just old English couples and Canadian backpackers, and you haven't thought through this decision to be a gondolier because really, there is not a whole lot to these islands but glass Murano shops and overpriced pizza shops. We ended Venice happily, content that we lived in a fairy tale for 2 days, glad to leave for Florence.

I was unimpressed with Florence at first. After meeting up with my dear friend Grace, we wandered around the city, admiring the Renaissance buildings and landmarks. I hadn't realized Florence was so small! We walked around a lot of the city in just a couple hours that night. But then I went to the Uffizi Gallery and saw Birth of Venus and Primavera, and saw the statue of David and the other classics in the main square. We found the best gelato places and experimented with different flavors a few times. Okay, every day...

I loved the cobblestone streets and local REAL Italian food joints, the bridge overlooking the city, and the wine tour through the Chianti region we joined. Next was the Cinque Terre.

Backpacking

After the program ended, I adios-ed the Conch and the Peps, my host parents, and I said my last "Vale", Theresa and I headed to Lagos, Portugal. We were SO READY for the beach! Too bad it rained for the first 2 days. However, we did get a good beach day in, lounging in between the towering cliffs and swimming around coves in the cold water. We also had a great hostel manager, Artur, who showed us around the little town and hooked us up with a surf instructor, Andre + dog, who taught us some tricksy surfing on the west coast. I got up a few time and got to wear this supersexy wet suit. I felt very Blue Crush.

(definitley not) Thoroughly tanned and ready, we left on a bus to central Portugal, Lisbon. SURPRISE! The Pope's here! And our hostel street is blocked off because of it! We have large backpacks and have to walk through the whole city to get there! We did get to see Mr. Pope though, which my very Catholic friend enjoyed. Lisbon was real cool, with its neighborhoods of colorfully tiled buildings and hilly street-riding yellow trolley cars. We visited the castle overlooking the bay, ate lemon cremes at the famous Pasteis de Belém, and tried in vain to figure out how to ride their Elevador, a giant intricate elevator, designed by an intern of Eiffel, which lifts you to the highest neighborhood of Lisbon. Thus, our last time near Spain ended and we flew off to Venice.

The other Alps

Let me tell you about the Alpujarras, the big mountains in Spain. They were AWEZOME. I went with a group of about 20 of the other students with our guides, and starting Friday morning, we bussed it sickeningly up a twisting road, then hiked along waterfalls, old fields, steep ravines, rapids, and tons of plants, and through about 3 different little mountain towns. We had a picnic with vegetables (for once) by a river, drank fresh water from water fountains that come directly from the fresh springs at the top of the mountain, and had a big group dinner. A lot of people ate rabbit: brain, heart and all teeth included. Then we all slept in a hostel, looked at the stars, and got up early to hike all day Saturday. There were even mountain goats and freshly sheared sheep-I felt like I was in the Sound of Music. We were all exhausted by the end, but it was such a great weekend, wish you could've seen it.

Bullfighting

I went to a bullfight last weekend. Yes! A SPANISHSHSH bullfight! It was HORRIBLE. And cruel, and "cultural", and that's the only reason why I stuck it out through the fourth dead bull. At least they were killed to benefit those Down's Syndrome kids...

Let me bring you into my little bloody world for a moment: First, the matadors come into the arena all dressed up, the bull is set loose, mad and crazy, and the "fight", or "public slaughter" begins. The matadors kill their black enemy slowly, stabbing it in the neck with 4-6 lances which continue to dangle from the bull's neck throughout the fight, swinging as it attempts to destroy that frustrating red cloth. After the crowd has applauded and sufficiently been impressed by the blatant animal cruelty, a final, 12-inch-long spear is is thrust into the spinal cord and the bull finally dies after about 2 minutes of a mixture a) coughing up blood, and b) thrashing on the dirt while the murde-I mean matador-takes a bow and the crowd wave their white flags of death.

Too much for you? Me too, this happened 7 times.

Off to mountaineer the Alpujarras this weekend!

Isn't it a great day when you know you have nothing to do, nowhere to be, and an entire medieval European city outside your window, waiting to be explored? That's how I felt today. There are neighborhoods from the 600s and fountains that only work during certain hours of the day (different each day, so fun!), a just-discovered yee old public library and prairie path overgrown with yellow flowers of spring, uninterrupted by landscapers or extreme bicyclists. There's a quiet corner of the old Jewish barrio that takes you right up to the great walls of the Alhambra, and a garden filled with imported peacocks and about-to-bloom rosebushes. Granada thrives in the spring, and so do we.

April and Semana Santa

Hey look-it's April! Easter just passed and I have a little over a month left in Granada, then another month until I touch American soil, and lemme tell ya, I be bathing in that dirt.

I just spent the week with my mom in Nerja, a little town on the coast, full of restaurants, water, old English retirees, and helado. It was relaxing and filling, and when I came back and mom left, I watched the Holy Week processions: hundreds of people filing through the streets carrying a 2000 lb platform with various statues of Mother Mary, Jesus, Jesus and Mary, Mary holding Jesus...not too much variation here, but you get the idea.

I'm hitting the overstaying point. Ready to say goodbye to the food, the staring, that dog, living in someone else's home...can't wait for May 7th-- Italiaahhhhh

Wednesday

Today was a Wednesday. I woke up, or rather, was woken up, by the Chihuahua next door, my alarm that never fails to stir my sleepy head at 8:15. I proceeded to climb out my crinkly bed and walk to the kitchen, where I had some delicious Muesli (granola) and sat in the sunlight on the balcony of my apartment. It was a glorious day: 72 degrees, one tiny little cloud to the west and nothing else but scary old men and dogs on the path along the river, so I went running. Every person stared at me during the 45 minutes. Have they NEVER seen a girl? In shorts? Exercising? Sweating? I guess not. The old women looked frightened that my calves were on display for the whole world and the dogs/men (interchangeable in this case) proceeded to bark in my direction and thoroughly investigate me through sight and smell. Other than those little bumps in the story, howeva, it was a nice run, got some sun, had some wheezing fun.

Entonces, I finally, finally! feel at home here. It was a loooooong adjustment period, but the weather is perfect every day, I can speak Spanish, I have a relationship with my host family, and I get to go wherever I please every weekend. It's The Life. I like it, and Granada, though I wasn't in love with it at first, has grown into one of my favorite places in the world. You should go! Come visit! I love visitors. And water.

Speaking of water, I recently went to Almuñecar, a small beach town outside of Granada, for the weekend with a couple friends. Expecting a warm, relaxing 2 days, we were unprepared when the water did not work in my host family's apartment. After an hour of talking/yelling in Spanish with my host mother and father, a convo with the handyman, and running up and down the apartment complex looking for someone to help us (the building was empty, BTW-low season), we were told that the landlord had not paid the bill for that week, so we were stuck with a smelly bathroom and no way to fill up our water balloons. Not that upsetting, UNTIL we discovered my host dad had given me the wrong key, so once the building was locked for the night we could not leave or return, so we remained in the cold, stinky prison without food or water until Saturday morning. That morning, one of my friends had eXpLoSivE poo because she drank bad water, so we had to walk to town since the buses weren't running, which was about a 45 minute walk with all of out stuff, where we finally hung out at the beach and hopped on the night bus home. What a trip! I hope everyone gets to experience Almuñecar at some point in their lives...

That's all for now, off to get tapas for St. Patrick's Day