La última semana

Staying an extra week in Sevilla was a great decision. With 95% of the Americans gone, I was at long last able to completely surround myself with Spaniards for 7 full days. On Saturday I went with my host parents to Carmen's pueblo, about an hour outside of Sevilla, where there was a sort of miniature Feria going on. In place of over 1000 casettas, for example, there were about 20, but it was almost more fun than the actual Feria. Between Carmen, her sister and her cousin we knew about everybody there and, because of that, I met nearly more people in one day at this tiny Feria than I did in 7 days in Sevilla. I'd probably never felt so a part of the culture until that day in Carmen's pueblo of 'Monestario'.

On Sunday we went to a friends house for a birthday party (a friend of Carmen's) that I hadn't seen since my first week in Sevilla. It was a pretty neat experience being able to show them the improvement in my spanish over those 9 months and I have to admit that they were pretty impressed. The next few days I spent at home hanging out with Carmen and Moises before going to the fútbol game in Barcelona.

One story that I find pretty entertaining, and a little bit touching, is the purchase of a laptop by Carmen. I went with her one day before I left to look for cheap laptops with a built in camera so that she could skype with me once I returned to the USA and we found a few pretty reasonable deals. That night, however, when Carmen told Ramon of her plans, he wouldn't hear anything of it. He said that she had no idea how to use a computer, that they should wait at least 3 months to even think of buying one because thats when all of the good deals hit the shelves and that she needs to take a class first. I told Carmen that Ramon had some pretty solid points, so I figured that she would wait to do it for a while. Nevertheless, when I got back from Barcelona, there was Carmen looking like a cat trying to 'figure out' a ball of yarn as she sat there with her new computer. I don't think it needs saying that she is the head of that household. The next day as I was upstairs packing she was constantly calling me, 'Trevorrrr, where is the 'm'?? I cant find the 'm'... Trevorrrrr come down and show me how to click the 'ok', how do you move the arrow??'..... Needless to say it was the first computer (laptop, to be more specific) that she had ever touched in her life. She also requested that I find her cheap flights, hotels included, to exotic locations around the globe - something that is a bit more difficult than she seemed to imagine.

My last night in Sevilla was perfect. For the first time all of my best Sevillan friends came over to meet my family and we sat outside on the porch in constant laughter (thanks to Ramon - the funniest man in this world) until 5 am, when I had to go to the airport. It was the ideal conclusion to my 9 month stay in Spain. I finally had all of the people that meant the most to me over there in one place - and I wasn't even the 'american', I was just one of them. Making jokes, laughing, maybe a tiny, tiny, minute bit of drinking.... (lo siento madre), a full-fledged member of the Sevillan culture. Of everything that I did over there, of every soccer game I saw and every sevillana that I engaged in (even the one with 'EL maria'), the one thing that I will remember most is that last night. The icing on the cake. The ultimate conclusion. After 10 months of trying to make sevillan friends, of trying become an actual member of my family and of the culture, I had finally done it.

My host parents took me to the airport that morning (after exactly '0' hours of sleep - and, not to mention, a total of about 12 hours of sleep the 3 nights previous) where we said our final goodbyes. I don't know how my leaving will effect Ramon, he's one of those guys who acts all tough and never shows emotion, but I think that I noticed a few tears in his eyes as I walked through the security line. Carmen, well I have skyped with her 4 times now and every time she says, 'Trevor, a question, so when are you coming to visit again??' And I always say, next year Carmen, when I finish school. And she says, "Do you know when you finish school? Because if so why don't you just buy the ticket now? It would be cheaper too wouldn't it?? And we always have a bedroom open for you. We will move moises and you can take his, even if your only here for a few days" She says that the house has become a bit boring, that the 'alegria' has gone, since I left, but I can't help but feeling a little part of me missing as well. Its difficult to describe. I feel a more 'complete' person for having done what I did but I also feel that something essential is missing. Not getting up every morning and having to speak spanish. Not staying up until 2 am on a nightly basis. Sleeping in every day and not feeling guilty about it, valuing relationships over money, putting family and friends before all else in the world, not caring what time it is as long as your having a good time. These are aspects of the culture and the people that that I will forever hold on to. My mom is already giving me a hard time because I can't seem to sleep in past 7 here, but it doesn't mean that I haven't forgotten how to. I will love and cherish what I have learned and the people that I have met 'hasta la muerte (until the death)' - as says the famous hymn of Sevilla. 'Sevillista seré hasta la muerte'.

For everybody that has kept up on reading this blog, I would like to say thank you. I know that I sometimes slack in putting up new posts and new pictures, and that some blog updates are outrageously long, but thanks for sticking in there. It was nice knowing that I wasn't all alone as I slept in that train station in the middle of Austria. I'm going to miss sharing all of my adventures with you guys. I would also like to dedicate this blog to my Mom. Thank you for teaching me how to stay positive in the toughest of times, how to find enjoyment even in the most miserable of situations, how to be an open and accepting person, how to find the courage and the determination to keep on persevering and how to take the path less traveled.

FC Sevilla vs. Atletico Madrid

This is passion. And pride. This is love. And this is hate. Above all, however, this is undying, all engaging, heart wrenching, stomach churning loyalty. They call themselves ‘sevillistas’. It isn’t just somebody from Sevilla, but it is a diehard supporter of the Sevillan Fútbol Club. ‘Sevillista’: it is their identity. They live and die with the team. From birth they are raised to love Sevillan soccer, it is in their blood and it will be in the blood of their children, their children’s kids and so on down the line. When was the last time you rode 17 hours in a bus to watch a game, then, when it finished, got right back on that bus and rode another 17 hours home? When was the last time you cried because your team won? There are over 50 songs that every sevillista knows by heart and from the moment we stepped off of our 12 hour train ride to Barcelona (we were the lucky ones) to the moment that everybody passed out from pure exhaustion on the train ride home it was as if you were in a concert.

The game was against Atletico Madrid, one of Sevilla’s most hated rivals. It was the final of the Spanish Copa (Tournament) ‘El Copa del S.M. El Rey’ and the drive from Sevilla to Barcelona was over 1000 km – the farthest any participant in the copa del rey had ever had to drive. Not even that, however, could stop the sevillistas from coming in full flow. Over 150 buses, 4 trains and a few planes specifically reserved for sevillistas left Sevilla Tuesday night. In order to get tickets for the game you have to be a member of Sevilla Fútbol or know a member (each member is given one extra ticket). Luckily for me, one of my good Sevillan friends got me a ticket and I went with him, my other friend, both of their Dads and two of their cousins to the game. We were lucky to have the train, though it still took a good 12 hours to arrive. We got to Barcelona, after about 3 hours of sleep, at 10:00 in the morning – 9 hours before the start of the game. We spent the next few hours wandering around Barcelona, engaging in some touristy activities then around 3 we went to the designated sevillista ‘campo’ (an area reserved for Sevillan fans about 1 mile away from the area reserved for Atletico fans in order to avoid conflict). That was the ‘pep rally’ – as if anybody really needed it. A famous Spanish DJ performed, playing pump up music and sevillista songs for a full 5 hours. Just when I thought I was going to pass out from exhaustion, 7:30pm rolled around and, at long last, the stadium gates opened.

