The End

We have dubbed ourselves  "La Familia" <3

So I know I haven't been very consistent with writing lately. To be honest, I haven't had a whole lot of time. In the past two weeks, I've both visited Dublin, Ireland, and Fuerteventura, which is one of the Canary Islands. Class for me ended about a month ago and I've just been hanging out and waiting for my final exam that I had to stay for. That means lots of beach time :) As I've been telling adults (particularly my Spanish family) about all the things that I've done or things that I would like to do in my remaining time here, they all seem to refer back to one word: aprovechar(se). This means to take advantage of, or make the most of. Although it gets slightly annoying to hear them all saying the same thing about my trip, the meaning has really sunk in during the past few days as I get ready to leave this place. I have had the opportunity in the last 5 months to travel to 3 separate countries, 8 different cities, and spend the majority of my time sitting on a beach. How many people can say that they did that? Especially since I've technically been "going to school" the whole time, and literally have improved my Spanish skills by leaps and bounds. I feel so fortunate to have been here and done what I've done, not to mention how lucky I am to have met the people I now look at as amazing friends, not to mention my Spanish madre, whom I love like a second mom. My REAL mom reminded me today how difficult it will be for me to come back to the States: I'll jump right back into working, routine, household chores, and driving myself around instead of walking or taking the bus. But the most difficult thing, I've realized, is that no one else but the people I was here with will ever understand this experience. Of course there are others who have come here and lived this life, but my experience is unique to me and the people who lived it with me. I just know that I'm going to be walking down the street at some point when I get back and see or hear something which reminds me of here and want to immediately call one of them up to talk about it and have a good laugh. Don't get me wrong, I am most definitely excited to go home! I miss my family, my friends, my pets, my house, my country way of livin' haha But it's bittersweet, to be sure. Above everything else, I can say that I have aprovechado every second of my time in this paradise with people that I love.

When In Rome...

So let's see, where do I begin? The beginning seems like a logical place, but the beginning actually sucked. Definitely NOT how I wanted to start my trip, but hindsight its kind of funny. Definitely the Burns family luck at play...

Imagine, if you will, me. I'm by myself, travelling to meet my friend in Rome. We have a meeting place and sort of meeting time (although at the time of departure it was not yet set in stone). I have no way of contacting my friend, aside from the internet, once I depart my house here in Alicante. This departure takes place around 8:40 PM on Monday night, with my flight to Madrid leaving around 10:30. Everything goes smoothly, there is no stress involved. I arrive in Madrid around 12 midnight. Did you know that everything in airports (at least in Europe) closes around 10 PM? This was not a fact I was previously aware of, so my desire for some entertainment to keep me occupied during my 6 hour lay over in Madrid was not able to be satisfied. Also, I needed to get my passport checked and my ticket verified by the airline (an annoying habit of RyanAir which I am told is the only company that insists on doing this). I couldn't even get this simple process taken care of until 4 in the morning, and I couldn't get anything to read until 5 o'clock when the stores opened again. I couldn't even use a bathroom or take a light siesta because they were cleaning. Every time I laid down and tried to go to sleep the lady on the floor buffing machine drove by my head. Really annoying, I assure you. Finally, I am able to take care of both my desire for a Redbull, and my need for a Cosmo. It's the UK edition, but it works. So I get to Rome around 9:50 AM on Tuesday morning. By this time, I am running on about an hours worth of sleep for a 24 hour time period, during which I traveled for about 18 hours. The lady at the airport in Rome tells me that it will cost about 45-50 euros to get to the place where my friend and I are meeting, about halfway between the train station and the airport. It costs about 3,65 euros for a non stop bus to the train station where my friend is arriving at 3. I decide this would be the best option. This all sounds great, right? Just keep in mind, however, that my friend doesn't know (and I have no way of telling him) that I will be meeting him at the train statiion. The last communication we had - which was on Monday morning - was that we would meet at the catacomb we had decided on. So this is a complete surprise for him for me to be there. I wait for the approximate 5 or 6 hour time period until his train is supposed to arrive. I'm in the right spot, have the right time of arrival, and I'm waiting. The printed schedule on the wall gives the time of 3:13, but when the electronic updating schedule hanging from the ceiling updates for the 3 o'clock hour, it skips the Venice San Lucia train, putting the last one in at 2:45. I panic. My instincts tell me to stay and wait for the supposed time that he's getting in, but I know that we had already planned on this meeting place and his last words were, "Look for me at the catacomb. I'll be there." So I go to the catacomb. 50 euros and a 20 minute awkward Italian cab ride later, I get to the Catacomb di San Sebastiano. He is not there. I sit and wait for about an hour and a half, during which time taxis come and go, tour buses pack up and leave, and I am left sitting alone in the rain with my stuff. I was so alone and desperate and tired; I had no more money, no way of contacting anyone, I don't speak Italian. I started to cry. Now I feel like a baby but I was freaking out. I said so many prayers to San Sebastian he probably got annoyed with me. I finally broke down and went inside to ask the monks where I could find internet. Of course they don't understand me, but they understand my tears. They let me back into their office and let me use their computer while offering me chocolate and water. I messaged Tyler, thanked them profusely (although I don't think they understood me), and then walked outside to see my friend sitting in the courtyard in the rain. I was ecstatic. I think I looked like Forrest Gump running across the courtyard to meet him with all my stuff, but I didn't care. I wasn't alone anymore. I think I owe San Sebastian my first born or something like that...

