T.G.I.F

Friday has finally rolled in and I'm absolutely..exhausted. I think about sleeping in tomorrow and my eyes already feel heavy just imagining a quality nights sleep. I have officially been sick for 2 weeks. I think it is just prolonged because I am around so many kids everyday and the weather is much damper than I am used to. My body is officially exhausted, so instead of staying at school til 3 to use skype and peruse the internet; i'm heading home to the haven of my cozy twin bed.

This morning, I accomplished a small milestone in my little Posadas life. I opened a bank account.."Quiero abrir una cuenta" --it's funny, I have never opened a bank account in the states on my own..so to do it in a foreign country, in another language, made me feel pretty independent. 1 point for me.

I was supposed to go to Pozoblanco (where the fabulous Claire is having her own spanish adventure) this weekend, but the weather has complicated going horseback riding. I guess the stables ended up being closed. Although I was really excited, it might be a blessing in disguise, because a weekend of rest might help me beat this perpetual sickness?

Anyways, today went smoothly. I played "When I Grow Up" by the Pussycat Dolls & "Somewhere over the Rainbow" by Israel K., an artist Wilson had recommended. The students seemed to really like it, but since they are teenagers sometimes I feel disheartened by their placid expressions. I never realized how much work teachers put into lesson plans and making activities. Nonetheless making activities/class interesting and energetic. It's very difficult to figure out what they will like, what they will tolerate, and what they will absolutely hate.

I have been thinking about possibly pursuing a career in teaching when I go back home to Arizona. I really enjoy it and it is intellectually stimulating. I figured while teaching, I could do freelance writing for various newspapers/magazines (if i'm lucky enough). I'd rather work as a writer somewhere and then work as a teacher later in my life. But anyways..it's something new i'm considering for my future.

Next week I am going to show a 10 minute clip from the movie "Mean Girls" and have them fill out a worksheet that utilizes physical descriptions. I hope they are more entertained by that. The first time I am going to show it only in english, and the second time I am going to play it with spanish subtitles. I'm curious what they will think and if they have seen it before.

Alright, sickness you win. I'm going home, eating a little something, and then crawling into bed.

P.S: This weekend, I think Will and I are going to go to Sevilla to watch a soccer game. I'm really really really excited :) It's definitely something near the top of my Spanish To-Do list. And on Monday, if the weather is better I am going to try and go to Malaga again--I really want to see the Picasso museum :)

A hidden American treasure..Wife Swap

I was trying to think of random American television shows that I missed--Wife Swap immediately came to my mind. Why? Because it is priceless. What's frightening is that these people are out there..and they are awesome. Enjoy :)





and the greatest flip out of all time..(note..it was completely unwarranted)

Why is "Sex and The City" so damn good?

I love the writing from the show, here are a few of my favorite quotes;

That's the key to having it all: stop expecting it to look like what you thought it was going to look like. It's true of the fall lines, and it's true of relationships.

Sometimes you need a second opinion with doctors, real estate, men...

How does it happen that four such smart women have nothing to talk about but boyfriends? It's like seventh grade with bank account

No matter who broke your heart or how long it takes to heal, you'll never get through it without your friends.

The only thing I've ever successfully made in the kitchen is a mess. And several small fires.

Everywhere I looked, people were standing in twos. It was like Noah's upper West Side rent-controlled ark.

I've been dating since I was fifteen! I'm exhausted! Where is he?

I like my money right where I can see it: hanging in my closet

You're the loves of her life and a guy's just lucky to come in fourth..

When it comes to relationships, maybe we're all in glass houses, and shouldn't throw stones. Because you can never really know. Some people are settling down, some are settling and some people refuse to settle for anything less. Than butterflies...

After a while, you just want to be with the one that makes you laugh

I'm looking for love. Real love. Ridiculous, inconvenient, consuming, can't-live-without-each-other love. And I don't think that love is here in this expensive suite in this lovely hotel in Paris

and my favorite of all time..

Later that day I got to thinking about relationships. There are those that open you up to something new and exotic, those that are old and familiar, those that bring up lots of questions, those that bring you somewhere unexpected, those that bring you far from where you started, and those that bring you back. But the most exciting, challenging and significant relationship of all is the one you have with yourself. And if you can find someone to love the you you love, well, that's just fabulous.

Anyways, I bought the 5th season of Itunes yesterday and was watching the first couple of episodes. I forgot how much I loved the show and how clever the writing is. It also made me miss the girls <3 I am pretty damn lucky to have such good friends--friends who tell it like it is, love you for you, keep it classy, and most importantly--are once in a lifetime friends..or as Jamie says "forever friends." Te amo!

"Once in a while you meet someone, and soon you both discover the two of you are truly something special to each other... you share your thoughts and feelings so relaxed, so openly, and right away you know your friendship's truly meant to be."

This morning Will got home from Virginia--decked out in Obama gear. So funny :) He brought me back an Obama pin, that was really thoughtful. I made coffee and toast and we went over all his pictures from Washington, pretty amazing looking when it was all decked out for the inauguration. Although I supported McCain, and worry about Obama's lack of political experience, I think it is important to support the President. I am still reading his second book, "the audacity of hope" and i'm trying to have an open mind. My mom is sending me more books this weekend and I can't wait. I wonder how long it will take? The best part about not being in school anymore is having the time to read the books I prefer. I'm onto Voltaire next, I'm excited to finally read Candide.

A rebuttal.

When confronted with an opposing opinion-you have two choices. You can address their scathing comment, or let it roll off your back.

The worst kind of criticism is judgment from a total stranger. You wonder--who are you to judge me when you don’t even know me? It’s almost like they caught a picture of you when you were doing something out of character, and insist on that being you. The scale tilts both ways.

So I feel, on behalf of all those people who would rather avoid confrontation, avoid the whole ordeal of defending yourself, I will acknowledge the person who felt compelled to read my blog, without knowing me, and make the critical error of taking it personally.

I know when I decided to put my blog on facebook, it was a risk. I have debated whether or not to take it down--completely uncomfortable with judgmental strangers reading it. However, I remember that I put it up so my friends could stay in the loop...and relate to the universal roller coaster of emotions I go through, random experiences I have.

That’s the thing about life--feelings are temporal, some stay for a long time or others last for a just a minute. Have you ever gone somewhere and not enjoyed yourself? Have you ever met someone who rubbed you the wrong way? Have you ever ate something you didn’t like? It’s like broccoli--most kids hate it but find themselves eating it later on in life. We change, we fluctuate, we have different moods.

The problem with my blog, the thing I struggle with, is wanting to take something down after I’ve had a day to think about it. I write about being mad, being frustrated, being hurt, being broken up with--none of these are emotions/things that people like feeling. They aren’t emotions we are proud of. The reason I keep them up, post them for the world to see, is that they exist. We all go somewhere and feel out of place, we all make bad decisions, we all act hypocritically, we all say things we regret.

My blogs are written in the moment, how I feel at that exact hour and minute--no bullshit, no editing, just me and my immediate thoughts.