Almost half of the stadium was reserved for us, for the sevillistas, and the other part (a little bit bigger because there were more of them due to the proximity of Madrid and Barcelona) was reserved for the Atletico fans. The next two hours were a competition between the fans to see who could sing the loudest/who had the best songs. Being that I have converted to a Sevillista my opinion could be a little bit biased, but I think we won that competition fair and square.

When the team came out the whole crowd jumped on its feet, waving flags, scarves, hats (Del Nido, the president of Sevilla, is famous for wearing a ---- hat and almost every Sevilla fan in the stadium had a replica of it) and burst into the famous, and beautiful, song of Sevilla. (If you want to listen to it, go to YouTube and type “himno official de Sevilla Fútbol Club).

The game itself was incredible. The noise in the stadium never let down and the play was of the highest of quality. All analysits expected that Atletico would beat Sevilla going into the game, so when we scored the first goal with 6 minutes in our part of the stadium went absolutely loco. I have never hugged so many unknown people in my life. The rest of the game was a nail bitter until the 83 minute when the fan favorite, Jesus Navas, scored the second goal of the game. When the game ended I turned around to hug everybody I was caught off guard to find that tears were filling up their eyes. That’s how much this sport, this team, means to them. It isn’t just a college sporting event where the fans go crazy all game and then, whether or not their team wins, they go party afterwards. This is true, undeniable loyalty. Passion at its fullest. I mean, I love the Broncos, but I don’t think that I would cry if they won the Superbowl.

The 12 hour train ride home wasn’t exactly what I was craving when we finally left the stadium, 2 hours after the game ended, but that was without a doubt one of the most amazing experiences I had in Spain and ‘la glinda de la tarta’ as my Sevillan friends kept saying, ‘the icing on the cake’. The celebration still wasn’t over the next day though. The soccer team started its parade through the city at 6 pm and the celebrations continued on to 2 that morning. 

La Feriaaaa (April 19 - April 25)

Craziest week of my life. That's the only way to put it. Didn't get to bed once before 7 am and didn't wake up once before 1 am. My days consisted of crawling out of bed, eating lunch, getting dressed and going back to the Feria and my nights consisted of the Sevillana. Well worth 50 euros to take that class, every other American was wishing they had done the same when they saw me tearing up that dance floor haha. The feria is made up of over 1000 'casettas' which are essentially big tents owned either privately (by businesses, for example) or are open to the public (political parties). Inside every tent is a bar, hundreds of tables and a dance floor. My host dad's company (El Corte Ingles) had a casetta as well as all of my sevillan friends, so I was never without a place to go. (A lot of other Americans didn't enjoy it as much as I did and I think it is because they simply didn't have places to go. They would stand out in the streets looking for public casettas whereas my roomate and I never had trouble getting into any). 

The other little perk of having the family was not having to spend money. One day I went with my Sevillan friends for all day/night and just like that 100 Euros were gone from my wallet. The food combined with the famous rebujitos (pitchers of 'manzanilla' and 7-up) which are 12 euros add up pretty quickly. Anyways one of my new goals in life is to come back to Sevilla for one week every year just to experience that Feria. I honestly don't think that there is anything else like it in this world. In the states everybody would go for the day but it would close by 12 am and I guarantee that it wouldn't be a 7 day event - which really is quite exhausting. (I'm the only person that I  have talked to that made it all 7 days). Getting back into school the following week was a little bit difficult being that I was waking up at the same time that I had gone to bed all of the previous week. 

Below are some pictures of the Sevillana, when I get home I'll give a little lesson to everybody. 

 (a picture with the family, though its missing Carmen. From left to right: Zayra (daughter), Spencer (my roomate, behind her), Ramon (host dad), two friends of Zayra, Fidel (brother in law of carmen), myself and emily

P.S. 

I also made the mistake of dancing with a man. Well I though that she was a woman. Just a very rare, odd woman. But my family told me she was a he when we got back from the Feria and they haven't let that one get by me yet. At least once a day they say (in a deep, very manly voice), "Trevor, ¿quieres bailar? (Do you want to dance?) They seem to find it very humorous. 

Barcelona and irrelevant volcanos (April 16-19)

I feel like I have expressed my travel woes pretty clearly throughout my blogging this year. Every little thing that could go wrong, regardless of how much planning I put into it, somehow does. Trains, buses, planes, I just never seem to have the best of luck. So when the volcano erupted on wednesday the 15th causing travel horror stories throughout Europe, it was only logical to expect that I would soon find myself involved in one of my own (hint: there is an exciting twist coming up). My plane was to leave Sevilla for Barcelona Friday night at 10:00. By this time the effects the volcano was having on travel throughout Europe had been well documented. So far the Sevillan airport had remained open, but there was little guarantee that it would continue to do so. Anyways, I was about 90% positive that I wasn't going to end up going to Barcelona - to the point that I almost didn't even go to the airport in the first place. But here is where the story takes a very unexpected turn..... I have never had two days of travel so smooth, so crisp, so flawless as I was about to experience. The airports were empty. From entering the airport doors to getting to my gate took all of 10 minutes. Both of the planes took off on time and landed early. I thought it was a dream, this had never, would never, could never happen to me. The only thing I could possibly find to complain about is that smooth travel doesn't make for as exciting, on-the-edge of your seat stories. But I'm going to through that complaint out of the window - I would chose this any day over sleeping in a middle-of-nowhere train station in Austria.

I was planning on meeting my friend in Barcelona who studied abroad in the same program with me last semester (he now studies in France) but French travel was an absolute mess. All of the flights were canceled and, conveniently, every French train was on strike. To say the least, he wasn't going anywhere.

The city itself was really neat. Surrounded by hills that give great vantage points and allow for a bit of exercise, I didn't get too bored in my two full days there. The Sagrada Familia, a modern day church, was stunning. It was designed by the famous Spanish artist 'Goya' and to this day its still under construction (they estimate that it will be finished within the next 20 years). It is unlike any other church I have ever been in. It has a modern design, futuristic sculptures of Jesus and it combines Goya's strong connection with nature with his fate in God.

(On the outside of the church: Jesus at the cross)

 (It makes me wonder how they built churches  without cranes....)

You might be able to see in the following pictures of the inside of the Cathedral, but Goya had a strong emphasis on light and the outdoors. The pillars that hold the Cathedral up are constructed as if they were trees and small strands of light come in from above as if penetrating a roof of leaves. On the outside Goya constructed pillars topped with different types of fruit and animals. Being that I have never been much a church goer but have always loved the outdoors, I found the Sagrada Familia to be particularly appealing. One of the things that Goya said before he died was that he wanted the church to be a place for everybody, regardless of their religious beliefs. I'd say that he accomplished that goal. 

(The one on the left is of the actual pillars themselves

and the one of the right shows how the design

follows that of a tree)

 

(Side note: putting pictures into this thing is one of the more frustrating things I've had to do)

Below are some photos of the famous Park Guël. Hiking around there was a lot of fun. There is a plaza full of performers, tourists and local kids, but if you go a bit higher you can get away from just about everybody else and find that inner nature of yours. 

