Ledesma, Spain

So for part of Semana Santa (Holy week=Spring Break) I decided to do Help Exchange. Its a website, helpex.net, where people list any sort of thing they would like people to help them with and then people come to help them with it in exchange for room and board. The type of work ranges from help on a farm, babysitting kids, painting a fence, just about everything! So I was looking for places nearish to Madrid and I found a posting outside of the big university town of Salamanca--Ledesma. The posting pretty much explained that this man, Ron, had purchased a 15th century palace in this small city and is restoring it to turn it into a tea house or theater, or art installation or what he isn't exactly sure yet except that it needs lots of work. I sent him an e-mail saying I would like to come help him with it with my boyfriend Garrett and he said he'd be most happy to receive us. So, we went west to see Salamanca for one night, which is a beautiful city, and then went on to Ledesma.
Ledesma is a splendid little city on a hill with a river wrapping around it. A botanists, bird watchers, rock collectors paradise with many wildflowers, all types of flying eagles, fishing birds, little zippy birds, and many granite formations.

Roman road, roman bridge going on a picnic w/ Ron

Rainbow

Can you see the hidden creature?

Ledesma

Breakfast nook in the palace

We ended up oiling all the wood in the front, what is to be the tea room, of Ron's palace in return for an amazing experience in small town Spain. Full of very friendly people and great outdoors attractions. Ron was a great host who cooked us wonderful food and was very accommodating with my gluten free needs, he even invented special batter and crepe recipes for me. He took us to many places around Ledesma like old roman bridges and roman silver roads, old city washing fountains, and just generally led us around on walks to see the lovely nature abounding in the area and to great swimming holes. He taught us some card games, we made ice-cream together, and had lots of political debates. It was such a nice time in a nice place with a nice man. I'm planning on going back to visit him again while I am here in Spain. I love rural spain and older men who fix up 15th century palaces using all found materials. Reduce, reuse, recycle man, yeah.

Morocco

Went to Morocco, well I guess it was about a month ago but I've been entertaining a special visitor for the last month so I haven't filled anyone in on the African adventures!
So Garrett and I went to Morocco at the end of April. We stayed in the heart of Marrakech for 2 nights then  went to seek a little refuge from the hectic city at the beachside city Essaouira for one night, then back to Marrakech to stay the night before catching an early flight back to Madrid. So that was our Thursday-Monday trip in a nutshell, here is the more elaborate version:
We got into Marrakech at night when activity in the main square, Djema'a Al-Fna, was at its peak. There were snake charmers, monkey handlers, story tellers, henna artisans, musicians, and food carts abounding and everyone was out to see the spectacle. One interesting aspect about life in the square is that although it is in the center of the tourist zone the square was full of Marrakech residents. This is something I had never seen before, usually residents completely avoid tourist districts but here this main square was shared equally between tourists and residents. There was a division between who did what, the storytellers only attracted an audience of locals because the stories were obviously told in arabic but other than that audiences were intermixed that the food carts attracted both residents and tourists to eat. Something I noticed immediately was there were no moroccan women out visiting the square unless they were with husbands or possibly on a date. There were women vendors, selling little pastries or their henna skills but they never had a cart like the other vendors. They would sit on a small stool anywhere in the square and wait for people to come to them. Many of them had their children with them.
We went to find our hotel right away which was a bit scary because it was off the main square but you had to wind around many narrow dark streets in order to get to it and I wasn't sure at that time what areas were safe or not. During our dark alley walk to our hotel we got our first taste of what would make up a large portion of our time in Marrakech, people trying to get your attention anyway they can to get you to enter into their business, in this case hotels. Moroccans, seeing us with our backpacks and me with the map (trying to be discrete about it but really needing it for these little winding streets) knew we were looking for a hotel and so would try to greet us and get us to go into the nearest hotel (there were lots along these streets leaving the main square). They would follow you for awhile still saying things to you to try to get you to give in which was a little unnerving. Finally we found our hotel which was a sweet relief. It was 100 dirham a night (the equivalent to about 9 euros) for a room for two people which was really beautiful; had ornate moroccan tiling. The hotel had a rooftop terrace and a central patio/open air space going up to the roof. We took some time to recollect ourselves and then headed out to the square again.

bought some spices here

The main plaza in Marrakech

We decided to go for a stroll through the medina (the narrow winding streets with carts and business abounding selling everything). It was incredibly crowded and people were again saying hello! hello! english? where are you from? mustache!! (referring to Garrett's mustache he had at the time) anything to get us to look at them and from there they would do their best to get us into their store. This whole experience felt very awkward to me because I'm used to being a friendly person. If someone acts friendly towards me, wants to know where I come from, acts like they care and are interested it would normally be very rude for me to just give them the cold shoulder, never look them in the eye and go quickly away.  But of course the vendors know that if they can get you to feel bad and make it seem like it is you who is being rude to them for ignoring a friendly advance you are more likely to actually acknowledge them and then get sucked into their vendor scheme where all the sudden you are in their store and they've handed you something which there is no way you can give back and now you have to pay for it. But this happens every 5 steps you take in Morocco which 1) was very stressful and 2) made me feel like a mean person which got really wearing.

Morocco is an islamic country which means instead of a church every 3 blocks there was a mosque (which no non-muslim is allowed to enter even though they look so beautiful and enticing) and this means when the call to pray happens at many times throughout the day, its loud! Each mosque has a singer with a megaphone making the call at the top of the tower (one of which was right outside our hotel, the 5am call was cool...) then you can watch all the men file into the nearest mosque.
Another frequent happening while in Morocco was getting ripped off. Had to get used to asking how much a meal or something was before sitting down to eat pretty fast. Also on buses, twice. I knew to avoid all the people in and out of the bus station offering to lead you to the right window to buy your ticket because they'll demand payment but it was really hard to shake them. You'd walk in and they'd swarm you and try to take guesses at where you were headed and would make it impossible for you took look around and try to see for yourself what window you needed to go to in order to buy the right ticket from the right company. When we went to the moroccan station to buy the ticket to Essaouira it was really overwhelming but I got us to the right both but then one of the people trying to lead us to the window which I had found myself but he just followed us all the way there tried to take over me buying the tickets. We got the tickets and then he said the price was double what it should have been I knew from my travel book. I confronted him on it but he said this was a bus which wouldn't make any stops and therefor get us there in half the time.  If this was true, I felt like it would be worth paying more for the tickets but then again, I had no way of actually knowing if he was telling the truth. Well, because this was still in the first 24 hours in Morocco I wasn't used to being lied to and cheated all the time so I went ahead and bought the tickets. The bus was just the regular bus, made lots of stops anywhere anyone seemed to be stopped and waiting for a bus. Then again, buying bus tickets from Essaouira back to Marrakech we got there and I didn't have specific information on what window to go to and I didn't see any window with the bus company name I knew I wanted so I felt like I really didn't have any other option but to go to one of the people who makes their livelihood leading people to the buses they want to take. He took me to one that looked pretty rickety and told me the price, which was about how much I had payed to get to Essaouira on a nicer bus that was supposed to be the fast one so I knew I was getting ripped off but I also just really wanted to return to Marrakech and I didn't know when another bus would be coming so I went ahead and payed it. That was the worst bus ride I've ever had. As we were pulling out I saw a really nice, clean, roomy bus pull up to board and then head to Marrakech :-( I was very sad that I wasn't on that bus because surely the tickets would have cost the same. The bus I was on made even more stops than on the way to Essaouira and it was sooo hot cause we were traveling during the hottest part of the day and it was so crowded people were standing in the aisle crammed together. I also saw what a moroccan woman payed to get on the bus--40 dirham. I paid 120. I spent the whole 4 some hours so hot, with a baby kicking my seat, super squished, thinking the whole time about how I got ripped off and how much I wanted to be on that other bus I saw. When we got off the bus the 80 some degree day hit me like a breathe of fresh air, a brick of ice really; it was that hot on the bus. So there are just two of the 4 or 5 times we got ripped off in one way or another. Each time it happened it really put me in a bad mood, boo.

