Madrid and Segovia!

Arrive in Madrid via train, feeling good. Life is good. I go to the McDonald's across from the station, where I would meet up with Maria, a girl I had met the week before and planned on staying with in Madrid.  So I waited.  And waited, and paced.. and was glared at by the workers there because I had not bought anything.  Three hours later, I decided to call her.. it was 9pm and I was feeling.. well, like I was homeless in Madrid in the winter (it is cold in Madrid, there was ice on the streets and they actually just had a blizzard today).  Marie picks up and apologizes, but tells me that she is in Paris.  Umm.. WHAT.  

So the hostel hunt begins.  I find one located in the center of town for just 16 euros (24 dollars), so I take it.  I go to the my room, a colorful room filled with 5 beds.  I am the only person in this room, which I thought was nice.  So I start relaxing and getting ready for bed.  Unfortunately, the hostel does not provide blankets.  So I sleep in all of the clothing that I packed, which consisted of: a long sleeve shirt, a t-shirt, a sweat shirt, a pair of spandex pants, and a pair of jeans.  I wore on scarf around my neck, and tried to use the other as a blanket.  MADRID IS COLD.  The drafty old hostel didn't help.  I quickly realized that the double french doors leading to the balcony was not romantic, but rather my nemesis.  I literally could feel the wind pushing cold air through the thin glass doors and into the room.  Oh well.  The next day I mentioned this to the owner and he said that "one person's worth of heat" was in that room.. and if there were 5 people in there, he could afford to heat it.  Great.

Madrid was wonderful!  The Palacio Real, the Cathedral, the monasteries, parks, plazas, EVERYTHING was just amazing.  I walked and walked and walked.  I got to see all of the buildings and monuments and actually understand what it was all about because of the classes I have taken!  I saw Carlos III on his horse with a plaque that said 

"The Reformist" and I was like.. yep.. he was one of the great Spanish reformists of the 18th century in Spain.. him and the rest of his Bourbon family, they did good things for Spain!  

<-Cathedral in Madrid

My favorite stop in Madrid was el Museo de Prado.  This is a HUGE museum that housed over 70 rooms with artwork.  I weaved in and out from room to room trying to see everything.  At some point, I realized that I would never see all that I wanted to see or do all that I wanted to do.  I started to cry! In the middle of the Prado, I just started crying!  A man asked me what was wrong and I responded "Hay tantas cosas para ver aquí, y no solamente aquí, pero en todo del mundo, y nunca podería ver toda" (there are so many things to see here, and not only here, but in all of the world and I never could be able to see it all).  He laughed, then smiled and told me that's life, but we do what we can.  I appreciated his kindness during my absolutely absurd state!  This was the greatest art museum I have been to in my life!  It was just phenomenal!  I got to see rooms full of Goya, after learning about him in class and his ridiculous desire to conquer Portugal and divid it among England, France, and Goya.  His work was very dark and disturbing.  While going through the Prado, it occurred to me that the art world is lacking a complete portrayal of a woman.  I saw painting after painting of agreeable, well-behaved women without even the slightest hint of a wild, adventurous side.

Hostel disaster number two: jerk from the day before tells me they don't have a bed to spare... but waits until 8pm to tell me this.  Thus begins hostel hunt number two.  I found an agreeable hostel.  I stayed in a room with 13 other people, all paired up in bunk beds.  My bunk bed buddy was Austria man in his 30s who snored heavily all night.  Hostel number two provided blankets, but it was 19 euros instead of 16.  No computers to use though.  That is alright with me!  Stay there and leave early the next day for Segovia.

I love love loved Segovia!  It was the essence of a picturesque ancient European city!  It's windy cobblestone roads, old city walls, gothic cathedral and roman palace all with a backdrop of beautiful snow covered mountains stole my heart.  It seriously was the most romantic little place I have ever been.  I went to the Cathedral where Isabella was given the crown of Castile, the Palace where Ferdinand and Isabel first met, I saw the bedroom where she slept.  It was like all of the history that I have learned for the past four months was real.  It had been an story Professor Clermont told, until I went and SAW it! 