For example, If I wrote about my tribulations getting to Spain and my horrific nights stay in Atlanta NOW --I would write one in a humored state of mind, probably make a couple notes about how things will work out, even when we feel like we want to surrender to the world. If I wrote NOW about being nervous about moving to Spain, I would write about how after the initial shock of change--your life will find a new route, a new routine, you will find comfort in the past, and make peace with your present.

And in particular, the blog that motivated me to write this rebuttal-- to the person who felt so offended by what I wrote they had to compose a sniping comment. I am sorry I was not in an easygoing, energetic mood the night I went to the house party in Granada. It would have been alot better for me if I was, If I could have just felt at ease. If you knew me, really knew all about me--you might know that I was still trying to find my footing in Spain. Feeling like a fish out of water--because I’m not just like you. I was feeling intimidated by people who feel so at home in Spain. I began to wonder if Spain isn’t the place for me, because I’m not up to staying out til 8am. It’s not my ideal night out. But you know, next time I’ll go in knowing what to expect, to have a couple caffeine injections. I’m the girl who is happiest on a fixed schedule, the girl who leaves the bar usually around 1am because I love waking up and getting in a good work out the next day, I’m the girl who can be uncomfortable when I’m in a totally new place with nothing familiar. In your life, you will probably meet alot of people with different temperaments, different comfort levels, different moods on different days. You might want to work on the basic fundamental human emotion that maintains friendships, that allows people to really relate to one another--understanding.

Allison gave me the best advice our sophomore year of college. A little piece of paper that said “the four agreements”, number 1 on that list: Don’t take anything personally. It might mean something different to other people, but I’ve learned to apply it to those situations like where someone says something catty to you when they are having a bad day. It’s not YOU--it’s their circumstances at that moment. It’s forgiving the sales clerk who brushes you off and doesn’t go that extra mile to help you, because maybe their boyfriend just broke up with them. It’s letting it go when your parents yell for 15 minutes, telling you what you are doing wrong--because they were frustrated with something else.


So to all of the critics & voyeurs--I’m sorry I am not perfect, that my experiences are not perfect, that I don’t analyze every moment perfectly. I am human; somedays my perspective is clouded by stress, being sick, being overwhelmed, feeling out of place, lack of sleep, a flair for the dramatic. But I do my best to be honest, I don’t go through my life sugarcoating everything. Sometimes I’m in a shitty mood, sometimes I have a shitty day--but I accept that and move on. I hope that you are able to forgive people when they had a shitty day or said something that they didn’t mean. I hope your head isn’t ever on the chopping block for saying something out of frustration, or anger. You’ll run yourself into the ground if you expect yourself and others to be perfect all the time, giving perfect advice, doing a perfect job, getting perfect grades, and saying exactly what you mean.

We are not actors on stage, with lines and scripts, fairytale romances and the promise of happily ever after. No, we improvise, we say word vomit, we flop, and we go through life, always a little unsure of our own perfect endings.

Part 3 & 4 of my short story in progress.

It’s an eerie sense of calm, that rolls of your body after extreme pain. As if you are only allotted a certain amount of tearful sobs before your nose becomes raw, your eyes run dry, and your lips crust over with that white spit. It’s almost comforting, taking you back to the time when things were simpler and you invested as much energy into crying over a boyfriend or not being able to go out. You know, because those were the things that threatened to end your life as you knew it. Stupid. It’s strange though, I fear that I have nothing left in me to fight this, not that I’m accepting things, but that I’m allowing them to unfold. With or without my consent--I know that this reality...will unfold.

I can hear him, I presume it’s a man because of the heavy sounds his footsteps make creaking across the floor as he paces. I picture him like a caged tiger, pacing and thinking, thinking and pacing. Growing more and more restless with each footstep. Is it strange I cannot remember his face? I guess that’s because it all happened too fast. I wish I would have fought him harder, I wish I would have done alot of things. How can you rationalize the cliche phrase, “everything happens for a reason” in situations like this?

He has started bringing me food. I didn’t eat it at first, but my ravenous hunger forced me into it. Secretly, I was hoping it was laced with poison so I could end my misery. I thought about starving myself to death--but the idea of poison seemed less painful. Sadistic, but I have begun to wonder what will happen to me. My future seems more frightening than death. He doesn’t know how to cook, it makes me feel like he has been alone his whole life, rotting away in solitude fueling his sick mind. He brings me toast, white bread which I hate, and various fruit from a can. Sometimes, if his opera music isn’t playing I can hear him open the can, and then I know that I will be eating soon. My life has boiled down to listening to the life of the man who has taken mine from me.

The knock at the door interrupted my thoughts. I swear my heart stopped beating. The door nudged open and a ray of light sliced through the dark. His slim shadowy frame hovered nervously, tentatively, “I um, brought you your lunch. I hope you like it.” He inched forward and set the tray down on the floor, a safe distance from where I sat.

“Are you going to say thank you? Are you going to say anything?” His small voice inquired.
“Who the fuck are you?” I snapped, the rage boiling up in my body.
“I had to protect you. I’m sorry the circumstances aren’t ideal, I really am sorry.”
“Protect me from what? I don’t think anything could be worse than this, death trap.”
“Death trap?” He sounded surprised, his face still covered in the shadow.
“Just put me out of my misery. Why are you even feeding me?” I felt the hatred seething off my tongue, I wanted to claw out his eyes. I hated him, my faceless captor.
He struggled with the words, clearing his throat awkwardly, after what felt like minutes he whispered, “because I love you.”

Part 4

I have ate 3 meals. I have lived another 3 days. We have not spoken since, mainly because I ignore him and turn my back to him when he enters the room. I have never contemplated how to kill someone until now, I think about how I can escape and how I can kill him in the process. He should not live for what he has done to me. I need to keep track of time, so I decided that the day he said he was in love with me was Monday. The worst day of the week. So today is Wednesday. Humpday, I used to have 4 classes on Wednesday, comfort myself with knowing I would be going out with my friends Thursday night--I think that’s why it is called Humpday, you need the promise of tomorrow to get you through it.

I haven’t seen the sun in so long, I just want to move again, to live again. I have started doing jumping jacks, push ups, and crunches. That is the only time I feel something, feel movement, hear my own breathing. I think I need to try something different, a different tactic. They always say that having someone love you gives you power, love makes you vulnerable, extends you for the opportunity to get your heartbroken. So, perhaps in some way I have power over him. If he loves me, he will want me to be happy. I mean, there is a chance I have got it all wrong. Obviously he is a sociopath, normal people do not go around kidnapping young women in a taxi cab. But, If he is, in love with me, he must know me. If he knows me, he must have been watching me. For how long? And protecting me from what? Do I know him? Has he gone unnoticed, undetected, in my everyday life? I hate that all I can do is sit here with these thoughts, how ironic that now I’m obsessing about him. So I guess the common thread between me and the sociopath is obsession. Tomorrow, I will try and change my tactic, appeal to the emotional side of him, the weak..vulnerable side.

I can't sleep...

Time--would you mind standing still?

