T minus 10 days until I leave for Costa Rica. I'm in Olympia, snowed into the house by a veritable winter wonderland. Always a good time for reflection. I've been thinking about the new year, of course. Where I am now versus where I was a year ago (Lisbon), where I've been, who I am and how I've changed. Recent polls with new acquaintances show me that not everyone reflects in this manner: strange. Or perhaps they don't even reflect at all. But, how else do you learn about yourself? The imminent departure also forces me to think about the last time I left "forever", a little over a year ago. Granted, this is a smaller trip, with less build-up, less unknown, less commitment, less waiting, less ties--entanglements--to home. But it is still leaving for several months to an area of the world I have never visited, to a less developed region with malaria, dengue, typhoid... I feel (as) calm (as can be expected), (moderately) prepared, (generally) focused, (actually really quite) ready. And (oh-so) excited. I'm looking forward to traveling with Emily, who always encourages me to do the dumb thing I want to do because she knows I want to do it and I'll eventually learn from it, and I probably wouldn't listen to her if she told me not to anyway. She also often thinks that the dumb thing I want to do IS a good idea and we do it together. Like this trip...

I've been back in Western Washington for over 4 months now. The time has passed so quickly. I'm fairly sure I'll move back to Seattle when I return, but who knows? Bar some incredible offer or opportunity elsewhere, I will. I think. There is still no reason for me to be anywhere, still liberating and terrifying. I like the city but I need to explore more facets of its culture. I ended up hating my job; not for the job but for the customers. Rich, self-important, privileged yuppies. I've decided that I need a "real" job (read: where I use my degree and receive benefits) when I get back. Yay for the economy! But this is clearly not the time to worry about that. I still need to plan this trip. Everyone has told me to do this "while you can", "while you're young", or, "for me". These have been adults (grown-ups, you know, at least 20 years my senior who envy my complete lack of responsibilities, commitments and obligations). Responses from friends or acquaintances my own age have been more... honest? From "you hippie!" about the farming to dubiety about the entire plan. To "what exactly are you doing down there? Just traveling?" as if traveling to a foreign place must be the means to an end, not the end itself. It upsets me that I still care what other people think. Simply because my plan wouldn't work for them, why can't it work for me? And it can, but their doubts infect me with doubts about myself. I keep telling myself that I will come back and settle down and be happy doing what my friends are doing: more school, "real" jobs, at least working for their ultimate career and life goals. But I have the rest of my life for that! Always going back to the fact that I don't know what I want. And how will I know what I want when I find it? Do I stumble upon something and realize I want it? I don't want to look back at a year and realize I've done nothing. That I've learned nothing and experienced nothing, although many people may say that I've been working towards a career or ... I want to feel as if I'm moving forward toward something. But what? In the meantime, I suppose I'll spend my time doing something I love. I'm hoping this adventure will sate my wanderlust for awhile, at least.

Seattle! The big city

So I'm here, finally. I spent a month between Olympia, Seattle, and Bellingham. But really mostly in Bellingham. I was probably putting off moving here, continuing my life, finding a job, facing the future, etc. So, let's see. I start a new job tomorrow, which is pretty damn quick if I do say so myself--three days here and I'm employed! It's a cafe/roaster that seems serious about its coffee so I'm pretty excited to be involved in it. Turns out, I love making coffee! I've also learned that I suck at Seattle in general. It is by far the largest city I've ever lived in, which makes moving around difficult and confusing. I've executed uncountable illegal traffic maneuvers thus far, with many more to come. I guess I just feel slightly lost all the time, with the complete unfamiliarity of everything. And everyone. It's shockingly different from Bellingham in this regard (as it clearly should be, I understand this). This seems both good and bad; I am aware that there are extremely cool people in this city but I don't quite know how to meet them. But, really, Bellingham began to feel claustrophobic and I realized that I'm done with it for the present. Terrible, as I felt it was the closest thing that I had to a home. Alas! I must make a new home for myself, somewhere. It seems somewhat difficult here.

...because I'm going to Costa Rica in January! From January until ?? Probably about three months but anything could happen. Traveling, organic farming, adventure! Everyone tells me they wish they would have done things like this at my age: before you can't. But, just as I predicted, I do want to leave soon after returning. I have no reason to be anywhere, so I might as well take advantage and travel! This is clearly not the time to get serious about my life!

Home...?

Yes, I feel as if my life, the life I have returned to, is punctuated by ...? more often than not. My plans for the future, my plans for now, what I want, what I need. I've been home (once again, home...?) for over a week now; everything is the same and nothing is the same. My life is full of these paradoxes: about change, about time, about my future (inevitable) employment. I laughed in the face of reverse culture shock (it's just an anthropological term, right?) but, really, it's hitting me. Theoretically, I knew that things changed while I was gone, but it's difficult to anticipate it in practice. I get the question, "So, what are you plans?" every time I see someone again for the first time. I always thought that college was the difficult time--choosing your major, graduating--and that after graduation, you somehow got a job in that field. What the fuck was I thinking? Anyway, it's strange to see what my friends are doing now. From what I've seen so far, there are two general paths open to me: doing hard drugs and drinking heavily while working a no-responsibility job, or turning adult and working a professional job or going back to school. Neither appeals. There must be something else, but this really seems to be what everyone I know is doing. I had come to terms with my lack of direction while I was in Spain but I've been feeling outside pressure since day 2 in the US (e.g. checking up on my daily progress). But regardless! I love being back! I love spending time with my friends and family, of being around people who know and understand me (as well as anyone could probably understand me). It already feels like I've been here forever. Really, this is just a continuation of my homeless wandering of the past two months--just a different, familiar setting. There are so many possibilities and I have no obligation or commitment anywhere nor towards anyone. And I'm paralyzed into inaction. I'm paralyzed by the thought of making the wrong choice and closing off possible options forever. Of getting stuck in a job I hate with an obligation to continue working. I have received so much advice (solicited or not), and I do realize that by not choosing anything I am losing possibilities too. So I can't win but I probably can't lose either. It just takes time, I suppose.

Santiago de Compostela!

We arrived in Santiago de Compostela on the 23rd!!!! 450+ kilometers of walking (Sydney has the exact numbers), not including the numerous backtracks. Quite anticlimatic but also really strange to be done with a month of walking. First thought: how overwhelming to be in a regular sized city, with lots of people and traffic. And, how unfortunate that you can't just look for a place to pee behind some bush a little off the path! It's nice to be done, to not have to wake up early, hobble out of bed, pack bags quietly and often in the dark and walk till my feet hurt. But I'm also sad it's over. The atmosphere at the albergues is so warm and all peregrinos compare foot wounds and help each other out. You can also spot a peregrino from a mile away, usually because they're limping. The last week or so we'd been meeting a group of (amazing) Germans, 7 in total, at each albergue and eating and drinking with them. We've since parted ways, also sad. I've learned so many interesting things about Germany, and whenever we are at an impasse, we ask ourselves, "What would the Germans do?" We got to Santiago just in time to celebrate the day of Santiago on the 25th. On the 24th there was a fireworks show from the front of the cathedral--spectacular, with excellent music as well. We got terribly drunk with the Germans, ran into a ton of people we had met on the Camino, and just made general fools of ourselves. Excellent. Now we're in Fisterra, on the western coast of Galicia. We're bumming around on the beach until Syd and I go to La Coruña and Matt and Emily go back to Santiago to catch planes. I go home in a week from tomorrow: absolutely insane. Where have these months gone????

Galicia!