Tajine

One of the very best parts of the trip was eating! Moroccan food is so good! Amazing flavorful spices used in everything. The table setting is salt, delicious pepper, and fresh ground cumin. I put cumin on everything it was so good. They also valued vegetables there which was a nice change from Spain. Great Moroccan salads with every meal: tomatoes, cucumber, onion, delicious blend of spices, oil and who knows what else, but all fresh! And the vegetables they did cook, like with their Tajines (a yum yummu meat dish cooked in an iconic clay dish from which it gets its name), still maintained the form of a vegetable which was amazing for me to see because Spain, if they have vegetables, love to cook them into an unidentifiable moosh. Also, really great orange juice! There were orange just carts all around Marrkech selling orange juice that they'd squeeze right in front of you for 4 dirham. I had lots of the best orange juice of my life. Also great mint tea after you finished every meal with tons of sugar. I was so, so sad to leave moroccan cuisine but I bought some spices there so that I could make something with flavor here in Spain.
Morocco was beautiful place to just walk around and appreciate the architecture, tiles, arabic archways etc. I'm used to doing a lot of walking away from from tourist areas when I travel becuase thats usually where you find all the cool stuff but as soon as I ventured away from that zone in Marrakech people would all stare at you and tell you to turn around and go back, try to lead you to the nearest tourist attraction. It made me feel unsafe so I only spent a limited amount of time in the real workers districts of Marrakech.
I'll relate an experience which really stuck with me that I saw in the main square in Marrakech. Garrett and I were getting some orange juice at an orange juice cart just watching the happenings when all of the sudden one of the women selling pastries with her 1 or 2 old picks up the little plastic stool she was sitting on and charges at a little boy of maybe 6 years old all alone, selling the same thing, and hits him hard with her stool. He immediately started to run off but she chased him continuing to beat him. He lost his shoe about this third fleeing step. She comes walking back with her stool, picks up his shoe, and sits back down again as if nothing had happened. A minute or so later the little boy walks back crying, with only one shoe and sits back down on the plastic bench he was sitting at. The woman is talking to him in a harsh tone from her stool and lets him retrieve his shoe from her. He then walks over to the cart we were standing at to examine his wounds in the mirrored front. He is bleeding from several spots on his face after his attack but after seeing the damage he goes back to his bench trying to sell his sweets, all the while still crying. I have no idea what happened to spark the anger from that woman but I don't condemn her. She lives in an extremely oppressive society for women and it could very well be she only mimics the abuse that she has received her whole life. At the same time I'm not trying to make excuses, it just definitely made an impression on me. I'm so privileged and you don't really understand that until you experience things like this. I never had to go selling pastries alone at 6 years old, get beaten, maybe have no place to go home to after said experience or maybe just know I had to sell more to support myself or family before I could go home. Its easy to look around you and say, well I'm not staying in the 5 star walled in hotels around this city walking, around in designer fashion, etc etc and its THEM who are privileged. But no, its me, its you, its everyone I have a relationship with in this world. Even some of the poorest people in the U.S. are greatly privileged in comparison to the quality of life in many other parts of the world. Seeing things like that really make it hard to forget how lucky I am in life and empower and motivate me to do more for my fellow human beings, keeping me on the right track in life.

Essaouria

Essaouira was a really nice break from Marrakech. It was a much more relaxed beach town where people didn't seem to be trying to get your attention quite as much. It was a very beautiful city, all the buildings were blue and white and there were fresh strawberries to eat everywhere. We spent a lot of time just relaxing from the Marrakech stress.
So thats just an idea of the Morocco trip. It was the most stressful vacation I've ever taken, you had to always be on your guard but it was also incredibly rewarding to see and experience all the things I did and visit a place unlike any other. It is a gorgeous country and I'd love to return to see more but I don't think I could spend any more than 4 days in a row there, too much stress!

