Me duele el culo

The sum of my past month here in spain, if not defined well enough by the lack of a post in 29 days, was well put by my friend John. “April, I feel like every time I see you, you are limping.” For about 95% of the time, that has been true. I even thought about getting a massage, but I feel like I’m at the point where a massage even sounds a little painful (I might be able to make an exception for an Arabic bath). Anyways, here is a quick update as to what has been going on in my life recently. I have officially now received 3 emails asking if I was still alive, so I decided that I probably should prove my existence via blog once again.

Week 1: Granada and the Sierra Nevada

This weekend excursion was planned by our program directors, i.e., it was the first and only trip I have taken where we stayed in a hotel. And not even any hotel; there was a spa and bath area on the first floor, and breakfast and dinner every day on the top floor. Still being on college student survival mode (FREE FOOD!!?!?!) I stuffed myself at every meal, and would even bring an empty purse to breakfast to stock up on pre-packaged chocolate pastries for the rest of my life. Although the hotel was probably the biggest hit of the weekend, it was also kind of cool to see the Islamic town of Granada, the millions of hookah and tea bars, the tombs of Ferdinand and Isabella, and of course the Alhambra.

On Monday, I stayed and went snowboarding in the Sierra Nevada. I have never been snowboarding in my life, so why not start with a picturesque view of the entire Spanish countryside. Although this sounds very fairytail-esq, I assure you it was quite the opposite. First of all, I spent a good 80% of the day on the bunny hill, surrounded by 8 year olds learning how to ski. I fell at least every 10 feet, and I think I spent more time in the process of standing up than I actually spent standing up. My instructor, my friend David, was of course an expert snowboarder who could probably be doing flips off of 100 ft jumps, but instead was helping me strap on my board for the 34^th time. After about 4 hours of training on a hill that I could climb up, and a lunch of paella and red wine on the mountainside, David took me to tackle my first real hill. I thought we would take baby steps, but I realized I was wrong when I saw us heading toward the blue diamond cliff with the bright orange caution tape all around it (you know, the stuff that everyone has skied into at least once in their life). Everything I had learned on the bunny slope went out the window, this was the real deal and I had no idea what I was doing. David was convinced that my problem was that I just wasn’t in the right frame of mind. Yes, let’s blame this on psychology. He actually reminded me a lot of Kunu from “Forgetting Sarah Marshall”: “Ok, when we’re out there I want you to ignore your instincts. Don’t do anything. The less you do the more you do. Remember, don’t do anything, nothing.” Yea, ok, the whole feel the board and go where the board takes you b.s. didn’t really work for me. I’m sorry, but being strapped to a board on the side of a snowy mountain is not exactly a natural instinct. I’ve got the bruises to prove it.

Unable to walk week one.

Week 2: Barcelona

Best Barcelona decision: Coach Surfing. We stayed with 2 guys from Argentina and 2 girls from England in a flat in the center of the city with no covers, but great food. I also quickly learned that Argentinean Spanish is actually an entirely different language altogether, so I was able to perfect my blank-stare response.

Worst Barcelona decision: Not buying a metro pass. Kathryn and I, the athletes that we are, decided to conquer Barcelona by foot, even after numerous people had suggested the 10 ride pass. Little did we know that every important site in Barcelona would be located on a hill in some distant corner of the city (usually the opposite corner from where we originated). We walked 34 kilometres in just over 2 days. Ouch.

Unable to walk week two.

Week 3: Lisbon

The main attraction of this weekend was to run the biggest half marathon in the world. Success. A few minor setbacks included running 2.5 miles over a bridge jam packed with people, getting lost for 15 minutes searching for the bathroom (definitely should have learned the word for bathroom in Portuguese), and just being generally out of shape. Nevertheless, over 2 hours of pain equaled one of my favorite experiences thus far in Europe.

Unable to walk week three.

Week 4: Morocco

I will give the full update in the following post. I rode a camel for a total of 5 hours through the desert and climbed a giant sand mountain. Enough said.

Unable to walk week four.