Anyways I know that this blog is pretty bland in terms of stories, but if you find some other blogs written around these dates I'm sure you'll have some fun. My hostel was full of kids trying to get to England who were stuck for a full week in Barcelona. I remember one kid who told me that he decided to take a quick, 5 euro flight (ryanair sometimes has ridiculous deals) from London to Palma de Mallorca for one night on Thursday then got the last flight out from Palma to Barcelona on Friday (where he had just been the week before) and last I knew he was going to try to hitchike to France and the take a ferry into England and try to get there that friday (i left on monday). Makes me feel almost guilty about how smooth I had it.... though I shouldn't let my confidence get too high because there is supposedly a strike planned for British Airways and my trip home just so happens to be smack in the middle of that..... Lets hope for the best and prepare for the worst I suppose...

Madre Mia

Week numero 2:

This week, in stark contrast to the first, didn't actually have any plans to begin with, so I suppose that nothing could get in the way of the fulfillment of any of those not made plans. I had school/work until Thursday and my mom and host mom (Carmen) spent the days together. My mom also got to know a few of my coworkers at the hotel pretty well and even introduced my host mom to them (which if you know my host mom its pretty impressive that my mom convinced her to go in, because Carmen is probably the shiest person you will ever meet) when I wasn't there. The only kind of tough part was the food. We eat lots of meat, little vegetables and everything is loaded with olive oil and salt - which takes away from the healthiness of the would be healthy foods. Carmen made a big effort to make more salads and other sorts of greens, but even a salad that she claimed had no salt on it tasted like sea water. In terms of the food those 4 days might have felt a little bit long and I think that when we left to go to Granada on Thursday afternoon the thing that we were most looking forward to was the ability to chose our own food.

We took the train from Sevilla to Granada, about a 3 hour train ride, Thursday after my classes and arrived around 9:30 or so that night. The hotel said it was located a little bit outside of the city but within 'striking distance' of the center, so, being that 'striking distance' could have a number of interpretations, we were a bit worried about the location - luckily it ended up being about a 7 minute walk from the busiest street in Granada. We went there that night for tapas and frozen yogurt and then watched Boy Meets World in spanish before we went to bed. (I had forgotten how much I like that show, I think it is the one show that I ever actually watched as a kid). The next day we got up 'early' at 9 (like I said in that previous blog update I never knew that my parents had it in them to sleep so long) and got ready for a big Granadan day. First thing on the agenda was the Alhambra. Built by the Moorish in the 1300s it was used as a refuge for the King and his family. It is a string of palaces built together interlaced with beautiful gardens and water features. It is located on a hill overlooking all of Granada and offers spectacular views of the snow capped Sierra Nevadas in the distance. It is also the biggest tourist attraction in Spain - something that we had to learn the hard way when I went to buy the Alhambra tickets 4 days before (all of them had already been sold out so we just bought the garden tickets which, although we didn't have full access to the palaces, was still beautiful). The history there is really impressive and, although it is very well preserved, back 500 years ago when it was in its hay-day and all the paint was bright and colorful it really must have been a sight to behold. Anyways we spent a good couple of hours there and then walked back down through the woods into a little plaza with a creek running through it in the very upper corner of Granada. From the plaza there is just one tiny little street that follows the stream back into the city center, slowly opening up until the city surrounds you.

From there I told mom that we had to find this Kebab place (Kebab's in Spain aren't like the typical meat on a stick deliciousness we like to think about, but are kind of like a burrito - chicken, lettuce, tomato, beats and really yummy, spicy sauces wrapped in a tortilla type object) where I had ate the first time I was in the city about 5 months before hand. It is in a part of the city known as the Albacin (full of tiny streets that weave there way through white houses up to another great view of Granada) which isn't exactly the easiest place to navigate, but somehow we made it there without much of a problem. After lunch I figured my mom would want to do that Spanish thing she had fallen so in love with and take a siesta, but we were both feeling like doing more stuff so we got on one of those hop-on hop-off bus tours of Granada. This is probably the best, most efficient way to get a feel for the layout and structure of a city because the bus does a big loop and stops at all of the biggest attractions. We weren't really planning on getting off anywhere, but we stopped at this science museum park and both of us immediately knew that we wouldn't be returning to the hotel anytime in the near future. We went to an exhibit on Darwin, an animal exhibit and a butterfly pavilion but the coolest was definitely an exhibit on the human body. There were a lot of interactive activities and probably the most surprising bit of information that we stumbled upon is that the human lung has a surface are of about 70m squared - that is roughly the same area as one side of the tennis court! There was also an 'operation' type game where you have to put all of the body parts back in the body and i was very impressed with my moms knowledge of what us humans have on the inside. We then played a game where two people sit on opposite ends of a table, put their foreheads against a piece of steel and try to mentally push this metal ball in a cage towards the other person. It says that the key is to not actually think about anything and to relax the brain as best you can - i've never thought a had a very relaxed brain but according to that game im good at not thinking haha (i dont know it that is necessarily a good thing though). There was also a birds of prey show which was pretty awesome. They walk around with hawks, eagles and owls then let them fly and give them fake prey to try to catch - most impressive was definitely the eagle.

By the time we finally got back to the hotel room almost 12 hours had past since we left that morning. The thing is that we didn't feel like we were really pushing ourselves to do as much as possible or anything and we didn't arrive to the room exhausted, but we still saw as much of Granada as one could see in one day. For the evening we went to a restaurant where my mom got a salad that made me think we were in America or something and then we went to a cool little arabic cafe and got some green tea/banana smoothie! with whip cream!

The next morning we had to catch a train at 11:30am but we still managed to do some productive things: buy the host family a picture book of granada then walk back to that little albacin area and get some bracelets (that we could have very easily gotten the day before, but there wasn't any time pressure on us the day before and the fact that we couldn't make any wrong turns or we would miss the train this time around made it more exhilarating). On the way to by the bracelets we also walked into a part of the city that we didn't even know had existed and that one could easily spend another day in (reason to go back). The last night in Sevilla we spent trying to get the tv to show the game between Real Madrid and Barcelona (the most highly anticipated game of the year in Spain - and of course our tv decided to give us problems with that one single channel) and then we got up at 5 the next morning to head to the airport of Sevilla.

Anyways I would say that those were two fun, eventful, memorable weeks! My mom and I were just  saying that if that volcano had erupted a bit sooner she might have just had to stay here until I leave! If only if only. In other news its the famous feria of sevilla right now and it is absolutely everything it was ever built up to be. Haven't been to bed before 6 am yet this week and i highly doubt that that will be changing tonight. I also went to barcelona this past weekend so thats what the next update will be about!

Thank you for coming madre y padre of mine!

Family Fun

Week 1 (mom and dad)-

Allow me to begin this blog by saying that this vacation went nothing as planned. I've actually really began to question the use of making plans, for so often they seem to fail. And its not to say that we didn't have a good time, in fact we probably have more stories/memories now than we would have if things had actually gone according to plan. I think that one of the best parts of plans is the stories that come about upon their falling through. So, with plans in my mind, I'm am going to divide this part of the blog into 2 versions - 1) the plans or, how the trip would have been had everything gone according to plan and 2) how it actually went down.