Lisbon Trip

Went to Lisbon, Portugal last weekend. What a beautiful place, beautiful time. I can easily say it is my favorite city in Europe and now I will explain why.
So I did CouchSurfing there as usual. The first person to accept me seemed very friendly, but then due to various things including but not limited to google telling me his address didn't exist and then him insisting on picking me up from the airport made me decide to last minute bail on him and search for another couch. After coming to the city and spending time with the Portuguese what scared me about staying him could have just been a cultural difference, where as an American if someone seems TOO nice and something seems TOO good to be true we automatically become wary of the person and the situation, which is pretty much what happened. In the end, I'm still glad I looked for a new couch to surf because I ended up staying with an amazing portuguese boy and creating for sure a lifetime friendship.
The first day we got there (I went with Lisa--my coworker--and on a side note, as much as I enjoy traveling alone like I have been doing it was really nice to have a partner this time, takes away a lot of the stress) we went to the city and just started wandering around and our wanders were pretty much from one restaurant, to one cafe, to one dessert store, to another cafe etc because as we quickly learned, Portuguese food is delicious! We did a bit of sight seeing but mostly just getting a feel for the city by wandering the streets and seeking refuge under gazebo-like trees and bus stops from the occasional rainy time. This left us with an extremely positive view of Lisbon because of the span of history that is there, from modern to ancient and everywhere we went we ran into friendly people. People not just being friendly to us but also just watching random people meet each other in bus stops and starts conversations. There was a positive since of community and a willingness to include others in that community. Later that evening we met up with our couchsurfing host when he got off work and went out to a cafe with a beautiful friend of his from Istanbul who gave us a detailed plan of exactly what we should do with our next day in Portugal-which Chris tried to follow the next day but it was just too much to do so we weren't able to complete everything but it was definitely a good outline. That night we made a traditional Portuguese meal together and Chris played several of his many instuments. We turned his living room into a Fado house (the traditional music of portugal) by connecting youtube to the TV because we knew we wouldn't have time to see in live while we were there. We also had lots of deep conversations about cultural and the world and I think both of us learned quite a bit.
In the morning Chris drove us around to show us some neat places on our way into Lisbon (Chris lives in Cascais, Portugal which is a beach town ~20 min west). One of the places we went to was LX or Lisbon factory which is an area of Lisbon under a bridge that was just abandoned factories and poor communities which they decided to rent to design, art, and other culturally places at a reduced price with the agreement that in a number of years they will be tearing the area down and all those places will have to move, but for now it is a place full of really awesome bookstores, cafes, and art. We went to lunch there and I had the most amazing meal of my life: chestnut stuffed suckling pig. SO GOOD. If I would have gotten a meal like this in the US with the atmosphere we had and presentation, quality of food etc, it would have cost probably $30 for the plate but it was only 13 euros! A lot for food in portugal but so worth it. Mmmm. A baby pig is the exact size of my belly I learned after eating the dish.
Later we ran off because a demonstration that Chris wanted to join in was starting. Chris informed us the previous night about many of the problems in Portugal currently and this protest was against the government who doesn't listen to the wants and needs of the people as well as protesting about living wages for educated people. After getting a degree or masters degree many people cannot find jobs that pay them what their skills are worth, the minimum wage in Portugal is 480 euros a month and many college graduates make around that which is obviously not enough to live on nor enough to incentivize school. So anyway, I marched with the protest for an hour or so because I sympathized with the cause and also thought it might be silly to have an American thrown in there next to communist flags and anti-capitalism posters (the protest was organized by the communist party).
 Lisa and I left the protest after awhile because we still had a lot of Lisbon left to explore. We explored the old Moorish quarter on our own and could hear the shouts from the protest all the way up on the highest hill of Lisbon. We met up with Chris n friends for more eating, followed by live music watching, and lastly Barrio Alto hanging. All the night we talked of "the revolution", America, and Lisbon and well, I guess we talked of lots of things but I enjoyed our conversations of those things the most.
The last part of Lisboa we went to that night, Barrio Alto, was a really incredible night time spot. Lisa and I had already been there Friday during the day but at night it turns into a whole different spot. All young people fill up the streets of the whole neighborhood (and its not so small). We were told by Chris and friends that its the place were you go and as you are walking you run into everyone, including your old friend from 4th grade and stop to have a chat. As soon as we entered the zone we found it to be true. There were probably thousands of people in the streets but no matter where we went our group constantly ran into friends and stopped to chat for a bit before wandering again. It was just an incredibly friendly area with a very positive vibe. I met many people there, all so willing to be friends with a stranger and have conversations that really matter. I found people very curious about my opinion on things in the US and the US in general.
Our plane was to leave at 7:40a so we thought we'd just stay up all night hanging out in beloved Lisbon until it was time to go but we ended up having such a good time at the end of the night talking and laughing with our new found portuguese friends in a park with a great view that we realized it was already 4:30a and we still had to go back to Cascais to get our stuff etc. At this point I would have started running down the hill (we were in Barrio Alto translation, high city) towards the car but Portuguese don't really work like this, there is never any rush and it took us forever to make it to the car as along the way we had to give long goodbyes to members of our group who broke off with us to head back to their homes. We finally made it back to Chris's threw our stuff in our bags and headed to the train station to see the train depart as we approached. So, earlier in a post I mentioned how my favorite high during traveling was to run run run to and barely catch a train, while my least favorite is to see the train leave while you are standing so close to it! We get there and see the next train comes in half an hour, so we will still probably make the plan, it will just be a rush. We say sad good bye to Chris and he and his friends promise to come visit us while we are in Madrid. Then we wait for the train in the cold, and wait, and wait, and wait and wait.....and suddenly its 10 min past the time the train was supposed to arrive, then 20, then 30....then we realize that it muse have just been an invisible train that was scheduled to come at the time listed on the schedule and because Lisa and I forgot our invisible train glasses we must have missed it. So now we know we are probably going to miss our plane because the next train doesn't come for another half hour, but at least this one was not of the invisible variety. When we get to the train station we debate taking a taxi and flying over to the airport just to see if we can maybe maybe catch our plane but we are flying with easyjet and they make you check in 40min before the plane leaves otherwise you don't get on the plane and we are sure we aren't going to make that so we went with the aerobus which would be cheaper. When we get there at 8:00a we realize we had the departure time wrong, the plane wasn't going to depart at 8a but at 8:30a so if we would have taken the taxi we still probably could have made our flight!! OHHHH how frustrating, I'm still frustrated about that writing this now because getting a new flight cost us 60 euros and our round-trip airfare was just 70 euros originally. The next plane wasn't till 2:30p so we do our best at airport sleeping, which obviously isn't so good. The plane is delayed until 3:40p, of all the planes to be delayed!!!!! Finally, I get home exhausted at 9p (we lose an hour coming back to Spain) and quickly head off to bed.
Except for that unfortunate ending (I blame the outcome on that darned invisible train!) the trip was a marvel, a really truely wonderful time and I can't wait to return to the beautiful city and beautiful people. I hope in the future I get an opportunity to live/work in Portugal, I think I could spend a good while there eating well, being well, hanging out with the greatest people on earth.

Revisiting Spanish Health Care

 I mentioned in an earlier post that I went to the Dr for the first time and it all seemed different but alright? Okay, well now, after more experiences, I would like update that thought.
So last Wednesday night I get a text from Lisa, one of the auxiliars I work with who lives in Alcalá as well, saying her ears really really hurt and she needs to go to the Dr but needs help cause she is really sick. Its 10pm so the Doctor she usually goes to is closed and she doesn't know where to do. I happened to be hanging out with a group of my Spanish friends at the time so I asked them where was an Urgencias or something. Then I realized, they all have public state provided health care and we have private so whatever they normally do won't work for us. I will note, however, that they said they would just go to the hospital after hours for anything they needed. Then me and my friends looked online to try to find some sort of Urgent care or 24 hour health care, what we found were 24 hour veterinarians. Really.  So I abandoned he search with the Españoles and headed over to Lisa's flat.
When I got there I asked her if  she'd done any internet searching to see what services she could find. She had, all she'd found were vets. Okay, well at least we are on the same page...  I flip through our private healthcare book and there is no category for urgent care or 24 hour care. The hours for all doctors are either not listed or not open past 8pm. Then I remember the healthcare facility I went to earlier in the week had a banner on their webpage that said "Cuidamos  a su salud 24 horas al día" or "We care for your heath 24 hours a day". I call them to make sure they are open because frequently hours Spanish businesses say they will be open and they hours they are actually open do not always align. No one answers. This is also not uncommon for Spanish businesses, it is likely there was someone by the phone who just didn't feel like picking it up. I figure I'll walk over there because its like 15 minutes away and see if its open and then call Lisa and have her walk over if it is. I get there, definitely closed. So I guess the "We care for your health 24 hours a day" all over their website was just meant that they care in their hearts and minds, not actually care as in provide care. Well thats kind of sweet but mostly annoying. I call Lisa to discuss our options. Oh yes, we also cannot find a hospital listed anywhere in Alcalá but I know there is one because people talk about it. The only hospitals we could find are in Madrid, so like 60 euro cap ride? is one option OR dressing Lisa up as a dog and taking her to one of the many 24 hour vets. Then I remember seeing an Urgencias sign on my way to the bus stop for work at a public health place. I head there thinking even if they can't treat us they would probably know where we could go.
I get there and explain the situation, we have Mapfre private health care, my friend is really sick, we don't know where to go. The man behind the counter is pensive. He says go ahead and bring her there but don't mention anything to anyone ever about us having Mapfre. Okay! So at lease we have a place to go! I go get lisa, and this place is like far from her house, 30min walking probably. So we make it there and she gets treatment. BUT I realize that if the healthcare man told us to just secretly come there then there is probably no place for us to go after hours. Skkkuuurrrryyy, what if I have a late night emergency? I guess its the vets for me! What I thought was really great health insurance that covers me on practically everything (prosthetics, fertility treatment, every kind of everything) is actually only great if I need treatment between the hours of 8a and 8p, oh wait, except from 2-5p because thats siesta....
Experience #2
So after this late night Doctors extravaganza (I finally got home at 1a) I went to Barcelona. Which was great great great except for the fact I was really sick. Mostly just body aches and excruciating throat pain.  So anyway, I wait till I get back to Alcalá to go to the Dr and I think I probably have strep throat. In the US you definitely get swabbed for strep but here I told him my symptoms he looked at my throat and said yep, its inflamed. You said you had a fever? Me-Yes, yesterday for sure. Can we take my temperature now though? Him- No, there is no thermometer here. Me in my head- What?! No thermometer??? At a Doctor's office? Wheerrreeee ammmmm IIIIIII? Him-- I'm prescribing you antibiotics.   So I got antibiotics but without any sort of a test or any trying to figure out what it actually was, just the fact that I said I had a fever and that my throat looked inflamed.
The next morning when I get out of the shower I notice (well I see blaring at me in the mirror) a red blotchy rash all over my face, neck, and back. So, I go to the Dr. again but this time it is in the morning so its a different doctor. They don't make a chart or record any information on you even if you go to the same facility like I have been doing so I tell her my story. She tells me to stop using soap on my face. But I've used my same face soap for ears and its Cetaphil which is for extra sensitive skin, no perfumes, nothing. Nope, its surely your face soap, don't use soap just wash with water.  Okay, well what about the rash on my back? Thats probably from something else she says and she leaves it at that. She doesn't ask to see my back the only rash exploration is does is look at my face and touch my cheek. She also prescribes me an anti-inflammatory cream for my face. My instructions are, wash with with water, apply lotion and this cream. I leave wanting an American doctor.
The rash continues the whole time I'm taking these antibiotics and has now gone away that I'm off them. Its a relatively common side effect of the antibiotic I was taking which I found out by looking online but what my Doctor didn't know.
Long blog short, if anything happens to me here, I'm coming home for health care. I want my doctor to at least have a thermometer amongst his/her medical equipment.

