here's to you

People here are shocked that I'm going to London, alone, tomorrow. And it's the alone part, not the tomorrow part, that shocks them. Not everyone, just a fair number of average adults. I've actually seen some jaws drop, excluding my young, liberal friends. Personally, I'm pretty excited about the prospect of traveling alone for a weekend, because I get to be exponentially more selfish than I could possibly be when sharing a trip with someone else (however, herein lies the problem: I can't share the trip with anyone). It could turn out to be rather lonely, which I've accepted as a possibility, or it could turn out to be an amazing and liberating experience, much like traveling to Spain alone was. I'm not sure yet. You see, other than hopping across the Atlantic solo and plopping down in Madrid with a suitcase and a backpack last September, I haven't really done any solo traveling. I've always wanted to, but there are these persistent little voices whispering into my ears that I can't do that. That girls can't do that. Or, that I, with red hair, white skin, and a petite posture (?) can't do that because I'm an easy target. Well, here's to you, voices who say that I can't.

Anywho, I'm only going to London alone, where the people speak my language and look an awful lot like me. I'm not sure what the fuss is about.

Wintertime Activities

January was good. To my complete and utter enjoyment, I spent most of it in Estepona, going out on the weekends and learning the lyrics to Lady Gaga's 'Bad Romance'. I also moved to a new apartment with this view:


You can't see it in the picture, but the ocean is out there on the right side. So, I now live with my American friend Josh. He likes music and dancing, and is a vast improvement from Juan, my previous roommate, who liked hamsters and deep-frying french fries. Anyhow, other than moving and familiarizing myself with the discotheque scene here in Estepona, I did manage to do a bit of traveling. I saw Toledo, a town just south of Madrid, which is a World Heritage Site and has lots of cool architecture and a pretty cathedral:

I hung out in Madrid with American friends Andrew and Emily:

And then, along with some other Americans, we went to Granada:

It was one of my favorite cities ever, with a vibrant youthful culture, political graffiti all over the walls, and bomb Moroccan food. We also saw a massive Moorish castle called the Alhambra, which had intricate carvings on all the walls and was built during the 14th century:


I decided to be the super-tourist and get an audio guide for the visit (hanging around my neck in the photo), but due to some burst of confidence and a yearning to hear the Spanish language, I asked to have my guide in Spanish (I could have chosen one of many languages, English included). I was the only member of my group to get the super-touristy audio guide, and so, of course, it became my duty to retell the information to my friends. Let's just say I'm not ready to be a translator. Yet.

I also made it up to Ronda, a classic 'pueblo blanco' (white village) in Andalucía, last weekend with a teacher-friend and her husband. There was a lot of ham:

Ronda is also home to a very picturesque bullfighting ring, and it's one that Ernest Hemingway used to frequent! I just finished reading Hemingway's 'The Sun Also Rises', which is mainly about bullfighting in Spain, so it was really interesting to actually see one of the places that inspired his work.. and see pictures of him all around town:


February will probably bring more traveling and less discotheque-ing, because Erin is visiting (!!!!) in 2.5 weeks, but that's a trade off I'm happy about.

Change of Address

I'm moving into a new place on Sunday! Instead of living with Juan and the hamsters, I will live with my American friend Josh and hang out on his bomb terrace that has a view of the ocean and sometimes Africa. Woooooooo

Email me if you would like my new address.

Home(s)

'Home' is a funny thing. Can a person have more than one of them? Sometimes it's a singular concept, like when someone says 'I'm going home', we know this person is going to the place where his/her bed and possessions are located. But, the phrase 'I'm going home for Christmas' has an entirely different meaning, usually connoting a return to family and friends. I had a different sort of homecoming here in Spain. The majority of my possessions weren't waiting for me at my apartment in Estepona, and neither were my friends nor family. But, upon arrival in Estepona, I felt that I was coming 'home' after prolonged travel (aka: lots of dirty laundry in my backpack, sleep-deprived from staying in youth hostels), and I felt relief to walk down familiar streets on the way to my apartment. It was refreshing to hear Spanish again in Spain, and calming to go to my favorite cafe today.