My nights are filled with strange noises. They wake me up, interrupt my sleep, and cause enough agitation to make me wonder who is the culprit. Who is the cause of all these obscure, weird noises. Every house has nighttime visitors that make noise. In Santa Fe, I couldn’t sleep at first because the pond in our courtyard had toads that would talk all night long. In Tucson, sometimes the alarm of the girl I shared the wall with would go off..and keep going off, or the trains would alert me time had passed and I was still laying in bed awake. This past year in Scottsdale, my thoughts would keep me awake. In Spain, the cacophony of noise stems from the Mesoncito and the cars along my narrow street. As if to make up for how quiet Posadas is during the day, people, garbage trucks, and noisy motorcycles are sure to make an appearance right as I’m about to drift off to sleep. I want to kick over the motorcyclist. I suppose it is not all their fault, because the first week I was here I didn’t notice them--completely exhausted. Tonight, dinner with cafe con leche is most likely to blame. Do you think I’ll ever grow accustomed to them? Maybe even find them comforting at some point?

I’m running over solutions to my inability to fall asleep. I could heat up a cup of warm milk--but that doesn’t REALLY sound appetizing. I could read some more of Obama’s second book and get frustrated, or I could continue reading Stephanie Meyer’s “Eclipse” to find out what’s going to happen between Bella, Edward, and Jacob. I could watch another episode of Sex and The City...or maybe even Grey’s Anatomy. Of my solutions, I chose to type away at my diary--the one thing that empties my mind. I’m also thinking about taking another sleep aid, to counteract the caffeine.

You know what I was thinking tonight? This is strange--but it feels like I’m living an alternate life, while my life at home remains on pause. I think about everyone so much, wanting to know what they are doing and sometimes just wishing I could call and check in more frequently. Even the people I never talked to on the phone that much, I want to call and just say hi. I guess that’s what facebook is for. I guess I just don’t like not being apart of people’s lives. Like I wonder, if some people are just moving about their everyday and not thinking of me ever. Not in a narcissistic way. Okay, I guess it’s as if, I feel weird leaving a message about my strange existence in Spain on facebook because it is so drastically different from the life I used to have, the life where I was apart of theirs and they were apart of mine. For instance, I was watching Grey’s anatomy and it made me think of Erin and Elise, how I wish I could know what their studies are like...and what it would be like to want to work in medicine, and of Allison because her Dad would always talk about how unrealistic it is. Then, whenever I hear people singing in the street I think of Sopko, the angel of music haha. Sometimes, when I’m walking around downtown I can hear the conversation Kenny and I would have in my head. Other times, I try and envision Wilson being here in Posadas instead of me--because I know he thinks he wanted this experience. When I was buying my little treasure of Nutella, I thought about Casper. When i’m getting aggravated with organizing my room/apartment I worry about Jamie and how she is acclimating in her new life. Oh and this girl in my class reminds me so much of Nichole, the sometimes self-doubting, but always beautiful fashionista. Today when I was passing the fountain in Cordoba, I wondered what Aus would look like walking in the promenade. When I was at the party with the immature girls, I wondered what Amy would do to make me have fun, because I always have fun with I’m with her. When I contemplate going outside in my sweatpants, I laugh because I know Hanna would just do it. I wonder if I think about them more because they aren’t here and sometimes I wish they would just show up--or if because at home I would just call them right in that moment, or tell them the funny thing that made me think of them later in the weekend.. I guess none of that makes sense. But it’s true you know, my favorite poem, my life-saving poem--by E.E Cummings, “I carry your heart, I carry It in my heart” because we’re never truly alone--we have the comfort of memories of our loved ones. I just hope, it’s like Amy said tonight, that nothing has really changed at home--that I’ll still have a place in their life, because for me...home is on pause...and not still playing in my absence.

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in

my heart)i am never without it(anywhere

i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done

by only me is your doing,my darling)

i fear

no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want

no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)

and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud

and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows

higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart) 

P.S: I’m afraid Bella won’t be “my” dog when I go home. That she’ll prefer my mom and brother. I hate leaving it like that, not comforting myself about it or something--but I guess I stop myself because right now there is nothing I can do.

La Tierra De La Manana

Culture Shock: Hits you like a bus in slow motion, you can see it coming--but you are frozen, perhaps with fascination...stupefaction..curiosity. There is a reason curiosity killed the cat. Maybe sometimes it’s better to remain curious--because sometimes dreams are better than reality. At this point, I can’t inveigle ( word of the day: to acquire by ingenuity or flattery) my way out of the “land of manana” lifestyle.

My brother said he can envision me one day, fed up with the lazy/laid-back clerks, the unreliable hours of siesta, the ghost-town feel of Posadas during the weekend, missing the boundaries of personal space--having a stage 5 freak-out in the middle of the street. I guess I should back up, explain how I got to this odd state of frustration, completely humored--smug with the knowledge I’m experiencing the twilight zone effect of full blown culture shock.

This morning, waking up to the gray sky and rain, with congestion and a swollen throat, I thought maybe instead of taking the 10 AM train to Cordoba we should sleep in and take the 2 PM train to Malaga. Sometimes, when sick, a warm bed is more appealing than a long day of traveling and sight seeing. Instead, I crawled out of my warm haven, put on coffee, and started heating up strawberry oatmeal. We walked quickly through the rain to the train station, paid 4.40 euros for a roundtrip ticket from Posadas to Cordoba--relying on a little bit of faith to allow the train/bus times to Malaga to coincide with the last train back to Posadas from Cordoba at 8 PM. Upon arrival to the station in Cordoba (15 minutes later) we discovered that the train prices to Malaga were ridiculous, (45 euros for the Ave which is the high speed train, 20 for the regular trains that were already all gone) the bus, which is much cheaper, would take about 4 hours so wouldn’t really be worth the trip--and the price of the Ave was a little disconcerting because it was raining cats and dogs all over Andalucia. I looked over the timetable and saw my vision of Picasso’s house, The Picasso Museum, and 8th century Roman fortress (complete with an amphitheater) slipping away.

We ended up spending the rainy day walking around Cordoba and going to the street with all the flowered balcony’s, then we stopped by the Corte de Ingles to purchase some groceries which included some spicy tortilla chips, avocados, fajita seasoning, and guacamole seasoning. I was only disappointed I couldn’t fit more in my bag. Someday I will eat again. We then went to a really great tapas bar (which Troy treated..in Spain they say “invited” to imply paying for someone..just for a random fact) Afterwards we took the 2pm train back to Posadas and waited for Siesta to end. Around 5:30, after completing my first attempt at guacamole (which tasted amazing..great success) we decided to try going to Dia again, the supermercado, which was closed last night. As I walked the main street of Posadas..the town resembled an abandoned Ghost Town..I clung to the hope that it would be open since it was almost 6..and after all it was a grocery store. The boarded up door, with no hours of course, was an unwelcome slap in the face--the world stops moving after 2 PM on Saturdays...and goes on pause until Monday morning. The banks, restaurants, internet store, clothing stores, grocery stores, everything. What do people do all day? I’m at a loss. I’m an open 24-hours American trapped in the land of be back when I feel like it.

“Enthusiasm is the best protection in any situation. Wholeheartedness is contagious. Give yourself, if you wish to get others.”

Me..Norah..and a mop

The past few days I have rediscovered my love for Norah Jones. Her voice is so soothing. Her singing, combined with Destress Tea--I am on my way. I am currently downloading the next episodes of Grey's Anatomy and then the 5th season of Sex and the City. All in the hopes to not feel..totally alone this weekend.