So you know it is bad when you realize that you have set your alarm seven different times in one day: all to wake up at various times from various naps. Last night, I decided to take a nap before meeting up with my friends and I ended up waking up this morning at 11. I guess that is the reaction my American body gets from a Spanish schedule. My roommate’s philosophy is that we can sleep when we die. I guess I agreed until the point when my feet started throbbing, I ran out of the cover-up I used for the circles under my eyes and I found myself having daydreams about my bed. (I can see the look on my Dad’s face right about now, but don’t worry Dad, I can sleep when I die.)

In the theme of this post, last weekend, we went to the third largest carnival in the world, in Cadiz, Spain. The carnival lasted all day and all night, and the entire time we were there, I literally couldn’t move. To get places, we would all hold hands, and enter the stream. I barely had to take a step as I was simply jostled through the crowd. And if that wasn’t fun enough, you could throw out any idea of going to the bathroom. We were informed on the bus that we should be prepared to pee on the street and the guide proceeded to demonstrate what she named the “circle pee”. I decided that I would rather die of a bladder infection than partake in the circle pee, so the burger king became our central location of the night. During every push to the king, we would undoubtedly meet a new group (or six) of people dressed up. I think my favorite group was the three musketeers, first of all because they legitimately looked like they walked out of the sixteenth century and second of all because one gave me his sword.

Yesterday, we took a trip to Jerez de la Frontera, a small town in Andalucia known to be the birth place of the famous “Tio Pepe” sherry. Therefore, first stop, the “Tio Pepe” bodega! After the tour there was free sherry for all. I thought it tasted like gasoline, but everyone else seemed to like it. A family sitting at the table next to us even shared the sherry with their three year old daughter. In fact, I saw her down that sherry like a cup of apple juice. I decided instead, like any good college student, to take advantage of the free potato chips that came with my untouched sherry. After being hissed at (I guess he thought I couldn’t speak Spanish) I managed to obtain 4 bowls of potato chips for our table. Pshh…uncultured Americans. While licking the salt off my fingers, I glanced over once more and saw the 3 year old Spanish girl down her second glass.

Well, I must go and practice my Spanish-ness because I am apparently not up to par.

Every single girl's dream Valentine's Day

I woke up before the sunrise to get ready for a beautiful day in Gibraltar. I am doing an internship with a student travel agency, so in turn for my helping out in organizing and managing the trip, I was going to get to go for free. I was given a t-shirt (definitely made for a five year old) and one task: make sure people have their passports. I performed my duties to the max: I wore my “Discover Sevilla” belly shirt and attacked people as they came towards the bus. After verbally accosting the last little girl as she ran for the bus, one of the program directors pulled me aside. In one of those really low, kind of nervous voices he was like, “Well, um, you see, um, there were actually two, um people, um, that came today, um, that weren’t on the list so, um, there isn’t really space for, um, well, um, you.” I gave him the blank stare. Not the confused blank stare, but more like the, I am going to try and choke back some tears right now blank stare. He did add a nice touch by saying, “Well at least now you can enjoy a good breakfast!”

I walked away, biting my lip and being brave as I went to enjoy a good breakfast. And let me tell you how enjoyable it was sitting alone on the street curb drinking a Venti mocha frappaccino and stuffing my face with a chocolate doughnut. I finally felt that it was o.k. to let the waterworks go and I think I had good reason: Valentine’s day, single, left behind, literally absolutely alone in Sevilla. Luckily for me, the public street cleaning crew of Sevilla is highly trained in handling these types of situations (and luckily they happen to be the only people awake in Spain at 8:30 on a Saturday morning). As I sat there on that street curb, I saw five giant yellow blobs coming towards me. They sat down next to me and started asking me about my day. I think I was able to make out the words, “pobrecita, sola en el dia de Valentine”. His name was Manuel and he gives the best hugs of anyone I know in Sevilla.

After this, I decided to turn my day around. I searched through my phone, all 20 contacts, and finally called up the only person I knew who would be awake at this deathly hour. David had a run earlier that morning. When I got him on the phone, I said, “David, how would you feel about going to Gibraltar today?” He was at my house to pick me up 30 minutes later and we headed to Gibraltar.