Ranting n happenings

I've changed the language of this blog to English due to complaints. I hope navigating is now easier for you allz.
Sketchy people are on my mind today so lets talk about them. So the other night I was in downtown Madrid and was headed back to Alcalá at 3am which is terribly early by Spain standards and was the reason why I was making the trek alone. At 11:30p the Cercanias trains which connect Madrid to its suburbs stop and at 1:30p the Madrid Metro stops. When you pass both these times it means you are destined to navigated los búhos (the owls) or the night buses that start running at 1a and go till 6a when the metro opens (the cercanias open at 5am but if the metro isn't open then there really isn't a easy way to get to the stops). So I was figuring out my route bus by bus and as I was waiting for my first one this guy who maybe drunk or on drugs or maybe just an interesting guy starts talking to people at the bus stop and others were talking to him so when he starting talking to me I joined in the conversation. One thing I hate though and I don't understand why people ask is the, "where are you headed?" question. Which, okay when you are making conversation at a bus stop maybe is kind of expected but needing specific answers isn't. I'm headed home/to a club/to a friend's house etc should be really really more than sufficient but soo many times people really really want to know more. Where? Obviously when I'm traveling alone this is not a question I answer but instead of showing them I'm sketched I'll usually always mention the small town my school is in because no one ever has any idea where that is. Sometimes though people are just too darn curious and still want more. Eventually I have to get to the point where I tell them "I prefer not to say". I would think that any normal person who wasn't planning on following me home wouldn't be asking me the exact directions to my house and yet I run into people practically asking me exactly this all the time. I'm starting to wonder if its a cultural thing but I find it really annoying and kind of rude. Especially, when people take offense to me not telling them exactly where I'm headed--well too bad for them, they can cry to me all they want I'm stay stubborn about this rule of mine.
Another pet-peeve. People trying to pressure me to eat their snacks. Kinda sounds silly but to me its really not. I've heard a few stories of people (especially on buses) who meet a really nice person who offers them a drink which they see them open, they accept and then they are drugged. I remember on specific instance on the bus from Córdoba to Madrid, which was like 6 hours, there was a man sitting next to me with alll sorts of snacks and opened like everything he had trying to get me to eat or drink something laughing at me and saying well you have to eat something! Actually I don't. I'm never going to eat your stranger snacks Mr. Stranger.
I actually believe that the vast majority of these experiences I have which make me really uncomfortable and I feel are really sketch actually aren't. I think the world is filled with almost all good people. Its just that one sentence phrased wrong or just being really really nice and offering me your food or trying to be really helpful or wanting me to tell you exactly where I live to help me figure out my route late at night to get home safely is going to make me label you a sketchball and make me keep my distance just in the rare chance that you aren't Mr. or Ms. Helpful.
Sometimes it just gets really tiring always being on the lookout for Mr. n Ms. Sketch and it gets really frustrating when people who probably aren't actually you, Mr. Sketch, do obviously sketchy things to someone who is obviously traveling alone.  When people ask me if I am and I go with the, "No, no, I'm with my friend but they are meeting me right when I get off the bus etc etc etc" people always laugh to themselves. Its an old line, everyone knows exactly what that means--you are totally totally traveling alone alone. Anyway, basically I just wish people would stop asking me where I'm headed and trying to feed me. I'm gluten intolerant and probs can't eat anything you have anyway peoples! If everyone in the whole world would stop doing this, I wouldn't have to write this blog out of frustration and my travels would be easier.
Okay phew! Sometimes you just need to vent!
Now what have I been up to:
I found quinoa! I walk by an Herbolarío which are just like a small natural stores which I had read on the internet had quinoa and the one I found didn't...ha, but the old man behind the counter wrote it down on a list and said to stop by tomorrow afternoon and he'd have it! Now lets just see the price when I go...
Oh yes, had my first experience with Spanish healthcare this week. Well I have private insurance so its not the real Spanish healthcare that the gov't provides. I just had a really bad cold given to me by all those snotty nose children I work with I'm sure and when you miss a day of school you have to get a dr.'s note justifying your absence so I was just going to get that note. I get there and the front lady tells me to go ahead and go into the Dr.'s room cause she doesn't think that there is anyone inside. So, I do but there is definitely someone inside. Opps! Kinda awkward. That was a red flag difference between US and Spanish healthcare cause they would never just have yo go check out yourself to see if you were interrupting someone's doc visit or not. They also didn't go through all the motions of the Dr.'s visit that they do in the US. I've never gone to the Doc without BP and temp taken, probably height and weight too. None of that was done at this visit and I was even sick! She listened to my breathing, felt my neck and took a look at my throat then gave me mi justificación and I was outta there without making a prior appt in 7 min maybe.
Oh yeah, some other interesting bits. So school sometimes has people come and try to sell us things during our teacher's break where we eat snacks n chat while the kiddles are on recess. I'd heard this happens really frequently at some schools but this is the first time I'd seen it personally. A nice old salesman in a tweed jacket with a paisley handkerchief in the pocket and patches on the elbows brought knives, pots n pans, a vacuum and a memory foam pillow to sell to us. He gave his shpeel and I think a couple of the teachers did buy things. He also handed out free kitchen scissors to everyone that were quite nice and I was psyched cause I didn't have any scissors. Anyway, just thought that was something you wouldn't have seen during school hours in the US. Also something you wouldn't see is teachers kissing the kids which you see all the time here. On girl was crying cause she is 10 and life is hard I suppose and the PE/Math teacher was teaching (he looks and moves almost exactly like Mr. Bean!) and saw it so he just walks over n hugs her, whispers something calming in her ear and kisses her all over her face. I think it is really nice, it was very calming to her and she immediately recovered and the class went on but oh my goodness! If that happened in the US! lawsuits would be filed.
Meow, okay there's your update. Till next time!

