El fin

So, all of these recent blog entries have been written with quite a bit of delay. I had intended on writing them right away when I got back to the states, in order to best preserve my memories, but for some reason I never wanted to sit down to write about them. Maybe it’s because I’ve been busy enough back in the States, or more likely it’s because I don’t want to end the journey. As long as I don’t have my last memories from Spain written down, then in some way I never really left, right? I think I’ll leave it that way, and just say that leaving Spain was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. It really did feel like leaving home. Perhaps the best illustration I can give is one of me sitting on the plane for around nine hours, without sleeping despite having hardly slept in days, without playing my iPod, without reading the book I had taken along. I didn’t do a single thing other than pick at my food and stare into space. Nine hours of nothing has never passed by so quickly.
What surprised me, however, was how I felt when I touched down in Chicago. For a while it didn’t really sink in that I was actually back on home soil, but once I did start warming up to the idea I found myself walking around with a huge smile on my face as I waited for my flight to the Twin Cities. I was truly happy to be home, when all I had felt during the prior months was dread at the prospect of leaving my Spanish life behind.
The five weeks I spent at home this summer were truly special. I enjoyed them more than I ever thought I would, and that has certainly continued since I have moved to Madison, where I have completely fallen in love with this city. Having a few summer weeks to really learn what this city is about, to see a side I had never really experienced much before, has been exhilarating. Madison is a truly unique place. My house feels wonderfully homey, the Saturday farmers market (one of my favorite places on Earth, despite all my travels) is just a few blocks away. The smell of brats grilling fills the Madison air every balmy evening, the sun sets as beautifully over Lake Mendota every night as it does over the Atlantic in Lisbon. There have been countless hours to spend playing frisbee and volleyball in the parks, to swim in any number of lakes, and to run along the shore as the sun sets on Mendota. I could never ask for better friends than those I have here. It has been a treat to be back with all of them again.
My year in Spain was the best of my life. It changed me in many ways, and opened my eyes to what is possible in life. But it would be a lie to say that I didn’t think this coming year could be just as great… in different ways, of course. Summer in Madison is paradise.

Benidorm

My trip to the Canary Islands was almost indescribable, but if one thing could top it it would be the next four days I would spend on Spain's east coast with Olechka. The five days I had spent away from her off the African coast had changed many things for me, and my thoughts were confirmed the second she walked into her apartment as I was already there unpacking, anxious to surprise her with a smile and a kiss. The look in her eye as she realized I was already there made it clear that she too had thought about us when I was away, and that there was something special going on between us. That night, she prepared a delicious Russian feast for Julie, Marjorie and I. The next morning the two of us headed off to the bus station on a gorgeously sunny, hot Madrid day. The Spanish countryside looked hot and dry as we rumbled on, Olechka and I in nonstop conversation between my frequent bouts of napping which are unavoidable every time I ride on a bus.
Shortly after arriving in Benidorm, we both soon realized we had appeared to have landed in an English colony. Vacation goers were everywhere. Our hotel was simple but quite nice, with a balcony overlooking the city and the ocean in the distance. Without hesitation, we changed into our bathing suits and were soon strolling toward the sea to enjoy every minute of Spanish sun we could. Our days in Benidorm were spent just like this, out under the hot sun or in the cool waters of the Mediterranean. Our nights were full of romantic strolls along the ocean, Baileys on the beach, watching the Eurocup like every other person in Benidorm, or partaking in the absolute insanity that was the nightlife that beach town. I'll just say that the English get craaaaaaazy when they go on vacation in Spain... It felt like Marti gras in New Orleans.
We saw Russia upset Holland which drew quite a few looks from the mixed English and Spanish croud, as this beautiful, blond, perfect Spanish speaking Russian girl jumped up and down nearly at the point of having a heart attack as the game grew more and more intense toward the end, speaking vivaciously in Spanish to me, and even more so in Russian to her brother on the phone. The next night, we saw another unbelievable game with a mostly Spanish crowd as Spain defeated Italy in penalty shots. The whole city went into frenzy the entire night. Life couldn't have of been better. I was living up my last days in Spain with a truly amazing person, in a paradise full of life, national pride, crazy vacation goers, and undeniable beauty. I don't think there was a silent moment between Olechka and I the entire trip. There never is. And one night, while we were at dinner, we finally arrived at the conversation we both knew needed to happen at some point. In April, I had absolutely no intention or desire to allow us to get as close as we did, but as we sat there trying to figure out exactly what to say, how to justify things to myself and to her, I realized that my ideas had changed substantially in just about a week's time, little by little, until that moment, when I just knew it would be a mistake to allow us to just leave everything that we had. We both made the same point, that while a relationship across the ocean, in a language foreign to the both of us, between two people that just 20 years earlier were considered ideological enemies in the world, and who's nations almost allowed their conflict to end life on Earth, may seem illogical, or stupid, or pointless, it would have been even more so to just call it quits because of the circumstances that life had thrown at us. Why not just see what happens? Something like this just doesn't come around very often...

Las Canarias...

Ready for some fun in the sun, Julie and I set out merrily to the airport that morning and were soon landing on what looked like Gran Canaria's Martian surface. The island looked dry and barren from the air, far from the paradise that I was expecting, and I could see the look of doubt creeping over Julie's face as well as she was likely thinking the same. Our first impression of the island was much different than we were expecting, as it lacked the pristine beaches and palm trees that we had heard so much about. It's safe to say we were a bit perplexed as we headed north to Las Palmas, where we would be staying. We had found a pretty nice hotel for the same price as we would have paid for a hostel, so at least we had that as we took a look around our somewhat sketchy neighborhood. We did, however, find a pretty nice beach with a beautiful coastal view just a few blocks from our hotel, and we literally didn't see another tourist during the many hours we spent there. They were all locals, and we quite enjoyed the sound of the crashing waves and the sun that made some short appearances on what was a fairly overcast day. That night we walked all over Las Palmas, getting lost and finding our way a few separate times, and collapsed into our beds early that night after what had been a fairly busy day.
Waking up to more overcast skies, and sure that there were nicer places to see on the island, we decided to head to the southern side of the Gran Canaria, to the famous Playa del Ingles. We caught a short cab ride to the bus station, where we were able to take advantage of the very friendly driver who answered all of our questions, and assured us that we were guaranteed to find sunny skies on the south side. The north, where we were staying, was often covered with clouds, but the south was sunny nearly every day of the year, and was covered with some of the best beaches in the world. We both grinned eagerly as we realized our trip was about to improve tenfold. About a half hour later, after a nice bus ride along the coast, we arrived at La Playa del Ingles, which was packed with happy vacation-goers, nearly all Spanish, German, and English. It was the perfect day, hot, not a cloud in the sky, and the ocean was just the right temperature. We piled on the sunscreen and stayed there all day, enjoying the perfect routine of reading our books, chatting, napping, and bathing long enough to cool down and start all over again. As the sun drew lower in the sky, and I had had enough of El Alquemista, we took a long walk along the beach, nearly everyone else having left for the day. Just as we were about to turn around, we came across a nearly endless desert, covered with huge sand dunes, and not another person in sight. The sand was soft and deep, and had just cooled enough by that time to allow us to walk comfortably across it. I had never seen anything like it before, and it felt like a scene right out of the book I had been reading that day, like we were lost somewhere in the Sahara. As low as the sun fell, we still couldn't manage to leave that place, which for both of us was something of a different world. We finally began our walk back as the sun began to set, two good friends reflecting on what had been a ten month adventure nearly at its completion.
As we headed back in search of the bus to take us north, we had a hard time finding the stop, so we walked by a group of seaside restaurants where we were solicited in English by a friendly guy in his twenties to have dinner in one of the restaurants. As we had planned to eat something once we got closer to the hotel, Julie responded naturally in Spanish by saying no thank you but asked if he could point us to the bus stop. What followed was perhaps one of the most memorable moments I have of Spain, when he looked completely dumbfounded at the two tall blonds in front of him and responded, "Joder, que sois espanoles!", (Damn, you guys are Spanish!). We eventually did find the bus stop, and were soon cutting out way through the darkness on our way back to the northern side of the island, where we found some dinner and retired to the hotel feeling a bit like fried tomatoes despite our best efforts to constantly apply sunscreen during the day.
The next morning after a slow breakfast we decided to again head south to find sunnier skies, this time journeying ever further to the southwestern coast. Upon arriving there, we found the truly luxurious side of the island, with five star resorts, even more gorgeous beaches, and all sorts of palm trees and flowers that made me feel like we were somewhere in Hawaii. We had again found paradise, and after talking to a nice man down by a sparsely occupied beach, he pointed us in the direction of the finest beach on the island, which was close by, and at first view appeared to be privately owned by the luxury resort that stood behind it. Amazingly, we found our way down to the beach and realized that it was indeed public, but its location allowed it an enormous degree of exclusivity. It was the nicest beach on the island. Perfectly soft sand, turquoise water, and palm trees everywhere. We even found a shady spot under a few palm trees growing out of the sand, offering us day-long protection from the sun between dips in the ocean. We were enjoying nearly the same vacation as those who had paid thousands of dollars to say in the rooms above, the only difference being we had to find the bus at the end of the day rather than walk upstairs to an immaculate room. It was a perfect way to spend our last day on Gran Canaria.
The next morning, we were begrudgingly awoken by the alarm at four thirty so we could make it in time for the discount flight we had booked to Lanzarote, another of the Canary Islands to the east. We took off in the dark, and a half an hour later were descending majestically onto the volcanic island as the rising sun bled a deep red over the lunar-like landscape which sat peacefully in an endless sea of deep blue. After asking around a bit, we figured out how to travel to our hotel using public buses, and soon enough were left with our jaws dropping once again at the incredible luck we had. The place was spectacular for our standards, and as we opened the blinds in the living room of what was more like a condo, Julie and I both flipped when we realized we had a perfect ocean view from our balcony. Neither of us had had any idea. It turns out we ended up paying about a third of the room’s normal price by booking it though another obscure website.