We've made it to Galicia! Yesterday, Matt, Emily, Sydney and I crossed into Galicia across an incredibly busy, very long, under construction bridge. One worker told us we could walk along the left lane, which had no traffic. About halfway across the bridge, someone said, "Is that car coming towards us?", which it was, as well as the other lane. So we had to hop over the construction barrier, which ended soon and we had to cross over to the right lane and run the rest of the way. It was pretty fucking excellent and really funny. All the workers were yelling and pointing with instructions. We got to the albergue, which was full, but a pair of German lesbians let us have their beds while they slept in a tent outside, leaving two of us to sleep on the sofa and a mattress on the floor. We made friends with a group of seven Germans, who initially disliked us because we didn't say good morning to them. The local police (four of them! so efficient) came to the albergue to document who was there and collect the 3 euro each, and offered to take our little group to another place so we could all have beds. One cop (jolly cop) drove us to the gymnasium, stopping to let us buy wine at the supermarket. We had the whole gym to ourselves! Then jolly cop went to get the other three cops (lady cop, spiky cop, big nose cop) to sign us in (once again, very efficient). This, following a terrible day where we got on the wrong track and overshot the village by about 4 kilometers and had to backtrack about 8. (Yeah, I know it doesn't make sense but it's the way we walked or something.) We also tried to get to another road by crossing a field; unforunately there were tons of blackberry bushes, pokey shrubs and a cliff, so Emily and Sydney went over a hill and Matt and I had to go back to the road and around. So, all in all, about 33 kilometers: too much. Now I have a terrible blister!

Anyway, it is so great to see them again, and I feel like almost no time has passed. Strange.

Asturias.. and the camino continues!

Well, I've made it to Asturias. Currently I'm in Gijón waiting for Matt and Emily to arrive! I can't wait to see them! My first step back into reality. We bussed here this morning from Ribadesella, about a four days walk from here that we completed in an hour and a half. Not that nice to think about. This ends about 12 days of walking. It's nice to have a day or two of rest. My body is tired and I have a blister on my right pinkie toe that just doesn't want to heal and really just shoots pain through my foot by the end of the day and makes me gimp around. It's pretty funny. It's also extremely hot right now. So, nice to go to the beach! About 5 days ago (everything is approximate) Sydney and I met a German woman, Martina, and a Dutch woman, Annemarie, in a monastery albergue and up until today we'd been meeting up with them since then. They've been taking care of us, i.e., telling us where there are albergues, where the albergues are closed, etc. They are also hilarious and love to make fun of everyone. I'm a little sad to leave them. About three days ago we emerged into a village and met Henrik, a Dutch man we had met when we first started walking, over two weeks ago, who I never thought I would see again. I think he was very surprised to see us, but happy, too, that we had decided to continue after the problems from the beginning. Rudolf, the crazy Austrian man, also appeared at an albergue. I think I'll probably see him again as his pace is much faster than ours. It really is true that even if you think you've lost someone on the Camino, you'll probably run into them again.

Asturias is absolutely beautiful. We have been walking more or less along the coast again with less asphalt for the last few days. We have been walking alongside the Picos de Europa for about a week as well. There are tons of farm animals everywhere and we are constantly distracted by some creature or another. The landscape is amazing and parts remind me so much of home. I'm realizing how much I'm ready to go home. But I don't know if I'm any closer to deciding what I want to do when I get there....

Santander y el Camino de Santiago!

Here I am in Santander, Cantabria, day seven of the Camino del Norte! I must say: much more difficult than I had anticipated. No training, no problem.. Not true. We walked 4 days, almost dying on the 4th, arrived in Marquina, decided to bus to Bilbao (terrible blisters for Sydney, too much weight in bag and huge painful bumps on collarbones from bag pulling for me), recover two days, and start again a little farther along, in Laredo, Cantabria. Much better. So we've been walking 3 days so far since Bilbao. We went to the Guggenheim in Bilbao: amazing. So strange. I continue to love the País Vasco and want to come back here at some point. The countryside we've hiked is absolutely amazing. It's so beautiful and so much like home! Green, mountains, hills, forests, clouds, rain! Several days were along the coast, with incredible views and beautiful beaches. Some of the path is asphalt, along the road, some is through forest, some is through mud, or fields, or along the beach. Sometimes the yellow arrows marking the path are nonexistent at a crossroads, or ambiguous, and it's frustrating. Some is hella difficult: I'd be pissed to climb it in a normal hike without 20 pounds on my back. Yes, I also did buy poles, and a new bag in Bilbao. A pretty penny, but my collarbones no longer hurt! We're just taking it as it goes, but taking it slow. I've met some incredibly interesting people so far: a crazy Austrian who has already walked 3000 kilometers, an Italian guy walking from Rome with no money, a Canadian girl even less prepared than we are.. Hay de todo. But everyone is so nice. And it is so incredibly beautiful, everything.

San Sebastián

San Sebastián is a wonderful wonderful city and I love it! It's on a beautiful bay with a paseo and two beaches surrounding it. We went out for pinchos and sidra last night. It was all really good; the best pinchos I've had in Spain. After eating we went were looking for a bar that didn't seen Spanish, and ended up in a clearly foreign bar with the soccer game. Spain beat Italy, then the place cleared out and the bartender put on American music for us. I requested Michael Jackson so Sydney, the bartender, one other customer, and I all sang the entire Thriller album. After that we met some Spanish guys and they took us to a gay club: my first in Spain. It was a lot of fun, they were playing excellent music (Postal Service, Chili Peppers, Bruce Springsteen). Now I have a wicked hangover but well worth it. So, tomorrow we start the Camino!! We're going to try to take it easy the first couple days... I'm excited but I have no idea what to expect! I'm a little sad to be leaving San Sebastián but glad that we'll be in the País Vasco for awhile longer. I think I could live here.

Back in Spain! ...goodbye Eastern Europe.

Ok, we got back in Spain yesterday and now we're in San Sebastián in the País vasco. And it's fucking hot. Like 90 degrees. To the beach soon! It's nice to be able to speak the language again and have a general understanding about what's happening around me, but I'm sad to have left Eastern Europe.

I guess I'll just give a general overview of what I did over the last two weeks or so. We went to Dubrovnik after Mostar, where we met a Finn named Sanna in the bus station (as we were mobbed by people offering us rooms) who asked if she could stay with us because it's expensive to stay alone. So we stayed in a triple (with a tiny foldout bed for Sanna). Dubrovnik is nice but it's incredibly touristy. We walked around the city, went to the national park on the island of Mljet, and went to the beach. The Adriatic is so beautiful! The water was so clean and clear and absolutely amazing. The national park was incredible; it has two lakes, the bigger one has a small island in the middle with a monastery on it. So, it was an island within an island, which is fun. We swam in the lake which was as clean and clear as the sea around the island. There were trees that came right up to the water's edge.

Then we took a ferry to the island of Hvar. Once again, picture perfect and incredibly beautiful. We only stayed one night, which was probably for the best because I couldn't stand all the rich people walking around and all the yachts in the harbor. Rich people!

Then we took a ferry to Split, which is as nice as Dubrovnik but with a lot more life. I really enjoyed the old palace which encloses the old part of the city. We went to the beach one day but the water wasn't as nice as it was in Dubrovnik and it rained midday. Así es. We went to this town on a island, Trogir, one day.

Then to Zadar! Still on the coast. We only spent the evening there but it was still excellent. There is a sea organ there (don't ask me how, the informative brochure was written in broken English) which produces mystifying and magical music. We had a delicious dinner of fish with Sanna and Stefan (a German guy she had met earlier; he had the funniest German accent!!).

The next day we went to Plitvice National Park, which has 16 lakes connected through various waterfalls. It was absolutely amazing. We walked around and down the lakes for several hours. Unfortunately, you are NOT allowed to swim in them.

Next day to Zagreb, the capital of Croatia. We just walked around the old part. Nice, but not terribly impressive.