Más adventuras

So this weekend I've stayed in Madrid. I started out Friday with battling Spanish Bureaucracy, heading to the Office of the Foreigner to apply for my NIE, the equivalent of a Social Security number, but for foreigners. Its certainly been an eye opening processes. I always here it is hell for foreigners in the US to get a SS number and work with our government for Visas etc but now I have a little taste of what it is like for real. Spain is no where as tough as the US I'm sure but there sure are a million conflicting directions and people telling you different things and different papers to fill out, long lines, and general mayhem. I was finally able to meet with someone and submit my application for my number which will allow me to do several things; the one I'm most excited about is opening a bank account so I can buy my plane tickets in Euros and save lots of money. Its supposed to be ready in 10 days...I'll let you know how it works out. In March I have an appointment to apply for my foreigner ID card which will replace the need for me to carry around my passport as a form of ID, that will take 45 days from the time I apply to be ready though so I'll have it for like a month before I leave....thanks Spain. I will need it to get out of the country though so I really hope the don't mess it up and delay it.
After that I went and explored Madrid the rest of the afternoon which is pretty silly to admit but I haven't done that in the daytime yet. I wandered around the downtown for a bit just fallin' in love with the city. I love Madrid, really really really. Its a beautiful, amazing, big city. Watch out Portland! You've got competition for my love! But you aren't really that big so maybe I just shouldn't put you in the competition.
That night when I got back I was feelin' pretty ready for just a movie and then bed but my friend I met on Couch Surfing (also an auxiliar, from Atlanta) messaged me asking if I wanted to go on a hike in the snow the next day at 6am. Of course I did, so this meant I went to bed immediately so I could wake up early and go.
The hike was really cool, around 25 couch surfers all met together in Manzanillas? where there is a regional recreation park. The main guy who planned it was older but really awesome. He knew the place really well and was quite the tour guide. I was incredibly unprepared for a snow hike (just had on regular pants and tennis shoes) but figured I could handle 5 or 6 hours of cold wet feet for an awesome hike with cool people. Uhhh, this was an intense 10 hour hike! We were still hiking out of the park for a good 30 min after it was completely dark out. The climb up wasn't so bad but we went straight down the mountain, like sliding down ice on our butts sometimes on purpose, mostly not on purpose though. It took us like 3 hours to get down the side. I'm scratched and bruised and sore all over but it was a ton of fun and as frozen as my soggy feet were 6 hours into the hike I would do it all over again. I'm fully converted to the Couch Surfing website, let me tell you. I meet some of the greatest, friendliest people from all over the world. So after leaving Alcalá at 6am to get to Madrid and then go to Manzanilla I got home at 9pm to find my heater was not working and there was no hot water! OH my poor wet, frozen feet. After a few good shakings my heater starts working and so I forget about the shower, eat dinner, and crash.

Today I woke up feeling warm, rested, and sore a pretty good combination I think. Hopefully tonight I'll get to finally watch that movie I had my heart set on a few nights ago...

Galicia

I went to Galicia last weekend, a NE province of Spain just above Portugal. Wow! Is it different than everything I've seen of Spain so far. Its kind of out of the way of any other Spanish destination so its preserved from tourists mostly. Its has the most beautiful country landscapes sprinkled here are there with the occasional village made up of 4 or 5 old stone houses.
I flew to Galicia on Ryanair, which is the dreaded low cost airline of Europe but it was nice to finally join the discussions about resenting Ryanair. It was only a 1 hour flight but would have been a 9 hour bus ride for the same cost. I spent my first night in Santiago de Compostela, the end of the Camino de Santiago pilgrimage. I couch surfed with a really chill guy, Borja, and actually ended up getting my very own room looking into a main plaza of the city. It was a great experience staying with Borja and his roomies, I learned a lot about Galicia. The next day I explored Santiago. It was freezing! I went to the market built in the 1920s to get fruit and cheese for breakfast. There was a very friendly cheese lady who helped me pick a traditional Galician cheese for breakfast. One of the traditional cheeses is made in the shape of a woman's breast (ish) as a rebellion against an event that took place where an old sculpture in town was done of a beautiful curvy woman but the church made the sculpture tone down the pretty parts :-) I had a lovely breakfast listening to a street Gaita (bagpipe, traditional music in galicia for the celtic influence) player. Then I realized I was completely frozen and read in a cafe with a warm drink for an hour followed by attending the pilgrims' mass. Saw them limp in after their journey but didn't witness anything miraculous. I hugged St James like you are supposed to and also didn't notice any major life changes. Siesta time in Galicia is even more intense than in Madrid! Places close at 1pm and then don't open again until in between 5-7! Oh man. Wasn't expecting that so I missed some of the sight exploration I would have liked to do while in Santiago.
Next stop Lugo! Where I met up with a friend from College who is also an auxiliar (doing the same job I do, we are called auxiliars of conversation and culture) and stayed at his place for a few days. A crazy thing about Galicia is that their first language is Gallego, a blend between Spanish and Portuguese. All their signs are in Gallego and everyone speaks it to one another so it kind of felt like I was in a whole different country. When I heard people talking I'd kind of assume it was Spanish because it sounds very similar and I could recognize a few words so many times I just felt like my Spanish was bad, but no, its a different language. I'm glad I wasn't placed in a region where Castillaño itsn't the first language because I think it would be harder to learn Spanish well. Lugo was nice, everything was very cheap, there is a great tapas scene, great food (had pulpo octopus, and loved it!) and the longest fully intact roman wall in Europe which surrounds the old town completely. Marquis (the friend from school with whom I stayed) and I walked all the way around it on the pathway on top of the wall. It was really nice and I got a nice view of the city that way.
One of Marquis' friends took us out to a small village in the country for a "surprise". Which turned out to be visiting the ancestral home of the Castros who are from Galicia (along with many other revolutionaries like Franco, Che, great authors, actors, writers). He thought it was the best thing and stopped everyone walking by in the small village to say in Gallego, "Hey look! I brought a couple of Americans to see the Castro home!" He also took tons of pictures of us standing at the door. I thought it was great though, pretty silly n fun. We also went to tour a cool rural tourism place that was quite traditional galician in every way. It was a beautiful, fun afternoon and weekend.

Stories from a first floor address with a second story view

After what is now one month in Spain I feel compelled to share a few little things which intrigue about my life here.

1) I live on the second floor in large Franco era apartment complex, however, my address is 1D-thus shows me living on the first floor. Its just a little thing which to me seems completely backwards (perhaps a little Westside Story-y even) but its just how things are here in Spain. The primero piso (first floor) begins on floor number two. The first floor is the piso bajo or bottom floor for those who are interested.

2) Why I am afraid to turn on lights in Spain:
All apartments in Spain are within a building, so there are no outdoor entrances to an individual apartment like most apartments in the US. The interior hallways and stairwells of my apartment complex lack windows so its always pitch black. It is impossible for me to find my way down a dark hallway and then down stairs in complete darkness (believe me I have tried when my fear of turning on lights takes hold which I will soon explain), thus, I must search for the light but here is the problem:
Lights here are a sort of a wide see-saw shaped contraption; the doorbells also have this same design. Also, both have a little orange light which illuminates them in the dark. I have several times at ungodly hours rung a doorbell instead of turning on the lights I was searching for. I really hate doing this, it really stresses me and makes me always always scared every time I go to turn on the lights in the hallway. Now that I've lived in my apartment for a few weeks I think I've got down which are the lights and which are the doorbells but I still get a rush every time I go to switch on a light.