1) My dad would arrive in Sevilla at 2. My mom would arrive at 3. I would go to the airport to pickup my dad and then we would wait until 3 for my mom to arrive. From there we would take a bus to the hotel where I work.

2) We would spend tuesday and wednesday in sevilla and take in as much of the Semana Santa as we could - we would also eat lunch at my host parents house/take them out to dinner one night.

3) Thursday morning we would go to Granada where we would see the Alhambra and spend one night

4) We would go to Ronda on Friday where we would spend two nights

5) Still partly related with number 4, Saturday we would go to Gibraltar for the day and then go back to Ronda for the night

6) We would return to Sevilla Sunday and my dad would fly out Monday

There were also 2 things that my dad simply had to do: 1) Go to Gibraltar 2) Eat the infamous Iberian ham (and, if we go back about 2 weeks, he was also set on making it to Africa).... lets see exactly which one of these was accomplished...

Now, for the real version...

1) I waited in the airport for an hour and the first parent of mine that I saw coming through the gates was my mom. What happened, one might be so inclined as to ask?? Well, my dad had a problem with his ticket and had to change everything while in Mexico, 2 days before coming to Spain. Did I have any idea of this? No. Does it matter? Not really. I mean I could go into more detail about how I spent an hour running through the airport, looking for him in every corner, getting chased by the security guards and hiding in the bathroom, but that wouldn't be altogether factual.... Seeing my mom walk through those doors was a cool feeling. It had been so long since I had seen my parents (since August 18) and upon seeing her it felt like it had been a matter of years and a matter of minutes since I had last seen her all at the same time. She told me that my dad would get in in about two hours, so we decided it would be best to take the bus to the hotel and then for me to come back and get him later. The bus, however, didn't exactly go according to plan (haha). It was supposed to drop us off at about 5 minutes walking distance from the hotel, but due to Semana Santa (which consists of parades all throughout the city for one week) the route was cut way short and we were forced to find other modes of transportation. We got a taxi, there's probably never been a taxi driver in a worse mood than this one, and he took us another half of the way there then demanded that we exit the vehicle as he couldn't go any further (a lie). But we really didn't want to be in there anyways so we did as told. And, what did we exit that taxi to??? A furious flurry of ferocious formidable rain. Lowering our heads into the head on rain, we made the push towards to the hotel (about 10 minutes away walking). From there I showed mom the the best room in the hotel (that my high ranking stature in Hotel Murillo had won them) and then went to pick up my dad. His flight arrived on time, the bus went all the way to the stop closest to the hotel and the sun was shining. About a stark a contrast as one can find to that first journey to the hotel. From there both of my parents were exhausted, and rightfully so, so I decided to be a gracious guest and let them rest until the following day.

2) I guess, to my astonishment now that I think about it, that Tuesday actually did go more or less according to plan. The first part of the day we spent walking around some historic sites of Sevilla (places that I hadn't even been) and ate lunch at a restaurant that I had made reservations for at 3pm. Following lunch my dad and I went shoe shopping and my mom went back to the hotel to rest a bit. I never realized that my dad knew so much about shoes, but he analyzed those things like a Darwin must have analyzed those animals when forming his theory on evolution. Lets just say that I have absolutely no doubt that I got the best pair of shoes available to me in all of Sevilla. That walk back to the hotel though, it was like trying to get through wall upon wall of Denver Broncos lineman (they best of the best). We kept running into procession after procession, each time having to back track and find a new way of getting around them. The walk there: 15 minutes. The walk back: 1 hour and 15 minutes. The shoes: 90 euros. Sevilla: crowded. Sevilla during Semana Santa: well not priceless, but thanks to hotel murillo not too bad either.

3) If Tuesday went more or less according to plan, Wednesday made up for the rarity. Although we did actually spend the whole day in Sevilla, as planned, the place where we spent the day wasn't exactly what we had in mind... la urgencia. The emergency room. My mom had been having respiratory/fatigue problems and we decided that the best thing to do would be to go the hospital and see if we could get any oxygen out of them. That was the main objective: the oxygen. 7 hours later we would achieve the goal. We went through the entry phases incredibly fast. Within 30 minutes of entering we were already talking to a doctor although there looked to be people who had been waiting for much longer than us (something we would soon understand). I learned that being able to speak/understand spanish in daily life and being able to do the same when it comes to medical issues are two entirely different things. Via my dads vast medical knowledge (the doctor actually asked me if my dad was a 'medico' back in the US), my moms spanish and my translating we were able to get the main points across. After about a 20 minute meeting we were sent back into the waiting room where we would realize the true function of the 'waiting' room. We had to be in there at least 4 maybe 5 hours. The waiting room was a complete contrast to a waiting room that one would find in the US. There were no cellphones. There were no books/magazines. There were no impatient people. There also weren't, oddly enough, anybody that looked to be in dire, 'emergency room' conditions. We came to the conclusion that we had been seen so quickly because we could have had a very serious problem, but once the doctors realized that it could wait, they felt content with putting us where everybody else with the 'it can wait' problems were. It actually seemed to be more of a social event than anything. The patients were all there with there family members or friends, chatting and chatting and chatting as if they could go on forever. Nobody, aside from my dad =), was showing any sort of impatience and they all seemed to be perfectly content where they were. Anyways we were eventually called in again and the doctor told us that she wanted to do a scan of my moms lungs to make sure that something wasn't wrong (i wish I could say that in more sophisticated terms, but I forget all of the medical terminology - maybe when my mom and dad read this they could put a little comment down there at the bottom of the page describing what the doctor was actually worried about). We weren't too excited about doing the scan, however, and considered calling the doctor back in the US. That seemed to throw our doctor off a little bit (no questioning the doctors knowledge) so we decided against getting a second opinion and did what was recommended. Luckily nothing was seriously wrong and we eventually left the hospital with what we had came for - the oxygen. That experience, to say the least, isn't one that any of us will forget, and all in all we were actually pretty impressed with the Spanish health care system. They had treated us foreigners with as much care and attention to detail as if we were any normal Spanish patient, they didn't skip any steps, they gave us the oxygen without any problem as well as gave my mom a steroid shot without telling her anything (that shot made her feel great for the next 8 days) and all for free (my dad estimated that in the US that day would have cost us $3000).

3) To say the least, we didn't go to Granada on Thursday. Instead we went to my host parents house and ate a huge, huge lunch. My mom was starting to feel better so it only made since that my dad would get start to feel under the weather - in this case it was the stomach. My mom contributes it to his eating too much, but, even if it was, I don't think that you can blame him for overindulging. My host parents put out the best food that I had seen in the house since my arrival and my dad finally got that Iberian Jamon that he had been waiting for for so long. (He also was the life of the party but it was the last we would see of him until 11 am the next day.) After lunch we tried to change the return flight for mom for something a bit sooner but the prices to do it were ridiculous. The solution we eventually found was to overnight a portable oxygen unit that my mom would be able to use walking around in Spain and take on the plane rides home. (That unit made it as far as customs in Madrid before it was turned around and sent back to the US)..... It was really nice for my parents to finally meet my host parents. I know that the moms had been looking forward to it for a long time and they definitely enjoyed getting to know each other (and they would spend almost all of the following week together too).