<-Aqueducts of Segovia

Hostel disaster number 3: no bathroom access. 

A walk to the train turned out to be quite the adventure too.  I had out my little Spain travel guide with a little map.  An arrow pointed down a main street and off the map saying "to AVE Station".  The AVE station is where the fast trains go from.. meaning I could use my Eurail pass and save a couple of euros.  So I headed out with my pack.  And walked. And walked.  And it was beautiful: there were rolling fields and pastures, little ancient rock structures scattered about, and snow covered mountains.  An hour passed, no train station in sight and the snowy mountains were much closer.  I asked someone and he said "at the second traffic circle, take a left".  I got to the second traffic circle, and the left was a dirt road into a field.  So I asked someone else, who told me "at the second traffic circle, take a left".  I got to the second traffic circle, but a left just didn't seem right, so I continued on.  I found a gas station and asked in there, they said two more intersections and then take a  left.  At this point I was I knew on thing for sure: at some point, there would be a traffic circle and the station would be on the left.  A red car passing honked at me and I waved and smiled.  I really was in a good mood regardless of the whole situation (it must have been the fresh mountain air).  The red car was headed in the opposite direction as me.. towards a traffic circle.  And then I heard the honk again, he had turned around!  Okay, I know this is dangerous.. but I had been hiking for three hours with no train in sight!  He asked where I was going and I said the AVE station and he said it was close.  He said he has seen people all his life try to walk to the AVE station from Segovia and that I had made it farther than anyone he had ever seen.  So he drove me about half a mile down the road, took a LEFT at the traffic circle, and wished me well on my travels. Success!  Caught the last train out of Segovia to Madrid, took a local train to the Atocha station in Madrid, caught my  train back to Barcelona and arrived home for dinner!

Tea for Brides to Be

So I periodically get this email from Messiah.. announcing that I am invited to a Tea for Brides  to Be... well actually not me, but people just like me who just happen to be in love... and someone happens to love them back... and happened to buy them a ring, which is now worn proudly around their finger.  Congrats brides to be!!  I hope you really enjoy the tea and the chit chat with the nurse about the wedding night.

Every time that I receive this email, I want to just show up, ringless, a little greasy and in sweatpants.  I wonder what would happen.  I think it would be funny, but I am pretty sure I would offend a ton of people, so I never have.  Well my RSVP this time would be: "Really sorry I won't make it, I'll be in Spain.. maybe next time".  If there is another one in the Spring, I might not be able to resist.. I might just attend.  If I do, I will let you all know how it goes and any good tid bits that I have learned.

One of the many joys of attending a Christian college: the raise to the wedding chapel.

Take Me As I Am

Earlier in the semester, Caitlin and I stopped in a really neat CD store on a little alley headed towards our University.  We occasionally would stop there and pick out a CD, or ask them what was CD was playing, because they always had great taste in music.  Once we stumbled upon an album titled “Still Night, Still Light” by Au Revoir Simone.  I have no recollection of what about it stuck out to us, but we wrote it down one a little scrap of paper, which was inevitably lost, and then found again at some point.  This album eventually made its way onto my iTunes and has since then been rising on my “Most Played” playlist, or in particular, the song “Take Me As I Am”.  It is a short song, a simple song, just hitting 2 minutes and 23 seconds.  The message is pure, plain, and und unpolluted.  Some of the lyrics are:

“Do you know when you were already born

Do you know this is the way it would be

Do you know that when you were already born

You were already you

and I already me

So take me as I am

Take me as I am

I know,

it’s easier said than done”

I think I like it because sometimes I feel like I am just too much.  I am too wild, too spastic, too intense, or maybe too flighty.  I like to dance and look like a fool.  I like to sing along with songs and I usually laugh longer and harder than most.  Sometimes I try to train myself to be better behaved.  Or try to “do” better.  Guess what... I am done trying to do better, done trying to behave.  I was born full of life, with a spirit of adventure, a spirit of mischief (disclaimer: harmless mischief).  My grandma Hazel always used to say that I had a mischievous twinkle in my eye, even as a baby.  Well folks, that twinkle isn’t going anywhere.  It IS me!  I am a world shaker (Cool Hand Luke reference)!  I will not be tamed.