Then to Budapest to catch our plane the next day. On the verge of sleep I asked Sydney if she had checked the flight time, since we had both thought it was at 1pm the next but I couldn't check myself as I had thrown away my reservation (idiot). She dug out the paper and found that it left at 9:15am. Narrowly avoided catastrophe, I would say. A long day of traveling got us to sweltering Madrid. And now we're in San Sebastián! I can't wait to go to the beach! The original plan was to start the camino on Monday but Sydney is sick so perhaps we will wait until Tuesday... It's just so damn hot!

Bosnia

Wow, Bosnia. We survived the 12 hour train, through amazingly beautiful green hilly countryside, small villages with mosques, 2 border crossings and 6 passport checks. We got to Sarajevo at a little after 9pm, someone from the hostel picked us up at the train station and drove us to the hostel reception, where we were given free welcome beers (one each) and told to follow this guy who didn't speak English, "ten minutes away". It was across the river and up a huge hill, through a unlit sketchy alley to a hostel in a building connected to an abandoned, collapsing building, with a rottweiler in a cage barking outside. I was vaguely afraid we were being led to our deaths. For the first night in our five bed dorm there were only three of us, Sydney, me and a Scottish guy named Mickey. The beds were extremely uncomfortable, with a deep dip in the middle, forcing you to sleep on your back most of the night. The next day we explored Sarajevo with Mickey, in his kilt. We saw the bridge where Archduke Ferdinand was shot, beginning WWI. There are many mosques, surrounded by churches and several synagogues. It was definitely strange to be in a Muslim region in Europe because it has the feel of Europe but with beautiful mosques everywhere. Five times daily the mosques call to prayer: one mosque starts, when it ends, you hear another mosque, and so forth. It's really beautiful and I definitely prefer it to church bells ringing.

There are many bullet hole-ridden buildings. In Sarajevo, most very damaged places have been restored, but you can still see the evidence of a very recent war. It is such lovely city, with green hills on both sides with houses extending upward. We went to a Muslim cemetery in the rain: it was slightly unreal. Our second night, we went with Mickey to a brewery and ate dinner. The food has been so good, with so much flavor. And the beer. So good. I had a dark beer for the first time in so long, I almost died it was so good.

When we got to Mostar, we were accosted by people offering accommodations at the bus station. We tried to say we had a reservation at a hostel already (a lie) but the offer seemed so good that we agreed to go look at the room. The hostel was perfectly fine and legitimate. We walked around the city (small but stunning), which is situated over a beautiful, clear river between hills. I noticed more damaged buildings here that hadn't been restored, with warnings not to enter. We climbed the minaret of a mosque, with an incredible view of the city and the famous Stari Most bridge.

Some Basque guys in Sarajevo had told us about these excellent waterfalls near Mostar, but they had a car. We asked the people at the hostel, they told us a bus that went out there, and told us later about a tour from a different hostel. We decided on the tour because, though expensive, it seemed quite difficult to get back on the bus from the waterfalls. He picked us up the next morning and we went with a group of 13 or so. Our first Americans since we left Spain! Also, a bunch of Brits, an Australian. Everyone was pretty cool. We started out by going to this old village with a fortress and a mosque that had been largely destroyed during the war. We then went to this strange animal farm with horses, ponies, a donkey, goats, rabbits, guinea pigs, dogs... It was quite weird. Some people rode horses but there were only two that could be ridden so we were there for over an hour. It was fine, though, because there was a cafe nearby. After, we went to the waterfalls. Fucking incredible. You'll just have to see the pictures to understand. We swam in the frigid water, played under the falls for over an hour. It was great. Afterwards we went to see an area where the Virgen Mary was seen 17 years ago or so. Next, to dinner near a huge cliff with a cave and a monastery. It was pretty awesome, the whole tour.

Now, off to Dubrovnik today! I can't wait! But I'm sad to leave Bosnia. The people have been so nice, the food great, the cities wonderful. From meeting all these people and hearing where they've been, I just want to keep traveling forever. Not possible at the moment though... unfortunately.

Budapest!!!

So, we've just finished our second day here in Budapest. It's amazing. I came here uncountable years ago (like 9? I can't be bothered to count) and I really don't remember it from that time. It's so refreshing to be out of Spain; the people, the architecture, the food... The people here generally speak English, at least the ones we have dealings with, and they're all really nice. Even the people who don't understand a bit of English smile and smile and speak to us in Hungarian. I traveled for about 24 hours to get here, from leaving Coria to arriving at the hostel here. Four-plus hours in bus, spending the night in the airport until 6:40am, flight to Brussels, slight layover, flight to Budapest, finding the bus to the metro to the city, finding change for the bus and the metro... But the hostel is excellent as well: we paid 11 euro for a dorm and somehow ended up in a double. The first night, the owner made us some Hungarian soup (delicious) and some sweet bread covered in pancake batter and fried (strange but like French toast). It was very nice. We've also met a lot of cool travelers here. We've just walked around the city a lot, to Castle Hill and Mátyás-templon and the citadel in Buda (nearly caught in a thunderstorm, hiked up two mountains), to Parliament and St. Stephen's basilica, the opera house, and a beautiful synagogue in Pest, where we're staying. All the restaurant food has been really good too. Mmm, goulash.

It's strange to be in a post-Nazi, post-Communist country, now that I understand the significance. Lots of amazing old buildings are covered in grime and some parts of the city just seem dusty. We walked through the Jewish part of town, which used to be the Jewish ghetto during the Nazi occupation. It's a charming neighborhood, and very hard to believe what happened here over 60 years ago. So much history.

It's incredibly hot here, and just way too humid. I feel like I've been sweating constantly, especially with so much walking. My backpack is so heavy at the moment (16.5 kg at the airport, I can't do the math into pounds), which is just too much. I've been planning to drop things along the way but I don't know how much longer I can carry a bag that heavy. Training for the Camino?

Anyway! This keyboard is really killing me. On Wednesday we're off to Sarajevo, Bosnia, on a 12 hour train. I can't wait! I am also having tons of problems with the currency/exchange rate. 245 Hungarian forints to 1 euro. Yeah. And soon I'll have to deal with yet another currency. It's pretty pathetic (yeah, Mom, sorry for making fun about the problems with euros) and Sydney has to tell me how much to pay usually. Ridiculous bills, too.

The Nigerian Prince

Or, more specifically, the Ibo prince. So, yesterday at school, one of the random men who work at the school and walk around and don't really seem to have a purpose, called me to come out to meet this woman. I don't know how she found out about me (English auxiliar) but she asked me if I could help her communicate with her mother-in-law, who doesn't speak Spanish, that her husband (the mom's son.. confusing!) had been detained. I was super confused myself but told her I would. We met yesterday afternoon at our favorite bar (the teachers', Jenny's and mine, not the random lady's.. English is my first language???). Mariola told me that her husband is a Nigerian prince and his uncle is the king of Nnewi in the soutern region of Nigeria. Pretty much, Mariola's parents are racist and had Mariola and the prince's daughter taken away; they were both put in jail but Mariola was released and the prince continues in the jail in Cáceres. Very confusing. She showed me pictures of the prince, his royal family, their kids. Then a long confusing period followed while we tried to get ahold of his mother, the sister of the king. Finally I talked to his aunt, I think, who would look into it. Mariola told me she was afraid their son would be taken from her too.

It was incredibly strange, the whole situation. Before meeting her, Jenny and I decided that I should charge her, since I'd be giving her a service. I'd even thought of a mostly tactful way to say it. But after she started telling me all this, I just couldn't say anything. I really feel for her, she seemed so desperate for someone to talk to, someone to listen to her. She told me how awful it is when your family abandons you; once again, I realize how lucky I am.

Anyway! Tomorrow I go to Madrid, to spend the night in Barajas for our flight to Budapest on Saturday morning! I can't wait. It's weird though. I wonder how I'll feel on the bus tomorrow. I have 4+ hours to deal with it.

En fin... ¡joder!

