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

Next up was Paris. Sigh. I loved Paris. It was everything you've ever hope Paris would be (minus the boys on mopeds. for the better this time around I think): The Eiffel Tower twinkling in the foggy February dust, the river winding between lit up cathedrals, centuries-old buildings, and museums (saw the Mona Lisa-not that great, but I still saw it alright?) in the city of lights. Paris also had incredible food. I had steak, salmon tartar, macaroons, crepes, a fromage and broiled tomato sandwich, and endless croissants...not to mention the three-course tasting we got to do at le Cordon Bleu, prepared by some French chef. It was pretty great, though amazingly tiring, I was ready to call it a life by the last day there.

After the longest, most awful day of the trip ( woke up at 5, metro to the airport where our flight was delayed for 2 hours as the little angry French air traffic controllers continued their angry little strike, then a bumpy flight to a rainy, confusing airport, a bus, and another metro, we finally got to London at around 9 and I got to see and stay with my lovely friend Jenny and her family. Her mummy made us a roast dinner, trifle, merengues...we got to watch English TV, what a treat! The best day was when we went to Brighton, a coast town where we had the best (and first for me) fish and chips and homemade doughnuts. It was yumay. The next day we did all the touristy things, saw Houses of Parliament, Hyde Park high tea, did some market shopping, all very British all the while.

But manoman, that trip was and Experience, capital "E", crazy and confusing and wonderful, stressful often, almost relaxing, but full of everything I've ever wanted to see in Europe since I was small.

It's good to be back though, real good. I even slept in a real bed last night.

Happy March

I could smell Spring in the wind today, in the rain that spat upon my washed hair, in the strip of blue sky peeking out of the overcast, and I knew I was (temporarily) home (ish). Before this relaxing day, however, I had been metroing, training, planing, taxiing, walkingwalkingwalkingwalkingabunch, running towards things, running away from people, and being a tourist, complete with camera, walking shoes, and loads of maps for 12 days. As you do.

Barcelona

Ahh, barcybarce, how I love this city. I nearly dug myself a cacoon in the damp sand, 5 days of Mediterranean bliss next to the sea. I was basically in Vicky Christina Barcelona the entire time in case you were wondering. jetting off on a private plane to the little island, living in an artist co-op with some Spanish guys, etc......but not really. You wish it was true, I know, but it's not! Get over it. I did have an amazin time though, my friend Theresa and I rode bikes across the whole city and along the oceanside. We all saw Gaudi's (famous Spanish whimsical architect) Park Guell and Sagrada Familia cathedral, had a paella and sangria dinner in a local restaurant, and visitied a castle that looks over the city. The only downside to barcelona was getting my wallet stolen sadly. Some hippygypsy took it on the metro and I lost everything but my passport-vacation money, IDs, various necessities like my keys and phone card...gah, but it turned out alright after two visits to the police and calls to my parents, though I had to borrow money the rest of the trip.

Leaving. Again, and again, and again, and two more times

I leave tonight for Barcelona! Here's how my vacation's going to go for the next 12 days:

Plane from Granada to Barcelona. 5 days rest/sightseeing/spending money.

Plane from Barcelona to Paris. 3 days frenching it up.

Plane from Paris to London. 4 days with the Queen and her dogs, not to mention quality time with Jenny (good friend from summer camp)!

Plane from London to Madrid. No rest, frantically searching for bus station for 2 hours.

Bus from Madrid to Granada. Sleep the day away above the barking Chihuahua that lives to raise my blood pressure.

Wish me luck, send me some prayers, and cross your fingers for my survival!

1. Lady and her goat

2. MaryPat and I on our one-humped camels!

Tangiers
Toledo

Hey All!

Hello everone! Sorry it's been soooooo looooong, like almost 2 weeks--a very busybusy two weeks in the land of Spain. After Toledo, I bummed around Madrid for two days; I went to the Prado Museum, the Palacio Real (amazing royal rooms, lots of matching carpet and wallpaper), and to a bunch of cave-like Sangria bars, as Madrid is renowned for the drink. I had a blast even though I was tired all weekend and deprived of cleanliness (no shower for 3 days, I'm very green).

This was also my first real hostel experience, and it was not too shabby. Four of us shared a room, got free breakfast, met a bunch of foreign people, and made all of our own food in the hostel kitchen (mostly a mishmash of sauteed veggies, pasta, and tomatoes. And BREAD, obviously).