We were both exhausted after such a long morning, and after the initial shock of everything wore off, we collapsed into our beds for a few hours of blissful, much needed sleep. While the weather in Lanzarote proved to be much cooler over the next few days, we were still able to take advantage of the beautiful beaches, and most interestingly, spent a morning on a guided tour through the island’s volcanic national park, where NASA actually does some of its training for lunar landings. The eruption that occurred on the island in the 1700s is one of the largest and most famous in history and the shear amount of molten rock that way released was hard to fathom as it stretched into the distance, homes buried deep below. The camel ride we took over the rough terrain was a once in a lifetime experience.

While I loved Lanzarote for its beauty, it is hard to imagine a place more geared towards tourism. Like Gran Canaria, it basically looks like an English/German colony, and the locals seemed shocked when we spoke to them in Spanish. Still, my trip to the Canary Islands with Julie was very near the top of my list of favorite trips during my year abroad, if not my favorite outright. We had the best possible time together, in a true paradise, just a few short weeks from the end of our year in Spain and our return to the United States. As we sat on the rocky coast at sunset, peering unsuccessfully off to the invisible coast of West Africa, it was hard to imagine that we were sitting where we were, hard to imagine us somewhere on a map, so far away from all that we had known our entire lives. We spent a long time talking about how impossible this whole year would have seemed just a few years earlier, or really, just 10 months before, when we were preparing to leave to Spain for the first time. That we would be sitting there, so far away from everything, ten months later, with a true friend that we didn’t even know existed at that time. My year abroad was full of moments of reflection such as this, when the world seemed to stop just long enough to allow me realize exactly where I was and what I was doing, and just how ludicrous it all would have seemed just a year ago, when my heart and mind were invested in a different life and a different future.

The pictures from this trip might be the best of any, but I'm still waiting to get them from Julie. They should be up soon, so check back...

La mudanza del piso...

Arriving back in Madrid after my trip to northern Europe, it finally started to dawn on my how very little time I had left in Spain. I was officially under one month, and after looking back at just how quickly the prior month had gone, it felt like I would be back in the States before I knew it. What's more, I would be moving out of my apartment in just a week and a half, on June 14th, the morning after my one remaining final exam. My final days in my apartment went flying by. I taught my last English lessons of the year, and realized just how attached I had become to all of my students, despite how much I liked to complain about them. Casilda, my youngest at four years old, gave me her sad puppy face as I was about to walk out the door and I explained to her that I wouldn't be coming back to teach anymore, and I just about melted into a heap.
With just a few classes left to attend, my last week or so in Madrid was fast paced. I had a really hard time sleeping knowing that my time was drawing so quickly to a close, and often found myself just not being tired until oddly late hours, the result of a constant case of jitters that always had me planning or doing the next thing. I had a one week stretch where I didn't go to bed before six or seven in the morning, the result of catching the first few Celtics-Lakers games at a bar in Sol or going out with friends. A short night's sleep would be followed a long day of studying at a cafe to limit my distractions, but eventually Olechka and I would lose our determination and end up studying side-by-side at a certain cafe near our apartments, me pouring over Ancient History of Spain notes and her over a mountain of complex medical notes and studies. Watching her as her mind whirls around three times faster than most is truly inspiring to see. She's nothing less than brilliant. I can't even count how many hours we spent together in the cafe that week, the number would be astronomical, but it passed by like a flash.
Any moment I wasn't studying or spending time with Olechka during that week, I was starting the process of saying goodbye to my friends. A few last times out for tapas and I was able to say adios to a few whom I would be seeing in Madison in a few short months, and most of whom I didn't know when I would see again, Spaniards, Americans, and others alike. It was harder than even I expected, and strange knowing that I might never see some of them again. The world suddenly began to feel like a much bigger place, where house parties with people from the United States, to Spain, to Russia, to Chile, to South Africa were not the norm.
Before I knew it, I was taking my last final exam, and walking home to my apartment, where I knew that the half-finished job of packing my belongings awaited me. And perhaps too fittingly, at that very moment I saw the large, building-sized advertisement that had covered my apartment building every month that I had lived there, being slowly removed. For the first time all year, my very last day living on Princesa, I could enjoy the beautiful view from my balcony. It was glorious, and almost too odd of a coincidence... The golden Spanish sun was unobstructed as it illuminated my room, where I slowly labored with last loads of laundry and the daunting task of condensing so much into a few suitcases, and decided the small selection of clothes I would be wearing in Madrid, the Canary Islands, Benidorm, and Morocco during the following three weeks. As always, it took a bit longer than expected, but as the sun lowered in the sky, I stared around at my empty room marveling at the fact that my material life had been reduced to the small amount of baggage that lay in the corner of the room. I had a hard time sleeping that night too, after spending some final time with the Italians and finally getting to chat with Emma, whom I had hardly seen during the prior weeks due to our respective travels and us both being constantly out of the apartment.
As the alarm jingled for the final time a few hours later, I arose to pack a few final items and do some final preparations for my trip with Julie to the Canary Islands that morning. I found Emma awake just as I was about to head out the door, and she offered to help me carry my things to Olechka and Julie's apartment, which would be serving as a sort of base-camp for me between my travels in the coming weeks, as I was quite keen on not paying the last half month's rent when I would hardly be in Madrid. Not having seen Emma during the prior weeks had been my greatest regret of my last time in Spain. I didn't like the fact that busyness had made me take her for granted, because she was like a sister to me in Madrid. I could have never asked for a better roommate or friend. It was nice to have her there to walk me out of our apartment and on to my temporary home, and fitting, as we had stumbled upon our apartment together ten months before. It was certainly a tough goodbye for me, even knowing that I'd be seeing her for one final semester in Madison in the fall. We both knew that our lives were going to be far different the next time we saw each other... too different for our liking, I think. But I tried my best to push those thought from my mind. I still had the best three weeks of my year ahead of me, and it started out with a bang as Julie and I walked out the door to catch our plane to the Canary Islands.

Amy viene y los viajes al norte....

After the trip to Barcelona, I really had reached the point at which I could procrastinate no further. I spent the following two weeks catching up on my studies and furiously writing papers before my sister was to arrive in Madrid for a week-long visit. While I didn't have everything completely finished before she arrived, I did have the majority done and I was able to offer her a fairly decent view of my life in Madrid, although it would have been nice to have had a bit more free time and a weekend to travel. We were able to have dinner with Olechka and Julie, and towards the end of the week went out a few times with Emma and her friends who were visiting from Madison, as well as some of the Madrid folks. After such a long year away from my sis, it sure was nice to spend some quality time together on the other side of the Atlantic, even if it was a very tiring week for me, doing all the sightseeing and going out with my sister while still attending classes, teaching English, and finishing up papers for the semester. Emma's friends, Michael and Chris were great company, and we were even able to have one of the typical potluck dinners in our apartment.
I would have liked to have taken Amy to visit Toledo, but her first full weekend in Madrid fell just before my finals, so after a very busy week of Flamenco shows, tapas, bullfights, walks through the park, and everything else under the sun, the last few days of her stay were a little less exciting for her, but it was nice just to have her company. I think I actually managed to wear her out when she told me she preferred to stay in on Friday night after I would already be gone for my end of the year dinner with my study abroad group. The dinner was really fun, and a great way to cap everything off by getting dressed up and dining on the best paella I had ever tasted. After way too much food and a bit too much wine in everyone’s stomachs, the group divided up and before long I was at one of the bars, Chapandaz, which we frequented at the beginning of year, seemingly bringing the year full circle. We all knew it would be one of the last times we would all be out in Madrid, and probably the last time so many of us would be together at the same time like we were that night. Olechka even surprised me by showing up after I had hardly seen her the whole week being so busy with my sister and school. That night I figured out that we had too much of a spark between us to let the quickly approaching end of the year be a reason for holding back. I realized that night that I had never met anyone like her in my life. She is a truly unique person, and I realized I would be stupid to keep plodding along with her pretending to be just slightly more than friends when we both knew there was way more to it than that.