(I included my favorites)
Will is in the United States for Obama's inauguration..and Troy went to Barcelona today. He is coming back sometime tomorrow..so that leaves me unable to go back to Granada or travel anywhere really. Thus...I am all alone in my flat for the weekend. I don't know if i've ever really been all by myself before. I think it is different when you are at your home. You feel more comfortable--maybe almost liberated by the solitude. However, I am trying to figure out how i'm going to pass the time.

My simple to do list:

Mop the floors (a huge undertaking b/c the whole flat is marble tile)
Do a load of laundry (if the rain would ever stop...)
Practice Spanish
Buy a bathroom rug
Buy some simple decorations for my room
Cook something relatively tasty..
Maybe make guacamole?

I am looking at this weekend as an adventure. Maybe i'm unique in that I really don't like to be all by myself, some people relish solitude. I envy them. That was part of the reason I decided to come to Spain--I knew it would force me to confront silence..confront solitude...confront myself. My students were asking me what made me decide to come here--and I didn't have an answer. I am still not exactly sure why I wanted to do this. That probably sounds crazy. I really did this on a whim, and my life is rarely characterized by spontaneity. I told them it was to become more independent and grow as a person. I feel that in order to grow, to change, to become a better version of ourselves we must push ourselves outside of our comfort zones, into new territory.

Small note, do you ever have those moments where everything turns chaotic in a matter of seconds? You snap at yourself, wishing you would have just taken one more second, slowed down, and you could've avoided a haphazard disaster? Mine occurred last night. I was allocating a portion of my desk to paint my nails while watching "The Holiday"--I had my oil diffuser going at the corner of my desk next to where I had set down the nailpolish. Before I knew what was happening, the oil diffuser fell over, sending the nailpolish bottle crashing to the floor in an explosion of pink. I picked up the remnants of the shattered bottle which left my hands COVERED in nailpolish. I was so pissed. Instead of having a relaxing 15 minutes, I was cleaning the floor and my hands for an hour with nailpolish remover--overwhelmed by the smell of acetone. Typical moment, and all the while I knew I could only blame myself.

keep breathing

“When we tire of well worn ways, we seek for new. This restless craving in the souls of men spurs them to climb, and to seek the mountain view.”

As I sat amidst the teachers at Posadas del Rey, it occurred to me that this is the right place for me to be. I listened to Juan Manuel, who has taken on a paternal role towards me, correct my pronunciation and encourage me to eat more--I felt truly happy.

Pilar also let the cat out of the bag, that she and Juan Manuel were going to surprise me tomorrow with a coffee maker. It made my heart melt. Consider me a soon-to-be aficionado of Spanish coffee.

Today in school, I had to bring in a picture from home to help the students practice using the past tense. I brought in a picture from homecoming last year--Amy, Jamie, Sop and I are all standing on the mall decked out in our U of A gear--and the students said we look like movie stars. They couldn’t believe we were wearing shorts and tank tops in November. I wished the girls were here to hear them talk about it. Also, I haven’t seen it but I guess in the movie Highschool Musical, the school’s team is called the Wildcat’s--so they understood my love for Wilbur. After I introduced the picture and re-read the paragraphs with fill in the blank worksheets, pairs of students came and sat with me and introduced their pictures discussing (who they were chatting with, where were they, what were they wearing, were they having a good time, etc.) and it was very endearing to see pictures of them when they were 8 years old having a birthday party.

I also helped Antonio translate an Art activity today. Amazingly, I could translate complicated paragraphs easily and efficiently with little difficulty or misunderstanding. It helped me feel more at ease, knowing that even if I do not speak Spanish perfectly I am making progress.

Most of the teachers are sick at the moment, Maria Carmen could not go to the beach this weekend because her daughter was so sick--Antonio is recovering, Pilar is sick like me, and the rest are hoping they do not catch it. Yesterday I disinfected the bathroom to hopefully keep my brother from getting sick... My brother who flew first class the entire way to Spain. So jealous.

Anyways, important note--I gave my brother the space heater for his room and took the one that does not work. I have officially completed my sisterly duty for the year.

P.S: My mom sent money to help with the beginning expenses of Spain, $200 which turned into only 135 euros. Ouch. I have to go put money on the USB for internet ( 60 euros for 1 gb of internet..whatever that means. They don’t offer internet w/o an 18 month contract. So I’m kind of screwed on that end.) and 20 euros for my Spanish mobile which will last about 1 1/2 weeks...double ouch. I’m going to start going to the school in the evening to hopefully be able to talk to everybody via skype ( aka, I can call them on their cell phone from my computer to talk) I hate feeling out of the loop.

and all at once it hit me.

Last night, as I sat perched on a chair in the kitchen, wedged between another person and a stove--watching this trashed girl throw herself clumsily at an equally trashed boy. It hit me that sometimes I feel really alone here. I was in a crowded house party, taking in American's who live like they're Spanish. I know the quote, "When in Rome"--but at what point does it stray from "When in Rome, Do As The Romans Do" and cross the line to altering my personal lifestyle choices?

I can't explain it fully. It was 3am, and I was observing an american crammed into an Audrey Hepburn lookalike dress, with no make up on, and her hair drunkenly askew--listening to her preach, "I love men. I love women. I love it all." It's like, being in Spain suddenly made her somebody else..as if being Spanish is way cooler than being American.  IDK I think it just felt that way last night, maybe i'm in a bad mood, maybe i'm not ready to be out and about, not acclimated enough yet.  I was criticized and thrown under the bus as I sat discontentedly, waiting to talk to someone who wasn't wearing a mask. Waiting to talk to someone who could admit..yeah it's really late..let's get going. Apparently, i'm the lamest person on the earth for not wanting to leave to go to a club at 4am. Seriously? One girl, i hadn't even met, snapped "But nobody will be at the club right now, it's too early" (I look at my watch and realize it's 3:30am. Please.) It turned into a pissing contest about "It's Spain, they stay out til 8am."

At that point I was done. I sat there, dressed up and ready to see Spanish nightlife completely put off by illness as I inhaled the cloud of cigarette smoke that filled the apartment, watching people devour Jamon flavored Lays and sit on their foreign high horse.  I think I just wanted to go out with the girls (mandy & sara). Just get out. At that point, I just felt like a fish out of water. I felt completely out of place in the nightlife scene.

It got me thinking about night life in general--and the two categories people fall under. 1, the cocktail --the person who likes to go out, have a couple drinks, and socialize with their friends. 2, the keg --the person who drinks way too much, and wants to be out, usually only to say that they WERE out. I know it's not that black and white.

I started getting sick a couple days ago and by last night it was full force, swollen throat, hurts to swallow, body aches. I tried to push myself to go out, just to experience the night life, but circa 4am I began to wonder at what cost to myself--being tired the next day b/c i had to get up early, probably propagating illness..it just didn't feel worth it to sit there anymore.

Actually, it felt like freshman year of college all over again, and the total hotmess that was fraternity parties--but i'm not an 18 year old girl anymore, i'm 22. I'm ready for something more. I missed my friends last night, I missed my fun, social, shenanigan filled life at home. I miss O'malleys, I miss Dirtbags, I miss Old Town.  I miss my places--my comfort zone. 