Then, crazy traveling lady that I am, I went on a group excursion to Morocco, and after a 3 hour bus ride, 1 hour ferry ride, and another 1 hour bus ride, we spent the first night in our lightless hotel, watching tv in English for the first time all trip! The next day beat me to the ground. We first went to the typical town of Tetuán. All I remember about this place was the stinky market, ready-for-slaughter chickens roaming the streets, and the 2 hour-long prison-like carpet show. Shuffled into a rug store with promises of clean bathrooms, we were pretty much forced to listen to this carpet salesman tell us how great his carpets were as he pulled out around 100 different Persian and Berber handmade carpets, inviting us to "take a feel, it very nice." I wanted to take a feel of his face with my shoe. I was so angry we had to sit there for that long-bored, hungry, tired, low on money anyway, and annoyed.

After that disappointing morning, we did get to go to Tangiers, the beautiful town where the Mediterranean Sea and Atlantic Ocean meet. Instead of going into the rest stop area, however, I decided to climb down the steep, muddy mountain (ruining my Sperrys-sorry mom), till I the sea swallowed me up. Then I swam back to Spain. Just kidds, but I did get to linger on a cliff overlooking the tumbling waves and smell the salt. It was magical after such a crummy morning.

The next day, though, was completely different. When we finally got to the mountain village of Chefchouen, sick from the winding mountain highway, it was an amazing day. Composed of smooth, blue-washed homes and a clear mountain stream, it was what anyone would want in a Mediterranean town. Except for the vendors smothering me as I walked through the narrow streets, it was a perfect day.

More later folks. Love and besos

Buenos dias, Madrid

After a five hour bus ride from 1:30 am, ten of us arrived in the Madrid bus station at 6:30 am, cold, hungry, EXHAUSTED, and lost. Somehow we (as in one of those savvy boys I was with. Not me, I can barely touch a map without getting lost) managed to find the metro, get on, and walk about 10 minutes to the hostel without getting lost. However, we couldn´t check in yet because people were still sleeping in our room, so we went next door and had some toast and assorted hot beverages at the little cafe. Then we somehow thought it was a good idea to take the train to Toledo without taking a nap. Bad plan. I was so tired I wasn´t even hungry. I know, incredible. We did get to see one of the most picturesque little towns in central Spain though, the first capital in Spanish history I believe. With sloping cobbled streets and steep stairs leading to churches and cathedrals, stone walls overlooking the rolling hills of the city below, and tons of souvenoir weapon shops, it was time to go by 4:00. Once we boarded the train at 9:30-it was a long 5 hours before this departure-I conked out like a boiled lobster, dead to the world. We got to Madrid and our hostel, and I was asleep by 10:30, safe in my top bunk, overlooking the hundreds of exciting Madridians going out for tapas. Sleep.

I need to stop eating bread

I need to stop eating bread. During the past two weeks I have munched, bitten, savored, scarfed, dipped, chewed, and swallowed a lot of bread. Today I had corn flakes for breakfast, a hunk of bread during the bus ride up the Sierra Navadas, ate one and a half bocadillos, which was a half loaf of bread with pepperoni inside, had part of a croissant, and just polished off two rolls from my host family's cafe.

If I could, I would eat more, but I don't want to seem too hungry. Though I do really like bread...especially when dipped in chocolate.

Ok, so it's been a few days, let's see. On Saturday I finally met my host family, Conchi (my Señora), Pepe (the dad), Pablo, Ana, José (the 30 year old kids), Angela (the granddaughter), and Duké (Pablo's ugly dog). Conchi picked me up from the hostel that morning and I nervously kissed her on both cheeks and tried to make conversation with my horrible Spanish. She was very understanding. Then I had lunch with the family (paella) and tried to follow the conversations they were having with each other while not seeming nosy, I was very awkward I can assure you. I spent the rest of the day in their apartment, which overlooks one of the main streets in Granada as well as the snow-capped mountains in the distance. Very picturesque.

On Sunday I was eager to leave the apartment to not only get away from my new family asking me if I understand them after every sentence (which I most definitely do not), but to see La Alhambra, Granada's gem. La Alhambra is, of course, absolutely beautiful. Once a fortress and palace for the Moorish rulers of Granada, it now serves to aesthetically please tourists and residents alike; with its intricately decorated rooms, verandas, and bathrooms, its views of the city below and the mountains above, and its fountain-filled gardens, I could have spent all day there with a book and a camera.