3) Hours in Spain
I work from 9-2pm every day. When I get back from work around 3pm my roommates are just waking up, walking to the bathroom bleary eyed and in slippers. These are full grown adults but this sort of activity is quite acceptable in Spain. You sleep in and stay out/up late late late/early early early every day. I've given in to the eating schedule in Spain (main meal at 3pm and then dinner or tapas at 9 or 10pm) but I cannot stay up till 4am on weekdays and stay out till 8 am or noon on weekends. On this Spain and I will just have to disagree.

4) On a sadder note, the unemployment in Spain
Unemployment here is sky high. The overall figures for the whole country right now are above 20%. I walk past the unemployment office everyday when I go to catch my bus and there is a line wrapping around the block. People have to wake up and get in line by 5am in order to be seen by 2pm my unemployed roommate Noelia tells me (well both my roommates are unemployed). The office doesn't even open until 9am. I feel pretty awkward as a foreigner walking to go catch my bus to work by this line every day. Right now, I'm getting paid as much as a good lawyer in Spain--I work part time talking with kids and have no responsibilities. In the beginning I got sassed a couple of times about how Spaniards don't have jobs so "isn't it nice that I, an American, get to come over and work in their country." At first I kind of wrote it off, I'm really the only one who can do my job (well me and any other semi-educated American) and they really need my help in learning English and working with pronunciation, even the teachers make lots of mistakes. So I really believe I am a good investment for the country and will help these kids be more employable with their mad English skills! Also, 80% of the euros I'm given each month go back to the Spanish economy. However, its hard to explain this to a Spaniard who is well educated and desperate for any kind of work. I'm getting sassed more and more about this every week by people I encounter and a pretty continuously by my roommates. I think I will be moving in the next month or two to a better location and into a place that will have more friendly roommates (mine just stay in their rooms all the time, not helping my Spanish guys!). Its will be rented by my favorite teacher in the school I work at who is probably worth a whole blog entry in and of herself and one day I will write about the infamous Judy. I'm a little worried that I'm going to be making this really tough for Noelia my roommates who owns this apartment because she is recently unemployed and will be losing her tenant....its probably going to be an awkward conversation. Basically, its been interesting being in Spain during this tough economic time.

And BOOM! thats how you spend one month in Spain already.

Blog España

A forward: I'm creating this blog so as to not need to send several individual e-mails to those who have expressed interest in how things are going here in Spain. One of the main reasons I've decided to come to Spain is to perfect my Spanish and so I'm fully immersing myself in the language and culture; I'm reading books, watching movies, listening to music etc. all in Spanish. Due to this I want to point out a few things related to this blog 1) I want to spend very little time on it because its English 2) Its very difficult for me to switch languages on a dime 3) Because I'm trying to squash all things English I can already tell I'm losing my grip on the language. The accumulation of these things amounts to a rather shoddy blog I'm producing. If you want a good read in English grab a translated copy of The Brothers Karamazov. This blog is not aspiring to be anything more a quick glance into my life while I'm abroad please excuse all flaws, lack of rhetorical devices, non-sensical sentences and general grammatical errors 'cause Dear English: Sorry to put this so bluntly, but I've moved on.

La Llegada y la primera semana

Traveling to Spain was pretty painless. I must say arriving in a new country was never so simple for me as was getting to Spain. The 22 hours of plane and train time was really not painful, just a bit exhausting. I was immediately impressed by the public transportation system here, very clear maps and signs made for flawless navigation of the underground and train and easy arrival here in Alcala de Henares. However, stress level increased when it came time to find the apartment where I was going to be staying the first week.

I decided to try out the Couch Surfing website for the first time in all my travels after realizing the cheapest Hostel I could find in Alcala was 22 euro a night. This is a standard price for Spain but I really didn't want to pay money to stay in a Hostal in a city that I was going to end up living in for 6 and ½ months, I'd rather pay to visit new places. I requested couches of 4 Alcala residents about a week before I left for Alcala and was accepted by one Senor Emilio Esteban. His Couch Surfing profile, great reviews, and our really positive e-mail interactions made me feel relatively reassured that he wasn't a weirdy and also made me excited to meet him. When I asked him for directions to his house from the train station he replied that he would meet me at the station to keep me from having to wander through the city; just give him a call when I arrived. Sounds smooth! But don't be fooled. Arriving in the train station I find myself bombarded by a beggar/fortune teller who is really insistent. “No” is the same in both languages so there really couldn't have been a language barrier but while I am standing at the pay phone trying to figure out how the thing works she is pulling my arm and trying to get in between me and the pay phone. Thus, stressomiter increases and I still really can't get the payphone to work. The gypsy woman ends up showing me a little bit of how to use the pay phone and also points me in the direction of another across the street that might work better. After her help I figured I did owe her something and allowed her to read my palms. She foresaw positive travels, long life and love. She also foresaw me giving her more money to get a more in depth reading...on that point she was mistaken. Okay so zooming along—I can't figure out how to call Emilio and end up asking directions and walking there. It was only like a 10min walk from the station. I didn't know what apartment number Emilio lived in and so I couldn't call up to him to get let me in so I waited for maybe 20 min in front of the apt building until he magically showed up from around the corner. Yay! Up on the 7^th floor Emilio shows me the great view of the city park, the skyscrapers of Madrid, and the mountains. He also offers me not the couch, but his own room and bed saying he'll sleep on the couch. I was really blown away by his generosity and wanted to refuse but feeling exhausted from my day of travels and desiring nothing more than a private nap couldn't bring myself to say no. In the 7 days I spent with Emilio and his flat mate Hector I was confronted with only more generosity and good, great, better and best times. Both are architecture students and in the middle of big projects but still included me in their everyday activities, went out with me on my birthday, and more. My first week here in Spain went so well. I felt happy, comfortable, and safe here and all those feelings are directly attributed to Emilio as well as Hector. So nice to have such great friends here and just to be around such quality people. Well, I finally found my own room in a shared apartment the other day and, sadly, had to say my goodbyes to Emilio and Hector. We had a parting dinner the night I left with one of the friends. I made a traditional apple pie to share and they showed me how to make Tortilla Espanola. It was a pie shaped food cultural exchange night for sure. I think they really liked the pie, none of them had ever had it but had always seen it American movies and were excited to try it. They joked about how we should leave it to cool in the window so that children could thieve it away. I related the recipe to them because they all wanted to know after trying it.

I'm now living with a woman from Cuba, Noelia, who works for a home security company and a student and aspiring rapper, Ivan from Galicia, Spain. Ivan only practices his rapping when Noelia isn't home. I have a small but everything you need sort of a room with a very uncomfortable mattress. The apartment is well lit which I really appreciate after looking at some windowless apartments... Its clean and nice. Noelia and Ivan are no Emilio y Hector but they are both friendly and nice so I really can't complain.

Colegio Salvador Dali

So for all of you whom I informed I would be teaching at a high school, umm well I was mistaken. The “colegio” in Mexico means only highschool but here in Spain can just mean school as well. The school is 3 years old to 12 so like preschool to 6^th grade. I have mostly 4^th 5^th and 6^th graders with a one class of 4 year olds and one of 5 years old. There are three other Cultural and Language Auxiliares at the school—Blake and Lisa from the U.S. and Francesca from the U.K. We all work Monday-Thursday 18 hours a week. So far I've just been mostly talking one on one with the students working on their English. All classes except for Spanish and Math are taught in English and most of the older kids have a pretty good command of the language. For almost all the teachers english is their second language so they all pass on the same mistakes and accent to the kids and so thats why this program bring us native speakers there was started. The teachers ask us for pronunciation help and we help them learn words and explain language and culture to teachers and students.