4) We actually made it to Ronda this day! My mom decided that she was feeling up for it and we took a 2 hour bus ride from Sevilla to Ronda friday afternoon. And it was definitely worth it. Ronda is an absolutely awe-inspiring, take your breath away little town. It is built on a huge cliff with a river running through it (though it is 100 meters below town level). I could describe it more, but I'm going to adhere to the saying that a picture paints 1000 words and just put up a couple of pictures here..... We even stayed up late (in American terms) to see the procession pass through town! My parents sure adapted quickly to the Spanish lifestyle - siestas during the days, 'late' nights and sleep in mornings - if you know my parents very well be careful what your around because your probably about to throw up your arms and fall over backwards in your chair out of amazement, but they slept until 10:30!!!!!!! that morning. At least 12 hours of sleep. I have never been so surprised in all my life.

5/6) Gibraltar never happened. My Dad's flight was changed to Sunday morning so we left Ronda saturday afternoon to get back to Sevilla. That night we had a few guests over and we had a fun discussion about the differences between Spain and the US in terms of taxes/health care/ect. The next morning my dad had to wake up at 5am to get to the airport for his 7 o'clock flight.

And that concludes week 1! My mom stayed an extra week but I don't think I have it in me to do 3 blog updates in one day, so I will get to that later. You will also notice that there are not any pictures (even though I specifically said that there were in the ronda blog) but that will change here in the near future. I would give an exact date on when the future updates/changes will be, but that would be a plan and I'm just not into doing that sort of thing! Though it could make for a good story....

Friend Time!

Well it looks like another overwhelming gap between blog entries has arisen. For that I am sorry. But after this entry there will be another one very soon, maybe even on the same day(!!!) so hopefully that will make up for any hard feelings. Anyways I'm going to go back in time here and start this blog update the 18th of March....

My friend Ryan was coming to visit!! He was to arrive on Friday the 18th of March. Being that the tickets directly into Sevilla were so expensive however, we decided that it would be better if he flew into Madrid and I met him there. Which, as I have learned time and time again this year, that was much easier said than done. At first I looked for plane tickets (to get me from sevilla to madrid) and I thought that I had found one at a reasonable price, which would have been a miracle - but, alas, no miracle was to be involved (although the airport said 'sevilla' it was actually an airport in a tiny town about 2 hours outside of the city). With the option that would have made my life almost completely stress free out of the discussion, I was forced to go to plan B - the bus. My host brother, Moises, decided that he wanted to come with me (and this actually was a miracle - I don't know if I have mentioned before that he is always on his computer, but he is... his computer broke however so he decided to come with me and meet up with his cousins whom live in Madrid) so I had to look for bus tickets for the both of us. I thought everything was under control, (the tickets purchased and all) but at 10 o'clock the night we were supposed to leave I realized that I had only reserved the 1am bus tickets, not actually bought them. Realizing this minor detail I went to buy them only to find that they I had to have done it 24 hours before the bus departed and that there were none remaining. To put it simply that little mistake sent the whole house into a panic (thats the problem when once you start traveling with other people). To make a long story a little bit less cumbersome (and to not wear-out my writing desire in the description of a single event) Moises and I were rushed to the bus station by his Dad where we got the last 2 seats on the 11 o'clock bus. We then arrived in Madrid at 4 in the morning, waited until the train station opened, took a total of three metros to a different bus station where we caught a bus to his cousins house - hour of arrival: 8 am. I guess it gave Moises a little better idea of what my life had been like more or less during that month of travel.

From there Moises and I went with his cousin and his cousins mom to pick up my friend at the airport. (Looking back on this we were incredibly lucky that the plane arrived on time and that I made it to the airport because we didn't have any hostel for the night or, for that matter, any form of a plan B whatsoever.) Upon arrival the only thing that Ryan really wanted to do was sleep, (as always is with overseas flights) but unfortunately for him he would get very little of that in the following days. That day we went to a tour of the Real Madrid soccer stadium (absolutely massive) and showed Ryan a bit of the city center. The first night in Madrid we stayed in a hostel and went out for some tappas with a friend of mine that I had previously met in Sevilla (I somehow found same tappas street that I had gone to over 6 months before hand) and then watched some Spongebob Square Pants spanish version on the hostel TV.

The following day we had our very own choufer. Moises, not the previously mentioned Moises but the cousin of Moises whose name conveniently happens to be Moises, drove us around the city and stopped at all of the premier locations. Ryan and I also decided that we wanted to go to the Real Madrid game that night so we got to the stadium right when they started selling the tickets and stood in a line that took about 30 minutes to get to the front of. Not to bad... only it was the wrong line. The other line, the correct line, went about 2 blocks and would have taken a minimum of 2 or 3 hours (without any guaranteed tickets waiting for us). Ryan hadn't come all the way to Spain to just give in like that, however, so we resorted to the scalpers. The tickets ended up being 80 euros a piece and we sat at the top top top tippity top, but sometimes you just need to live a little I suppose. That night we stayed at the cousins house (which meant not going to sleep until 8am) and the next day we went to the bus station planning to go to Cadiz but eventually ending up in Sevilla (a story that is a little bit too complicated to describe).

We spent the rest of the week in the wonderful Spanish beach city of Cadiz (a short hour and a half drive from Sevilla) and Sevilla. Cadiz had something similar to a tornado passing through it for both the days we were there (to avoid any confusion I'm just going to go ahead and say that that was an exaggeration, though it was definitely windy) but when you go somewhere just for a beach nothing is going to stop you from doing those beachy activities such as swimming, sand castles and laying out. Upon our return to Sevilla I had to go to school/work but Ryan has two other friends from school studying here so I don't think that he felt too lonely. He left the following friday morning to go to Alicante, Spain for the weekend and I started getting ready for the next visitors - mis padres!! This is getting its own blog, however, so i'm going to end this one by thanking ryan for coming!!! although i don't think he is ever going to read this.... if you actually do read this ryan im sorry for saying that you never would, but if you don't read it I would like for everybody else to know that i thank ryan for coming and that you guys should come too! 6 weeks left....

O ya, one more thing. I think that it is worth noting that this has been the rainiest winter that Sevilla has had in over 40 years. Today is the first time that we have had two days in a row without rain since December. (that might be a minor exaggeration, but I don't think it is).

No news is good news...

Or so my mom always says... However I do apologize for the lack of recent blog updates. I really can't attribute it to anything other than being busy. And, when not busy, lazy. But now feels like an appropriate time to get back in the groove. Lets see, I guess it would be most logical if I just began from where I left off....