I'm down to the last week here in Coria. I have my certificate for the program, got it last Thursday in Mérida. I was joking about not going back to work after I got it and after we got paid (paid today) and when I went to the school to pick up my schedule, I was told that I didn't have any classes--"una semana libre". My last week. Those bastards! They didn't even give me the chance to not come in! Haha, it's fine, but a little weird. So, I'm done. DONE. Done with this shitty job! Very anticlimatic, especially since I didn't realize last Friday would be my last day. But I still have 4 more days here until I go to Madrid. Ah well. En fin, I'm done. All that's left here is packing and cleaning the house. It's so hard to believe. I'm just so over it all.

I think I'll be sad when I leave. This has been my home for the last 7+ months. I'm not quite sure what I'm getting in to in terms of Eastern Europe, the Camino, and espeically the life that awaits me in the US. I do know that when I get back there will definitely be stress waiting for me. We were talking about what it's going to be like when we get back home, and Talisa made a good point. What we're living right now, here in Spain, seems like a dream for us. Life is so laid back, so chill. But this is reality here. What we live here is reality for los españoles. Even those with careers. Nothing compared to the hurried lives of most Americans. And I realize that I'm lazy and I like to live like this.

Anyway! Enough rambling! It's time to leave this pueblo, travel for a month or two, walk across northern Spain, then face the real world. Reality. My future. Life. Joder, ¿eh? I can't believe how fast it went. Así es.

WOMAD

Womad is an international music festival that came to Cáceres this past weekend. Jenny and I went on Friday and it was absolutely amazing!! We bussed to Cáceres, hoping to find a place to stay for the night but resolved to stay up all night and sleep in the bus station before our 2pm bus on Saturday. Miraculously, we found a hostal (after many-a try). There were three stages set up, one in the Plaza Mayor and two others in smaller plazas. And shit. There were so many people. And so many hippies! It reminded me of home so much, the excellent atmosphere. But even better in some ways: you can botellón. Rather, you can drink in public from huge 1.5 L beers. Everyone and their mother was doing it, right next to small children and old people. It was great. So, when in Cáceres... Jenny and I bought some huge bottles of beer and I ate some tasty green Thai curry--something I have not had since I left the US. Which is a really long time ago, when I stop and think about it. We saw a Japanese band, Turkish, Spanish, and Moroccan reggae. It was so fun! And then it made me angry because I didn't live in Cáceres, but rather some dinky pueblo nearby. Alas! My time is nearing an end! I only have 2 1/2 more weeks here until Syd and I are off to Eastern Europe! I can't believe it! I need out of this town, NOW. If anyone has any suggestions about Hungary, Croatia, or Bosnia, I would love to hear them!

Morocco, Málaga, Cádiz.... our own 12 day vacation!

So we made our own puente to go to Morocco. Jenny and I went to Tarifa, which is the southern most tip of Spain where you can see Europe, Africa, the Mediterranean, and the Atlantic all at once. It's a beautiful city, but a little too windy. It also really didn't feel like Spain: tons of foreigners, English everywhere. We met Sydney and Talisa in Algeciras, an ugly port city. So ugly. We arranged our trip to Morocco with the help of Erin and a travel agent there. It included the ferry, shuttle to and from the port, two nights in a hotel, and breakfast. After a night in a slightly sketchy hostal and some excellent Moroccan pastries, we ended up going back to Tarifa to catch the ferry. I love ferries! We got to Tangier and our hotel, the Solazur. Not bad. We went to the Medina, bartered a bit, struggled with the money (11 dirham to 1 euro), ate some amazing food. Oh, and rode camels. There were camels on the beach (tourist trap!) and we couldn't not do it. Not super comfortable but definitely an experience. The next day we went to Chefchaouen (someone please correct my spelling!), a mountain village. It was so incredibly gorgeous: all the walls were whitewashed and painted blue to ward off evil spirits. The people in the shops were less pushy and overall it was more calm. However, we all felt awkward as part of a large tour group disrupting the peace in the city and clogging the narrow streets. The rest of the group was mostly Spanish, so super loud too. It was incredibly hot and but the end we were dying. The next day, before the ferry, we went to the Medina again to barter some more. It's very apparent that the shopkeepers really enjoy it, as some bartered with glee. Glee! The food was such an excellent change from disgusting Spanish food. I ate (forgive the spelling everywhere) falafel, tabouli, baba ganouj, hummous, crazy Moroccan salads, tagin. So much flavor! And the tea.. Mint with lots of sugar. But actual mint. Absolutely amazing. It was so strange to be in another culture, entirely distinct from any I have ever experienced. I had been warned by many Spaniards to be incredibly careful, to always be on guard, that everyone would try to rip us off. But I've had more overwhelming experiences in Mexico, honestly. The men were a bit much, with their comments (Hola guapa, Hello flower, etc.) and their staring. There were restaurants and cafes that were very clearly for men only. They would sit with their chairs turned toward the street, just staring. We would walk around looking for a place to eat saying, "Oh there's a woman in that one, let's eat there." The shopkeepers and waiters were all very polite to us, though. I'm still unsure as to where the women spend their days because we saw so many men but fewer women out in public. On the beach, there were maybe two women and the rest were males of various ages. I also saw several men praying outside at various times, pointed toward Mecca. Me parece que one has to have a good sense of direction to correctly position the body toward Mecca several times a day. Mosques everywhere. So different from Spain, with its churches and cathedrals at every corner. Overall, a great experience. I would love to go back and spend more time there.

We spent another night in Tarifa upon return and set back toward home. The bus to Sevilla broke so we had to wait awhile for another one to come. We met two Americans there, waiting for the same bus. Katheryn is on her way around the world and Alfredo came to visit here. Talking to them really makes me want to travel and travel and travel and never work. At this point, Jenny and I started inventing stories about why we couldn't come to work, as we only had 2 days of it until the next puente. Finally in Sevilla we waited forever to get a cab, a lady cut the line, everyone was outraged and yelling and after about 5 minutes the lady finally got out and someone else got in. She had to go to the back of the line. It was so funny. On the cab ride to the other bus station (to go to Cáceres), Jenny and I decided to text in sick. Or rather, I texted in saying I got ill from the food in Morocco and Jenny just said she wasn't going to come in. I felt guilty for a little while but after being back all guilt has evaporated once I remembered how much I hate the job...

Jenny and I spent the night in Sevilla and headed to Málaga the next day. We had mistakenly booked a hostal in Torremolinos, about half an hour outside of the city of Málaga. It turned out to be fine, more tranquilo with a beautiful beach. Also not like Spain with tons of foreigners, Indian restaurants and bars with foreign beer (unheard of in most places). We also had an excellent roommate: Tuomas from Finland. Super funny. Málaga is beautiful (reusing the same adjectives repeatedly). I loved the Alcazaba, a fort from the 11th century during the Muslim rule. I love Arab architecture; so different from the usual Spanish designs.

Then we went back to Sevilla, then to Cádiz to meet Sydney. The most wonderful beach. Our second day we went to the beach and swam and swam in the Atlantic. It was a bit cold, but no colder than any lake in Washington. Amazing. And we got terribly burned on random parts of the body. Typical. The next day we layered up to go to the beach, swam, then ran home to get out of the sun.

And now I'm back from the 12 day vacation. Seriously, how many more jobs will I have where I can do this and get away with it? And there are less than 4 weeks left here. Crazy.

Córdoba

Once again, I yearn for a car. Really. You can take the chica out of America but you can't take the American out of the chica. Ah well. Jenny and I went to Badajoz on Friday, we rented a car with Sydney, and set out for Córdoba on Saturday morning. It was a Fiat Panda this time, and we all independently agreed that a geek would probably drive that car. Not hott. There were five of us squeezed into the car for the 3 hour ride each way. The weather was not nice--heavy rain punctuated by brief periods of drizzle/clear. Definitely Washington weather, this. The weather for the last couple weeks has been so fickle, with lots of unexpected showers. It's rained more this month than during the entire winter here. Reminds me of home a bit. Everything is very green though, the campo is beautiful.