It turned out to be one of the best Valentine’s days of my life. Half of the time, I had no idea what was happening or where we were going, I just kind of went with the flow. David knew someone in every town in Spain, so we stopped to visit with everyone. I think that is a big difference between Spain and the U.S., it is perfectly normal just to drop by people’s houses unexpectedly, and even more normal to end up passing the entire afternoon with that person drinking a beer, eating tapas, and going to a kazoo concert. We ended up getting to Gibraltar around 5:30. As we drove up the projecting rock, I was enthralled with the views and made David stop every 5 seconds to take a picture. This was until I saw a sign informing us that the tunnels at the top of the mountain close at 5:45. David put the petal to the metal and we flew up the steepest, windiest one way road I have ever seen. I continued to snap pictures out the car window; unfortunately they were just a little blurrier. We parked and searched around for the entrance to the tunnels. With my luck, a fellow tourist pointed us to the entrance, 400 meters farther up the hill. This is where the marathon training started as we dashed up the hill towards the open doors. As we were about to cross the finish line, I heard the screeching of the giant wooden doors and then they slammed in my face. I began to bang on the doors with all my might (hey, I am a dedicated tourist). The guard poked his head out from the side door to tell me that they were closed (really? That wasn’t obvious?) but I pleaded with him in a sort of high pitched squeaky girl voice, “But I travel all day and just wanna see tunnel and valentine and tunnel and monkey but run and please fast mr. its valentine all I want.” He let us in.

After watching the sunset over the straight of Gibraltar, I decided that no matter how disappointed I had been earlier that morning this was definitely better than any guided tour I could have gotten (unfortunately I forgot to take off my miniature t-shirt).

When life gives you lemons, make lemonade. Or as they say in Sevilla, when life gives you oranges, MAKE A BLUE MOON!

"The Senora" A three part series. Single elimination

Episode 1

INNNNCAAAA!!! We thought about a variety of names to call her, i.e. the Incmaester, the Incster, Incerator. But I think the high pitched squeal of INNNNCAAAA is really the only way to describe her. We escaped from the prison cell two Fridays ago. We definitely did it refugee style: packing at 4am in silence, tiptoeing around the house to find our things, leaving early in the morning with only a sandwich for lunch. After we left, Angeles called Inca to tell her that we would be coming back around nine to take our suitcases and go…and never return. We narrowly escaped the wrath of Inca. When we walked in (praying to God that we wouldn’t have to speak to her) she was dressed in her finest clothes and all 200 pieces of gold jewelry she owned, looking quite a lot like that old lady in the bar in the beginning of “Titanic”. If we had thought the house was cluttered before, now our table that had been covered in plants and pictures was now also jumbled with all of Inca’s china and any figurine she had ever collected from a pawn shop, her grandmother’s attic, or a McDonald’s happy meal. We quickly gathered our things and rushed out the door to avoid as much awkward conversation as possible (I’m not really sure if there can be awkward conversation when you can’t understand a word of what someone is saying, but if there can, this would be the time). On our way out the door, Inca managed to slip in her usual twelve stories, a boob grab, and a face pull and told us that if we ever needed ANYTHING we should call her. I will be sure to call her the next time I don’t feel like talking for days or if I decide to go anorexic.

Episode 2

Paloma. Friday night I moved in with Caroline, another girl from our program who had been previously living alone with Paloma and her dog, Bombo. I went to Cordoba on Saturday during the day, but I think my day on Sunday pretty much sums up the angelic figure that Paloma was in my life. I woke up Sunday morning to breakfast in bed…and not just any breakfast in bed...no… chocolate con churros. I didn’t even care that I had just eaten late night chocolate con churros 4 hours earlier; heaven had come to earth. Then she proceeded to invite me to go to the gypsy market with her and her best friend. I brought 10 euro and I bought three things of makeup, a purse, perfume, a bracelet and earrings. Incredible. Next, we went out to lunch at the local café. When the waiter came to ask us what we wanted to drink, Paloma wouldn’t let me order my usual glass of water. Oh, no, she ordered us beer. We sat at that café, laughing and talking for almost three hours: her friends kept pulling up chairs to sit at our table, the drinks were never ending, it was someone’s birthday, I learned how to dance flamenco, and I passed away my favorite Sunday afternoon in Sevilla with ten 40 year old Spanish people in a café. Unfortunately, I had to move out again that night because of complications with Kathryn’s living situation. We got back to the house just in time for me to throw all my stuff in my suitcase and move on to my third home in Sevilla.