The new group of students arrived a few days after I posted the last update and, unfortunately, Sevilla seems to be overflowing with Americans now. CIEE, the program I am with, has 4 sections (each with about 80 students) and then there are at least 5 other similar organizations operating in the city. If you wanted to you could easily spend your life as if you were in America - talking in English, hanging out with Americans, playing football and frisbee, ect. I don't want that though, so I try my best not to do. I have a roomate now (because there weren't enough families to put only one student in every house) and we do our best to only speak spanish with each other, but sometimes the urge to fortify some experience with the lovely language of English is too much to overcome. The first two weeks of this program we had an "intensive session" - the name barely does it justice. I was in Group 1 and my class was "español de negocios". We had class every day for 3 hours and on top of that we had out of class projects/assignments/homework and a 2 page essay almost every night (we ended up writing 8 essays in the two week span). But, in spite (or maybe due to) all of that, I learned un monton. (I seem to have forgotten how to say that in English, but it sounds much better to write that than simply, 'a lot'). The class mainly focused on the economy - terms/definitions/understanding them/how the economy works - things like that. It was really interesting and the professor was great - in fact he was so good that I felt as though I had to have him again for the regular session, which led to a week of the all too common (at least for me) stressful, ever unknowing class changing routine. But I did eventually make it into his class (Comparative and Contrastive Grammer) and its by far the best class I have right now. The professor is hilarious. He likes saying "I vant to die. GivE me anthrax, i vant to die" when somebody answers a question wrong. My favorite quote by him is probably: Thine love is my sweet sweet dictatorship.

Lets seeee what else what else... I haven't done a whole lot of traveling, though I did go back to Bologna, Italy to visit the Italian friends that I met in Switzerland. It was a kind of neat feeling because as I was stepping off of the plane I thought to myself that exactly one month ago to the day I was stepping off of a plane in the same airport with absolutely no idea of what the next 25 days of my life would bring me. This time it was a little bit more comforting knowing that I was going to see friends and wouldn't have to worry about anything, but I have to admit that I felt a little bit proud of myself when I thought that, if I hadn't done what I did, a) I wouldn't be getting of the plane in Bologna and b) I definitely wouldn't be going to visit Italian friends. Anyways, back to the story, I stayed in Bologna for three nights. My friends called me the "bad luck with food guy" because it seemed that everything I managed to order (in Italy, of all places) either wasn't of high quality or simply wasn't what I was expected. I remember one conversation that went something like this:

Me: "I haven't ate in forever and I have this overwhelming craving for some authentic, meaty Italian pizza. With lots of meat. In fact that is my main requirement. Just meat. Pizza with meat. That is all I ask for"
Italian friends: "Ok well here is the carne pizza. It is meat. Only meat. That is probably what you want"
Me: "Well that sounds enticing, but here I see pepperoni. I think I will just go with that. Because we have pepperoni in America and I know what it is and I feel comfortable with it and I know that it would really be a great decision"
Italian friends: "Well thats not very meaty...."
Me: "It may not be as meaty as the carne pizza, but pepperoni should be enough. I really love pepperoni."
Italian friends: "Ok, if you say sooooo"
The point of this story is that 'pepperoni' in Italian means 'peppers'... so my pizza was full of peppers. With not one pepperoni on it. It was one of the biggest let downs of my life. I thought for sure they were joking when they handed me the peppery pizza but, well, they weren't. It was one of the bigger let downs I have ever experience. I was so excited to eat that pizza. And then all my hopes and dreams shattered with a mere glance... And that's just one example of my troubles with food in italy. Moral of the story: Next time I want some high quality, 'authentic' Italian food I will just go America.

Other than my food luck, however, Italy was a blast. We had a little dinner party with about 15 italians and myself and I felt like a superstar with all the attention they were giving me/questions they were asking me.

Aside from Italy there isn't much traveling I have done. I went to the pueblo of my Señora for a weekend and it was a lot of fun - much different from city life. We stayed in her parents house and her whole family (3 sisters) came from across Spain with their children - one big family reunion. Being here for a year has definitely helped me become more integrated with the culture and the family I live with and experiences like this I will never forget. I have also been taking a class of the 'Sevillana' - the famous dance of Sevilla and I'm starting to look more and more like a native Sevillan. I also am doing an internship in Hotel Murillo (if anybody wants to look it up on google or something) in the center of Sevilla. Its a challenging job because they put me out in front of everybody at the reception and I have to talk to the clients, check them in and out and enter all of the data into the computer. I like it though because it forces me to use my Spanish and puts me in an environment where I have no other choice other than to learn.

This week is midterm week so I have 3 exams coming up (all on Thursday) and then my friend Ryan is coming to visit me for a week from the states and my parents come the following week. And anybody else who wants to drop by is more than welcome! - thanks to all those who stayed on me about the blog or I don't know if it would have ever gotten updated. I'll be sure to do it more frequently/give more detailed information from here on out! Hasta pronto!

Sweet Sweet Sevilla (January 19th)

I'm back! I left Nice, France at 10 am yesterday and, 22 hours later, I stepped off the train in Sevilla. It took a total of 4 trains (though one doesn't really count because it just went from one train station in Barcelona to another) but I made it! Though I must admit that exhaustion doesn't fully convey how tired I feel right now. Hecho polvo would be better. Estoy hecho polvo. Its one of the first expressions I learned in Spain that people use only in the most 'tired' of circumstances. It was nice coming back, though my host family had changed my room and left all of my things kind of strewn across the bed and floor, but I think I'll be ok. As long as I can find enough space to sleep, I'll deal with all of that later. Im also going to start getting some pictures up her to beautify this blog a bit. Not yet, but soon. I kind of feel like I should write a little conclusion to my one month long European, train travel adventure - pay it the respect that it deserves...

I guess that you could say I left Sevilla one month ago hoping to come back with something new. Not a thing, but an idea. Not necessarily 'answers', per say, but something that would help me view the world in a new light. It was an adventure, to say the least. Full of its ups and its downs. The joy of meeting new people from all over the world interlaced with the solitude, and sometimes the pain, of being alone. The frustration of not being able to find a hostel complimented by the euphoria, the sense of accomplishment, when I actually would find it. The irritation of having to do it all alone, of having to figure it all out by myself, but the satisfaction that I was able to do it. I had to prove it to myself - that I could be fine, that I could make it through any type of situation, any number of obstacles - and I did.

This month forced me to open myself up to anybody from anywhere. It taught me how to make great friends in the span of 3 or 4 days. It taught me people skills, travel skills, perseverance skills. How to cope with mistakes and then how to learn from them. How to be more aware, more alert, of everything going on around me. How to feel comfortable and at ease in foreign situations. There were times when I doubted myself, asked myself if I made the right decision to stay in Europe and travel over the holidays alone. Now I know for certain, beyond a doubt, that I did make the right choice. At the very least I could have gone to Prague, Amsterdam and Germany with two of my friends from the program, but then I would only have been on my own for one week. Instead I chose to take the road less traveled. It reminds me of this little magnet my mom once gave me, I don't remember the exact words, but its something like this: Two paths in a forest and I, I take the one less traveled by. Via that less traveled path I have grown, I have come into my own. Become more of a man. More confident, more self-assured. More proud, but more humble. I have learned to embrace what is new, to live in the moment, but at the same time remember and cherish what is old. I will never have these exact experiences again, but I will hold onto them forever.