And whoever you are... yeah you, that person who doesn’t take me as I am, that person looking at me on the metro when I unrestrainedly bob my head to the music blaring in my headphones, or that boy who was just waiting for me to settle down, well you will have to wait a long time, because I am not going to change!  Deal with it!

I’m saying this only under the parameters that I am willing to take you as you are.  Who ever you are, I appreciate you.  I appreciate your spirit, which is God given and so inherently and intrinsically connected to who you are.  I appreciate your story, I want to know your story, to respect you by listening to your story.  I want to know who you are, who you truly are.  It is a shame we are both behaving and not breaking social norms, but rather riding a metro in silence.  I will  never know you, but I accept you.

**For clarity sake, I am not talking about not improving yourself, because I am always seeking to make progress and better myself through reading, education, experiences, discipline, etc., but rather referring to that which doesn’t change about us, the core of who we are, the good things that make us unique.  I don’t want to change those things about myself.

I'm in Spain.. really close to France.. the birthplace of French toast... right?

One of my FAVORITE breakfast foods is french toast.  It is super rico.  My uncle David makes the best french toast ever.  It actually is not even a contest.  It is one of my favorite foods that he makes, and he is an amazing cook, so that is saying a lot.  Breakfasts in Spain have been.. well kind of lacking to say the least.  I usually get a bland cupcake-esque "breakfast" or something of a sort.  I have missed the eggs, the pancakes, or maybe just having the choice to start my morning with the food of my choice.  ANYWAYS..

After about five days without olive oil in my little Spanish apartment (note: I am not responsible for groceries, I have paid the woman I live with for food already..) we finally got some olive oil!  For those of you who don't know, it is practically a sin to be without olive oil in Europe.  In fact, Caitlin told her host mom that I didn't have olive oil for three days and she was like "no olive oil! no eggs! poor girl!"... she just figured that olive oil, like eggs is essential and that we must not have either.  Caitlin likened my predicament to being a baker without flour.  Anyways, we got olive oil back in the house and my nerves were definitely calmed.  

Last night I arrived home late and missed dinner, but my ration of bread was sitting out becoming hard as a rock, which Fina rightly noted.  I was like "Don't worry, I'll eat it tomorrow" and she said "you will break a tooth on that bread".  I just smiled and headed into my room, knowing that Fina would be gone alllll day today and I could stay in my pjs and not make my bed until I felt like it. (Don't worry, all of these random thoughts are about to join together...)

This morning I woke at approximately 7:30, however, laid in bed until 7:55 when I heard the door close and the tinkering of the locks in the front door.  Fina has left the building (little fist pump).  I hop out of bed and into the living room without making my bed or putting slippers on (slipper are essential in Spanish homes).  I go into the kitchen and look at the bread from the night before, about a 1/4 of a baguette.  I inspect it... hitting it a couple of times against the counter and of course, it is as hard as a rock.  Ah ha!  French toast time.  Stale bread= perfect french toast.  I take out a knife and begin to saw this baguette into slices.  "Saw dust" and chips are flying all over the place.  Keep in mind, Fina does not exactly like me to cook.  In fact, she has never let me.  I think she thinks I am just incapable of everything.  I get out a pan and begin heating up some blessed olive oil, just oh so thankful for its return into the household.  I grab an egg from the refrigerator and realize we are out of milk, go figure.  Press on!  I crack an egg... beat it up really good.  Upon opening the spice cabinet I realize that this may be a little trickier without the right supplies.  I usually like to make french toast with vanilla, cinnamon (sometimes nutmeg), a little maple syrup, sugar, milk, and eggs.  Here is what I managed to find: cinnamon (unopened, but not for long), brown sugar, white sugar, and honey.  Well close enough right?  So I mix up my concoction and begin soaking the break in it.  Perfect timing, the oil is ready.  Cooked those bad boys up... sprinkled a little sugar on top for good measure and walaaaa! Wonderful breakfast and a little taste of home.  I then opened the kitchen window, turned on the cooking fan and cleaned every single utensil, pan, bowl and plate the I used.  The sweet smell of french toast still linger, but oh well!