We went to the Mezquita, after finding out way through the city somehow. It's amazing. I went there the last time I was here but it meant something completely different this time. Now I understand the historical context, the significance. I don't remember the cathedral (smack dab in the middle of the old mosque) being so jarring last time. Ugly. Completely out of place. The contrast between the two religions, the two cultures, was so abrupt; the juxtaposition so strange. I realized how tired I am of cathedrals and nearly everything Catholic. I'm over it for the time being. We also went to the synagogue, one of the few surviving ones in Spain.

That afternoon we went to a teahouse. I love the teahouses here, especially with their Middle Eastern pastries. Baklava... All in all it was an excellent day. Now I'm back in Coria to work two days, then off to Tarifa, Algeciras and Morocco! I can't wait!

Feria de abril de Sevilla

A killer weekend. After work on Friday I went to Sevilla to meet up with Sydney, Bronwen, and Talisa. Four hours in the bus after crappy Torrejoncillo and crappy sleep. Everyone and their mother had told us that Feria vale la pena to see but that there was no way we would be able to get into one of the private casetas since we don't know anyone who lives in Sevilla. Well.

Feria is a celebration in Sevilla that I hadn't heard of until about two months ago. Regardless, it's insane. Men dress in suits and the women wear amazing flamenco dresses. There is row upon row of tent-like structures (casetas) of varying sizes, each with its own bar and "bathroom" (dirty, dirty toilet). Most casetas are private, rented by a family, business, etc., and it's impossible to get in without knowing someone. There are some larger public ones as well. And people just drink rebujito (manzanilla + Sprite) and dance all night. Talisa knew Emilio, who let us in to his family's caseta, Tío Pepe, I think. I guess this is a privilege (? so I've been told), and I felt a little awkward as I was wearing jeans and a zip-up. Pero, no pasa nada. Nearly everyone was really nice to us and Emilio kept bringing us jarra after jarra of the drink. We met all of his tíos (CREEPY drunk Spanish men) and everyone else he's related to. I wasn't sure if I should address them as usted as they were mayor, but I didn't feel that bad since they wouldn't stop hitting on us. At about 3am (maybe? hah, time) that caseta closed down so he took us to a public one and introduced us to some friends, where we continued to botellón with our rebujito. Sydney and I caught the bus back to Badajoz at 9am and spent the rest of the day recuperating.

I tried to catch the bus back to Cáceres on Sunday night in time to catch the one to Coria, but it was full so I arrived in Cáceres after it had left. Bastards! That bus is never full. Anyway I tried to get in touch with a teacher would told me I could always stay at his house but I couldn't. I ended up staying with José, one of the guys who we met when we came to Cáceres in January. He was really nice about it. I was just so exhausted from the weekend, so many hours in buses and bus stations. So I'm finally back in Coria! I can't wait to sleep in my own bed.

I can't believe that we only have a month and a half left of the job. Thank god about the job part but I know I'm going to be really sad to leave Coria. Little things, like being able to call up someone to stay with because I missed the bus, make me realize... I don't know. I guess, that this is somewhat of a home to me. I would like to live here longer, but in a different place. Ah well! I have the rest of my life.

Valle del Jerte! or... Spanish roadtrip!

Being here has made me realize how much I am not the typical American, and how much I am. I miss having a car. I love having a car. I love the freedom of mobility, of not having to depend on others to get you where you want to go. Buses are excellent but they don't go everywhere. I was scared to drive after 6 months of absence, but the Volkswagen Polo wouldn't let you make a mistake (didn't stall once!). I loved it and I want it.

Sydney and Bronwen rented a car in Badajoz, came to Coria para recogernos, and off we went! Chasing a green spot on the map to the north... Las Hurdes. So now I take back every time I said that Extremadura is ugly (although technically where we did end up was in Castilla y León). We ate lunch in Vegas de Coria (very original with the names here, although my favorite was Pozuelo de Zarzón: say it with the lisp and it's excellent), where we tried the "typical" lemon salad (sucker for comida típica). Lemon slices, orange slices, hard boiled egg, chorizo.. Quite strange, although not as bad as it sounds. We ended up in a natural reserve (Las Batuecas) in the mountains, in a pueblo called La Alberca. Precioso. We were in an actual forest.

The next day we went to the Valle del Jerte, to the north but more east than yesterday, north of Plasencia. Apparently the valley is known for its cherry blossoms but we had to go to the end of the valley to higher elevations to see what remained of the cerezos. On the way we turned off at la Garganta de los infiernos (the throat of hell? anyone have a better translation--hells?) and did the Ruta de los Pilones that everyone and their mother recommended to us. About 45 minutes to these phenomenal natural pools carved out of the rock by the river. The most beautiful place I have ever seen in Spain. There was this rock with a perfectly formed ass (really, whole body) groove. It was, as Bronwen said, the best easy chair with the best view. We made it to Tornavacas to see the last of the cerezos--beautiful.

In conclusion: an excellent weekend. I would not have seen these things without the car, and it was so much fun to drive again. And now the weather is crappy and I have to work again. Although less than 2 months; so hard to believe!

Barcelona, Tarragona, Valencia with the fam

I don't know where to start: my horribly epic (epically horrible?) journey to Barcelona, the amazingness of the vacation itself, the wonderful time with my parents, my continued love of Barcelona, or my slight despondency from being back here in Coria.

Well. My trip from Coria was fucking horrendous, but pretty damn funny. I apologize for the swearing (Tom Robbins influence). My intent was to leave Coria around 2:45, catch a bus to Navalmoral de la mata, then another to Barcelona, spending the night in the bus. This was cheaper than taking the bus directly from Coria to Barcelona, but with about the same travel time (about 12 hours). Well, I got to Navalmoral to find out that the bus to Barcelona was already full. I continued on to Madrid, but while waiting for this bus, I tried to figure out which bus station to go to in Madrid. By calling expensively on my cell phone, trying to navigate through voice automated machines in Spanish surrounded by buses entering and exiting the station at regular intervals. I finally got to Madrid at about 7:30, negotiated my way to the correct bus station (different from the one in which I arrived), bought the ticket, realized it was to Pamplona instead of Barcelona, got back in line, finally got the right bus ticket, and boarded the bus. I was told that it would take nine hours, due to get in around 6am. I got to Barcelona at 4:30. So essentially sweating from Coria to Barcelona due to the temporary, extraordinary heatwave across Spain, as well as a sweltering bus. The bus station was essentially closed; the only people there were homeless sleeping on the floor. I took a cab to the hostal, where we had reservations for Saturday night. The fat bastard at the desk told me I couldn't stay there until the room was ready, that it would be "disruptive" when the guests arose in the morning. Fat bastard! He told me I had to leave, but that things were open on Las Ramblas. Right, 5:30ish at this point. I left, pissed, but too tired to argue, especially in Spanish (and I didn't want to get kicked out of the hostel). Las Ramblas... amazing in the daytime, but sketchy at night/ass early morning. The only people there: drunk people and prostitutes. I walked up and down the area for about half an hour, trying to avoid everyone as best I could, until I asked a newspaper stand man where I could go and sit and wait. There was one café open in the open-air market. The camarero there was super nice and told me it wasn't a problem for me to stay there as long as I needed. But it was cold. At about 7 I started to wander, looking for breakfast, as the sinister had left Las Ramblas, replaced by the light and normal working people. I met a couple from some BC islands north of the San Juans, who bought me breakfast. I wandered around for several hours more, as I did not want to return to the hostel to be told that I had to leave again. I bought lunch and ate it on the street near the hostel. Some guy walking by stopped and began to guess my nationality: "English?" No. "Irish?" No. "Australian?" No. "Canadian?" No. "American?" Yes. He asked if he could sit down, and I agreed because he was semi-attractive. Then he, Mohammed from Morocco, commenced to try to pick me up by bragging about his language skills, his high rollin lifestyle, his drunk and alcohol use, etc. My lunch was not so enjoyable at this point. I got rid of him by tellinig him my parents were waiting for me back at the hostel. Hasty dos besos and he was gone. But seriously, why would he think that would work? Idiot. I went back to the hostel and slept.