I wanted to come away with something new, and I have. New friends, new stories, new pictures, new views. Life can be broken down into two extreme conditions - living in complete solitude and living in the constant presence of other people. I think that in order to be happy, I must always do two things: 1) maintain a strong connection with nature and 2) find a balance between those two extremes of solitude and company. In solitude, within ourselves, is where we find answers and in company is where we give those answers meaning - where we give those answers life. I have learned to love and enjoy my time with others, but also to treasure those moments in which I only have my own thoughts to keep me company. This month can be defined in the people that I have met, and what I had to go through, alone, in order to meet those people. I've learned to not let myself hold onto regrets or, better said, to not let past decisions that I would later regret weigh me down. (I don't mean this in terms of conscious decisions that go against my values - that would be worth regretting - but common, everyday choices that, looking back on it, I would do differently). Zurmatt is the perfect example. I went there with one goal - to see the Matterhorn. I spent 60 euros getting there, 50 euros staying there for one night (the most expensive hostel I stayed in - and far from the best), plus money for food. And the entire time the Matterhorn was engulfed in a thick layer of clouds, from its base to its peak. I even got up at 6:30 am to hike up there to try to see more to no avail. Moral of the story, I could have let this weigh me down. I could have let it cut into my enjoyment of the proceeding days; but instead I decided to accept it and learn from it - for example, if I ever go again, I will be sure to check the weather reports first.

I've learned to not let little things get to me. A lost jacket here, a forgotten notebook there. Dirty sheets, messy bathrooms, uncomfortable beds. People like this guy that was sitting next to me on an 8 hour train ride - he had his music, hard core heavy metal, blasting and was breathing obnoxiously loud out of his nose the entire time. I've learned that the best way to cope with misfortune, at least the kind that I was prone to experiencing, is through laughter. It keeps you light of heart and mind and thinking positively. I've learned to take advantage of every opportunity - something that I think I knew beforehand but I had never really put into practice as I did on this trip - like going to the Fifa Headquarters in Zürich, though it was way out of the way, then proceeding to ask for a job and kiss the world cup trophy. At the same time, however, I've learned to not get upset when I couldn't or just simply didn't do something that I wanted to do, such as visit the so proclaimed "must-see's" of every city. I've had more opportunities to practice my patience (though I still don't think that I can fully say that I have 'learned' patience yet haha) whether it be waiting for trains to arrive for full nights in random train stations or waiting on people.

I've learned that an unanticipated bump in the road or last minute change in plans can lead to some of my favorite memories, like when you mess up a line in a painting you can work with it to create something more unique and more beautiful than you could ever imagine. I've learned that it isn't the city or the place that allows me to have a good or bad time, but it is me. It is the attitude that I have, the expression on my face, that ultimately decides whether or not I will enjoy myself. For every down there is an up, or as my cousin Connor once told me, for every rain there is a rainbow. But for every one frown there can be a hundred smiles. For every one cry a thousand laughs. Its all about attitude. Give everything you have to life and life will give everything it has to you. Accept other people into your life and they'll accept you into theirs. Be happy and happiness will find you. Live a life with no regrets and then you will live a life not worth regretting.

V for Venice (14-15)

To my surprise, after 20 minutes of getting to Venice I was standing in the hostel. Bad Gastein aside, that rarely happens to me. Venice turned out to be a great decision, too. The hostel was a lot of fun, small and sociable, free dinner and breakfast and great people. I didn't do a whole lot of touristy things aside from walk around with a map, but sometimes I think it can be more fun to see a city that way. Grant it you don't learn the history and such that you would with a tour guide, but you have to be more alert in where you are going, knowing that it is up to you to get back. I spent most of the day with two australians and a canadian. We took a boat out to an island where there was a glass blowing show which was amazing - you try to watch every little action as carefully as possible, but suddenly a ball of hot glass has transformed into a beautiful, curving vase. It happened right in front of my eyes, but really it didn't because I couldn't see it happen. It just did. Kind of like how people age. We spent the rest of day wandering the streets of Venice, taking pictures at every canal (a lot of pictures) and eating some authentic Italian pizza and crepes... even though I thought that those were French.

I woke up the next morning (Saturday) with absolutely no idea of where I was going to go. I eventually decided that I would just go book the night train from Milan to Barcelona (being that I wanted to be in Sevilla on Sunday) but, and this one hadn't happened to me yet, I was told that the train only runs on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Not only that but the reservation fee for the train was a ridiculous 70 euros (its a 'special' train, they said) - even with my rail pass. I asked for different routes but these italian train people are trained to try to swindle as much money out of you as possible, so even if there were other routes that day that didn't have reservation fees, I wasn't given any help. So i was forced to get creative. In order to avoid the fee and avoid waiting around until Monday, I eventually figured it out that I would have to spend one night in Milan, catch two trains to get to Nice, France the next day; spend a night in Nice (where I am now), catch a train to Montpellier and then to Barcelona the following day (tomorrow, which is monday) and then hop on a night train to Sevilla, arriving tuesday morning. In other words, it was and is all very confusing. But I think it speaks to the lessons that i've learned since beginning this journey a month ago. Sure, I would have been disappointed in having to pay 70 euros and wait around until monday, but I sincerely think that I would have done it. I wouldn't have known, much less even considered, doing it any other way. As my dad says wisdom is putting to use those things that you've learned along the way; so I think that I am a little bit wiser now when it comes to traveling via trains. Lets hope so at least, I mean I haven't actually got to sevilla yet.... But, if anything, taking this more confusing route has allowed me to see the beautiful coastlines of western italy and the south of france. They are definitely places that I need to go back to. Huge, towering cliffs shooting out of the baby blue ocean, sprinkled with little houses here and there amidst lush, green jungle like forestry. It makes for a beautiful and incredibly enticing scene.

Unfortunately i got to Nice as the sun was setting down, but my train to Montpellier doesnt leave until 10 tomorrow morning so that gives me some time to wander down to the sea side before I head out.

If all goes according to plan, the next update should be on a train to Sevilla!

Skiin with Norwegian (Bad Gastein, Austria 11-13)

Bad Gastein, Good skiing

This 2^nd ski excursion for me was far better than the first. To begin with, getting to the hostel didn’t require any nights spent in train stations. It did require two trains from Budapest, but the hostel was a convenient 80 meters from the train station and made for an easy find. I was in a 16 bed dorm so I was a little worried that it could prove challenging to meet people (I guess it kind of goes against logic, but I’ve found that when there are less people it is usually easier to meet somebody) but I met some norwegians almost as soon as I got there. There were 13 of them in a 4 month program in which they travel the world skiing and going through avalanche courses, and they were in Bad Gastein for 1 week. The next day I went skiing with them and I was very lucky that I did. To the tourist (which in this case was me – they were too, but had already been skiing there for 4 days) it didn’t look like there was much to the mountain. It was very steep, but narrow as well and from the gondola one could only see two actual runs on the entire face of the mountain. Luckily, these guys knew the secret stashes and we found some great fields of fresh, untouched powder. Not quite as deep as some of the stuff in Aspen, but fluffy, soft and b-e-a-utiful. I did have one consistent problem, however. Here were these hard core norwegians with the most up to date equipment – thick powder ski’s, revolutionary boots, the latest and greatest bindings, avalanche beacons, ect – and all I had were the most basic 26 euro rental ski’s.  The ‘basic’ skies had a deal with the hostel, which is why I was able to get them so cheaply for two days, if I had gone up to the ‘pro’ ski the price would have more than doubled.