The kids are really sweet and call out my name in the hallways and are always excited to get their one on one time to talk with me. Its really a coosh gig. I started working the 15^th of December and I get paid all vacations so I'm getting paid for the 2 weeks of vacation we have coming up here pretty soon even though I'll have only worked 2 weeks total. I'm getting excited to be paid in euros so I don't have to deal with exchange rates anymore.

The kids are also kinda bad. Not a lot of raising your hand to talk really happens here and they tend to get a little out of hand sometimes but the teachers don't really discipline them so what can you expect? The teacher student dynamic here is also very different. The teachers threaten to kill the kids when they are behaving badly, make motions to be slitting their wrists when frustrated, and are kind of informal and (according to my American comparisons) are kind of mean and rude sometimes. I think this is a just a culture difference but it certainly is different than what I'm used to.

I really like the organization of the school. Teachers all work as teachers, duh, but then they also have other side jobs like also being the school secretary, care taker, etc. I just like how everyone just kinda chips in to make the school work and so the positions within the school don't seem so power stratified.

Adventuras en Andalucia

I have returned from my 12 day exploration of Andalucia Spain! Andalucia is the southern most province of Spain, its tip reaching down towards Morocco. It is quite a different place culturally than the central province of Madrid in which I live. What makes Andalucia most interesting to me is the blending of the Roman, Moorish, and gitano (gypsy) cultures. In any given city one can see the distinct influences of each of these cultures. There is not one single icon which I believe represents these regions best but an equal blend of flamenco, roman ruins, ancient mosques, arab and catholic palaces, olive groves, and orange trees sagging with ripe fruit, just to name a few. I formed a bit of a hexagon, although missing on side, as I traveled through Andalucia hitting Granada, Nerja, Ronda, Sevilla, and lastly Cordoba.

Granada

Granada is a 5 hour bus ride from Madrid but completely enjoyable as we passed through miles of beautiful olive grove countryside during the sun rise. It took me about an hour and a half to find my hostel in Granada but I suppose that is the consequence for booking a hostel in the narrow, winding, maze of streets known as the Albaicin. Once I was finally able to locate my hostel I had no regrets about staying there because of the great atmosphere, friendly fellow travelers, and awesome district in which it was located. The Ablaicin is full of Middle Eastern cuisine, Moroccan tea houses, and other miscellaneous Arab charm which has since ignited a desire to travel to Morocco while I am here in Spain.

I spent Christmas Eve and Christmas in Granada seeing sights, admiring street art and hanging with new found hostel buddies which made me feel like I was doing everything but traveling alone. On the 26^th, after two days of admiring the Alhambra from its perch on the hillside above Granada I was finally able to go see the grandeur for myself. All I can really write about this is that it took a lot of concentration to cut out all tourists there to get the perfect photograph of them with the Alhambra to show all their friends but in the moments in which I did achieve this will certainly stick with me forever.

Later that day I went to the hot springs about 20 minutes from the city center, well that was how long it was supposed to take... We piled 7 people in the little european rental car two of my Australian buddies were renting to travel across Spain and after asking directions two or three times and being laughed at when they saw our little city car trying to make it there (and asking directions was me, as I was the only one who could speak Spanish, walking up in the dark countryside in the middle of nowhere to these little camping gypsy communities). After searching for about an hour, finally ditching the little car on the side of the road and walking, just out of no where we stumbled across a steamy oasis full of jovial late night Spanish soakers. We left our clothes a good distance from the hot spring because it was a mud pit leading up to it and had a well worth it soak in the natural spring in the cold night air.

After the soak we trudged back through the mud to our clothes but realized we were not able to put them back on because we were just to durn muddy. Obviously the only solution was for Nathan, our Aussie driver, to drop of as close as he could to the hostel (but remember it is situated in narrow, windy, people only streets) so that turned out to be about 5 blocks away, and we walked/ran back in our towels, barefoot and muddy through the city and into the hostel. We created quite a scene and had shop keepers running out of there store saying, “Aren't you cold?! Aren't you cold?!” and trying to offer us clothes/blankets from their store for our journey back to the hostel. Needless to say, we attracted quite a crowd, our group full of scantily clad, wet and muddy foreigners walking quickly and barefoot through the streets of Granada. Ah, it was a good time though.

Nerja

Nerja beach town on the Mediterranean highly frequented by British vacationers but it is small and still retains much of the authenticity that traditional “resort beach towns” have all lost. I decided to go because I didn't want to come this far south without seeing the beach and because I'd heard there was an awesome cave nearby. It was a beautiful day at the beach! Warm and sunny. I spent a good portion of my time just reading on the sand. I also went to these caves.... whoa, what a tourist trap. The cave has HUGE caverns and features the worlds largest column formed by a stalactite meeting a stalagmite. It is also Spain's third most frequented tourist attraction, preceded by the Prado and the Alhambra, so that should have been my give away to stay away! They did not permit flash photography but at one section of the cave they had a huge professional camera set up with monster flash where they mandated you get your picture taken before going on to see the rest of the cave. Then they had fake cave noises of dripping water etc playing and other terrible gimmicks. I paid 9 euro for a 30min walk of the cave and just felt sad afterwards. Boo, needless to say I didn't buy my picture they tried to sell me at the end.

I returned to the beach to watch the sunset which was especially cool for me being an west coast girl and always seeing the sun set directly over the ocean; being at the tip of Spain I watched it disappear over Spanish mainland while the water lay in front of me.

Ronda

Ronda is one a several white hill towns in the stretch of territory between Granada and Sevilla that not many people frequent so I decided it would make a good place to visit. I woke up the morning of the 28^th and was eating breakfast in the hostel's kitchen when I heard other people talking about going to Ronda as well that day which surprised me because its kind of a lesser known place and it was difficult for me to find a way to reach Ronda, no buses go there but after some searching I was able to find a train. The folks at breakfast had rented a car which was now full but after I finished talking with the car people another hosteler, Mark, expressed an interest in going with me to Ronda on the train and so we headed out that afternoon.

Ronda is a beautiful, white, small city with a deep gorge cutting through the center of it dividing the old and new city. It was a nice change to be spending the night in a small city were people seem friendlier and the countryside surrounds you.

We woke up early the next morning to make it to la cueva de la pileta. A cave I was most looking forward to seeing, especially after being let down by the tourist trap Nerja caves. This cave is privately owned by the family that discovered it about 60 years ago but they work with archeologists with conservation and research. The cave has more that 3,000 Neolithic and Paleolithic paintings, the oldest of which is dated to be 25,000 years old. These paintings are among the best preserved in the world and were mostly just lines or patterns but there were several horses, goats, oxen, and one giant fish. The cave itself was also quite a wonder with a couple of lakes inside, lots smoke stains on the wall from ancient fire pits, as well as some left behind pottery. It was a real adventure getting there though!

I have two guide books, the Let's go! Backpackers Series which won my heart over when I went to Mexico and Rick Steves', both offer directions to the cave. Rick says 'pay 55 euro for a round trip taxi, its possible to get there without wheels but don't bother' and Let's Go! Tells me take a bus to Benajoan, walk through the town and ask the locals to point you in the direction of the cave and then follow the highway that leads there 4.5 km without straying off the highway or else your sure to get lost on a mountain path.

