Full Circle.

Once again, I am back in Madrid. It is a weird feeling. When I was first here, which seems like a lifetime ago, I was just an intimated American with no confidence in my Spanish. The first time I was required to speak Spanish was when we went to the Starbucks across from our hotel. I remember panicking as I quickly scanned my brain for all the "In a Restaurant" vocabulary I had learned over a year ago. After repeating myself a couple of times, I received my cup of fruit as I couldn't figure out how to order a drink.

Now, at this very moment, I am sitting in that same Starbucks, drinking my chocolate frappuccino, and  eavesdropping on the romantic couple that is sitting at the table to my right. If I wanted to, I could recount their conversation to you because as I sit here, ready to return to the US, my Spanish has never been stronger.

I will definitely have a final blog about leaving Cadiz, but for now, I am going to enjoy my last moments in Spain and make the most of every opportunity to speak Spanish.

xoxo

Sickness in Espana.

If you related the title to this entry to "Sleepless in Seattle," then you are one of my favorite people. If not, don't worry about it, because I would be the first to admit that it is a bit of a stretch.

There are few things worse than being sick in a foreign country with none of your regular comforts. Two nights ago, I had a very rough night, which included 5 vomit runs to the bathroom and 1 black out on the kitchen floor. Maybe I should have warned you that I was going to be sharing TMI. Sorry.

Fortunately, mi madre was such a doll. Every time I tried to clean something up she started yelling, "No te preocupes!" I felt so bad that she spent the whole night cleaning up after me, but I was also so grateful because honestly, I really didn't want to have to clean that up.

She asked me a trillion times if I wanted anything, and around the trillionth time, I finally asked for a wet towel. She said, "Porque?" All I could think to say was that my mom [Hey mom, I love you!] normally gave me a wet towel for my face. She told me I already had a towel and didn't need a wet one. That was upsetting. It is amazing how much a full grown person can act like such a child when he or she is sick. I just kept thinking how much I wanted my mommy and my bed and my bathroom and a freaking wet towel. Not too much ask!

I spent all of yesterday in bed, and today I took my final written exam. Maybe being sick has somehow miraculously improved my writing abilities. Hey. It could happen.

Rough.

El Dia de los Muertos decided to come early this year, and it took my closest companion que se llama iPod. I wonder if I've ever been so upset about the destruction of a material possession. I think it is because we go through so much to take care of our electronic devices (and by that I mean Apple products), so when one dies, I take it almost as a personal offense slash personal failure. Not to mention, the 16 hour trek home just won't be the same without my "Soundtrack to Spain" playlist.

I just finished my very last futbol game, possibly of my entire life. If there was some kind scale that measured how much a person has improved overtime, that scale would be completely useless in my case. Mi hermano would be so proud.

In other news, mi profesora told me that my writing was getting sloppier, and I almost started crying. It was at that point I decided I am ready to come back to the USA where my writing is actually appreciated due to the fact that I actually know the words that I want to write.

So now I am going to go practice writing cartas de reclamacion for no apparent reason other than, oh that's right. No puedo escribir.

Coming to you from San Antonio.

If you are wondering where I am at this very moment, then call me a genie because I just made your wish come true. I know it is 5 am in the US right now, but here it is 11 am, so I am sitting in my plaza, waiting to meet my love Kathryn for tapas. I think this will be the 5th time I have gone for tapas this week. Did I mention I love them?

For all of you dying to know, I have yet to turn on my iPod. It is a mixture of both fear and desperation that has kept me from trying it again. Desperation because I think that leaving the iPod in rice for multiple days will somehow increase the chances of its success, and fear because I am pretty sure that it won't change anything at all. Yes, my emotions about my iPod are very complex.

Guess what? I jumped off a bridge a couple of days ago. It was super fun. I'll post pictures tomorrow. In the meantime, here is the best one:

Ps. I found this half-written entry yesterday and thought I'd post it. Sorry it is only half done, but I started writing it and decided I didn't like it, so that was the end of it. Anyways, here it is:

There is something to be said for stepping onto a bus without knowing what you will be stepping into when you step off. I recognize that that sentence is unnaturally awkward, but I tried writing it like 5 different ways and each one was worse than the first. Regardless, being dropped off in the middle of a city with no plans or maps or directions is an experience in and of itself. I should know, seeing as how essentially everything we do is planned a (couple) day(s) in advance, followed by a lot of “winging it.”  

With the exception of the city name, we step off a bus not knowing where we are or where to go. Is the city to the left or the right? We ask someone for directions and find somewhere to eat. Then we ask someone for directions and find somewhere to sleep. Just a bunch of asking for directions and making decisions on a whim. I absolutely love it. 