Episode 3

Maria Jose. Peace, Love, and good food. I now live in el Centro which is like the center of everything… 10 minutes to school, 10 minutes to work, 10 minutes to SHOPPING! It is not Paloma, but at least it is not Inca. Our laundry is done the day that it is started. I don’t know what kind of magic Maria Jose is doing, but it works. Also, my shower has a door, and a place to actually insert the shower head. I am now allowed in the kitchen, and I see the dog every day.

Well that wraps up the three part series of “The Senora”. Tune in next week for our new prime time special, “living with heat”.

P.S. Three days ago I got a bag of clothes from Angeles that Inca had just returned to her…clean.

The picture is taken of us in Cordoba!

Dear Freddie,

This bog is dedicated to you. You would love Spain. The caramel macchiatos are three times the size of those in the U.S., they come with at least a pound of caramel on top, and they always serve them in a real glass (none of those cheap to-go-cups). Also, if you thought the U.S. was bad: I’m sitting at Starbucks right now (listening to Sinatra of course!) and I can see another Starbucks down the street. If I walked the 200 meters there, I would be able to see the third Starbucks around the corner.

You know the phrase “The rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain.” I’ve decided that the phrase needs to be altered just a bit. The rain in Spain falls, no rather pours with wind and frigid temperatures (think hurricane)…everywhere in Spain… all the time. Well, not all the time. We are kind of playing a game. It is called, when I leave the house, it is perfectly sunny, 5 minutes later, after putting on my new shoes and leaving all rain gear in the house, it starts pouring. It is even more fun if I’ve just rented a bike because who doesn’t love rain whipping in your face at twice the speed? Even on days when I come prepared, my umbrella is from the United States and apparently it was built to withstand wind speed of up to 0 mph. It is constantly in a sort of inside-out state and, like all umbrellas I have ever owned, there is one arm that just hangs. I am hesitant to buy a new one because it matches my rain coat and my boots.

Beyond the freakish weather that every native claims is completely out of the ordinary, there are a few other ordinary things that really surprised me in Spain.

1. Every lady wears heels.

2. Everyone walks at least 5 miles a day. (Including heel-ladies)

3. Potatoes and beans are considered vegetables

4. Dogs wear sweaters- and not just the Paris Hilton companions

5. I just saw my first “persona gorda”

6. People don’t stop for cars and cars don’t stop for people. Luckily I learned the basics from American parents.

7. You can’t buy stamps at the post office.

8. A Spanish man will call anyone “guapa”. You will be charmed the first time, the second time, and probably even the third time. Then you will realize that he has used the same line on all of your friends, the old lady next to you and the bartender. Also, it is a compliment if someone calls you “fea” (or so I was told)

9. I just heard the “persona gorda” speak. She is American.

10. Besitos are a way of life.

I realized yesterday that I have already been here a month. In some ways I feel like I just arrived, but in other ways, I feel very accustom to the city. We decided we were past the tourist phase when we stopped choosing bars with a presence in my guide book, and started choosing bars with a presence of toilet paper in the girl’s bathroom. I love the night life here. Dinner: 9:30, nap: 10:30, hit the town: 11:30, discoteca: 2:00, chocolate con churros: 5:00, sleep: 6:00. It is ridiculous.

I am moving to a new senora tonight. I know nothing about her- the director told me but the only words I caught were dog, cot, and hippie. I bought a pretty awesome hippie scarf since being here, so I think I should fit right in. We are moving because Inca finally reached the point of unbearable. Let me try to put things into perspective.

Monday night, I had just gotten to work, and I was giving besitos all around. After greeting my boss, he looked at me with interest and inquired if I had been to the Tex-Mex place down the street. Of course I had been there! I got so excited telling him about how I went Saturday night… and they showed our UNC- NC State basketball game…and we took over the bar with Americans… and then we all sang our fight song when we won! He simply looked at me and said, “yea, well you smell like it”. Ouch.