The rest of my time in Barcelona was less eventful, but excellent. It was wonderful to see and travel with my parents. As I get older (shit, 23!!) I learn more about them and come to appreciate them more and more as people, instead of just as my parents. I love Barcelona. Its narrow streets and alleyways, its diversity. This was my third time there and each time it gets better. We went to La Pedrera, an Antoni Gaudí designed apartment building; the roof was marvelous. We also went to the Sagrada Familia (Gaudí, amazing), picnic at Parc Güell (Gaudí, life goal to visit), the Picasso museum, the waterfront. Random wanderings. Delicious food: Pakistani, Spanish, Japanese. Lesson learned: Spanish food doesn't have to be terrible, just the food from Extremadura. I was sad to leave.

Next we went to Tarragona, an hour and a half south along the coast. It has un montón de Roman ruins, including an ampitheater and forum because it used to be a major Roman city. It's smaller than Barcelona but still a good sized city. Huge cathedral. It was refreshing to be in a more tranquilo place with less tourists everywhere. It was also nice to be in a new city I had never seen before. Everyone was extremely nice. I love the accent in Cataluña, it's very lilting and sing-songy. It was strange to be in Spain but see a different and hear a different language everywhere. Catalán is similar to Spanish but distinct enough to cause problems.

Valencia is beautiful. It's further south along the Mediterranean coast. The weather was a little strange: bone-chilling winds and rain, then hot and sunny. We wandered a lot. We saw a procesión de Semana Santa: people dressed in robes with pointy hats (similar to those of the Klan), with marching bands and religious floats. These religious rituals are so strange to me. We went to the cathedral, of course. Also, the Ciudad de Arte y Ciencia, which is a series of futuristic complexes at the end of a huge river-bed turned park. There's also a huge playground play structure shaped as Gulliver. While there were children everywhere, it was still pretty cool.

We were supposed to come to Coria on Monday (work on Tuesday), but all the trains were full so we had to get up early early early to catch the 6:50am train to Madrid on Tuesday. We had 5 hours in Madrid until the bus to Coria so we went to the Museo Thyssen-Bornemisza, which has an amazing collection, including Monet, Dalí, Picasso, van Gogh, Gauguin, etc. Excellent. Then bus to Coria = many hours of travel. And we're back! To crappy work. Oh well. Only two more months which should fly by if all goes as planned.

Pretty much, a fabulous, stupendous, phenomenal vacation. I apologize for spelling errors, the stupid spellcheck doesn't work, and I need it more than ever.

Monfragüe

On Saturday I went to the Monfragüe National Park, about 45 minutes from Coria. I had wanted to go there before I left but I didn't think it would happen (no car, you know...) I went with Jenny, students and profesores from Moraleja, and a group of Swedish students here on an exchange. Lavishly financed by the EU. All the Swedes looked out of place: pale, pale, pale. For once, I wasn't the whitest! They got more stares than I usually get, too. Monfragüe has a huge population of birds; I believe it's a refuge of some type... There are montones of vultures. I don't think I'd seen one before coming to Spain. They're HUGE. We hiked to this "castle" (some ruins), and all the Spanish students complained the whole time ("no puedo más"). Afterwards, we went to Plasencia. Now, I haven't been on a high school field trip in years, but in the US they are very different than what I saw here. No buddy system, no head counts every 5 minutes, no strict supervision and chaperoning. Kids were smoking left and right. One of the profesores handed out cans of beer to the "adults" (shit, I include myself here, as I am not a student), the Swedish teachers ordered brandy at the bar, the kids went off by themselves for several hours.. Very different. I also realized how American PB&J sandwiches are; Jenny and I with ours, the Spaniards with their baguettes of jamón or salchicha.

Our favorite bar, Las Candilejas, has reopened after 3 months of renovation. It's much bigger now and I realized that when we went to the inauguration, I knew about half the people in the crowded bar. One of the pinchos was morro, or pig snout, probably my least favorite pincho. You can even see the bristly fur on some of the piece. It's gelatinous. Sick. It's all about the pig here; if you can't identify the meat, it's probably some sort of pig. En fin, I miss being a vegetarian.

9-M

Spanish presidential elections are coming up on the 9th of March. They started campaigning about a month ago. Yes, a month before the election. This is why every Spaniard who asks me when our elections are is shocked when I tell them November. In this context, it really is quite ridiculous. 10+ months of campaigning!? I've watched several rounds of debates here, the first in 15 years, between Zapatero and Rajoy, the leader of the opposition. They are juvenile, childish, frightfully immature. They interrupt each other (the moderator doesn't seem to do a thing), blame each other, throw accusations around. And use graphs and quote extensively from articles. It's terrible. I come away from it thinking how they both seem to be bad choices for the presidency if all they choose to do is blame each other for mistakes made by the GOVERNMENT. As if they weren't an integral part of it. I haven't determined much of their plans for the future; what they would do if elected. Even the Spaniards agree that it's quite absurd.

Let's see. This weekend, Jenny and I met Sydney in Cáceres. Mainly to get out of the doldrums of Coria. The problem is that there's nothing to do and the interesting people usually leave during the weekends. The last time we were there we met some chicos who told us they would show us good bars with good pinchos and good cañas the next time we came. They took us to a "mountain" right outside the city which overlooks it. Afterwards we went bar hopping. The first bar we went to was one I had been to before: three and a half months prior, with some of the profesores from Coria. I joked that I still couldn't understand a thing of the menu (no, really, just half this time). But it gave me a basis of comparison for how far I've come since then. At that time, I was so utterly confused by everything Spanish: the language, the culture, the people, the food... cañas? pinchos? Pinchos versus tapas--wtf? Until I had this experience I guess I hadn't realized how much more comfortable I feel in everything Spanish (hah, now for my deteriorating English...). Excellent.

This is really a scattered post. Alas, my English and my ability to write, out the window! Do I blame it on Spain or on the time out of school? Anyway, the weather is starting to get nice. This weekend in Cáceres it was like Washington summer, at least 80 degrees. If it's doing this now, I don't know how I'm going to survive May! It's gotten really windy these last couple of days, though. I used to mark the coming of spring with the reemergence of my freckles. They never left here, though, so I can't use that. It's strange. This weather is strange. I like the sunny fall and winter but I couldn't live like this forever. And the summer is dreadful here, I've been told. I guess I'll stick to rain and beautiful summers, distinct seasons, and disappearing freckles!

I've bought a pair of hiking boots so it makes it real! The more I think about the camino, the more I can't wait! I can't believe there are only three months of my job left and a week and a half until my parents come. I'm flying home on August 3rd, everyone, travelling back through time and arriving on August 3rd! Nearly every weekend from now until the end of work is planned out: a hike, Feria in Sevilla, Morocco, Cádiz, Mérida... I can't wait!

Y después...

Seeing as time is flying by.. I visited Sydney in Badajoz this weekend and we planned some of what we're going to do after the job is over. Three weeks in Hungary, Croatia and Bosnia, then back to Madrid. To San Sebastián on the 22nd of June to start the Camino de Santiago. We've decided to do the Camino del Norte because I wanted to see several cities in the north and the coast is absolutely beautiful. So, two birds... So we'll hopefully arrive in Santiago de la Compostela by the 25th of July, in time for the Santiago festival. Then to London on the 31st, and back to the US on the 3rd or 4th of August. It seems really far away but it's not! It's almost the end of February! I've gotten to the point where I can't quite remember how certain things are in the US. I find myself asking Jenny or Sydney "would this happen in the US?". No one's quite sure. This (among other things) made me realize that the reverse cultural shock of returning to the US is going to be tremendous. Yes, it's a long way off but not so much.