My morning continued to be wonderful far beyond my hearty breakfast.  I stayed in my pjs and unwashed.  I brought my laptop into the living room and sat in FINA'S CHAIR (a greenish recliner that she spends all of her time in watching law and order or awful Spanish game shows in) watching first flipper and then Will and Grace in Spanish while writing my Spanish Civil War term paper.  Don't worry mom, I DID get a lot of my paper done.  I think the Spanish TV shows helped get my Spanish thoughts flowing or something.

It is only noon and my day has already shaped up to be a great success.  Oh, also, I am going to a lunch party with some people from the Barcelona International Cooking Club.  It should be delicious, however, I am concerned about the host... from his posts on couchsurfing.com he seems like he might be a little stuck up.  Veremos!

The Blues Brothers

One of my mom's favorite movies is "The Blues Brothers".  It's right up there with "Planes, Trains and Automobiles".  What can I say, my mom has really great taste... although I might only be saying that because those are two movies that I really enjoy as well.

What do Spain and the Blues Brothers have in common?  Absolutely nothing, except that last night a Spanish dubbed version happened to be on TV.  Last night Fina and her grandson entered our apartment at approximately 10:27pm.  I was a little shocked because Fina usually comes home to feed me around 8:30pm and the few times that I have made my own dinner she wasn't very pleased.  So I waited patiently for two hours for dinner, which didn't bother me one bit because I was falling in love with Spanish history, aka writing my Spanish Civil War paper (I really love Spanish History, that was not sarcasm).

So Fina cooked me up an egg and I chatted with her grandson, Eric.  I love Eric, we have great conversations, he is so great.  Okay, he is also ten, but that is beside the point.  I think he might be my favorite Spanish person.  Anyways!  We talked about the cagatio (I will do a post later more extensively about this.. it deserves its own post).  But in short, the cagatio is a ridiculous log that generally looks kind of like this:

So Eric cannot believe that Americans don't have cagatios for Christmas.  Cagatios are logs that they "feed" every day before Christmas and then on Christmas the fam. yells "CAGA! CAGA! CAGA!" which means "POOP! POOP! POOP!" And then the parents make presents come out!

Anyways.  None of that is the point.  The point is that after our conversation about the pooping log, we all watched the Blues Brothers.  Fina started complaining, but saying she didn't like the actor.  We ignored it.  Oh my gosh!  So much fun.  I was happy that the dubbing didn't ruin the humor.  When songs came on, they asked me to translate them.  I usually gave a rough, but accurate description of what the song was about.  By the end of it, all three of us had fallen asleep on the couch.  I headed to bed and right before falling asleep I thought, "yes, today was a good night indeed".

Yes, I am a Mainer

So I now realize that Mindy was right.  Mindy is always right.  When we said “goodbye” in the Jones’s driveway she told me, with the face of someone who knew all too well, that Spain would be the highest of highs and the lowest of lows.  What she didn’t tell me was that the first two months would be filled with the highest of highs, and the second two months would be chocked full of the lowest lows.  The first two months were great.  Everything was new and fresh. Bakeries on every street corner seemed like the cutest things ever and the lingering aroma of fruit stores was intoxicating.  I walked around Barcelona with wide-eyed wonder as I explored a new city.  Every day I noticed something new: a bright-colored door, a little shop, or a park that I swear could not have been there the day before; Every day I feel in love with Barcelona all over again.

What happened in November!?  What was the great change that turned my young love into a dull disinterest in the city?  Absolutely nothing in Barcelona changed.  Nothing at all.  It was the same as always.  The leaves didn’t change, the weather didn’t change much, the stores, the interesting doors, everything was the same, it was all still there.  And that seemed to be the problem: Barcelona had become common to me.

There can be something so wonderful about that which is known, that which is common, like the pattern of the changing seasons, the smell of your home, the early morning omelets with your dad on Saturdays before yard work begins, or the one general store in town which has not changed one bit since you were eight years old.  The problem with something common or routine is when some place other than home becomes common.  It is the one catch: the monotonous routine of the common without all of the comforts of home.  Anyone can travel anywhere for a week or two and be happy, I am convinced, but try some months and the heart will feel a homeward tug.  Try making a foreign land common.