Now that I'm beginning "real" life here, with classes and a schedule, I am starting to see the inners of this city and the people, if only the inners just beneath the surface...we'll see what happens here

The View from La Alhambra

Eating Chocolate con Churros at a Café

On the Balcony of Hostel Atenas, First Day

The first three days and my eating adventures

I've officially been in Spain for 3 days, though it really feels like a lot longer since we've had so much time to explore the city and its parts without any responsibility. Ay! It's been great! Naturally, most of my excitement from the past few days has been food inspired: going to tapas bars for four course meals, stopping by the bread lady who sells french loaves and sweetbread for almost nothing, and longingly staring into the pastelerías full of chocolate croissants and shelves of fruity pastries.

Though most of you readers (reader?) know, I have always had grande affection for food in general since the tender age of teething, however, I still have yet to dive into the ocean to spear some cod or wrangle up a few clams. But alas, to the great delight of my brother, living among fish-loving Andalusians has forced me to get over those little prawn eyes looking up at me from beneath a blanket of paella and the oily gumminess of cold, whole silvery fish that sit atop potato chips. I've gotten to practice my Anthony Bourdain-ness many a-time already. Besides those adventurous experiences, though, I have had the pleasure of chocolate con churros, an amazing fondue-like experience in which one dips fried dough (churros) into a hot-chocolate-fondue concoction. SO DELICIOUS. And so many more wonderful food (and other) experiences to go, even tonight, as I head off to the big group dinner. Who knows what (or who) with be staring up at me tonight?

More later, my friends, siempre más

Ah, Granada

After finally packing all my clothes and essentials for the next 5 months, I went out to one last big American breakfast with my family and was soon after dropped off at O'Hare. Complete with my huge backpacking backpack, school backpack, and other carry-on, I said good-bye to my brother, then mom, who stealthily stepped out as her eyes began to tear...and dad, who kept taking "candid" pictures of Theresa and me as we bounded off to security.

I know you all really want to hear about my travel day, so I will tell you. In 100 words or less:

Plane #1: From Chicago to Philly - uneventful + 2 hour stopover

Plane #2: From Philly to Madrid - long. Long and disorienting. I fell on the border of sleep at 12 central time and was woken up by the flight crew for breakfast at 2 am c, but 8 am Madrid time. I have been confused about what day it is since Monday, but I'm relatively sure it's Wednesday, 6 pm...landed then spent 8 hours at the Madrid airport, as Spaniards seem to have little sense of time management, but no worries, I somehow managed to sleep laying across several chairs under the amazing airport ceiling of curvy wood.

Plane #3: Madrid to Granada: I've never boarded three planes in a row, bonus! 2 hours of turbulence, wet luggage, taxi to hostel, out of euros.

sleepy

disoriented

hungry

moneyless

rain, rain, rain

FOOD! Went to a tapas restaurant with some other girls from my program and had paella deliciosa, jabón that tasted like pavo, and red wine. I felt very European, except that I was with 10 other Americans and smelled like airport. Then, sleep.

So I am here. In Hostel Atenas. In Granada, so ready to start this adventure. More later, but for now, hasta luego

One more day

I realized today that I am unprepared to not speak English for 5 months. I made Adam (my brother) have a practice conversation with me on our way back from picking up my fashionable passport necklace and couldn't figure out how to say "my flight was long and I can't wait to eat some food." Got it eventually, guys, don't worry, and I now know how to say "ok" and "it doesn't matter" in the Spanish way.

In other news, with only one more day before my flight (Monday), I feel the days slipping away and the nights becoming nonexistent. I find myself impatient to be there but already missing the indent I've made on the couch, the smell of my dog (he doesn't smell good, but every time I do dig my nose into his neckfluff I think of home), and the voices of my family members scattered around the house...but then I snap out of it and remember how awfully cold it is outside and how unappealing Champaign is in February

Well, I have a blog

As I am flying away to Granada, Spain on Monday, I thought I would create this little buddy to keep everyone at least slightly up-to-date on my travels. So instead of writing on everyone's facebook walls, skyping all the time, and writing letters, I will be updating on here. Excited? I thought so. So read if you want to, don't if you don't, but I can't wait to share this semester with you while oceans away.