A lo hecho, pecho.

I have suffered a very low blow. Yesterday after class I went to the beach, as per usual, which is normally around 3:30 pm. Normally, while we are there, the tide is going down, and we end up being much further from the water than when we first arrive. So, naturally, I put my things relatively close to the water so that I would not be too, too far from it by the end of my visit.

Sidebar: I just got asked for directions by a hispanic student. Look at me blending in! Wait. Who am I kidding. That person must have been an idiot.

One minute I was 15 feet away from the water, listening to John Mayer, on the verge of sleep, and the next minute I was literally up to my ears in water, scrambling to collect my things before they were completely drenched in salty, sandy, agua. Being the total idiot that I was already being, I grabbed my bag first, forgetting that John Mayor was still serenading my ears and that my iPod still lay helpless on my towel, which was of course was submerged in water.

I sprinted home, grabbed my computer, sprinted to la plaza, googled what to do when your ipod gets wet, realized all I could do was turn it off, which I already did, so now it is currently sentenced to bed rest for the next 24 hours, which ends in approximately 4 hours.

I was debating the whole rice method, figuring it was probably worthless, but after three people recommended it to me today, I went to El Super Centro and bought a bag of rice. So actually, now I am horizontally carrying (yes, the directions specifically said horizontally) my ipod around in a bag of rice.

Yikes. Class time. Wish me and my iPod luck, por favor!

If you're a bird, I'm a Spaniard.

I finally passed the Spaniard competency test. I've been preparing for over a month, and today I aced it. After classes, I went home for the usual 3:30 pm almuerzo, and afterwards, I took a three and a half hour nap for absolutely no reason at all. When I woke up, mi madre said, "Que buena siesta!" Yes, that is correct. I have mastered the siesta. [Sidebar: For those of you who do not know, I don't ever take naps. In fact, I'm pretty sure I don't even believe in them. Try to tell me that they aren't a waste of time, and I will tell you that you're crazy.]

In the world of food, mi madre came into our room to show us what she was going to "cook" for dinner, and we were very pleased to see that it was a frozen package very much resembling Hot Pockets. Ham and cheese on the inside, fried goodness on the outside. But apparently, the fried bread included in the box is not sufficient for the average Spaniard. Yes, she deep fried the hot pockets.

I finally understand siesta, but I doubt I will ever understand la alimentacion.

Is there anything to talk about other than food?

My dinner last night was three meatballs. Surprise, surprise: I didn't eat them. When mi madre asked what the problem was, I told her I wasn't very hungry and that was all. I excused myself from the table, went to my room, and started eating my Teddy Grahams. Five minutes later, she walks into my room. Busted. Dang it.

In other news, yesterday was our weekly futbol game. I have super mixed feelings about that sport. I somehow manage to hurt even the body parts that you are forbidden to use [Sidebar: Hey Sarah, what's up?]. I killed my wrist and can't move it in a full circular motion, but then again I did run into a wall so you tell me.

Next week is our final exam week. I seriously can't believe it. I have mixed feelings about leaving here too. I miss my home comforts, but I am going to be so sad to leave beautiful, beautiful Spain. If I don't find a way to come back someday, I won't die a very happy girl.

Granada

My apologies, I don't have any adventures that went terribly wrong to recount, but on the plus side, I don't have any adventures that went terribly wrong that I can recount.

I absolutely loved Granada. The Alhambra is probably one of my favorite things I have seen since I have been in Spain. I have a lot of pictures so look for those soon. We stayed in a beautiful hotel that was across the street from El Corte Ingles, which is a super Americanized superstore (like a mall and 5 Wal-Marts combined) where we all bought recognizable snack items and probably got way more excited than that actually warranted.

Our second night we went to my second Flamenco show, and it was even better the second time around. I have a video that I will try to post later today so you can get an idea of what it is really like.

In other news, yesterday, after returning to Cadiz (yay!), nuestra madre greeted us with a lunch that consisted of two pieces of unidentified lunch meat and stale bread. We somehow managed to make it look like we ate enough of it as not to offend her. By dinner, we were both starving and looking forward to a new meal. But as fate would have it, dinner was a boiled egg each and cut up peppers. Oh, and in the defense of the defendant, there were yogurt cups for dessert. Since it was Sunday and the family had left for mass, we decided to scour the kitchen and cook ourselves a real meal. After 15 minutes of searching for something edible (things take longer when you're dancing and singing karaoke at the top of your lungs), we found some delicious cheese tortellini and basil tomato sauce. Buen provecho.