Todo va bien

Nothing new, nothing special, pero todo va bien. I am slowly resigning myself to the fact that nearly everyone in Coria recognizes me, as the lectora and as an extranjera. This is not acceptable in the US: calling someone a foreigner. But it's fine here. I use it as an excuse: I didn't know, I'm foreign... (ah, no sabía, soy extranjera...) Every high school age child recognizes me as English is a required class here. If I doy un paseo, I will hear "Hola Amy hola Amy" more than a few times. It's difficult. I'm used to living in relative anonymity, in addition to being a private person, so that I feel watched in the pueblo makes me uneasy. It's how it's going to be so I'm trying to laugh about it. As one of Jenny's teachers said, "They're savages among themselves". When I changed pisos over two months ago, I went to my bank and changed my address. They continue to send my statements to the old address, even though I have brought it to their attention several times. This last time, the man I was dealing with asked the other teller why this continued to happen. Her answer? Es porque es extranjera. What?! That doesn't even make sense. Por lo menos, the man recognized that it didn't make sense and is "working on it". Entre comillas.

Let's see. More typical of Spain: I got paid for January on the 12th of February. Yes, nearly two weeks into the new month. Yesterday, they finally fixed our shower door after two and a half weeks. Yes, sixteen days of showering without a door, water ALL OVER THE FLOOR. But, we still haven't paid rent for this month. No one seems to care, and I doubt they've realized it yet. Yes, landlords are far superior here (hah, let's see what happens if there's a real problem).

Classes in Torrejoncillo continue... the same. However, I don't really care anymore, so it's not as bad as it was. It's really pretty funny. And I've been working about 9 - 10 hours a week since January, instead of 12. Yeah. Así es España. It's commonplace in both Torrejoncillo and Coria for a teacher to get fed up and spend ten minutes lecturing students in Spanish. It's sad that it comes to that. I learned the other day that these students start learning Spanish between the ages of 3 and 5. Yes, I know. And at 15, they have the about same level of knowledge and pronunciation that I had as a sophomore in high school, having studied Spanish for 2 years. It is absolutely pathetic. I want to blame the students because they're so terrible but if they are all failing like this, it has to be a problem with the whole education system. I never thought that the United States had a particularly good system, but I am incredibly impressed now in comparison. These children can barely use a dictionary!

One month until Semana Santa and my parents come! I can't wait. I know time is just going to continue to fly. I'm starting to think about what will come next, in June.

Carnavales

What can I say... Los carnavales here in Spain are like nothing I have ever experienced before. I can't begin to describe what happened in Badajoz on Monday, the day before Fat Tuesday. This isn't just because I can't remember all of it, either. Pretty much, it was Halloween but fifty five times better: the streets were packed with people of all ages, in amazing costumes, drinking as if there was no tomorrow. And it wasn't a holiday for children asking for candy, just children (12, 13 year olds) wearing next to nothing drinking along with everyone else. It was excellent. I chatted for half an hour about LOTR (yes I did just employ the acronym) with a Nazgul, some bees to helped me order a drink because the bar was so crowded, I interrogated a man-plant (plant-man?) as to what he was: una planta, I ran into teachers (pirates) from Coria. And from the series of events on Monday, I was unable to return to Coria yesterday, Tuesday, so I had to sheepishly text (can you text sheepishly?) Ángela to tell her I'd make it in when I could on Wednesday. I missed my only class. No pasa nada.

The weekend in Sevilla was less eventful (only slightly). We got a ride to Sevilla on Friday, cutting out at least 2 more hours on a bus. We did the tourist things: Plaza de Toros, Museo de las Bellas Artes, Real Alcázar. The Alcázar is amazing: the mudéjar tiling is exquisite. We went out for tapas on Saturday night, ended up getting three free rounds of cañas from the Brazilian waiters, went to a flamenco bar for free flamenco and sangría (we each had a liter, a liter!), received a lecture on how the English learned in Denmark is superior to the English we speak in the US (from some Denmarkans.. what's the word), tried to go to a club, got semi lost in Sevilla and ended up back at the hotel somehow. It's so nice to be able to speak Spanish! The next day we saw Plaza de España, but the cathedral was closed so we had to put it off until Monday. Then to Badajoz!

All in all an excellent if enibriated weekend. Ah, Spain. And to think that I didn't used to like sangría. What the fuck was I thinking? It's excellent! I also got to try the gazpacho and espinacas con garbanzos en Sevilla. Wonderful tapas. Y ya.

¿Cómo se dice Goldilocks en español?

So.. more about my wonderful life in Coria. I decided that because I am 23 years old, I should be able to talked to Ángela about the whole Monday thing. Lots of mental prepping, indignation, pep talks from Jenny. Well, I finally get up the nerve to do it after I went to the school at 8:10 for class Ángela. Turns out she had messed up AGAIN and I had wait an hour until the next class. Entirely her fault. This is the second week in a row that this has happened, additionally. So I went for a walk to calm my fury. After class I told her my feelings about the whole situation. She proceeds to lecture, talk over me, and repeat herself for the next half hour. So nothing is solved! I don't know if I have ever met anyone with a stronger personality; she scares the shit out of me and she doesn't listen, to me or to reason. Ah well, at least I tried (in Spanish, too)! Last weekend I went to Cáceres, the capital of the province. It's only an hour away by bus. And I love it! It has a beautiful parte antigua, tons of free museums, and more interesting nightlife than Coria. We found a bar that could have been in the US. When we entered they were playing Pearl Jam, followed by Metallica, Rage Against the Machine (major plus!), Nirvana, Elvis, the Beach Boys. It was excellent. We also went to Trujillo, a pueblo nearby with a plaza mayor preciosa. There are storks everywhere in these two cities. I don't think I'd ever seen a stork before coming here, but they are huge birds that make huge nests on top of cathedrals, telephone poles, really anywhere that they can manage. It's amazing. All in all, a good weekend. Back to this shitty job, then a four day weekend. I'm going to Sevilla, and then to Badajoz for Caranaval! Oh, this is funny. The other day, a baby almost threw up on me. I don't think that's ever happened to me before.

My life in Coria

Well. Here's an update about my life in general. Seems like someone out there ought to be interested? I've been finding Coria extremely boring after getting back from my awesome trip to Italy and beyond. Somehow, the job has gotten worse, and I dread it. I have also been informed that my day off, Monday, is my "day off" (entre comillas), and that I must sit around in the sala de profesores, waiting to talk to each one about what we'll be doing during the week. Which means I spend the whole school day there. That is, if they don't forget I'm going to class with them and leave without me, or if they don't cancel on me. Bullshit! On a better note, Jenny and I started going to yoga classes, so maybe that will counteract the time I spend on Monday, waiting to be forgotten. Last weekend, Jenny and I met Sydney, Bronwen, and Rick, Bronwen's dad, in Salamanca. I love that city! It has such wonderful atmosphere... because it is a university town, so there are actually young people! This weekend, we're going to Cáceres, and the next to Sevilla and Badajoz for Carnaval! I can't wait. This is how I get through the crappy job during the week. And the weather is strange. It rained for two weeks after the vacation. Then it was very cold. Now it is warm: around 60 degrees in the afternoon, and sunny. In comparison with the weather at home.. wow. This is April weather (if we're lucky! probably May). Lending to the surrealism. Y ya está.

And this is how it began...