I have my ups and downs, somedays I love Spain and love Posadas. Other days, like right now--I get so homesick it hurts.


“When we truly realize that we are all alone is when we need others the most”

Granada :)

I am so excited to be in Granada! When I got off the bus, there were actually people my age. It was incredible to be out and about without 60 + year old men staring at me suspiciously or having to scour the grocery store for edible food. We went to the supermarket to pick up cake, icecream and wine for Sarah's bday dinner.

Low and behold, upon discovering they had peanutbutter (an oddly missed delicacy from home) I saw that they had Nutella too. I am so very happy with my 2 jars of peanutbutter and nutella. Great Success. I can envision myself sitting in my room in Posadas, smugly enjoying a peanutbutter and nutella sandwich. Thank you Granada.

Leah made fajitas for dinner and they were so tasty--I will definitely have to start cooking myself fajitas in Posadas. It was nice to stand around in the kitchen, drinking wine (which is only .90 euros here for a bottle btw, Amy I thought of you and our wonderful wine nights.) and just talking about everything and nothing at the same time. MGNT was playing in the background...and it couldn't have been more entertaining or fitting.

Anyways, tomorrow we are going to walk around Granada and do a bit of shopping. I'm excited to get some more warm scarves and some books in english. Then we are going out on the town for Sarah's birthday, it'll be really nice to be out and about in the city. Overall I just missed spending time with the girls and getting to goof off.

Tonight we are just going to lay low and rest up for tomorrow. I think we are actually going to watch Sex and the City...no sleepover (even a Spanish one) wouldn't be complete without it.

Missing you guys

Happy Friday!

So happy friday :) I am relieved it's friday and I finally got to take a really long hot shower this morning. So so so happy. Last night I went to the Butano shop and got the gas refilled, so I won't be experiencing a burst of cold water randomly for awhile. Afterwards I went to the grocery store..and what happened next left me pretty baffled and at a loss for words haha

So the frutas y verduras are right on the left when you walk into Dia (the supermercado) and I really wanted to get some apples, pears, etc. Will told me last time he went he got told off by the grocery store supervisor, little did I know I would be told off too for the same mistake. I was picking/bagging my own fruits when she came whirling around the corner, "no no no!" so eventually I surrendered, put down the fruit and handed over the bags. I then had to tell her how much I wanted of each fruit, I hadn't really had a plan of how much I needed so I now have random assortments of green peppers, tomatoes, apples, & green chilis--walking away after the whole ordeal with a confused look on my face, I struggled whether to be angry or just laugh..totally upset that I got the grossest pears of all time. Apparently she didn't think I deserved good ones lol.

I was too tired to argue or ask if I could just do it by myself in the future and give them to her afterwards to weigh, etc. I had my first school field trip yesterday to Cordoba with all the first year students (11-12) so entertaining. In the morning we got on this massive tour esque bus to go.




It was also the first time i've turned green on a bus from motion sickness --however listening to the kids chat and show weird videos on their phones kept me pretty distracted. Anyways, we went to the Mezquita and the Alcazar. They were B E A U T I F U L. I took a lot of pictures and was in awe of the whole thing. It was so cold my fingers, nose, and toes were numb :) Afterwards, we went to the Ciudad de los ninos, a vast, picturesque playground for children.

I seem to be a huge trouble maker in spain, I got reprimanded yet again-- for sitting on the swing, the park czar told me it was only for kids 14 and under. I was pretty disappointed. I think they should make playgrounds for adults.






Anyways, I decided definitively to go visit Mandy and Sarah in Granada this weekend until saturday or sunday (troy is coming on sunday to cordoba) so im going to the bus station after school today with my big backpack, my fateful traveling companion. I felt slightly odd walking to school this morning in my nice teaching outfit with this hulking backpack on. I listened to Taylor Swift's new album on my way to school--it was interesting walking the aged, tiny streets of Posadas listening to music from home, does that sound weird? Anyways, here are the songs I was listening to at 9am Spain time :)

Fish out of water

The word of the day is “kinetic: 1, of or relating to the motion of material bodies and the forces and energy associated with them *2: of or relating to art having movable mechanical parts.

Kinetic is the most perfect word for today, I feel fixed amongst all the kinetic energy around me. Everyone moving complacently, peacefully in their own routine. I was the only one out of my element; frozen by the unknown.

Today was my first day teaching, I dressed up in my chocolate trousers, black heels and black turtle neck. I’m officially playing the role of a sophisticated grown-up. Don’t laugh, but I kind of feel like Foreign Teacher Barbie--dressing up to play a part that isn’t really me. As I walked down the hallway from my room to the kitchen, listening to the rhythmic clicking of my heels on the cold tile, it reminded me of when my mother would come and pick me up from the Nurse’s office when I was sick. I would turn to the plump Nurse and say proudly..definitively, “That’s my Mom.”

The morning went a little differently than I had imagined the night before, mainly due to the fact that I slept in an extra 45 minutes. In my defense, my mom called me at 12:42AM confused by the time difference and the Mesoncito tavern was getting shipments throughout the night, causing enough irritation to make me figure out the best way to convey my interrupted sleep, the best I could come up with was “Por favor, es muy tarde!”

Anyways, I pulled out the toasted that was still in the box from the cabinets, shoved two pieces of white bread (they don’t have wheat bread..sigh) and became a conossieur of wedged toast--using various utensils to get them back out, in pieces of course. I decided it was in my best interest to share my toast since I had changed our original plan of the cafe for cafe con leche y una tostada con mantequilla. I also forgot my teaching schedule, luckily Pilar brought an extra copy which is now mounted on the bilingual teaching lounge’s door. On the walk to the school, we bumped into students who were doing physical education--which consists of walking around the town since there is no gymnasium or area to do sports. Pretty random. The boy students started calling after me “Rubia, Rubia!” that was pretty entertaining as well. I might be the only blonde at the school...maybe in the town too.



My first hour was with Maria, a tall Spanish woman who was originally born in Canada. She reminds me of a model and speaks very good english. Her students, who are 14-15 years old are very difficult. They are really loud and get embarrassed speaking in english. They did not know what I meant when I said “I am from the United States.” I had to explain it in Spanish, apparently we have a lot of work to do. There are a group of about 6 boys who sit in the far left corner separated from the rest of the class because they are “slow learners.” It is really sad because there is only one high school in Posadas so all of the students receive the same education and receive little special attention. To keep them from talking to each other when I was speaking, I asked them questions about themselves--Angel put his head down on his desk and Antonio covered his mouth with his scarf. Eventually they answered and did a very good job. Before class, I did not understand they were slow and perceived them to be students prone to bad behavior. I think I have a soft spot for them and will do my best to help them as much as I can. Or at the very least, be their friend.

After that class, I went and met with Antonio--he is the arts teacher for the older children and just needs help preparing his bilingual course for next year. We bonded over our macintosh computers of all things. He showed me pictures of his cat and dog Mimi (a big chihuahua like Bella!) he is married and lives in Cordoba. His class is really cool--he has programs on the computer that show you the angles of triangles, etc. We are basically going to be translating the art terminology from Spanish to English. We will also try and come up with activities to use the new vocabulary. At first I was intimidated by Art, but now I’m excited because I really love Art even though I’m terrible at it. He specializes in sculpture.

