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!