An excellent way to start a 2 1/2 week trip. No sleep, sick, hungover. What can I say? The people here know how to party. It was the Christmas dinner with the teachers here in Coria. Many got drunk at the dinner and everyone else at the bar afterward. These people (meaning adults, I don't include myself with that word) can drink and dance the night away as well as any of my college friends! A feat. This is why I love Spain more and more. These people have so much fun! It was a holiday work party where all are friends and it's acceptable (even expected) to get very, very drunk and show up to work at 8am with a wicked hangover the next day. Everyone buys everyone drinks. I drank with the principal, my colleagues, and the mother of the children I tutor; many are older than my parents. At the restaurant there was a group of about 100 people playing bingo while eating dinner, with a microphone announcing letters and numbers. I was annoyed but everyone else just joked about it. It was obnoxious but everyone allowed that if they were that group, they wouldn't worry about the others in the room. How diplomatic? In the US there would have been so many complaints! Anyway, I didn't get home until 8:30 the next morning. Enough time to prepare lunch for the bus and finish packing! And realize that my debit card didn't work in the ATM so I had to take all the cash I had and pay for everything else with my American account. Excellent. Dollars to euros. Así es.

My first impression of Portugal: everyone and their mother will run to offer you help with perfect English if you look the least bit lost. This was my first time in Portugal. Lisbon is an excellent city. We had a bit of a time finding the hostal (it being night, we were all dragging, you know) and the public transportation in that city is quite the most confusing of any city I've visited. We finally found the street, but the small map in the guidebook was not quite sufficient. A boy approached us, offering help (in perfect English), then his dad offered to help, and it turned into a family excursion: father, several sons, and several daughters walking us to the hostel. So nice. The workers at the hostel spoke no English or Spanish, so we did our best to understand their Portuguese (or French, sometimes) and answer in Spanish. With lots of gesticulating and repitition. Anyway, so Lisbon is a beautiful city. Many buildings are decorated with various tiles of different colors and patterns. Tons of hills. We got lost more than a few times in the Jewish part where we were staying. On Christmas Eve, the women at the hostel put out various traditional Portuguese pastries for us to try. It was sweet. I think they felt sorry for us! Christmas day was spent in the Lisbon airport, on a plane, in the Munich airport, on a plane, finally in Venice (in a hostal quite outside the city). It was snowing in Munich (a white Christmas!) and the two seconds we spent outside made me extremely grateful for the not-so-cold but still cold in Italy.

Italy: every other building is a church. I thought Spain had churches... No.

Venice is amazing. It is still the most exquisite city I have ever seen. It's so strange: to be surrounded by water, everywhere, with no cars in the city. We spent the day (the only day) walking through the city and getting lost in various dead-ends and narrow streets.

Florence is wonderful. I had never been before. We did the normal tourist things, like spending four hours in the cold to get into the Uffizi museum. Worth it? Yeah, why not, Botticelli is always worth it! We also saw the David, which was pretty impressive. We took a day trip to Siena (note to everyone: you must validate your ticket BEFORE you get on the train because it costs 5 euro for them to write the date and time on it on the train). Nice cathedral, you know.

So, New Year's Eve. I alternate every year between having an awesome, slighly intoxicated night that I remember and a ridiculous, too-drunk-to-remember-the-countdown-hungover-all-the-nexty-day-was-that-tequila? night. I do remember this year. We start by drinking at the hostal, later buy beer from a street vendor as we wander toward downtown Naples. The man at the hostal had told us there was a concert in Piazza del Plebescito. Well, we realize a bit late that we'd brought the metro map instead of the street map. No problem, just dodge the fireworks every ten feet on the sidewalk, street, wherever. We find the piazza about 20 minutes to midnight. Enough time for more beer, you know. Overwhelming--everyone and their mother was in this piazza. Shortly before the countdown, two Italian guys start talking to us. The Spanish-Italian exchange really doesn't work, but then their friends show up. One "speaks" English (about as well as the children I "teach"). We enjoy their champagne, countdown to the new year together, exchange cheek kisses all around. I determine, by this point, that one of their friends, Silvia, is probably a drag queen instead of woman, but Sydney and I still aren't quite sure. They invite us to a discoteca. Of course we'll come! Oh, we have to go in your car? Well, you have a baby albino bunny (?) so of course getting into a car with strange Italians is fine! (Yeah, I don't really understand about the bunny.) Six of us in a tiny European car. Somehow the driver avoids all the fireworks in the street, I'm sure that can attest to his sobriety... We find ourselves driving definitely outside of Naples, the opposite direction of the hostal.. I silently start to flip my shit, as Silvia assures Sydney that they are good people and we shouldn't worry. Right. As soon as the car stops, Sydney and I are OUT (not to mention I have to pee like nothing else). We tell them we must leave, they laugh and we are out. We wander, I realize I have lost the only (crappy) map we have. Excellent. Finally, we find an elderly couple and try to ask them in Spanish how to get home. They help us find a metro stop that is not closed. Someone at the station finds someone who speaks English. He tells us how to get back. A miracle, really. So! I loved Naples. Less tourists, cheaper than the rest of Italy. We also went to Pompeii, which I thought was going to be one ruined house. Why? Ni idea. It was a whole city (duh!), huge. It was fascinating to finally go to these ruins that we learned about every year in elementary and middle school. It was amazing to see the city partially how it actually was, with the art on the walls. We also went to Sorrento, a little town perched on the coast. The water was beautiful and I wished so much that it was summer so I could swim!

Trying to do Rome in 2 1/2 days after over two weeks of heavy traveling is really just impossible. Perfect weather (well, sunny but COLD) for the entire trip, then rain the last two days. It POURED (Washington poured) the last day, I became absolutely saturated and miserable, and after the sixteenth street vendor tried to sell me an umbrella, I was PISSED and muttering death threats to each who passed, dry, underneath his own cheap umbrella. So, I'm glad I'd been to Rome before because this time was not spectacular. So after the thorough soaking we forewent plans to go out that night, bought several bottles of euro-49 (1.49 euro) wine and discussed political correctness (no, "white" is fine to say) with a Swiss couple. Excellent. I did get to see the St. Peter's Basilica, the Vatican museum (how are the Catholics so rich???), the Colosseum the Trevi Fountain, like tourists do.

Last leg of the journey

My first thought when I arrived in Coria last night: Oh great, I'm back where everyone stares at me because I'm a foreigner. But then I realized I was going to sleep in my own bed with no one else in the room, rustling bags at 3am. This vacation was awesome, amazing, insert more cliche adjectives describing enjoyment, if you will. And the perfect way to end it: after waking up incredibly early, riding a 40 minute train to the Rome airport, flying, landing in Madrid, making my way to the bus station, buying a ticket, spending the afternoon in Madrid, spending two more hours in the bus station, I missed my bus. It doesn't matter how, it was my fault and I'm just an idiot. So I had to buy another ticket, find a hostel, and kill another day in Madrid. The day before I had met Josefina, a woman from Mexico, who bought me a café and a roscón (typical Reyes Magos pastry). Super nice. Yesterday, after I left the Museo Nacional de Reina Sofia, this middle aged man tried to... well, I'm not quite sure what. He started talking to me, realized I was foreign, asked me where I was, started critiquing the political status of the United States (wait, Obama and Huckabee, where did that come from??), and invited me to coffee. I told him I had to catch a bus, explained the situation from the previous day, and he continued to ask me if I had to go, if I would be back here next Saturday. He told me I had a beautiful nose (la nariz de una mujer inteligente--I didn't know how to take this, especially because, as you all know, my nose is not "beautiful"). He kept insisting that the next time I came to Madrid we should have coffee. Then he told me he could drive to Coria since he had a car. Looking back, I'm pretty sure I passed up my only chance at a Spanish sugar daddy... He gave me the traditional Spanish kiss on each cheek as a farewell. What a creepy man. I do have to wonder if he has had success with this approach before, though, because he's old enough to know better if it doesn't work. Anyway, more about the vacation later.