After my sister left Madrid, a mostly sleepless week began, as I attempted to make up for my lack of studies during the semester and pull off some miracle grades through shear grit and some hard core cramming. In the end, all of my exams went pretty well.
The brutal week spent in the library was followed nicely by a weekend trip to Amsterdam to meet up with my Madison friends, Jen, Mandy, and Tiffany, as they had been traveling through Europe during the prior weeks. After catching a few trains from the tiny airport in the middle of nowhere Belgium (20 Euro plane ticket), I arrived at our hotel in Amsterdam to be greeted by the smiles of three lovely ladies waiting for me outside. The hotel made a mistake on our reservation and actually gave us a free upgrade to a fabulous apartment just a few blocks away. Amsterdam was an unbelievable place, and honestly exceeded my expectations in nearly every way. First, it is stunningly beautiful, with its old canals and elegant buildings creating an ambiance that seemingly created a mixture of Freiburg and Venice. The people were so friendly as well, and everyone rode bikes. Everyone. It made me sad to realize just how doable that would be in nearly any city in America if people just made the switch. There were bike lanes (marked or just known to exist) on every street and even special stoplights for bikers on the major streets. The busy mix of foot, bike, and automobile traffic moved along with remarkable efficiency, as everyone was alert and understanding of the need to share the road with everyone. Instead of loud engines polluting my ears, we walked along the canals to a symphony of harmonious bicycle bells.
Glad to be back in the company of such great friends, we spent our three days in Amsterdam sampling the tasty sweets, visiting the spectacular Van Gogh museum, and the Vondelpark. We spent one day riding our bikes around the city, enjoying the perfect weather and doing some quality people watching. Everyone just seemed so happy to me, a result of low stress and a general attitude toward life that I think is required of everyone that lives in Amsterdam. When Mandy left a day before the rest of us to meet her family in Greece, the three of us rented bikes again and followed the river outside of the city, past beautiful parks and open fields, windmills and country cottages. It was a truly glorious day, and I couldn't help but be reminded of how Holland was portrayed in Band of Brothers during the American liberation. It was exactly the same. The people were the same, the countryside looked the same... it even smelled how I expected it to smell. Steven Spielberg didn't miss a single detail in that one-of-a kind miniseries. Eventually, we arrived at a small town called Ourderkerk a/d Amstel, where we had a tasty lunch and enjoyed the hospitality of a uniquely kind waitress that reminded me of someone I might meet in Duluth, Minnesota more than anyone I had met the entire year. She was a small sliver of the "Minnesota nice" I had come to miss in Madrid.
The following day, as the girls took an early afternoon train to Frankfurt to fly back to the States, I spent a few more hours taking in some of the places we had not reached the previous few days. This included the eastern limits of the city as well as the famous red-light district. To preserve its mystique, I'll just say I'd never seen anything like it and leave it at that...
As the afternoon rolled on, I decided to continue my journey on to Brussels, where I still needed to find a place to spend the night before a day of sightseeing and a late afternoon flight back to Madrid. The train was relaxing as always, and before long I arrived alone in yet another new city. Taking my time to stroll through the central squares, which were magnificently surrounded by beautiful architecture, I kept my eye out for hostels where I could find a bed for the night. Without any luck, and without thinking much of it, I continued to wander through the city, taking in the sites, and with many hours of daylight left, not too worried about finding a place to stay that night. I was more content with getting my bearings and traversing as much pavement that day to take advantage of my limited time there. After hours of walking around nearly every corner of the city, I soon realized that hostels simply did not exist in Brussels. This was confirmed by two other weary looking backpackers I met looking quite discouraged as they sat under a large tree. They hadn't found a single hostel in hours either and every hotel seemed to be booked up, according to them. This turned out to be false. There were hotels, but nothing under 60 euros for the night, and being alone I just couldn't justify paying such a price.
In the end, I made the decision just to ride out the night on the streets, which turned out to be quite the new experience. With nothing else to do, and the faint hope of finding someplace to stay ever-present in my mind, I continued my marathon trek to every corner of the city, mostly just to kill time. With weary legs and a sore back from carrying my things all day, I spent a few tranquil hours in a quiet bar, burying myself into some ancient history of Spain, and occasionally nodding off to catch a few moments of shuteye. When the bar closed, I remembered a hotel I had visited earlier in the day that was close by. Without a reception desk, and holding only 6 rooms, I had also found that the door to the building remained open during the day, and it turned out to remain that way at night. Waiting until about thirty minutes after the bars closed to assure the majority of people would be in their rooms for the night, I quietly snuck in and ascended the narrow, winding staircase to the third floor, where, I unrolled my sleeping bag into the small space between the two hotel room doors, and managed to uncomfortably fall into a light slumber for about two hours. This, however, was abruptly interrupted by the "alarm system" I had for myself, which consisted of a lone, timer operated light switch on the bottom floor which turned on every light in the small building up to the third floor. When the light turned on, and the downstairs door closed, I jolted awake, and as I quickly rolled and stuffed by sleeping bag into by backpack and gathered my things, was just hoping whoever had entered had a room below the third floor. Unfortunately, he did not, and just as I had managed to corral everything into my backpack and fling it over my shoulder, I met the gaze of a very startled and confused man, whose existence I didn't bother to acknowledge as I quickly escaped past him before he had time to ask me any questions...
Glad for having managed a few hours of sleep, but a bit perturbed by my horrible luck, I found myself again on the streets at about four in the morning. The people you find to be awake and outside at that hour are quite interesting, I must say... In the end, I found my way to what must have been the Turkish ghetto of Brussels, where I found a string of kebab shops open serving the all-night crowd, where I sat until the coming of the new day. It was quite a night...
I finally started getting really tired about seven that morning, and allowed myself a few cups of coffee and an English newspaper to put myself in a better mood. I actually did manage to see a number of interesting places that day as well, including the beautiful cathedral where I met a Dutch historian that gave me a very long winded explanation of nearly every aspect of the cathedral's history. (I remember very, very little). I took a nap in one of the city's beautiful parks, climbed to the highest point to enjoy the view over the city, and by mid afternoon was quite content to catch an early bus to the airport. I had had quite enough of Brussels and was ready for a hot shower in Madrid. Despite a slightly rough last day, the trip was spectacular.

Despues del gran retraso...

Okay, so it has been a ridiculous amount of time since I have written anything here, but my hope is that now that I’m back in the States, I’ll find some time to retrace my steps and write a bit about what I have been up to lately. It will all be a bit less detailed, seeing as so much as happened and I could probably write novels about the last few months, so at least this way I will save you all from wasting way too much of your time and hopefully entice you to actually read it... I’ll begin by saying that the since my last post, my time in Spain has exceeded all my expectations, hopes, and dreams of what it could have been. While things were really looking up after my trip to Greece, my last two and a half months redefined my study abroad experience in a way I never thought possible. In the end, it is an understatement to say that I was not quite ready to go home.
Just a few short weeks after my trip to visit Mandy in Greece, and after neglecting the studies I had promised myself I would get to, I was off to Santander and Bilbao, two cities in northern Spain, with my friend Bailey. Santander proved to be the perfect place to spend just a few days, as it lacked the charming atmosphere of other Spanish towns, but it was quite beautiful near the water and out first afternoon was spend lounging on the flawless beach, taking in a bit too much sun, and enjoying a long walk around the parks and palaces that lined the coast. We spent our evenings dining on the wide variety of delicious tapas and getting lost on Santander’s crooked streets. After a few relaxing days, we were ready to move on to our next destination in the Basque Country, my ex roommate’s hometown of Bilbao. While unfortunately Alfonso was not there to show us around, the city exceeded all of my expectations. One of the most modern cities I have ever visited, Bilbao is full of impressive architecture, most notably the Guggenheim contemporary art museum, which leaves one with a sense of bewilderment at its seemingly impossible design. The once polluted river is the cleanest it has been in decades, and the brand new street cars zoom silently past almost unnoticed. In stark contrast to such modernity, the city’s historical section is lined with beautiful cathedrals from nearly all of Europe’s architectural movements, including one style that is truly unique to the Basque region. We were even able to take a cable car up to the top of a mountain overlooking the city, which offered a picturesque view of all that the city had to offer, situated in a wider panorama of the green rolling hills of the Basque Country, highlighted by the towering mountains in the distance.
While Bilbao was absolutely spectacular, one long day proved to be just the right of time to see most of what it had to offer, and we returned to Madrid the following day with illusions of starting some of our major semester papers as the due dates seemed to be fast approaching. Of course, Madrid life and a new found romantic interest made this nearly impossible and before I knew it I was off to Barcelona for a weekend with my friend, Julie. The trip was absolutely phenomenal in every way. Graced by the presence of such great company and sunny, warm temperatures, our weekend was spent sightseeing throughout the architectural marvel that is Barcelona, and enjoying the energetic atmosphere. Antonio Gaudi has left his mark seemingly everywhere in the city, from the entirely unique La Sagrada Familia cathedral, which is still under construction, to Park Guell, to hospitals, to apartment buildings. That man must have worked tirelessly every day of his life. He is Barcelona.
While the city itself is way too full of tourists, and therefore seemingly lacking an identity, and certainly is far from being Spanish in nearly every way, the atmosphere is simply contagious. It has what Madrid seemingly lacks at times, a variety of tasty food. Tapas there are as they should be, creative and always different. Ethnic restaurants have a much greater presence as well, and everywhere has a certain level of class and sophistication that is lacking in most Madrid eateries. The boqueria market is a marvel, La Rambla provides constant action in the center of the city, and the waterfront is unbelievable for such a large metropolis. Our last afternoon in Barcelona was spent sunbathing on the beach, and for the first time since Portugal in the fall, I entered the water without hesitation and worries of hypothermia. Above all, I came to realize just how close of friends Julie and I had become over the course of the year, and was a bit unwilling to make the return trip except for the anticipation I had of seeing Olechka, her Russian roommate, to whom I was growing much closer.