Inca hasn’t done my laundry in 2 ½ weeks. She said it was because it has been raining. I’m pretty sure it is impossible to rain every moment of every day for 2 ½ weeks. I was going to just let this roll off my back. I mean, I still have clothes to wear because I was able to pack so much in my one under-fifty pound suitcase. Unfortunately, she pulled the last straw. I had been wearing the same pants ever since she had originally taken the dirty clothes from our room, so I decided to switch it up and wear leggings and a skirt. I have been wearing leggings and a skirt for the last 3 days now. Inca came into our room and collected my pants from the floor of the closet to add them to her secret stash of our dirty clothes in her locked corner of the house. Thank you Inca, now I’m cold, smelly, and sick. We are moving TONIGHT.

There are a few other token Inca stories, but I think I will save them for when I talk to you all in person. Plus, I think this blog has been rambling on for quite awhile, and I understand that everyone has a life beyond my pathetic plight in Espana.

Adios, hasta luego, y besitos.

Abril

Best investment of my life: one ticket to Sevilla Football Club vs. Valencia soccer game. It was absolutely incredible. Picture: a stadium for 100,000 people, all 100,000 people standing up, 95,000 of these 100,000 people are drunken Spanish men singing and yelling at the top of their lungs. For our literature class our assignment for Monday is to learn new words relating to sports. I definitely learned some new words relating to sports. Unfortunately, I feel like those words would give my 95lb, 100 year old literature teacher a heart attack. The game was tied one to one for the entire first and second half. Then, with 43 seconds on the clock, Sevilla scored our winning goal! This of course gave rise to the biggest uproar of chanting and screaming, beating of drums and waving of all 50 enormous fan flags. The guy next to my friend John turned towards him and just started shaking him uncontrollably. I’m also pretty sure there were at least 10 crowd surfers, but amidst the chaos I couldn’t really tell. I woke up this morning with a ringing in my ears and an inability to speak, but I still proudly went to my early morning class sporting my Luis Fabiano Jersey and no regret. I don’t mean to be unpatriotic towards my school, but Sevilla soccer is UNC basketball times 100. Take notes Chapel Hill.

Second best investment of my life: Sevici year-long bike pass. I can pick up a bike for free at any stop around the city, ride it for 30 minutes, and then return it at any stop around the city. At first it was great for getting to class on time, getting to and from work, getting to the mall, etc. However, I realized that I love riding around Sevilla on bike because it is completely flat and absolutely gorgeous! Now, I take my bike anywhere and everywhere, whether I need to go somewhere or not. We have deemed our favorite path the Tour de Sevilla because it winds through small cobblestone roads and through parks and over bridges. I absolutely love it. Unfortunately it has rained all weekend so I haven’t gotten a chance to ride in a while.

Third best investment of my life: rain boots.

So this is me writing from a house with HEAT, eating vegetables and peanut butter and speaking English! You have no idea how amazing this feels. This weekend, Kathryn and I came to Puerto de Santa Maria to visit a friend from the States. Wait…rewind… not exactly a friend, more like a lady who I met for five minutes at a party, who scribbled down her email address for me on a napkin. However, my roommate and I were homesick so I pulled the crumbled pieces of the napkin from the bottom of my suitcase and emailed Connie.

Connie was a gift from God. And when I say that I mean she had the white gown, the wings, the halo, the works. When we arrived on Friday afternoon, we were greeted with a basket of any and all now cherished American items. There were Triscuits, granola bars, chocolate, Chex mix, and most importantly the latest issues of People and Marie Claire! Although it rained the entire time we were here, it was still the most incredible weekend simply spending time with Connie and her two sixth Grade girls: Carlie and Haley. We walked around downtown Rota, it rained; we walked on the beach, it rained; we walked around Ronda, it rained. We just got back home and I am now seeing a glimpse of the sun popping out from behind the clouds.

Ronda is a little historic town in the south of Spain known for its old fashioned walkways, its hilltop view, and its historic bridge. I bought a postcard showing what the walkways would have looked like. They were beautiful. Then we drove around the city, and probably around the same one way streets 20 times trying to find our way out. Finally, after passing the bright pink car for the sixth time, we decided to take a different road. Just when we thought it couldn’t get worse, we ended up driving straight up a set of stairs, ending up on the top of a mountain, not being able to turn around, and backing straight back down the staircase in the pouring rain. Connie was trying to stay calm, Kathryn was soaking wet, I was panicking, Carly was saying her Hail Maries and Haley was playing her Gameboy.