The rest of Roma was fantastic. No drama, good food, beautiful views. We stayed with Tyler's friend in this cool apartment which was in a great location. I couldn't have been more happy :) I got to see the Colosseum, the Vatican, the Pantheon, the Spanish Steps, and the Trevi Fountain, along with eating best carbonara of my life! Definitely needed more than 3 days (although we really only got 1 to sightsee, as it was monsooning all day Wednesday), but it was a wonderful trip. I for sure would want to go again! The trip home was much less stressful, although Tyler's reservation didn't go through and he had to buy a second ticket at like double the price. That was upsetting but we ended up buying most of the airport snack bar, along with a bottle of rum. That certainly lifted our spirits. In the end, I decided that when in Rome, do as the Romans do: drink wine and eat pasta.

The Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit

Postiguet, the main beach in Alicante.
You can see the Castillo in the background.

         So once again, as with the beginning of my stay here, my days have fallen into a routine of sorts. Class during the day, reading my books and going to the beach in my off-time. The days have been gorgeous lately and any time that we don't have class is spent on the beach. Literally, this week I had two classes cancelled and during the 11-1 time slot you could find me on my towel, tanning. My madre has started calling me 'congita'. For a long time, I just figured it mean someone who was tan, and was a colloquial word that I didn't know. But finally, after my whole family, their friends, and even my teachers started saying how dark I was getting, I asked her. The response? "It means a negro. And you know, they come from Africa, like the Congo." In Spanish, adding -ito or -ita to the end of a word makes it diminutive. Therefore, 'congita' means my little black girl. I really didn't know what to say to that... "Gee, I am flattered."? haha The beach gets sooooooo super crowded! You need to get their semi-early to get a good spot, but normally a lot of Spanish people clear out around 2 or 3 for comida (lunch) and then its just the tourists - and us - left, so you can snag some good sand then too. Tanning topless seems to be a trend as well... obviously I had heard that before, but its shocking to just walk onto the beach or roll over on your towel to see a pair or tits starting you in the face. They can be old, saggy, wrinkly, young, huge, or mosquito bites, but Europeans seem to have a fancy for showing them off haha.

One version of the sculpture of Christ. It can weigh as much as a car or more!

The nazarenos. Their hoods and cloaks can
come in many different colors.

          Despite all of my time lazily soaking up the sun, this week will being a time of celebration in Spain. Easter is in a week, and tomorrow is Palm Sunday. That means that this coming week is Holy Week, or Semana Santa. There are processions everyday, starting tomorrow. They are all different and are done in order to honor the Crucified Christ or a specific saint. However, they are nothing like any kind of parade that we have in the States. In fact, Easter in general is completely different (and completely less commercialized) here than back home. Whereas we have the Easter Bunny, decorate eggs, and have a huge family dinner, here everything is very solemn and much more religious. The frenzy of capitalism has not yet reached this holiday in other parts of the world. They processions are just that, processions. They dress up in costumes that resemble KKK get-ups, but of course, the KKK means nothing to people here. Slavery carries none of the negative connotations in Spain as it does for our country. It is creepy and unsettling to see the cloaked and robed figures, especially carrying a statue of Christ, wearing shackles, or carrying wooden crosses (as penance). But then I remember that they didn't have the same bloody and terrible history with the KKK that we did. These ghost-like figures number the double or triple digits for each procession, and they carry on their shoulders a HUGE representation of Christ or Mary. Each is unique, as is each procession. The most famous here is the one that happens on Wednesday. The nazarenos (the men carrying the statue) actually run downhill on the busy Rambla of Alicante with their huge burden on their shoulders, and then slowly wind their way through the cramped and tiny streets of the barrio.

The mona comes in many forms,
 and sometimes is decorated.

            Also, they don't do eggs, Easter candy, or a huge family dinner. In fact, they really don't have much a tradition at all. There is the mona, or a type of sweet bread baked into a shape with a hardboiled egg in the center. You crack the egg, and then everyone takes a piece of it and the bread and eats it. But this can be with friends, family, or whoever. For my family personally, my madre told me that her kids might come over with their families to have a big lunch and eat the mona, but only if they don't have plans with others. Also, the Easter mass is not Sunday morning - there is one, but its not the most important - but rather Saturday night at midnight. The vigil mass has not lost it's importance here as it has back home. I am so excited to get to see this  new tradition of Easter, however I am also really pumped that the Easter Bunny was able to find me with some candy, even in Spain ;)

I FOUND A KITTTY!