Mi cumple y el viaje a Atenas

In true celebratory fashion, I broke in my twenty first birthday with a Spanish history exam before taking some quality "me" time during the afternoon to take a nap and enjoy some time in the park. The evening was spent preparing for the party I was to host that night, which turned out to be everything I could have hoped for to celebrate my birthday in Spain. It really was a reflection on the great people that I have come to know this year, and I think everyone had a great time crammed into our small apartment dining on tapas, snacks, and the Italians' four-man pasta effort, and helping themselves to an array of drinks. Taryn even made me a "cake" out of Maria cookies, frosting, and sprinkles, after her oven stopped working as it baked the real one she had planned. It was quite sweet (in a few ways). Even with exams the next day for many, I was really pleased with how many people came and how much fun was had. Happy birthday was also sung at least five times during the night. My birthday marked a sort of renaissance for me here in Spain. While I had really loved the month before, it was for different reasons. I had been busy traveling and having guests come to visit me. After my birthday, I have really started to be pleased with living here again, and my outlook on going home has turned from "basically ready", to "I could definitely spend another year here". The biggest reason for this I think is realizing that I've reached the point here where the good friends I have had all year have become the "real friends" that I had missed at the end of last semester. Also, I've felt a renewed excitement about the Spanish language that I think I had lost for awhile. It's amazing how much you can learn in just a few days when you get that passion back.

A few days after my birthday, I was off to visit my Madison friend, Mandy, in Athens. I had been looking forward to the trip for weeks, but was met with tragic news the day before I left. I had known that two members of her study abroad group were struck by an out of control car as they walked home one night. Although they were both seriously injured, it looked as though they were both going to be just fine. Tragically, Eric passed away unexpectedly a few days before my visit. Honestly, I couldn't believe what I was hearing when she told me, nor can I imagine the pain that they have gone through the last few weeks. The news tore me apart the entire day, and I had never even met the guy. It was just so easy to relate to the situation, and I couldn't help but think about what it would be like to have that happen to someone here in Madrid. And his poor family, seeing their son leave to spend the semester of his life in Athens, never to come back home. I'm still in shock just thinking about it.
Needless to say, I felt that it wasn't exactly a good time for me to travel to Athens, but as my ticket was non-refundable, I went with the goal of just lying low and helping Mandy feel a little better if I could. The mood there was sad, no doubt, but I found everyone in higher spirits than I expected. It may have been a result of having a vigil for him the night before, which probably gave everyone a chance to have a bit more closure to what had really happened. Talk of him that weekend was about what a great young man he had been, a real tour de force it seems, with the ability to light up a room. When his name came up, there were more smiles than tears. It was truly inspiring to see that group of people cope with a tragedy of such colossal magnitude.

After a late night arrival into Athens, I was greeted by a smiley, giddy Mandy, the same one I have missed all year, and the long bus ride back to her apartment flew by as we talked about everything under the sun. While she was the same person I had always known, I could tell that she had developed a slightly higher level of maturity, which I suppose is true of most that live abroad for any significant amount of time. She also seemed to do everything with a kind confidence that I had never seen as much in her before. Her apartment is situated on the top of the highest hill in Athens, and as we arrived late, and the house was full with another visitor as well, we said our good nights and I slept beautifully on the air mattress that had already been prepared for me.

Early the next morning I met her roommates, Emily, Safia, and Lindsay, as we all struggled to get up in time to catch the coach bus that would be taking her group to the famous town of Marathon, where the young Athenian army defeated the Persians in 490 BC. It was quite an awe inspiring moment for me to look over the battlefield and think of democracy's bloody triumph over a powerful imperialist army that day. We even entered a burial mound, where skeletons lied uncovered, and one could fairly easily guess how they had died, such as a smashed in skull...

Later that day we made a chilly two hour stop at the coast for lunch and what would have been nice sunbathing and swimming. However, as the wind howled, we were quite ready to head back after eating Mandy's expertly packed picnic lunch. Tired from a busy day, we all collapsed for a little while when we got home before Safia prepared us some tasty tuna melts and fruit salad for dinner, and after I had some time to talk to a few more members of her group, we all settled in to watch a movie, as the circumstances didn't exactly warrant a crazy night out. It was a very nice first day in Greece.

The next day, Mandy took me on a big tour of the city, which I had been really looking forward to since I had arrived. Our first stop was the Acropolis, which is the most famous image of Athens. A series of temples, most notably the Parthenon, dedicated to Athena, stands atop, dating back to the 6th century BC. There is also a beautifully preserved Roman theatre that is still used for special performances these days. While I have seen a lot of Roman monuments before, this gave a whole different sense of antiquity as it sat among so many Greek ruins. So many of the ideas we still live by today descended from the Greeks, and the sheer age of the perfectly constructed temples I was looking at was almost unbelievable. After the Acropolis, we descended the steep hill and emerged into a beautiful green and bustling area lined with vendors, shops, and restaurants. I found an old map of Europe written in Greek, and after a little haggling, had found myself the perfect souvenir. We passed through the Agra, which was full of temples, theatres, and statues which were all quite impressive.

We spent an hour or so wandering through the street markets, and stopped to get a delectable gyro and coke for a late lunch costing only 2.50 euro. I think I'd be eating a lot of gyros if I lived in Greece... We ran into Mandy's roommates on the street a bit later after we made a stop in a gorgeous Orthodox church, and made plans to meet them for dinner later that evening. Mandy and I walked around Parliament, through one of the city's parks, and watched the changing of the guard, which was quite a production compared to others I have seen. After another walk through a different section of the street markets, we found Mandy's roommates sitting outside at a busy restaurant, where I ordered a delicious Greek salad and a very different type of lasagna (the name isn't coming to me at the moment) which is very typical, and had warm pita bread as an appetizer. The food in Greece is second to none. I would be in heaven living there. Absolutely stuffed, we walked to a bus stop fairly close by and caught a mini bus up one of the city's giant hills through the winding streets back to Mandy's apartment.
The next day, we took the tram to the beach with a group of her friends. It turned out to not to be the nicest of days, but we spent a very lovely afternoon at the beach, and before I left, I continued my conquest of Europe's shores and took a running plunge into the frigid Mediterranean.

That night, Safia outdid herself yet again on delicious pasta and Mandy made her trademark nutella dessert. And after I had semi-packed to leave early that morning, Mandy and I headed out with a few of her friends to a bar nearby, where we passed a few very relaxing hours talking at a table outside. With so many new faces around me all weekend, it was nice to have a smaller group to talk to and get to know more personally. Most everyone in her group is really friendly and interesting and I look forward to hopefully getting to know some of the Wisconsin students better when we are all back at Madison again next year. We arrived home late that night just in time for me to catch two hours of sleep before heading out at 4:00 that morning on my walk down the giant hill to catch the bus that would take me to the airport. It had been a great trip, and it was a treat to see Mandy again after so long and see a little bit better what her life was like there in Athens.

I made it back in time for class that morning, and after a bitter hour and a half battle against my drooping eyelids, fell happily into my bed for a much needed siesta that afternoon. I've also had a great week following the trip getting to know some new people and planning out my last few months here. I'll just say there are some pretty amazing trips in the works... Again, you have to love budget airlines and having a student's flexibility. It's a great combination. I'm off to Santander on Spain's northern coast in a week for 20 euros including all taxes and fees. I did have plans to visit El Valle de los Caidos today, Franco's incredible burial monument outside of Madrid, but it's raining and cold. That also puts a damper on the hike in the mountains I was going to go on tomorrow with Emma and Pablo. Kind of a bummer, but it's nice to have some downtime too, I suppose. That's all for now. Spain is better than ever.

RIP Eric Stearns 08-04-2008

Mis queridos padres...