The cloud-covered view of the valley through the back window was incredible.

Finally, after giving up and deciding to leave the city, we ended up finding the historic bridge. I got out of the car and was instantly whacked in the face with a gust of rain. Katherine’s umbrella turned inside out and we scrambled to take pictures, like all other desperate tourists, of the most picturesque scene in Spain. I have included one here. Dump water over your head to get more of the feel.

Well, I’m leaving tomorrow, so I must go now and store up some food to survive the long week with Inca.

As promised, here is the next installment of my weekly blog, only 5 days late. I have just been so busy with all of my studies here I haven’t found the time to write (yes, Jill and Laura, I am sucking up). School started last Monday, and I still haven’t gotten used to the schedule. My stomach is constantly grumbling because we don’t eat dinner until 9:30!

The first day we were in our house, I noticed there was no soap in the bathroom. Unfortunately, I made the mistake of asking Inca for “sopa” (soup) and proceeded to nod along as she went on and on about how much she loved “sopa” as well. At least this would be a cleanly household. I have been with Inca 14 days now, and I have consequently eaten 14 bowls of soup. Besides the monotony of food (I really did like the croquettas the first 6 times), Inca’s house is quite the pleasure. Spanish houses don’t have heat. The first week we were here, “stoofy” the estufa (heater) became our best friend. However, on Saturday, the war began. It reminded me a little of the war between the mom and dad in A Christmas Story over the leg lamp. Every time we were in the room, we would turn on stoofy and sit near her and adore her radiant heat. Every time Inca came in the room, she would turn it off unplug it and put it away. Finally, Saturday night, we had come in from the cold outside to the even colder inside, and we realized that stoofy was nowhere to be found. According to Inca, the neighbors had called and complained that the estufa was “broken” and was making too much noise. I have never heard stoofy utter a peep, but I can say that I thought a freight train was passing by our window until I realized that the clanging and whistling noises were coming from our sleeping senora next door. Last night, “stoofy”-less, I slept in two pairs of pants, a coat, a scarf and a hat. If I had known I would be studying abroad in Antarctica, I would have brought my parka.

But that’s enough about Inca, I could talk about her forever. She is quite the little goody bag.

Even though, I’ve only been here for two weeks, I already feel like a native of Sevilla. Since sitting here in the Parque Maria Luisa, three people have already asked me for directions! Oh, wow, o.k… via writing this…yes, I am not kidding, right after writing that sentence, I realized how much of a naive tourist I am. Those friendly folks that were asking me for directions…yes they just stole my IPOD. The first one who asked me directions I’m sure was scoping out for what valuables I had. The second was a distraction while the first grabbed around my back .The third, well I think the third was really lost. Just when I was getting excited about looking European and being a good neighbor, I was brought back to earth that I will forever be a Sperry wearing blonde.

Welcome to the neighborhood

P.S. The caption to the picture: Who I want to be in 50 years. Except I want to be listening to my IPOD.

Hola a todos!

I remember from a Spanish class I took in high school that Spain speaks the fastest Spanish in the world. I have read that Sevilla speaks the fastest Spanish in Spain. And during our orientation, the group leader asked who was staying with Incarnita…us… and proceeded to inform us that Incarnita speaks the fastest Spanish of anyone she knows in Sevilla. Excellent. I am currently living with/ trying to communicate with the fastest Spanish speaker in the world.

Incarnita is definitely a character. The first day I met her and her husband Carlos, I laughed so hard that I cried, even though I could only grasp about every tenth word. She uses hand motions constantly, she loves to shrivel up her face, and she can sound like any animal she chooses. Last night, we had story time for over an hour and she proceeded to tell us a story about a lady with boobs of silicon (we caught on when she started grabbing her own), and then there was a story about a baby in a trash can (or it may have been a dog, I couldn’t tell if she was barking or crying). It is kind of like an ongoing game of charades. I am anxious to get to the point when I can actually follow the stories because they seem extremely interesting. Also, for any of you who have seen the movie “Mean Girls”, Incarnita looks a lot like Regina George’s mother. She is a “cool mom”.