Wanting to see the cave, not wanting to spend 50 euro doing it and now having Mark to accompany me along he highway, I went with Let's Go's “directions”. We set out at 7am to go to the cave and found ourselves a) In the dark (sun doesn't rise until about 8:30a) b) In an intense fog c) Without luggage storage because the bus station was inexplicably not open. Thus, we missed our train to Benojoan as we waited for light and for the bus station to open so we could use their luggage storage. The bus station eventually opened when it felt like it, just like everything else does in Spain, having gotten rid of 2 out of the 3 scary factors keeping us from going to the cave we caught a bus to the city and found our way to the highway and began our foggy, windy, uphill climb. I had a good laugh as we passed several “panoramic view points” but all there was to see was about 5 feet in front of you and then fogggggg. Okay so obviously I was totally impressed by the Pileta Cave and it was totally worth the trek.

The town of Benajoan is very very small so there were only a few buses or trains going out/back from there each day so we had to time our trip pretty well. Since we took the bus in we didn't really know where the train station was but figured that since it was the Benajoan train station it had to be somewhere close by......nope. We made it back down the highway, by this time the fog had burned off, and into town where we see on the town map the station in this weird bubble kind of to the upper left hand corner of the city map. The map doesn't show which roads connect to the station so we head in the direction of the train station with about 25 min till the train leaves. I ask the locals and they say we are on the right road, just to keeeeeeeeep on following it. The emphasis on the contunias proves to be a perfect description as we follow this winding mountain highway for quite a while before seeing, way down below, the railroad tracks. With about 15 min and 5 long mountain switchbacks Mark and I are realizing what a great view we are going to have of our train pulling up to the station and then heading off without us. We've really picked up our pace now and by the time we get to the little suburb where the station is we are RUNNING. We make it to the station, see the ticket window closed and the station operator standing by the tracks, upon seeing us sweaty and out of breath he asks if we want this train we are like YEAH! He's like well its going to be coming up to the other side of the tracks so we need to cross over but the train is coming now! And I really don't know how to get over to the other side. As the train pulls up to the station with us on the wrong side I finally figure out the part we are to cross we we jet across and onto the train. Phew! There is really nothing more satisfying than just barely making the only train for quite some time.

The station operator man was really quite nice to allow us to board the train at all, ticket sales close 5 min before the train arrives so that he can leave the ticket booth and take care of the arrival, so he let us get on the train free of charge, how nice!

Sevilla

Spain's 3^rd most large city and the home of flamenco. I really had high hopes for my time here but my dreams were dimmed a bit by food sickness. The first night I got in I had a good time going out for some really yummy tapas, the next day did a walking tour by the hostel and had an indian curry which I think was probably the culprit. Then I was going out for another tapas crawl with a bunch of people and about the second place was really not feeling so hot so had to call it quits. I was quite a was from the hostel and feeling worse and worse every step I took. As I was walking along the river I was thinking, this would be a great place to puke with no one around and lots of bushes, but no, the urge took over when I was in the middle of a big open downtown city square and I vomited a ton right in the center of the plaza, I figure people probably just thought I was drunk, I was walking super slow, and puking in the center of a plaza like I just don't care. I made it to the hostel thinking that the worst of it was no probably over but no, I don't even know how many times I got up in the middle of the night. I was on the top bunk in a 6 bed dorm so I felt really bad for my dorm mates who I knew I was waking up by getting up and down and puking all night. Eventually I was just feeling too weak to make it up the ladder anymore and pulled my blankets down and spent the rest of the morning on the communal bathroom floor. The next day was New Years Eve. I spent the day sleeping and locating some oranges and water. Hostel life is funny. The same dude who greeted me when I came into the room with a “what night should I plan on us getting our alone night? And what bunk do you think would be more comfortable, mine or yours?” was the only person who expressed an interest in me while I was sick. When I'd pass out with my glasses on he would take them off and set them somewhere safe, he got me an extra blanket, and medicine. It was nice to have some one kind of looking after me even if he was a bit of a scum bag in other ways.

I finally emerged from bed at 10pm to see what was happenin' among hostal peeps for New Years. A group of us ended up going to a main plaza where we watched the city clock without a second hand tick a way towards midnight. I was standing at an angle to the clock but I figured I would just follow along with the rest of the mass of people watching it when they erupted in a New Year Celebration but it was like clearly at least 3 past midnight when we were like uhh, okay so lets just celebrate it now! This I feel was a classic representation of Spain. Time doesn't really matter, even when you are readily awaiting the New Year. About 15 past midnight there were fireworks and the city stayed on the streets until the wee hours of the morn. It was fun just to wander around the city and see what the locals were up to.

On the first I walked all around the city to see sights that weren't open and then saw flamenco in the evening. I was totally impressed with the dancer, yes, but mostly the male singer who watched the dancer with such intensity while she was dancing really accommodating and totally singing to her like we weren't even there. He also had such expression in his face while he sang, very exaggerated but in a totally believable way. Gotta see it to believe it I guess.

Cordoba

On the 2^nd I left Sevilla with a friend I met at the hostal Anni. We got a beautiful hotel in Cordoba which was so refreshing for both of us. Hostal life in great, you meet people and are surrounded by fun all the time but it also gets pretty overwhelming, sometimes you need your own time and space and so we freaked out with how cute and quiet our little Hostal Lunes de Bagdad was. It was really nice to be with such great company in a smaller town and a nice private (well with one sane person not with 8 other people with ranging levels of odor, sanity, and offensiveness) room. We ended up spending quite a lot of time inside the hotel reading, eating, talking and chilling and it made up a couple of the most enjoyable days on the trip.

We did spend hours everyday trying to find food. I was still a little food scared post my good sickness and not sure whether I wanted to venture away from my raw fruits and veggies but I was also feeling very hungry and Anni works as a chef for gold drillers just under the arctic circle, so for her that would just not do. We were severely disappointed by the food we got everywhere we went though. I don't know why we weren't able to find good food but I am really leaning towards believing that there is no good food in Cordoba. One the second day Anni was threatening to just break into someone's house and use their kitchen in order to feed me because it was breakfast time and we'd gone to MANY restaurants in search of anything gluten free and it just wasn't happening. Breakfast in Spain = Bread. We finally paid to much for small, dried out, yesterday's tortilla espanola (a traditional egg and potato omelet) and at that point I was just really done with my traveling. I craved a simple gluten free meal prepared by myself. Feeling hungry and sad about food I bought a huge chocolate almond bar and ate it alllll. I felt super powerful afterwards and now swear by the healing power of chocolate. I would be taking the bus back to Alcala soon and could wait and ride off the energy off my chocolate bar.

So after seeing the Mezquita and cruzin' around Cordoba for awhile I headed back on a 5 hour bus ride to Madrid.

I'm now back at my apartment in Alcala and enjoying my alone time thoroughly. I had a great trip in Andalucia. I learned a lot about Spain and people around the world. Talking about myself to the other people I met in hostels and around really made me realize how cool I am :-) No but really, I've done a lot of really fun and exciting things with my life so far and I think I'm committed to sticking to the fun and exciting path in life. As I developed an appreciation for Spain in my travels I also developed a real appreciation for myself. I'm proud of myself, happy with who I am, and thankful to friends and family who have been around and been supportive as I've been figuring life out.