Some of you may not understand this post. But for those of you who know me, the following images will make perfect sense and you will completely understand.

My new love!

I'm being heavily judged in the background...

Anna said that our eyes matched... it's fate <3

He is my new best friend. His name is Señor Ojos/ AIDS (thanks to Corey), and I love him. He resides at a Respol gas station/rest stop that we visited on our way to and from Granada. He is loving, adorable, and quite the charmer. With eyes like those, who couldn't resist cuddling with him? Anna and I were enchanted from the moment we gazed into those baby blues, and despite the taunts that we were catching his fleas and rabies (WHICH HE DOESN'T HAVE, we are still convinced lol), we wanted to steal him and take him home with us. Wouldn't he just be perfect to keep in my apartment next year? Of course I will take him to the vet and get him cleaned up... but he is the perfect man for me :)

Granada, the pomegranate of my eye

Not quite right, I know. But Granada in Spanish can mean either grenade, or pomegranate, which the city has chosen as its symbol. There are pomegranates etched everywhere... from the benches inside the cathedral, to stone lined paths inside the Alhambra. It is really strange to see how no matter what landmark or site you go to, you still find the same traditions. Not only did we visit the Alhambra (which is ABSOLUTELY better in real life than in pictures), and the Cathedral, but we also got to see a flamenco show which was performed in a cave in the mountains. Not what you're picturing right now: a hole in the side of the mountain with a campfire and rocks as chairs. It was an actual house built up on the mountainside and it had two caves that they had sculpted and painted which were the site for their flamenco "spectacle" as our itinerary put it. It was absolutely amazing. The footwork aside, the strength that the dancers had to have was crazy. The passion that they put out during their dances would inspire any NFL player to win the Superbowl. And the dances told stories. Although I didn't quite catch the plot of the second, the first told the tale of a girl and her boyfriend who wanted to get married and dance. Her mother however, didn't approve of the more modern approach they were taking to the art form. Eventually the young couple got married, but not after a tense argument with mom and then a make up scene haha. It was beautiful and the costumes were so traditional looking. Definitely one of my favorite places while we were there.

Another strange thing is the weather there: Granada lies only kilometers away from the Sierra Nevada mountain range, the highest point in Spain. The mountains are snow covered and I am not just talking about the tips. The whole mountain was covered in fluffy white snow. My madre learned to ski there when she was younger lol. But the strange part is that while situated so close to all this snow, the temperature when we arrived in Granada was close to 30 degree Celsius, or approximately 86 degrees Fahrenheit! It was sweltering, and all the while we could have gone snowboarding with less than an hour's journey away. For someone from Ohio, thats big news!

We saw the Cathedral of the Incarnation, which is dedicated to the Mother Mary. It was started in 1518, and not finished until sometime after 1590. It was originally planned to be the burial place for the Spanish king Charles I, but his son Phillip II moved it to El Escorial, in Madrid, and now all Spanish monarchs are entombed there. The Cathedral was breathtaking, and next door we were surprised to visit the burial place of Ferdinand and Isabel, the famous Catholic Kings. Their crypt is heavily decorated and beautiful, and the symbolism is magnificent. An interesting note that we learned was that of the two stone effigies that lie above the monarchs' tomb, Isabel's head rests lower than Ferdinand's. Legend has it that this is because the Queen was actually smarter than the King's,  her head rests heavier than his. While of course this cannot be proven today, we do know that Isabel and Ferdinand were equals in their reign, and that Isabel had just as much power as Ferdinand since their were the uniters of their two kingdoms, Aragon and Castilla. There are actually 5 coffins inside the crypt: Ferdinand and Isabel in the middle, their daughter Juana the Mad, their son in law Phillip the Handsome (Juana's hubby), and finally, Infant Miguel, the 2 year old son of the monarch's oldest daughter.  It was fascinating and although I was intrigued and learned a lot with that trip, it was good to get outside to my 80 degree weather and sun again: it was so cold inside the Cathedral and Crypt, I felt that I was quickly turning into a corpse myself!

Valencia or Bust!