Then I went back upstairs to meet Pilar and go to my next class. The students are very quiet and well-behaved, a stark contrast to the students from earlier in the day. They speak english pretty well and follow directions with little fuss. I introduced myself again (name, age, family, hobbies, nationality, mother tongue haha)

After that I had “conversation” with Maria Dolores and Eli. They are practicing for their english exam and need to work on their speaking abilities. They are both pretty good--but I felt a little bit awkward today not knowing what to talk about. I feel strange being a peer to people I still feel are my teachers, does that make sense? Anyways we talked about our favorite food and good places to eat in Posadas. Eli laughed when I told her I like to eat dinner around 6pm (which is quite a problem here because people don’t eat until 8pm or later). I’m a fish out of water.

Finally, after everything I was able to go to the staff room and use the wireless internet. THANK YOU LORD JESUS FOR WIRELESS INTERNET!!!! It was so exciting to get on AIM (granted it was only 6am at home..nobody was on anyway) but it was still like a total treasure to be connected to the outside world. Mandy was online and we got to catch up--it was so nice to talk to her! You can’t imagine how difficult it is to be the only one going through this experience. I am the only one who knows what this is like. I think I might go visit her in Granada this weekend, however it is Sarah’s birthday so I am sure they are going to be wanting to stay out really late--but maybe I can persuade Mandy to come back earlier with me (as in 1am..not 8am). My internet time was cut short because the school was closing, one of the Spanish teachers (not in the bilingual program) offered Will and I a ride home because it was raining. That was really, really nice. I wanted to go running, but it was only 30 degrees. Might have ended badly, probably with leg cramps and a cold. To be totally honest, I ended up crying out of the blue when I realized I have not done anything normal, anything that I would do at home. I felt momentarily like I had lost my sense of identity, happiness. A helped me decide that it would be just as well to go running tomorrow when it is supposed to be sunny, and then go see about joining the little gym. I also admitted that I miss Bella terribly.

Troy is coming on Sunday--but I guess he is going to travel other places when he is here, I don’t blame him for not wanting to stay in Posadas. There is nothing besides warm people, cafes, and a rundown gym. I am the only American in Posadas. I am..Rubia.


PS: I finished reading “She’s Come Undone” (I blame the book for my temporary emotional meltdown, it’s really depressing. But as I hoped, it ended happily. I feel better about it now.) And I also figured out how to check my voicemail. The minor mishap was that I could not understand the directions (since they are in spanish) and I entered my pin number that came with my phone so now that’s my voicemail password, great. Anyways, I had two voicemail’s from my Mom--I miss my family. I miss everybody. Infact, I miss EVERYTHING.

I hang my clothes to dry on my balcony. Hmm.

The word of the day is “Caducity: *1, senility *2: the quality of being transitory or perishable.”

Today is pretty hard, I feel transitory and perishable. I’m trying to keep my chin up but I feel slightly defeated. I attempted to do laundry. I took one of the unused silver rods from the other room and taped it to either end of the fence around my balcony. I then put my jeans, sweatpants, and a couple of t-shirts hanging over it safely in eyesight. I know Posadas must be pretty safe because the restaurant across the alleyway next to me called Mesoncita, leaves its shipments of beer by the door, it has been sitting there for 3 days...untouched. I didn’t go to Cordoba today because we assumed everything would be closed on Sunday, but I’m aggravated because it turns out that most places are actually closed tomorrow. Very irritating. I also left my medical clearance and proof of good conduct at home. Pilar said it is still worth going to the police station in Cordoba to get my N.I.E even though I don’t have all the paperwork. It should be a pretty early morning and a pretty frustrating one as well. I guess the line at the police station is very similar to the Department of Motor Vehicles at home. I really want to talk to my friends and family, but I don’t have any money left on my calling card and I’m not willing to use the usb internet that cost 60 euros for 1 g. I figured I would wait til tomorrow and just go to the school to use it, or wait til Tuesday when I begin teaching.

I’m just disappointed because when I envisioned myself here in Posadas, I thought I would have unlimited wireless internet. I figured that would be my main source of communication and I would use skype as freely as I wanted. You can’t imagine how much I miss hot water, a working shower head, internet, central heating, and dryers. Hell, I even miss dishwashers. Doing the dishes in ice cold water in freezing weather is pretty miserable. I don’t even feel like traveling anymore, I wish I could meet up with Mandy--that would be more fun, but my only friend is a british guy who is perfectly content taking cold showers and eating blase food. I don’t get paid til the beginning of February. I’m trying to figure out what Troy and I will do when he is visiting. I think Posadas will be pretty disappointing to him because there is no club or anything. I imagine he will want to go out in Cordoba, which is pretty impossible because of the bus system. I just wish A was here and my mom. God, if the girls could be here with me I would be 10x happier. Instead, I’m alone, watching my clothes move ever so slightly in the wind.

PS: I’m now rationing my country linen oil diffuser since I only have 3/4 of the bottle left after less than a week. I am also rationing my Twilight books, afraid to be without them. I haven’t actually read any of it since my plane ride over, when I have other great books to read I’ll indulge myself.

Se Busca somewhere else.

The word of the day is “Sanction” : to make valid or binding usually by a formal procedure. 2: to give effective or authoritative approval or consent to.

Today, I got sanction from Paco, the owner of Bar San Francisco to substitute green olives for papas fritas, or french fries. Per usual, I ordered carne con tomate. Paco’s is pretty popular--the same old men go in everyday and usually sit in the same spot by the television. He is the only owner in town that has a menu in english and spanish, quite helpful. However, I still am disheartened because there is nowhere to eat and nothing really appetizing to eat. I’m still slightly put off by the prawns (gambas) that came out with eyes...staring at me.

Tonight there was quite a commotion because Paco was replacing the TV that sits perched by the window with a TV that looked pretty much the same. One of the regulars commented that he could not tell a difference, I just smiled in approval. Paco likes to call me guapa. Will does not have a nickname, I think that makes me the favorite. Also, a couple from Germany who had lived in Texas, and then moved to Spain came into Bar SanFrancisco. It was very exciting to talk to other people in english--the regulars (a few old men) just stared suspiciously.

After sleeping in for majority of the day, still totally exhausted from my haphazard trip--I woke up and got motivated by A to eat something; I am so happy that my mom decided to send oatmeal with me, it is much better than tostada con mantequilla (sourdough bread with butter). I watched Spanish television for a bit, the amazing race was on--I noticed that Rebecca from workout was on the show. Pretty random. I can’t really understand what the contestants are saying since it is dubbed over in Spanish--but it’s still pretty entertaining. They were in Iceland. Sometimes I wonder if they feel as isolated as I do, I know I feel as challenged as they are. Like this teaching extravaganza is the amazing race. I talked with A about coming home in early April (I’ve been feeling this whole thing is interminable, that I will not survive it) and I realized that Will is doing the London marathon on April 26th, it’s 15 weeks away. We are going to start training for it next week before he goes to Washington D.C for Obama’s inauguration. I borrowed his book, “Dreams From My Father” but have yet to get passed the first page. I just want to know if he actually wrote it. Anyways, it is laying next to me. I smell like cigarettes, not as much as last night, but it is still pretty damn annoying. What would be more annoying is attempting to shower right now. I have to turn on the flame to the butano, move the lever over to the middle, turn the water and push in the button at the same time, hold it until I have a feeling it’ll flare up, then if I do succeed, move the lever all the way over the right side and turn off the water. It’s quite the process.