Every day for lunch we get soup, salad, and whatever kind of fried ball she decides to make for the day. We usually get potato chips or French fries tambien. She must have a deep fryer in the kitchen because for dinner we have fried balls again (filled with some sort of ham/tuna/ potatoes/cheese) and fries. I haven’t really decided yet what Spanish food is going to do to my body, but I am a little worried. I walk a lot every day, but just in case: please don’t make fun of me when I get home. I’m just trying to be polite.

The times here are very different as well. Every day there is a siesta from 2-5! Most of the stores are closed and everyone takes 3 hours to rest/ have fun. I think this would be an excellent idea to instill in the United States to reduce stress levels. It is absolutely amazing. The one drawback is that I love to sight see at these times, which is perfect, except that everything is closed.

Every day on my way to class, I have to walk through the Parque de Maria Luisa. It is the most gorgeous place I have ever been. Yesterday, we went to hang out there and look at a lot of the glorietas in the park. I decided it would be fun to feed the birds but before I had even taken out my money to buy the seed, I had at least 8 birds all over my body! It was so much fun, except for the fact that my favorite tan coat is now tinted a little bit green. I guess the food goes through them pretty fast.

Anyways, I am in the hotel we stayed at the first night, stealing their free Wi-Fi like your typical hobo, so I should leave before they shoo us out with a broom.

City of Oranges

Typical tourist as I am, I arrived today in Sevilla at around 3:30 and I was out of the hotel, camera in hand by 4:00. I actually felt quite refreshed because I took three sleeping pills today (or was it yesterday?) After 2 years of tossing and turning for at least an hour a night, I feel like a kid who just discovered cake. I had no idea the luxury I was living without. I fell asleep for 90% of the flight (my seat reclining mechanism was broken), and I slept through the entire bus ride to Sevilla (thank God I had my friend Jason next to me to poke me extensively at our stop).

As I emerged from the hotel, I looked up to discover a beautiful orange tree! I quickly unzipped my fanny pack and whipped out my camera to grab a shot. I looked down the street and I realized there were about 300 more lining the sidewalks. In fact, as we got lost trying to navigate the back alleyways that were not even listed on our map, I don't actually recall a moment when an orange was not in sight. Therefore, I have deemed this city my "city of oranges". Given I have an addiction to orange juice/ oranges/ any other orange flavored food, I have decided that I am going to like it here.

Following my usual "hit and run" approach to city tours, we saw all 7 of the major sights in Sevilla today. We also enjoyed our first official meal in Spain at the local McDonalds. For all those scowling at my insolence, I am proud to say that I ordered my chicken snack wrap in Spanish.
We met the rest of our group tonight at the hotel, went to dinner and went over the plan for the rest of the trip. No one slept last night and so everyone is hitting the hay early, except for a few brave souls who decided that they need to embrace their first night being able to order alcohol without a fake. For the sake of my parents, I will not admit to which group I belong. All in all, Sevilla is gorgeous, but I am anxious to actually know the city. I'm also anxious to drink orange juice.

Welcome

I would like to begin this blog with an apology. First of all to all other bloggers out there... I have never read your blogs. In fact, I used to believe that blogging was a good way to avoid sending annoying e-mails to everyone you know about how much fun you are having living an exotic life in a foreign country while we are stuck here being normal. However, after having approximately 27 people ask me if I would have a blog while abroad, I have finally caved in. I must admit I am excited to have an excuse to write about my experiences.
I leave for Sevilla on Tuesday the 6th of January. I only have 32 things left on my list of things to do before I depart, but instead of shrinking, that number seems to be growing. I still don't know my exact living arrangements, but I do know I will be living in a home with a native family and a roommate from UNC. I will also be traveling around Spain a lot, so if you know of any contacts or any specific "must-see" sights, I would love the advice. The biggest thing I am worried about, though, is packing. How in the world am I supposed to pack for 4 months in 1 1/2 suitcases when I could barely fit everything in the back of the van this past semester? God is challenging me.
Anyways, if you are still reading, thank you. I plan to update this blog regularly, but I can't make any promises. It is a new year, so just like any other resolution, I will hope for the best.
I love you all and I will miss you all dearly.