Fortunately, we went to bed before the family returned from mass, but I am curious as to what kind of conversation will ensue when mi madre finds her cut up peppers and eggs in the trash along with the tortellini wrapper and sauce can. I have a feeling we are going to have some serious explaining to do...

Conil.

First and foremost, I would like to apologize for the lack of dedication I have shown with this blog. I know it has been very hard on all of you, but I vow to do better from here on out. Actually, I haven't been quite as floja as it may seem...I wrote a post about a week ago and forgot to post it. So yes. That is just as bad. Regardless, here it is:

This past weekend we were given Friday off from school so that we could have a longer weekend for traveling. After planning/discussing trips for places all over Europe, I think every single person ended up going somewhere within Spain. What can I say? Spain es lo mejor.

Friday morning started off with a ferry ride to Puerto Real to see some historical edificios (including a castle where Cristobol Colon stayed) and a museum of one of Picasso’s painter friends. Is it terrible that I don’t even remember his name? I’ll be the judge.

Yes. It’s terrible.

After the return, we all took a bus to Conil. We had all been told Conil has beautiful beaches and beautiful “pueblos blancos.” And let me tell you. We were not disappointed. We somehow managed to find the perfect hotel overlooking the ocean. Sarah and I were so excited that we didn’t have to stay in a gross hostal that we had a happy dance on our balcony from which we could see the ocean on one side and the pueblo blanco on the other. Perfection.

The plan was to catch a bus to Gibraltar the next day, go hiking, and play with monkeys. That didn’t happen. We went to the wrong bus stop and by the time we realized it, our only option was to go back to Cadiz. It wasn’t a huge disappointment though because our new plan was to go to Gibraltar the next day, which would give us the opportunity to go back to Puerto Real to see the bull fight that night.

So. We are back in Cadiz. Three hours later, catch a ferry to Puerto Real. Get to the Plaza de Torros. Find out the bullfight is in Sanlucar. Ask for directions. Find the bus stop. Take a 20-minute bus ride to Sanlucar. Ask for directions. Find La Plaza de Torros. We are 30 minutes late and tickets are sold out. Buy super expensive ones. Run into the stadium and cram in between thousands of Spaniards. Watch 6 bulls get murdered. Follow car traffic on foot for 20 minutes. Ask for directions. Walk 25 minutes to the bus stop. Busses are gone. Trains are gone. Try to get a taxi for 5 people. Can’t. Try to get 2 taxis. Can’t. Try to get on a different bus line. Oh, wait. That bus driver told you those exist? They don’t. Want to get food, but have to save money to get home. Get directions to a taxi pick-up. Walk 15 minutes. Wait in line for 20 minutes. Pray to God for a van taxi. Doesn’t happen. Pay 120 euro for 2 taxis. Back in Cadiz. Cancel trip to Gibraltar. Exhausted, broke, and starving, but not mad because we are in Spain having the adventures of our lives.   

The language the whole world understands

Yesterday I went home during the two-hour break between my first and second classes for the sole purpose of eating a Nutella and jelly sandwich. Due to the fact that I don’t often come home in between classes, I just about gave mi madre a heart attack when she walked through the kitchen and found me licking jelly off of my butter knife.

Sidebar: She thinks it is hysterical slash really weird how in love I am with a children’s sandwich. She also told me to be careful with all that Nutella in the summertime because I will fatten up. Gracias madre.

After she was satisfied with the scolding she gave me for not alerting her that I was home, she sat down and began a conversation about…oh that’s right. I have no idea. I don’t know how it started, but before I knew what was happening, she had pulled out a photo album, and the two of us proceeded to flip through the pages of her past.

Me encanta mi madre. She showed me pictures of Cadiz, her family, her children—all the things that are important to her. When we got to her wedding photos (taken around 30 years ago), I asked her to tell me all about su boda.

She told me the story of how she and Pepe (su marido) met, and it was so precious. I told her that I could tell that they were still very much in love, to which she replied (roughly translated), “I love him so much. He is a good man, a good husband, a good son, a good father, a good brother…a good man. Pepe es mi amor por toda mi vida.” She started tearing up, and I was at a loss for words—both Spanish and English.

I can only pray that one day, after being married for 30 years, I will be able to say the same thing about my own husband.

In other news, I got my butt grabbed twice by the same man yesterday and just about lost all my composure. After the first time he touched me, he turned around and followed me down the street because apparently one grab just wasn’t enough. Since of course I don’t freak out in Spanish, I quite literally yelled “STOP” in English…a lot of good that would have done me in a real emergency situation. After I yelled and turned to face him, he scampered away.

My dream man.