So, as with all of my adventures so far, crazy things tend to happen really unexpectedly/annoyingly often. For example, this week was midterm week. The tests aren't that bad, and since my grades don't transfer it's not a complete travesty if I don't do well. Although of course I am going to give it my all, it won't be as bad as if I were back home and did poorly. Anyways, my first exam was Tuesday morning at 11 AM, the same time that I have class every Tuesday. I typically have my alarm set to go off around 8:45 so I can have time to get ready and then catch the bus, which can take between 20-45 minutes, depending on traffic and the number of passengers. My alarm did not go off on Tuesday morning at 8:45. My alarm did not go off at all, as a matter of fact, and I was left to wake up at 10:30 with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that something was horribly wrong (this was aided by the fact that it was way too bright outside for it to be 8:45). I was in panic mode, but I threw myself together and caught the next  bus to arrive around 11:35 and finish with my exam approximately 10 minutes early lol
       I guess I have an affinity for being on a time crunch. We were scheduled to go to Valencia to see las Fallas (giant paper mache and wooden statues - often as big as buildings - that are constructed all year and then burned after a week long celebration with much dancing, drinking, and gaiety). We were supposed to meet at Plaza de Luceros - about a 10 minute walk from my house - at 9 AM. I woke up at 8:57 due to lack of an alarm and promptly had that same sinking feeling that something was terribly awry. I went into action mode. Planning on taking a taxi to the University (where the buses were stopping to pick up kids there), I was up and ready and out of my house in about 5 minutes. As I am leaving, I call my friend Tyler who told me they still hadn't left Luceros and offered to try and hold the buses for me. I took off running and after almost passing out (I am soooooooooo out of shape) I made it to Luceros in less than 5 minutes. All in all, what should have been about a 20 or 30 minute process took me 10. I haven't been this proud of myself in such a long time! lol
        The prisa (hurry) was worth it: the Fallas are breathtaking and the fact that someone spends all year constructing such a masterpiece and then burns it down in one night is something I still can't wrap my head around. Valencia is quite a charming city as well. Like Sevilla, it has both the small town atmosphere and the big city vibe. Maybe this was due to the insane amount of people that were clogging the streets, or maybe it was just the fact that the Fallas were so huge. I don't know, but either way, I am glad I could make the trip. Unfortunately, I am not able to go back today to watch the actual burning of the statues, but many of my friends could make it. Apparently it's just insane: as one friend described it, "It's like Carnaval in Alicante. But instead of 40,000 people partying, it's closer to 200,000." I can't wait to see pictures and here stories from my friends. Tonight I think I'll take it easy and relax here in Alicante. Without any prisa whatsoever.

Girl Scout Cookies!

That's right everyone... one of the best things about Springtime has officially arrived. Those delicious cookies will make anyone's mouth water and they come a plethora of flavors so there is something for us all to enjoy!

The down side: getting lost on the way to pick up said cookies from your friendly neighborhood Correos. This would be my night... My madre wasn't  home when I got in from class at 7:30 this evening and I knew that the Correos closes at 8:30. After about 20 minutes of desperately hoping she would walk in the door, I gave up on fruitlessly trying to study for my exam tomorrow, Googled the address, and set out to find my package. I got as far as the big street before the final turn onto the little street where the Correos was located, and to this second I still don't know where I went wrong, but when you have someone whose sense of direction is as screwed up as mine, and as many roundabouts as Spain has, things are bound to go wrong. I ended up wandering aimlessly around streets that did not look familiar in th slightest and even began to look scary at one point. It was 8:13, and I was lost. I started to panic. I searched frantically for some street sign or building that looked familiar; nothing. Finally, around 8:17, I asked a nice looking old man walking his dogs. I figured he would be safer than a  person my own age and nicer than a woman, regardless of age. I was correct in my assumption. He just so happened to walking in that direction and pointed out to me (in very slow and polite Spanish, because I was so obviously scared, lost, and American) the way to go. I thanked him profusely and set off at a quick trot towards the park which I finally recognized from the last trip to the mail center that I taken with my madre. I arrived at 8:25 sweating profusely, arms akimbo, with Medusa-esque hair. The man behind the counter was also very nice and after laughing a bit at how he couldn't pronounce my name correctly, he set about to find my package. He looked for about 8 minutes and when I was starting to feel my stomach drop at the thought that maybe I went to the wrong post office, he finally found it under the other envelopes he had been looking at for minutes. It was brightly wrapped in my mother's signature wrapping-paper style. How could you miss a bright floral box? As I exited the building, I tried unsuccessfully to rip off the multi-layered tape that covered the box. I still didn't know what was inside, and I got lost trying to find my way home again due to the round abouts and the fact that the streets sometimes (but not always) change names from one side of the round about to the other. In this case, my street changed names about halfway down and I was panic stricken as I couldn't even find where it connected to the round about on the map. I finally got myself oriented and FINALLY managed to get the tape off. There in my hands sat staring up at me a box of Thin Mints, all for myself (and my madre, of course). Winning. I could have cried. It was so tempting, and I was so exhausted from my hour long venture, that I promptly ate 3/4 of a sleeve. I walked in the door of my apartment triumphant and with a slight stomach ache, but I was happier than I had been all day.