Anyways, it wasn’t a huge deal until my ski’s started popping off like fire crackers on the 4^th of July. It took almost nothing, a tiny pump, thick powder, too much pressure, too much speed (meaning about 3 miles an hour) and off they would fly. Sometimes I would be going at a normal pace on a groomed run then I would see a ski careening down the mountain in front of me, look down, and notice that, “hey, I only have one ski on”. That first day I lost my ski’s a total of  20 times. No joke. And, of those 20, there was only one occasion that I can remember when they actually should have come off.

I have to admit that it was funny though and made for good conversation on the lifts and after skiing. Aside from the fact that I spent half of the day with no ski’s on, the norwegians were impressed with my skiing. They laughed at it, calling it “old school” – legs together, lots of tight turns; I have my mom and Uncle Tom to thank for that – but they couldn’t deny being a bit impressed. The second day of skiing was a bit better in terms of the losing the skies problem because I tightened the bindings as much as possible. All in all, however, it was too full days of skiing on stuff other than ice – the makings of any successful ski trip.

Bad Gastein is a small town that makes its money off of the tourist industry. I was there for three nights and didn’t meet so much as one Austrian. Everybody - the workers, the skiers - everybody was either Norwegian, Swedish or Danish; which I didn’t mind because they were all friendly and fluent in English. (Not only do they start learning it from a young age, but all of the American movies/tv shows that they watch have subtitles, meaning they are not dubbed. This is a stark contrast to countries like Spain in which all of the movies are dubbed over and the people are terrible at English). All of these Norwegians and Sweds and Danish people didn’t actually live there per say but were on vacation or renting out an apartment for the winter months, working the nights and skiing during the days.

It is nearing the end of my vacation! The plan is to be back in Sevilla by Sunday the 17^th. I think I technically have until Tuesday, but I am running out of things to do/the desire to do them. I didn’t decide until this very morning, but I am currently headed towards Venice. As of now I will only be there for one night, (after which I will start the long journey back to Spain, maybe with a night in France) but if I like the city and the hostel I will stay there for two and then head straight back to Spain.

I think that’s about it for now! I did have another glitch in my ever entertaining travels, but nothing too serious. My first train was about an hour late in arriving and when it eventually came I didn’t even see it until it was leaving. There were only two tracks, but a huge train had arrived on the track closest to me (track number one) and my train was supposed to come on track number one so I went to take a quick bathroom break, assuming that I still had some time. However, when I got out and the big train pulled out, and loe and behold there was my train on the other side (track 2) pulling out of the station as well. Even if I had seen it come in I don’t know how I would have gotten over there, because there was no underground passage way and the other train was so long that it would have taken me 5 minutes to walk around. Anyways, that forced me to wait another hour and a half and then catch a bus to Venice from the connecting station (because I missed the train). But I’m on the bus now! Should be in Venice in an hour and at my hostel in an hour and a half…. Keep your fingers crossed! Even though nobody will actually read this until I’m at my hostel being that I don’t have an internet connection….

Austria/Budapest (6/11)

So lets see, I finished writing my last blog update on a train headed for Salzburg, Austria. Looking back, I see that I wrote that I would be there by 11 that night… I was almost 12 hours off – I finally arrived at 9 the following morning. To begin with, the fast, efficient, reliable, world class Swiss train system did not live up to its billing. There were times when we would stay stopped at train stations for 10 or 15 minutes with nobody boarding or leaving. On the monitors in the aisles they tell you the planned travel time and the actual travel time - it was torturous to say the least; sitting there, not moving, watching our actual arrival time fall further and further behind. I was about 25 minutes late to Salzburg so I missed my connecting train. I asked the information desk for help and they directed me to another train that I could take, only I would have to do another transfer. Heading the said advice, I took that train and upon exiting I asked another worker for directions to Kitsubhel. He pointed me to a train that was about to leave so, without any time to look at the signs for myself, I hopped on it. By the time the train arrived at its final destination we still hadn’t passed the stop that I needed. I got off of the train (by this time it was about 11) and looked for further connections. Unfortunately no trains were running again until 5 am. So here I was, in the middle of Austria, in some tiny, random, tucked away train station in the Alps amidst a snow storm for the ages. I found a tiny room in the tiny station and decided that it would have to serve as my bed room for the night.  The room was warm and there were a couple of tin bins that I could curl up on, but it was also where the coffee machine was and, therefore, was full of workers coming in and out of it at all hours of the night. Luckily they didn’t say anything to me, or at least not anything that I understood, so I was able to find a couple of hours of rest. I got up at 5:45 to catch the 6am train that I needed, but (of course) that train was canceled, thus forcing me to wait for the 6:45 train. It was only about a 30-minute ride to St. Johann in Tirol (kitsbuhel), but from there I had to catch a bus to get to my hostel/the mountain. The bus was late in arriving and I was about 5 minutes from getting on the train and going back to Spain when it finally pulled up. The ride to Ellmau (the town where my hostel was) took about 25 minutes and, as if it wasn’t enough, the hostel itself was not easy to find. (It was also a confusing experience because of the number of names this place has – it is technically called “Kitsbuhel” ski area, but it is made up of about 6 other towns all with their own train stations or stations close by. My hostel was located in a town called Ellmau and St. Johann in Tirol was the closest station to the town).

So, quite the experience to say the least! Haha …. Fortunately I was rewarded by two full days of skiing. I got there early in the morning, so I was still able to ski most of the first day and the second day all I had on my agenda was to ski – which I did. The hostel was a family run ordeal and was brand new. The family didn’t actually live there, but they would come by every now and then to check on things. There was also nobody else in the hostel besides me (probably due to its newness) so I had it all to myself for two nights – which was relaxing, but a bit lonely. The skiing itself wasn’t too much to talk about (but I hear that its been like that everywhere this winter). The mountain was huge – the resort is really made up of about 4 or 5 different mountains all connected via gondolas - but every run was crowded and icy. I enjoyed myself though, it had been a while since I skied and, snow or ice, I wasn’t going to complain.

After Ellmau I went to Budapest, Hungary. It was another long day of travel, but that was simply due to the length of the train rides themselves and not any other mishaps.  I was supposed to meet my friend at the hostel in Budapest but we randomly ran into each other at the train station and from there we combined our money and went the easy route of taking a taxi to the hostel. Budapest was a pretty neat city. It was rainy and cloudy both days we were there so we never got any really spectacular, awe inspiring views, but it’s a very historical city and it was nice to be with one of my friends for a few days. The best part about it was, without a doubt, a) the fact that
we had some purchasing power for the first time since Morocco and b) it had Mexican food! (the first I have had since I left the States) and, c) the fact that our hostel had football on the tv so we were able to watch a couple of the playoff games. We went to some famous thermal baths that were a lot like the Hot Springs in Glenwood Springs, only this one had a bunch of old men playing games of chess. Now its off to Bad Gastein (another ski resort in Austria, not far from the one I had just been at) for 3 nights!