Wenatchee

Seattle

Estepona

So, now I have three homes. I wonder, though, how many homes can a person have? When will some of them start drifting away?

Furry Friends

My roommate, Juan, has 10 hamsters. Ok, fine. A little weird, but I can get over it. Previously, he had 30, but he gave 20 of them to a pet store. Good.

A few weeks ago, I was peeking into the cage in the living room, watching the furry little things run around. Oddly, I could only find 7 hamsters. 'What could have happened to the other 3?', I wondered. 'Did they die? Did he give them to his 10 year old daughter in Marbella? Or to his 6 year old son in Burgos?' I didn't spend much time thinking about it, and continued on with my day.

Fast forward to yesterday.

I've been sick with the flu for a while, and last night I ventured out into the kitchen for some tea and ice cream. I switched on the light, but it was one of those fluorescent lights that takes forever for turn on. So, in the darkness, I heard a quiet scurrying. I paused. It couldn't be the dog, because the dog had gone somewhere with Juan. The light finally kicked in. I saw something small and light colored run across the kitchen floor. 'Oh no!', I thought, 'we have mice!' But, this particular mouse didn't have a tail. In fact, it was furry, like a hamster. In my slightly delirious state, I couldn't decide what to do. The hamster stood near the door, cleaning its paws and staring at me. I stared back. Eventually, I decided to continue with the task at hand: get some tea. The hamster made a dash for the refrigerator. I haven't seen it since.

There are 2 other missing hamsters.

Blair Waldorf

I harbor a secret fear that I will become like the people I watch on television. I have never feared that I would turn into a large mound of ice cream (you are what you eat), but I do fear that I could become like the self-centered, money-obsessed main character of Gossip Girl (you are who you watch) ..but only if I watch too much TV.

Yesterday, for the first time, I had an overwhelming feeling of joy for being here in Spain. It's not that I haven't been happy for the past two months, because I have been. More accurately, it was the first time that I was happy to be happy in Spain.

I set my alarm to wake up early with the intention of running some potentially complicated errands. As I drifted into an awakened state, I noticed the complete darkness in my room, which seemed odd for 8am. Then I remembered that I had closed the contraption (similar to a small garage door) that covers the outside of my window the night before, in an attempt to keep some heat inside. Squeakily opening the garage door, I saw a normal sunlit day outside, with puffy marshmallow clouds and bright blue sky behind. It was an average December day in Estepona (much like a late spring day in Seattle).

I breakfasted my usual fruit granola, yogurt, and honey, and ventured into town, holding back yawns. I headed for the bank. I needed to cash my paycheck. Banks can be incredibly complicated, wait times can be long, and unpredictable complications tend to arise. Accordingly, I budgeted 2 hours for a task that would have taken 20 minutes back home. To my surprise, everything went smoothly at the bank. I walked back out the door, cash in hand, 10 minutes after I had arrived! So, with a few extra hours on hand, I decided to run another errand. I went to another bank to deposit this new cash into my personal account. I thought, surely, I will have to hurry to catch my bus to work after completing this second errand (a former language assistant in Spain once gave me a piece of advice: only try to run one errand per day, it will save you stress). Breaking this rule, which I often treat as law, felt rebellious and cocky. I thought I would end up regretting it, but decided to try my luck.

Again, to my utter surprise, I walked back out of the second bank, €'s (Euros) deposited into my account, 15 minutes later. Trying not to get to excited about my seeming ascendance out of the realm of 'total foreigner' (I imagine a ladder with 'total foreigner' at the bottom and 'native' at the top), I decided to get coffee near the bus stop and try to go over my lessons for the day.

I hopped on the bus, and then off the bus 20 minutes later in Cancelada. My lessons were in order. Listening to Macaco, I walked up the hill into Cancelada village. A strong gust of wind blew my hair into my face, so I paused to fix it. I glanced up at a mountain behind the village, and I was struck by how similar it looked to a mountain outside of Wenatchee. I felt at home.

I felt nostalgia for Wenatchee and America, but at the same time I felt at home, right here in Spain.