I never knew I was a Mainer until I lived in Spain.  I knew I liked Maine; I knew I liked my house, my family and my friends, but I didn’t really know that I loved them.  I do now.  Until recently I hated the awkwardness of saying “I love you” to anyone or the clumsy “goodbye” hugs that I gave my mom and dad in late August at the airport as we parted ways.  I knew my brother Jacob was one of the coolest kids I know, but I did not realized how much I appreciated him, how much I was affected just by living under the same roof as him.

And then there’s my house, my little white cape and red barn in Cumberland, Maine, on Orchard Road.  There has never, and will not ever exist a house with more character.  From the creaky floorboards, secret nooks, horse-hair plaster walls and doors that never stay shut to the two steps that separate the kitchen and family room that Jacob trips over once a week, this place is full of personality.  I love this place.  Maybe I will buy it from my parents one day.  I could keep up dad’s and my vegetable garden in the back.  Maybe I could have a couple of kids to do yard work and wood stacking.  Yeah, I think this is the life I want: a nice, simple life, full of hard work, common places and faces, and love.  I think I was made to live on a little farmhouse in Cumberland, Maine, to be resilient through the winters of snow and ice, to shovel and stack wood endlessly, but to also enjoy the beauty of Maine, to pick apples and berries, to bake really great pies, and to enjoy the Cumberland Fair far more than I ought to.

Yes, I am a Mainer.

I am a bad blogger.. sorry

Okay that last blog was a little extreme, especially considering I haven't posted in about months.. and even before that my bloggings were rare. A lot has happened, so I will try to touch on a couple of the big ones:

Extremely Sick
Never get sick in another country. It is just miserable and expensive.

Chocolate Fondue Party
I'm on an international cooking club in Barcelona on couchsurfing.com. I've gone to a couple of events, but my two favorites were hosted by Ingmar, a German, double-iron man competitor. One was a chocolate fondue party with wonderful fruit and snacks. The next was a raclette party which consists of this.. machine which has a grill top like area to cook meat and eggs and such, and then this little area below where each person has their own personal triangular frying pan where they can mix up creative meals with eggs, veggies, meats, and cheese! We even did a chocolate pineapple one! It was just wonderful! I love food and good company!

Mushroom Hunting Mountain Excursion
Caitlin, my partner in crime, has an intercambio (language exchange friend) who is just great! She took us to a mountain for a hike and to look for mushrooms!  Don't worry, she is like a mushroom expert so it wasn't dangerous and we didn't eat anything poisonous.  She wrote a book for the government on indigenous plants native to Cataluña.  Anyways.  We found a couple of good mushrooms, but TONS of chestnuts.  Oh man, I didn't come home with many because I was just eating to my hearts delight.  Barcelona knows what is up about the whole chestnuts and sweet potato being the food of Fall (and I hope winter too)! 

Traditional Thanksgiving Dinner

My study abroad program organized a wonderful Thanksgiving dinner at a nice restaurant The meal started with typical Spanish "tapas" (appetizers) like bread with tomato and olive oil, artichokes, salads, etc.  Next came... mashed potatoes, gravy, and turkey!  Ah!  I was so happy.  The dessert was an "apple pie".. well actually an apple tart like thing.. pies don't really happen in Spain.  Well, I was super happy and pleased to be in good company for Thanksgiving although nothing beats the holidays at home and with family.  Not going to lie, the holidays are killing my morale here!  Honestly, the Spanish did a great job on their Spanish rendition of Thanksgiving.  Hats off to you!

Planning My Train Trip

I have continued to plan my trip for January.  I am planning on going to: Madrid, Segovia Montpellier, Paris, London, Brussels, Zurich (or Bern, not sure yet), Florence, Rome, Venice, Munich, Vienna, Prague, Frankfurt, back to Barcelona and the HOME.  It should be great. I am sure I will be exhausted and dirty by the end of it. 

School Is Killing Me

School is really hard. Tons of work, but it is almost over.  Speaking of which, back to studying.

Adiós!