Then, if I am going to shower...I move the small spaceheater into the bathroom and turn it towards the dresser, I open the top and bottom door and than stagger my clothes/towel on the handles so that the heater will warm them up for when I get out of the shower. The shower head is broken, so majority of the hot water oozes from the top and never makes it out to sprinkle on my head. I’m not quite sure how to say it exactly, but there is very little water pressure. I would like to use the other bathroom, because we think that shower head works better in that one, but the smell is pretty prominent. The landlord claims that the odor is from the stale water and that we need to run it more often. Easier said than done, it smells like a dead animal. So for now, taking a shower is more laborious than the stench of cigarettes on my clothes and hair. Dios mio.

On the positive side of things, When Austin comes we are going to go to Italy and Greece. I am so excited! It’ll be the most amazing experience to lay on the beach and take gondola rides through Venice. That will be in early March. I also might be going home for Valentine’s Day.

Ps: I took down Jesus and put him in the hallway by the bathroom. Not having a mirror in my room is definitely worth it. Se busca somewhere else.

I hate siesta.

Siesta is pissing me off. Jet lag finally caught up with me, after an entire week of not sleeping for more than 3 hours--it hit me all at once that I was utterly exhausted. Luckily, since my bags arrived yesterday (Thursday) I was able to unpack warm bedding and clothes. A’s mom had given me sleep aids (Melatonin and 5HTP) and after taking one and talking to A, I fell into a much needed sleep coma. I don’t officially start teaching til Tuesday, so this morning I wasn’t really needed around school. Pilar said I could come in around 11:30 to have lunch with the other teacher’s if I wanted, but I ended up sleeping in til 12:30. Will finished and came home around 1:45 with his daily baguette and a couple random groceries (chorizo, chicken breast, mandarin oranges) and we decided to make pasta.

I was really hungry because I had tried to cook some of the oatmeal my mom had sent with me, but I couldn’t figure out the microwave as the images on the keys don’t really make sense. Anyways, we cooked penne noodles and then added a pretty blase pasta sauce, a step up for Will because before he was just eating plain tomato paste. It’s pretty disgusting, but he doesn’t mind it so much. We went into the TV room and gave in to watching Spanish news, they have been covering the nieve (snow) in Granada for 2 days now. Then there was a special on porn, pretty graphic images--caught us both off guard for a lunch broadcast. It ended with a story about Spanish bikers that had to stop ever 100km because their hands were getting too cold--they looked like rugged American bikers, but foreign. Pretty surreal, google it for entertainment if you want. At that point I finished my fanta zero and gave into the hebetude (word of the day from the calendar A gave me) of the day and climbed back into bed to finish watching “Everafter” and nap, since that is all you can do from 2-5:30 PM.

Estoy aqui.

Well, I made it so to speak. Just when you think things cannot get worse--upon arrival in Madrid, my bags stayed in Atlanta, Georgia. So unbelievably frustrating. Imagine being in a foreign country with only the clothes on your back (including a small northface fleece, jeans, and a pair of converse in my bag) I wanted to just surrender to the travel gods and go home.

I’m not sure what exactly is keeping me in Spain at this moment, because the past 3 days have been completely traumatizing and filled with a ridiculous amount of bad luck. When I got to my flat with Will (My british room mate) we discovered my bedroom had a mirrored picture of Jesus that says “Se Busca”--is God trying to give me a sign? I told Will I need to go to church and pray. Atleast after everything we could find some humor in my situation. You live, you laugh, you learn. Today I wouldn’t let myself cave in and give up. I told myself I could get by without my bags for a couple of days (Although, since they are stuck somewhere unknown in the airport in Georgia, my nerves are grading on the possibility of a week + without my bags). It kills me, I packed so painstakingly well--distributing winter/summer clothes into each bag evenly, pajamas in both, etc. Fucking smited.

Pilar and her partner Juan Manuel met me at the train station in Cordoba at 4pm. They took me around the city in their car and we attempted to find a store open so I could purchase some necessities, but continuing in the spirit of inconvenience all the stores are closed for Holiday (Dia de los reyes--children open their presents this morning, it is the last day of Christmas).

Pilar then let me take a shower at her apartment, that is when it hit me I was in a completely different culture. Pilar does not use conditioner, and the shampoo is for your hair and body. I was able to blow dry my hair..but not particularly stylishly or well..I feel very unkempt and out of sorts. After having cake and coffee, we went to pick up Will from the train station at 7 pm. The drive to Posadas was 30 minutes..and we were both exhausted from our trips. Thinking in another language gets complicated when you can barely think in english. Juan Manuel really wants me to roll my R’s like there is no tomorrow.

The flat is pretty interesting, it is on the second floor of a small apartment building. It smells like cigarettes in the hallway, but not the stodgy american kind...a different smell of cigarette..can’t really explain it. The decoration is something you would find on the Golden Girls..but slightly more outdated. I had Zach Morris/Golden Girls curtain up in my room..I took them down with Will’s help 30 minutes later and moved the desk from the family room into my room with a different chair. Jesus is still staring at me from the wall, but tomorrow I think I will switch him out with the hallway mirror.

Will was nice enough to lend me his space heater tonight, and 3 hours later I finally adjusted it to a hospitable temperature (it was REALLY hot until now) when I go in the hallway my muscles shake from the cold. I was so painfully tired when I laid down, but the unfamiliarity is keeping me from a deep sleep, I keep intermittently waking up. I have replayed “Under the Tuscan Sun” atleast 4 times, the background noise comforts me I guess. It could also be attributed to my new twin-size bed...or that I have hunger pains but nothing to eat. Whenever you flush the toilet it sounds like a fog-horn is about to burst through the wall. There are two bathrooms next door to eachother, but the first one has an unidentifiable smell and Will decided to use the other one. My bath towels are in my suitcases. I don’t even have a fucking towel to shower with. It’s only 7:22pm in Arizona, but I can’t call any of my friends because my calling card is running low. It’d be nice if they would buy calling cards to call my cell phone, since Will and I are sharing internet via a USB you stick in your computer. I wasn’t up to look at the world wide web tonight, probably tomorrow.

Interestingly, Will brought a large stack of books here as well. I guess we both find comfort in the escapism of the books (it doesn’t matter where you are when you are reading, you lose yourself in the story/life of someone else). I suggested tomorrow we bring a couple of books and sit and read in the promenade of Cordoba (after buying a few things), The train to Cordoba is only 15 minutes, the station is across the street and the school is a 7 minutes walk away. I start on Thursday morning, but don’t officially begin teaching until Tuesday. I’m worried about money, especially with the unforeseen expenses of buying clothes and products. I planned on joining the gym tomorrow, but I realized I have nothing to exercise in so it’s pretty damn pointless. Damnit, damnit, damnit. Will is hoping..going..to run the London marathon in April. I think I will train with him for kicks, but I think I missed the official deadline to sign up. Maybe after I have my running shoes I’ll feel comfortable enough to ask.