After Dani and the boys returned to their respective countries, I finally had a moment to breathe. For the first time in weeks, I found myself sitting on my bed, alone, in an empty apartment. While it had been fabulous seeing so many friends, it was nice to have a moment to collect myself again. I spent a few days casually studying for my upcoming exams and enjoying the improving weather with Ivan and Elena in Retiro Park. Before I knew it, my parents were on their way to visit me. The night before their arrival, we had a goodbye party for our good friend and flat mate, Dominik, who was heading back to Germany a few days later. A great time was had by all, and as always, there was plenty of tasty food and wine to go around our crowded apartment. I finally headed to bed about four thirty, leaving just enough time to catch two hours of sleep before leaving to pick up my parents at the airport that morning. Seeing them walk out of baggage claim was a very surreal experience and I realized at that moment just how much I had missed them since our last time together the previous August.
Having them here was a very special time for me, being able to show them around the city and help them understand exactly what I had been doing all year. I had booked them into a small hotel two blocks from my apartment, which was quite convenient, and we spent the first few days passing by the royal palace, making tranquil stops in various parks and plazas, the Prado museum, the university, and my favorite neighborhoods. They had a few different tapas experiences and we had an absolutely fabulous dinner in an Indian restaurant I had wanted to try, where we struck up a conversation with a 9 language speaking Argentinean martial arts instructor. We also saw an incredible flamenco show. This was all in the first couple days before they left for Barcelona, leaving me sadly behind to cram for and sit two midterm exams as they went on an adventure to a city I have still yet to visit. They arrived back in Madrid on Friday afternoon with stories of their adventure, and we spent the night walking around the city. We ended the night at a fancier tapas restaurant called La Musa that was packed with people and unique food. I was absolutely stuffed after trying all sorts of new tapas and desserts.
Saturday, their last day in Madrid, we spent seeing the last parts of the city I wanted to show them, like the huge forest-like gardens that extend to the south of the Royal Palace. We also took a cable car ride over Madrid's largest green space, La Casa del Campo, where we saw the end of a morning bike race, and as the sun was setting, we stopped in Madrid's majestic Atocha train station. That night, we went to my favorite Thai restaurant with my friends Emma and Julie. It was really nice to have my parents get to know two of the people that have really helped me feel at home this year in Madrid. I couldn't have asked for a better visit from my parents and I really did enjoy every minute that they were here.
The excitement of my parents' visit was slightly dulled by the departure of Dominik, which was a bit hard to swallow. The night before he left, after I had dropped off my parents for the night, I joined him, Emma, Pablo, and Annie at a nearby tapas restaurant for one last toast and chat before his departure the next day. As my parents and I helped him carry his last things to his car the next morning, I found myself at a loss for words for what exactly to say to him. I knew I would be seeing him for a short hello and cup of coffee in another month as he passed through Madrid on his way to Peru, but it still felt like goodbye, so it was hard to know exactly what to say. It made it easier, when seeming to be thinking the same thing, he told me that the words weren't necessary at that moment, and that we would be seeing each other again soon.

I still struggle with how to tell Dominik how much he has unknowingly affected my life. In the end, we never became quite as close as I would have liked to have been, the result of both leading two busy lives, but Dominik had a profound influence on me during the 7 months that I knew him. Not on any incredibly deep level, but on a very basic one, which is all the more important, I think. He is a person that I really admire, and leads a life that I have almost attempted to mirror, I guess you could say. We are similar in many ways, I think, but he has always been impressively good at living his life how he wants to live it. One of the coolest people I have ever met, intelligent, hard working but understanding when not to work so hard and perfectly take advantage of the time when he doesn’t, such as this year in Spain. He always speaks his mind, but has the friendly personality that allows him to do it effectively. And while he is constantly busy, he finds time almost every single day to run distances that pushed me to my limits as I tagged along. He is one of those few people one meets in their life, that while they may not make up a large part of one's time on Earth, profoundly influence how one lives. I will remember Dominik and what he taught me for a very long time. I guess that he really way like that older brother that I never had.

Visitas y viajes. De nuevo...

Goodness, I'm getting so behind on this blog. Again... Somehow the weeks pass, and I realize I could write a novel about what has happened since the last time I wrote something here. After my fantastic adventure in Asturias, I was back in Madrid one more day to see Melissa before she headed back to the States, and then my friend Dani arrived the day after. It was pretty easy to pick her out of the airport crowd with her blond hair among a mass of black. She was surprisingly awake and ready to go after such a long flight, but mostly was just better than me at fighting off sleepiness. I felt as though I could have slept for days after my trip and having Melissa here visiting. It was great to see Dani, and not as strange as I would have thought to be guiding her through the metro on the way back to my apartment. It's actually starting to feel quite normal having visitors here, and I like that. We passed a few fabulous days in Madrid, seeing the sights and some of my favorite haunts, and it was fun to be back in her company for the first time since last summer.
Before we knew it, we were off to the airport a few days later to spend the night trying to sleep in the airport (my second time in five days), as we had a 6:00 flight to Sheffield, England to visit Chris and Dave after their trip to Amsterdam. Sleepily, we arrived in East Midlands, and caught a bus that took us through a few quaint English towns (with streets that reminded of Privet Drive), and a train through the beautifully green English countryside. Chris and Dave were waiting for us on the platform when we arrived, and as always, it was great to have my boys back.
In true English fashion, we took a double-decker bus from the train station to a stop near his dorm. Sheffield, while the fourth biggest city in the UK, felt nicely small in comparison to Madrid, and had the familiar feeling of a college town, with bars and tasty places to eat scattered all over the place. Chris lives in a luxurious dorm with a living room (so jealous), and definitely has more of a college life than I do this year. At times I do tend to miss it. We spent the day walking around town, which was actually quite beautiful despite the unwelcoming English skies. It was a bit strange to have everyone speaking my native language again, and I think I got a little taste of the culture shock I'm going to have when I get home. Even though the culture is of course quite different there, having English spoken by everyone in public places had a strange effect on me which is quite hard to describe. I felt a bit awkward talking to people there and I still don't know if that is because I'm not used to people speaking fluent English in public places, or if it is the difference between English and American English that gave me some sort of inferiority complex. I think it might have been the latter. It was quite funny to read the street signs there, some of which contained phrases that I honestly had to think about to understand.
The next morning we were already off to London. For some reason, the bus near Chris's apartment was significantly late in passing his stop, and the traffic in the city was horrible. With panic on our faces, I could tell that each of us was mentally trying to create a path on the street for the bus to pass. We arrived at the station exactly when the bus was supposed to leave, and we saw it still idling on the other side of the building though the glass windows. Sprinting with our backpacks and suitcases, we arrived just in time to catch the bus to London. It was a long ride (around 4-5 hours), but I happily took the time to rest.
London was beautiful, and raining, of course, when we arrived. We navigated our way though the Underground, with our veteran Chris as the leader, and were soon at the hostel, where we were promptly told it was full despite having reservations (I've never understand how that happens, but it does frequently) and moved to a hostel a few blocks away. Kindly, they did refund my 10% deposit on the room though... Our hostel was an absolute crap hole, but for 10 pounds a night, not any worse than I was expecting, and we wouldn't be spending much time there anyways.
After some lunch nearby, we set off on the Underground to see Big Ben and the Parliament, which were stunning next to the Thames River, despite the light drizzle. We walked along the chilly waterfront as it started to get dark, and passed the beautiful Westminster Abbey, a spooky statue of Sir Winston Churchill, and eventually arrived at Buckingham Palace after a walk through a mysteriously foggy park. We spent another hour or so walking through the upscale neighborhoods nearby. Then we paid a visit to King's Cross to satisfy our Harry Potter appetites, visiting Platform 9 3/4, where they have the back end of a luggage cart sticking out of the wall, the other half on its way to the Hogwarts Express. The train station is beautiful. After deciding we had had enough walking for one day, we headed back to the hostel to grab some dinner and play some cards that night. It was great to just sit around and shoot the breeze with such good friends.
The next day was much more beautiful than the first, and although there was a biting wind that howled all day, it was finally sunny. We walked around Kensington Palace, the former residence of Princess Diana, enjoyed the park nearby, passed by the magnificent Tower of London, and got caught in a storm on the Tower Bridge that only lasted a short time. After a coffee to warm our chilled bodies, we passed through the Globe Theatre and continued our walk along the river down to the London Bridge. The city is so beautiful, and really, you can see most of the important things in just a few days. Granted, we didn't go into much because of the lines and outrageous prices (especially when everything is in pounds), but it was a lot of fun just being able to walk past such famous places one after another.
To top off our London experience, that night we had a tasty fish and chips dinner in a cozy little restaurant near our hostel, and played a few more rounds of euchre before hitting the sack. Since the city chose that weekend to do major work on the Underground, basically all of the useful lines were to be closed the next morning when we needed to get to the airport. A cab picked us up at 4:30 that morning, taking us to the nearest metro stop with a connection to the Gatwick Express train, and we were already on our way out of London after our short but pleasant trip.
We arrived in Madrid very sleepy after a long morning and only a few hours of sleep, and after constructing a four person bed on my floor using my mattress and our spare, and closing my window shutter, we all drifted into a blissful three hour nap in my dark room. Dani had one more day in Madrid, where she got to visit many of the same places again as I showed Chris and Dave around. It was such a treat having them all in Madrid, and the boys and I had some great times together even after Dani was on her way back to the homeland.

Que viaje, macho!

Wow. I had ridiculously high expectations for my short trip to Asturias, in northern Spain, but somehow they were still blown right out of the water. The fact that I continue to find such beautiful places on this earth simply astounds me, and always leaves me craving more. My friend Bailey and I took a day off of school before Spring Break officially began, taking advantage of some cheap Easyjet flights and in order to maximize our time there before her parents were to arrive in Madrid. The downside was that we had to spend the night in Barajas airport because the Metro wouldn't be open early enough in the morning for us to arrive in time for our flight. So, with backpacks strapped on and bellies full we set off to the airport at 1:30 that morning and spent the night talking and trying to catch a few elusive Zs. Bleary-eyed, we made it on to our plane and again kept our eyes closed as much as possible before landing in the tiny Asturias airport a short time later. While we were quite tired, it appeared as though our plane had touched down somewhere in Ireland, the ground looking green, fertile, and mountainous, a stark contrast to what we had seen so far in Spain.
We took a short taxi ride to a small coastal fishing town called Cudillero, where we were met with the smell of sea salt and the sight of a very colorful and quaint village. The whole town is situated on a hill, and its houses painted a variety of bright pastels. After enjoying the crashing waves for a while, we set off on a hike around the small town, watching old ladies come out to buy their daily bread and men arranging fresh fish on ice. We hiked a number of miles outside of town, passing grazing pastures for sheep and cows, as well as a beautiful old church and trees that would have been more at home in the Amazon. Taking a left through an even smaller town up the road, we passed an elderly couple out for their morning walk, and stopped for a chat, as they were a bit surprised to see people such as ourselves passing though that area. They were incredibly friendly, and as we went our separate ways, we were told that there was a beautiful surprise waiting for us just around the turn at the bottom of the hill.
Sure enough, Bailey and I were greeted by a truly glorious view that looked exactly like I imagined Ireland to be. The waves crashed against the rocky shore far below and the green countryside seemed to extend forever. Wanting a closer view, we continued on the curvy road that took us through an area that reminded me EXACTLY of the island where the television series LOST is set. We descended to the first rocky beach we found, and although I knew the water would be absolutely freezing, I had to take a dip. At the beginning of the year I told myself that I would swim on all four coasts of the Iberian Peninsula, regardless of the temperature. And I thought that the southern coast was cold at the beginning of February... yikes! Let's just say I didn't stay in to enjoy the water a really long time, but I did make it up to my neck. After a quick and much needed change of clothes we continued our hike along the shore, finding a beautiful sand beach just down the road. After a coke in the only restaurant in the area, we began our trek back to Cudillero, and after a lunch of baguettes, cream cheese, and oranges, we awoke a sleeping cab driver to take us back to the airport, where we could catch a bus to our next destination.
The excitement and fresh air that morning had brilliantly kept us awake that morning, but the bus ride was a new opportunity for some much needed rest, although it was difficult with the increasingly mountainous, fertile terrain passing by each minute. A few transfers later, and the only people left on the coach bus, we found ourselves in the remote town of Covadonga. Upon arriving, one is immediately struck by the seemingly colossal red cathedral that erupts from the forest green of the surrounding area. There are only a few small hotels and one restaurant in the town, along with the impressive cathedral and a chapel cut into the side of the mountain. It was unlike any place I had ever seen, and I was left dumbfounded as to how the cathedral could have possibly been built there. The chapel was founded on the spot where the Virgin Mary apparently appeared to some of the last Christian resistance in Spain in 711 which had been pushed to the brink of defeat in their last holdout against the Moors. Led by their king, whose casket still lies in the chapel, 200 Christian soldiers were said to have defeated a Moorish army of 4000, allowing for the future reconquista of the peninsula. The almost unbelievable significance of that remote place gave me shivers as I thought of how those 200 men had basically changed the entire course of history.
Deciding we had better make sure we could find some place to stay that night, we looked into a small bed and breakfast just down the road, which was excellent for the low price, included breakfast, and was run by a very kind lady in her 70s. We looked to be possibly the only tourists staying in the town that night, and were definitely the only ones in our bed and breakfast. The restaurant was even closed because there was just no one around, so we settled on sandwiches at the local bar, where I felt strangely like I was in the Homer Hickim's coal mining town in October Sky (originally named after the book, Rocket Boys, one of my favorites). This despite the fact there are no coal mines in Asturias, but the people at the bar were all dirty from the day's work and many missing a few teeth while speaking a very distinct dialect of Spanish. The short walk back to our B&B that night seemed to take forever as we both longed for our beds, which were soft and piled with warm blankets. I literally have no memory from after my head hit the pillow…

Ten hours later, at 7:30 am that morning, we awoke to the rude sound of my alarm, but it had been one of the best sleeps of my life. I don’t think I moved an inch the entire time, wrapped in my heavy cocoon. After a shower and breakfast downstairs, Bailey and I set off up the road that would take us to the Lakes of Covadonga. It was a brilliantly sunny day, and although the air was at first quite chilly, the combination of the strong sun, our loaded backpacks, and the uphill climb quickly had me down to shorts and a t-shirt. The first car to pass us by that morning stopped and asked if we wanted a ride up the mountains to the lakes, but we had decided to do that first 12 km stage on foot. Everything was beautifully green, and the mountains continued to grow to more impressive sizes as our altitude increased. Every so often, we caught a glimpse of Covadonga far below. Occasionally, a car or truck would pass by with people looking at us with wide-eyes, thinking we must have been a bit crazy, but that just added to the fun. Our progress was only delayed by our frequent stops to enjoy the view.

As we passed a 10km marker on the side of the road, our anticipation for the lakes grew, and later, as I climbed a hill to examine a large stone monument, I was shocked to see a beautiful glistening lake before the snowy mountains in the distance. I yelled happily to Bailey below, who came charging up the hill after me. A biting wind was blowing down at us from the mountain, immediately dropping the temperature at least 30 degrees, but it felt refreshing after the long, sweaty, first stage of our hike. We goggled at the view for a while, enjoyed a granola bar and orange for a snack, and continued our hike on the second lake, where we saw all of the people that had passed us on the road that morning. The view was truly spectacular, and reminded me of a scene from the Sound of Music. We spent several hours there before deciding to continue our trek through stage we had really been looking forward to, away from any roads and other people. We were on our way to the Refugio de Vegaredonda, another 3 hours off the beaten path, and little did we know that we would actually be heading up the those snowy mountains we had been admiring from far below….

The hike started off relatively flat as we walked along a small dirt road though an open field, but as we came upon a sign that read “Danger, high mountain area” that showed images of about a dozen different ways one could die, we knew we were in for a true adventure. The “trail” was marked by yellow and white markers painted on the occasional rock, spread just far enough apart where you were never sure exactly if you were still on the path until you found the next. We climbed and we climbed over the rocky and grassy ground, zigzagging our way up until we reached a beautiful open valley between two mountain peaks that we followed past the occasional wildflower and mountain deer, and the increasingly frequent patches of snow. We would momentarily lose the trail at times, but stayed on course fairly easily while still enjoying the immensely beautiful surroundings. The snowy peaks continued to grow larger in the distance, and before long we realized that that was exactly where we were headed. Along the way, we also found a spotting of stone huts that could have been built anytime in the last hundred years or so. It was just impossible to tell exactly when, and they were all completely abandoned.

We continued to climb as we were likely reaching the 20 km point in our hike, the fatigue and thinning air making each step a bit more trying. After a particularly steep and rocky hill, we sprawled out on the ground, exhausted and wondering just how much higher we could really go before a refuge would be impossible to find on the mountain peaks. Gathering our strength, we set off again, and within seconds saw the refuge in the distance, behind a more distinct path of jagged stones. Upon entering the area, we found what looked to be a couple, the woman playing with a small dog. They looked at us a bit oddly without saying anything as we drew closer, and after saying hello and waiting though the uncomfortable silence, I extended my hand to the rugged looking man, who, a bit unhappily extended his as well. All he said was his name, and the lady looked at us with an odd smile. The silence was almost unbearable for only a few seconds, before I finally asked them if they were staying at the refuge, living there, or why the hell they were silently sitting on the top of a mountain, seemingly unable to socialize like normal humans. All we really got out of them was that they lived there and ran the refuge, and that they had forgotten that they were to have guests that night. We were some of the first people they had seen up on the mountain that spring. Finally having a little something to break the ice, and the “Mountain Man” as we would call him still seemingly glaring at us, we were shown inside by the lady. Downstairs was a small kitchen, big metal lockers to store backpacks, a dining room, and upstairs, a dozen bunk beds, all of which were empty. The setting sun and our drying sweat had made the top of the mountain positively freezing cold, and unsuccessfully trying to get warm under a mountain of heavy blankets, I decided I would be better off just layering on the clothes and getting my blood moving again, although lying down felt amazing after the strenuous day we had just completed.