I know I need to cry, but I won’t let myself. Instead, I’m laying awake in the darkness...trying to fathom that I’m in a foreign country alone. My mom reiterated that it’ll all work out and they’ll get my bags to me within the next couple of days. I just can’t help but question why I left my wonderful life, family, and friends to be alone in Spain. I feel so lonely I’m numb. Troy is coming from January 17-26th, coincidentally Will is leaving the 17th-24th to go to Obama’s inauguration---random right?

I'M FINISHED WITH THE CHECKING OF THE BAGS!!!!! (step off bitch)

SERENITY NOW!!!!!!!!!!!

"Optimism is the faith that leads to achievement.  Nothing can be done without hope and confidence." -Helen Keller

I'm not sure why this is happening.  I consider myself a pretty flexible person; only rigid in specific ways.  However, this is beyond my realm of reason.  When I was originally stressed about being stranded in Atlanta, I was assuming I would be stranded in a basic hotel.  Instead, I was dropped off in the ghetto of what Wilson calls, "Hotlanta" and the scariest motel I have ever been too.  

Let me back up.  Things started going more positively after I finished my last entry.  When we started boarding, I totally panicked because I was zone 8 of 9 with a massive hiking backpack.  I was so worried they were going to check my bag, (which it is important to note when you get stranded and put in a hotel by the airport they do not return your checked luggage--you go with what you've got on your back) so my hearts starting to race anticipating the confrontation about to come with the flight attendant's about my stupid bag.  I envisioned a replica of the scene in the Meet The Parents. 

By some obscure chance, the man sitting in my seat wanted to be with his family so he exchanged my seat for a seat in first class.  Insert happy dance.  I started thinking it was going to work out and that the universe would align and get me to Madrid in one strong piece.  

So needless to say I didn't make the connection by a mere 10 minutes--I went to the international desk to get re-booked on the flight for tonight.  I stood in line for 3 1/2 hours with a 30lb backpack on, listening to the disgruntled moans and groans of fellow travelers.  Ridiculous customer service.  On another positive note, I ended up meeting 5 other passengers who live in Madrid.  This adorable older couple took me under their wing (they got bumped up to first class for tonight's flight..i'm not that persuasive apparently) After the re-booking shenanigans me, Jose, Santiago, and the older couple went to look for a restaurant open in the airport (at 12:30 pm) to use the food voucher we received; it didn't work out because everything was closed and after attempting to get a fruit cup at Starbucks, the shrew behind the desk bit my head off about $1.45.  Let me explain, I got a bottle of water, orange juice, and a tiny fruit cup assuming it would be under $7.  Of course there are no prices listed on the products.  So when she totaled it up it was $8.45 and the voucher was worth $7 so I told her I would put the OJ back since she didn't accept credit and I only had euro's.  She said she couldn't give me change..I began to think 'lights are on but nobody's home' because I was just asking her to get rid of the orange juice so I wouldn't owe her money.  Ultimately she told me to just leave and Jose inadvertently stole a deli sandwich in the midst of total confusion.  I comforted him by telling him it was a small token to make up for all his troubles with flying yesterday.

I then got to the hotel, and my heart stopped.  It was horrible, absolutely horrible.  After i got my room key i was on the 4th floor (all the rooms are outside) I couldn't get the door to open and my hands were shaking because I was so scared someone was going to mug me (I have my laptop, expensive jewelry, wallet, passport, etc in 2 easy bags) and please don't assume i'm being a typical brat--this place was straight out of a horror movie.  I finally bust in the door and none of the lights work and it looks like the scene of a crime.  I dropped my bags and went back downstairs to get help with the lights.  All the while, my phone is dying while I'm trying to get comforted by A.  The evil woman in the lobby (all the doors are locked, and is now speaking to me through a bullet proof window) tells me 'this must be your first time traveling by yourself. god help me.' I wanted to punch her.  She then was going to put me in a smoking room, I said fuck it i'll try and figure out the lights by myself.  On my way up, I bumped into the couple from Orlando who were calling it a "no tell motel, from hell." They noticed I was crying and came up and gave me a hug, soothing me by saying this was a really scary motel and that they would be right next door if I needed them.  There are some really great people that you meet.  I wanted to be like, "can i sleep on your floor?" 

I ended up spreading my sleeping bag across the bed and sleeping in my clothes.  The airport wouldn't give me back my luggage.  I put the teddybear A gave me, and left the light and tv on for comfort.  Worst night's sleep ever.  I've never cried harder than I did last night, just feeling so helpless and traumatized.  Also, incredibly homesick.  I woke up this morning with swollen, puffy eyes, that not even my eye cream could help.  I'll also admit I fought with the packet of toothpaste the airport issued me, after ripping as hard as i could in different angles, i ended up poking a hole in it using my little black comb.  Toothpaste at last.  ((all the while people kept knocking on my door asking me if I was checking out today.)) After everything I realized, Dan lives in Atlanta--only this afternoon after all the motel shenanigans.  He actually just called me to ask me if I needed a place to stay.  People amaze me with their kindness.  

I am at the airport, looking pretty damn tragic.  I attempted to put myself back together but by the time I get to Madrid tomorrow i'll have been in the same clothes for 3 days.  Sexy.  Anyways, i'm really apprehensive about getting my bags from the airport to the train station by myself.  Pilar, the bilingual coordinator, is going to pick me up in Cordoba (thank you god) and my soon to be british room mate Will is getting in at 2 p.m and is meeting us in Cordoba after.  I'm worried I can't do this.  Like, the universe is trying to squash me and make this as hard as possible--emotionally and physically.  All I can do is keep breathing.

Missing you, 

P.S: Love you A. For all that you are--I couldn't have done this without you.  

SERIOUSLY? SERIOUSLY?

Typical airport shenanigans.

After waking up super early this morning, showering, succeeding in total organization--I get to the airport to check-in and the lady informs me my flight is delayed by 1 hr 50 minutes.  Thus, i'll probably miss my connection to Madrid in Georgia (even though that flight is delayed an hour as well...10 minutes makes a huge difference this trip). 

I'm pissed.

I'm just trying to think positive thoughts and hope that the universe will be on my side and help me get there.  Leaving is hard enough, sans complications of flights.  

I don't want to be staying at a hotel in Georgia by myself tonight, not leaving til 6:40 pm the following day.  That would put me back an entire day for Spain.  You know that book, "The Secret" well it talks about laws of attraction..you get back what you put out..so i'm hoping that positive thoughts will open some doors..!

“I love to travel, but hate to arrive.” --Albert Einstein

“There are only two emotions in a plane: boredom and terror.”

“So many faces in and out of my life; some will last, some will be just now and then. Life is a series of hellos and good byes, I'm afraid it's time for goodbye again.”

“As the traveler who has once been from home is wiser than he who has never left his own doorstep, so a knowledge of one other culture should sharpen our ability to scrutinize more steadily, to appreciate more lovingly, our own.”

We find rest in those we love, and we provide a resting place in ourselves for those who love us.