Leaving Bailey behind to sleep a bit more, I headed outside for a look around the camp, from which there was a stunning view of the valley and mountain creek below, as well as the surrounding mountain range. Finding possibly the most peaceful, tranquil place I had ever been during my 20 years on this earth, I sat on a giant boulder in silence other than the icy wind that occasionally tickled my ear. It was so incredibly remote and such a far cry from Madrid where I had been just the day before. It was a place I could have sat for days, just pondering my life and everything else one could imagine. One thing for me is certain, while a busy city life may cloud my spirituality, experiences like this constantly renew my faith in God. I felt as if I could almost reach up and touch the gates of heaven, just as I have felt watching the sun set over the Banana River, seeing the stars from the Panamanian rainforest, or lying on a dock watching the clouds float by on a balmy day in northern Minnesota. In such moments one cannot help but be consumed by such a masterpiece and the force that paints it.

With darkness beginning to fall, I headed back to the refuge and found that Bailey too had found a bit of time for exploring. We saw two more grizzly looking men descending into the camp just as darkness was to consume the mountain, and as we were heading into the dining room to eat the dinner that our growling stomachs were awaiting. I honestly think we would have both eaten just about anything at that point, and the egg drop soup that was brought to us warmed us up fantastically. A lentil soup came next, which on a normal day I would imagine wouldn’t have been anything to write home about, but on that night was simply indescribable. Our stomachs just barely satisfied, we both prayed that there would be another course, and sure enough, slices of pork and potato chips were brought to us. These would have been even less appetizing on a normal day, but the salty meat was just what we were craving. Bailey and I joked that we were most likely eating the remains of the last people to visit the refuge, those who had been killed by the creepy Mountain Man. And at that point, we probably didn’t care as much as we should have…

Mountain Man even came over to talk to us for a few minutes after we asked him a question from across the room. He explained that a helicopter had delivered the raw materials for the refuge to the top of the mountain twenty years ago, and he had built it all by himself, having opened the place as a refuge ten years ago. All food and supplies were brought up on his back, sometimes by horse for the first portion of the climb before it became impassable. That made us appreciate the meal even more, and after we realized that was about all the talking we were going to get out of Mountain Man, we headed sleepily up to bed around nine o’clock. We layered on the heavy wool blankets over our sleeping bags, and settled into bed, although for some reason we both had trouble sleeping that night. Most likely a result of the 10 very heavy hours of sleep we had had the night before. Our attempts to sleep were interrupted only by the murderous looking silhouette cast by Mountain Man as he entered the upstairs to go to sleep…

Despite the slightly disrupted night, we managed to stay surprisingly warm as the icy air blew hard against the refuge all night. Waking up the next morning we were stunned to see that we were literally in the middle of a thick cloud, and could hardly see out the window. We packed our things to go, but the mountain offered us terrible visibility as even the hardened mountain climbers that had come the night before were waiting for the weather to clear up before setting off, granted they were going up to the peak while we were heading down the mountain. It started to rain, and the visibility only grew worse, but as our nine o’clock departure time came and went, we decided we had to set off if we were to make it back in time to catch the bus back to the airport that evening. We immediately grew a bit leery of our decision after getting momentarily lost just finding our way completely out of the camp. It did not bode well for the rest our journey, when at that point there was literally no more than 10-15 feet of visibility. While I had looked a bit foolish the day before with my heavy backpack prepared for just about any weather condition, it proved valuable that morning as the mountain did it’s best to make us surrender back to the refuge. It rained constantly, creating small rivers though the valley. Later, we were caught in various hailstorms that rained down on us with increasing intensity as the wind whipped at us ferociously. I really wish the pictures and videos I took could remotely capture what it was like, but they just don’t come close. It was a true battle against Mother Nature, and I loved every minute of it. The seriousness of the situation came with the thunder that felt like it was rumbling all around us (as we were literally in the storm clouds) and the lightning that had to be being produced somewhere. This, I can assure you, made us pick up the pace as we found ourselves exposed out in the valley. We made very quick time down the mountain, due to our rested legs, slippery but downhill hike, and slight anxiety about being zapped in the middle of nowhere. We slowly broke out of the storm clouds and rejoiced in our domination of the mountain that lay behind us.

Deciding we had had enough hiking the last few days, and enough adventure that morning, and realizing we could possibly catch an earlier bus from Covadonga, Bailey and I set off down the second stage of the hike with thumbs out, ready to save ourselves another three hours down a slippery road. A few cars passed guiltily by, but finally, an older couple stopped to ask where we were headed, and before long we were cruising slowly down the steep, curvy road that we had climbed the day before. And let me tell you, it seemed like a very long way… As they were heading to the exact place we needed to go, we arrived with 10 minutes to spare in time for the earlier bus to Oviedo, where we were happy we’d get to spend a few unexpected hours before continuing on to the airport. Oviedo was beautiful, and a man in the city tourist office offered us a map and some sights to see in the few hours we had, including a beautiful park, royal palace, and cathedral. The city, one of the two capitals of Asturias, was very quaint, much more so than I had expected, and although we were happy to see some of the sights, we settled on a much needed midday lunch. Again, we learned why it was so nice not to live in Madrid, as our nine Euro meal included an amazing vegetable and cheese creation, tasty salmon, bread, a drink, and dessert. Not only was it reasonably priced, but also delicious, something that is often impossible to come by in Madrid if you aren’t eating Indian or Thai food. Bailey had been terrific company on the trip, and I can imagine very few people that would have been up for roughing it like we did. Like me, she really enjoys those types of trips, and is a truly fascinating person. Without question, one of the friendliest and most positive people I have ever met. She took a semester off from Madison her second year to teach English in a small village in Malawi, worked with a lawyer in the states to set up a nonprofit organization to benefit the village making her the youngest Executive Director in Wisconsin, managed the locker room for the Milwaukee Bucks during high school allowing her to play one-on-one with the likes of Yao Ming and Chris Weber, tell Shaq to return the wheeled chair to the locker room on which he was riding down the hallway like a school boy, and have heart to hearts with Ray Allen. Not to mention she was the first one to find an apartment here, with all Spaniards, making everyone in the program immediately jealous at the beginning of the year. A truly remarkable individual with a million stories to tell. Asturias was quite an adventure…

Sigue la vida

So, there isn't a whole lot of exciting news to tell or adventures to describe, but I thought it was time for a short update nonetheless, if only to preserve my memories of this seemingly vacant period of time in which I find myself. Over half of my classes this semester are extremely dry, and although I somehow did fairly well last semester, I have a feeling the lack of interest and dramatically increased workload might have some negative effects on the academic front this time around. However, for the first time in years I find myself not really caring about that so much. Other than school, life has been plodding along pleasantly and rather uneventfully. Maren left a few weeks ago to return to the United States, and we have had two Italian guys, Marco and Lorenzo, move in during the last week. They're both very friendly, although Lorenzo's very limited Spanish and slightly better English knowledge have made it a bit difficult to communicate much. Needless to say, there is some sort of pasta constantly boiling on the stove...
Lizzy and her dad came into town a few weeks ago after a week in Salamanca and I was able to play tour guide for them around the city for the day. It's more and more fun to see familiar faces from home as the months pass, and with visits from my friends Melissa, Dani, Chris, Dave, and my parents during the month of March, I should have plenty of them around.
I've also spent the last few weeks organizing some trips for the semester including a trip through the mountains in northern Spain with my friend Bailey, a trip to London with Dani to see Chris and Dave before we all return to Madrid, a late birthday and post-midterm trip to Athens to visit Mandy who is there for the semester, Santander on Spain's northern coast again with Bailey at the end of April, and a trip to Barcelona with my friend Julie at the beginning of May. Then my sister comes to visit! Between school and traveling, I think this semester is going to fly by way faster than the first. Dominik leaves at the end of March, which will mean another new roommate, and another sad goodbye like it was with Maren, whom I'm really going to miss.
Meanwhile, I can't avoid the questions in my head about what I want to do with my life next year and, gulp, after I graduate... It's the last thing I want to or should think about right now, but the inability to answer those questions seems to be unnecessarily taking up a lot of my time lately. It's annoying to say the least. It could have something to do with the terrible shin splints I've had for about two weeks after what had been a great few months of running. They came out of nowhere just as I felt like I was in the best shape since my swimming days, and I've felt kind of caged up without the normal running routine lately. I think they're finally on the mend, however. Let's hope so. Spring keeps coming and going these days, and I have the feeling it's going to permanently break through any time now. I am also officially addicted to Nutella. It has moved from a spread to its own food group.

Brett Favre retired and Hillary refuses to go down. Come on, America. Seriously, don't make me come back there and fix everything...

Dos alemanes, un chileno y un americano van al sur...

The rest of January was full of desire to still be on vacation but was instead spent writing multiple papers, teaching English, saying goodbye to Alfonso, and studying for finals. Alfonso left for a trip to New York and will be working in Belgium for the next few months until he returns to find a more permanent place to live in Madrid. I kind of forget sometimes that he is 26 with a real job... While a piece of the Princesa family is now gone, I was able to move into his old room, significantly upgrading the comfort of being at home. I finally have a bit of space to spread out and keep my things, as well as a much nicer mattress and a suitable desk. After a steady diet of writing and studying, my first finals were upon me and I went in needing to pretty much dominate if I wanted to save myself from my sub par midterm results. After a few relatively sleepless nights, I had more studying to do for my last and most important final the coming week. As we're in Spain, I decided I couldn't pass up the opportunity to take a trip south with Dominik that weekend. This in spite of my good conscience telling me that was probably the last thing I should do with my entire grade riding on the final I would have to take right after getting back. There was also a good possibility we'd be going without sleep our last night as it was Carnival and all of the hostels should have been likely booked in Cadiz.
We awoke very early Saturday morning and after a few cups of coffee and a solid breakfast we were on our way south in Dominik's car along with his German and Chilean friends, Malte and Nicolas. Malte can best be described as a very friendly giant, very interested in politics and photography, and it was fun to be absorbed in conversation with him for the first few hours of our trip in the back seat. Nicolas was also very friendly, but a bit more quirky, and I spent much of my time trying to work through his thick accent. We broke through the cloudy gloom of the north and were soon basked in the bright sun of the south. We made a few stops to enjoy the views and spent a few hours walking around a little town named Ubeda before rolling into Granada in the early afternoon. It was the most gorgeous day, and we spent the first few hours hopping around eating tapas and randomly searching for a hostel that had an open room. The city had the true ambiance of Andalucia, where the people are relaxed and there is nothing more important to do than enjoy the sun. Clearly in one of the more touristy areas of town, we decided to get off the beaten path a bit, winding our way through narrow streets up the city's giant hill. Atop, we were greeted with the most enchanting view of the city and the famous La Alhambra, which we unfortunately didn't have time to enter. The top of the hill was full of old, tiny, semi-run down homes with terraces built to suit the lifestyle of southern Spain. As Dominik and I stood there in awe that it was possible to live in such a beautiful and unique place and two beautiful Spanish ladies in their twenties stood drinking sangria on their terrace, I promised myself that I would spend more than one day on that hill sometime in my life. It was absolute paradise.
Just over the hill, we were met with another surprise, which was explained to us by a local after we offered to buy him a beer in exchange for a history lesson about the area. The entire mountain was covered by inhabited caves that were carved out during the civil war by people who had been displaced by the fighting. Today there is still a colony of free spirited people inhabiting these caves, spending their days playing guitar and sustaining their beautifully simple lives with one of the most beautiful views in Spain set in front of them.
As the sun set that evening we found a plaza overlooking the city below and the snowy mountains set behind the seemingly gilded Alhambra. Surrounded by locals sipping beer, playing instruments, and simply enjoying life, we soaked in what was one of the most beautiful views I've had in my life. Having purposely forgotten about the need to still find a hostel that night, we walked back to the center of town and after being turned away a few times, settled on the first place with an open room and a cheap price. The rest of the night was spent in true Andalucia style- tapas. Here we discovered just how misinformed madrileños are about what constitutes a tapa. We were ever so pleasantly surprised when after ordering our beers for 1.20 Euro, we were served a plate of large hamburgers. Unbelievable. And delicious. Other places offered us soups and stews, while others more traditional toasted treats. We also spent a few relaxing hours in one of the many tea and hookah lounges whose aromas tempted those passing by. At the end of the night, as everything started to close including our eyelids after a long day, we headed back to the chilly hostel and hopped into bed, dreaming of the hot cup of coffee that would await us in the morning.
After breakfast in the hostel and another short walk around town, we hopped in the car and continued our journey south, this time all the way to the Mediterranean. Passing through snow-capped mountains and river valleys, we drove along the rugged coastline, looking out into the infinite blue. Stopping a good distance short of Malaga as the sun dropped lower in the sky, we pulled into a scarcely inhabited beach town looking for a place to set up camp that night. However, upon seeing the crystal blue water, we parked, did a quick beach change into our suits, and went sprinting full speed into the frigid sea. The ice cold water sucked the air right out of me as I dove in headfirst. After many screams of agony and furious splashing in a futile attempt to ward off the cold, we emerged from the water and I quickly put on every article of clothing I had brought on the trip. Before long we were basking in the fading sun and enjoying a beer and baguette with cheese as we traded stories. After watching a brilliant sunset, we lugged our supplies over to a nearby park and set to work on the vegetable soup we had planned to make that night. The temperature dropped quickly along the breezy coast and with full stomachs we set off to find some sign of life in the deserted town. We found one open bar that offered a respite from the chilly night air and spent a few hours warming up, catching the soccer scores, and playing some intense games of foosball and pool. Deciding it would be easier to just camp illegally on the beach instead of illegally on someone's land across the road, we unsuccessfully hid our tent behind some palms and decided that the worst that could happen would be an even earlier wakeup call by a laid back coastal police officer who would just tell us to be on our way. It was a chilly night despite being wrapped up in a sleeping bag and all of my clothes, but waking up to the sounds of crashing waves was delightful, and breakfast on the sunny beach was the best possible way to start the day.
We continued our travels along the coast, past the overdeveloped city of Malaga and on to Gibraltar, where Malte and I spent a few hours atop the island's peaks, Dominik and the passportless Nicolas taking a little siesta in a local park. The city itself doesn't have much to offer, but the view from atop the island is spectacular as one can see the southern tip of Spain and the northern tip of Morocco from the same spot. It's a funny feeling knowing you can see three countries from one place. Surrounded my monkeys brought by the Berbers in the 12th century we basically had the area to ourselves, but in the end were a bit rushed to get back to the boys, and were soon aboard the cable car a second time to descend the mountain and get back to Spain.
Driving onward, we arrived in Cadiz a short time later, a classic beach town with interesting historical roots. It was basically the cradle of Spain's liberalization during the revolutionary war against Napoleon in the early 19th century, and its first constitution in 1812 before a back and forth period of constitutional and absolutist monarchies. Again, Dominik and I went sprinting into the even colder Atlantic Ocean as the sun drew low in the sky, but we stayed in longer to enjoy some quality body surfing before retiring to a beer on the sand. We continued on into the city as the sun began to set, and after luckily stumbling onto a parking place in the crowded city in the midst of Carnival, we joined the giant party in the streets. Although we had no expectation to find a hostel that night, we would include a relaxed hostel search into the first few hours of the night as we checked out what was going on in town. We would later find out that the crazy party had been during the weekend but until about one a.m. the streets were packed with people in costume with groups of singers and performers on every block. We even managed to find a few open beds for the night where I could take a much needed shower before heading out again until after everything died down later than night. Although we were a bit disappointed that we hadn't come for the big party that Saturday, we still had a great time.
Breakfast in a sunny plaza the next morning left me wanting to stay in Cadiz a few more days instead of returning to the final exam that awaited my arrival in Madrid. We took a long loop around town before finally finding the exit to the highway, and as Dominik and I eyed the university along the waterfront, our collective sigh spoke for us in questioning why we had to leave the south so soon. My mind was furiously scheming for ways to get back there someday, something that is becoming a common theme during my travels this year. As long boarders caught beautiful waves a good ways out into the water, it left me yearning for just one afternoon of surfing that side of the Atlantic.
The trip home was long, but broken up nicely by many stops along the way, including lunch on a hill out in the middle of nowhere and a stop into a pueblo (also in the middle of nowhere). With our blond hair and electronica/jazz music playing out the car's open windows we must have looked like aliens to the old men that lined the streets seated on their front steps with nothing to do all day but think in the town's absolute silence. We took in some sun and fresh air, and before long were back on the road and stopping in Mérida, Spain's best surviving example of Roman conquest. We stopped in for something to drink, saw a few of the town's old ruins, and finally hit the home stretch on our way back to Madrid as I attempted to fill my head with a semester's worth of European medieval history. Also, I could hardly contain my excitement for Super Tuesday which was beginning back in the States, and for which I would be voting for through Democrats Abroad that evening. Arriving home after dark, I lugged all of the bags and camping gear upstairs while Dominik drove to the university to park the car, and I was soon off to vote with Maren and Emma just a few blocks away. It was quite the sight to see, with signs in English plastered all over the front of the bar hosting the event, a few crazy guys yelling their nonsensical political beliefs to us as we passed by, and Spanish TV crews filming the event. As I waited in line to vote, I was approached by a news anchor saying she needed an interview of a young male American who could speak Spanish well enough, and before I knew it was being asked to explain why I would be voting for Barack Obama that evening. Amazingly, I think it actually went better than they have ever gone for me in the States, where I have always gotten so nervous by the suddenness of everything, and I made it through sounding relatively coherent. I just wish I knew if I made it on TV or not... After casting my vote with Julie, who had coincidently arrived at the same time, I walked home anxious for the day's results and not so much for the night of studying I had ahead of me. While it was far too little time to spend in southern Spain, and I will almost certainly be back to the region sometime before I leave the country, it was nice to finally take a trip with Dominik, who has become a good friend and for whom I have a lot of respect and admiration. While I awoke to slightly disappointing election results, and a full day of studying still ahead, I walked nervously into my exam really happy that I had decided to make the journey.