Barcelona, Blisters, Colds, and Classes

It has been a hard week. Between blisters, registration for classes (que fracaso), illness, and all the consequences of these things… oh boy. Long. Week.

But let’s start with the fun part—Barcelona!!! This past weekend was spent very pleasantly in Barcelona, arguably Spain’s most international city alongside Madrid due to its proximity to France, and therefore Europe, as well as its size and appeal as a travel destination for foreigners. I adored the city, although I feel like it might have been a bit overwhelming to study abroad in because it’s so big, and also because many people prefer to speak the local co-official language, Catalán, as opposed to Spanish. In some ways, I could understand the Catalan better than my fellow travel companions because I speak French as well and some of the words were basically a mix of Spanish and French (exit = sortie (fr.) + salida (sp) = sortida!), but sometimes it was just bizarre and made me feel like my brain was melting. The fact that some of the buildings also appear to be melting only adds to the weird mental delirium! :P Antoni Gaudí was a modern artist around the turn of the 20th century who created much of what makes Barcelona so fascinating to me—he designed and built several awesome but bizarre houses (the melting ones, plus some that look like gingerbread houses from fairy tales), the Sagrada Familia Cathedral with its melting front and fruit bulbed turrets, and the Parque Güell, with rock tree formations, an undulating ceramic patchwork bench, and an adorable Salamander fountain. He was so cute I had to give him a kiss. :) The first day of our weekend was mostly spent running around the city to see these various buildings, and wandering through Parque Güell, where I bought a really beautiful swirly ring from a gypsy and the other girls got scarves, rings, and necklaces. In the afternoon, we wandered down Las Ramblas to the Market of the Boquería, a really lovely market where all the fruit, candy, dried fruit, and other products are displayed with such precision and organization that it seems almost a shame to buy anything and disrupt the displays! Every stand was like a posed painting, and the exotic nature of much of the fruit added to this impression. I bought a little fruit bowl for only a euro fifty for an afternoon snack, and feasted on the mango, watermelon, strawberries, coconut, cactus fruit, and honeydew quite happily. That evening, my friend did a really lovely decorative braid in my hair, which was super exciting for me because I am basically a tomboy at heart and can’t do a damned thing with my hair most of the time except pray that it behaves itself! :P This first night, we found an all-you-can-eat buffet with a gorgeous salad bar and yummy pizza and pasta and gorged ourselves. I think almost every single one of us six girls ate over three plates of food, and most of us regretted it after, but it was still a fantastic (and fun) meal.

Of course, being the bright, forward-thinking young ladies we are, we forgot that we had planned to have a beach day the next day, and now the prospect of displaying bulging bellies in our dainty bikinis didn’t seem quite so appealing. :P However, we held fast to our plan and made our way over to the coarse sand beaches the next day to enjoy the sunshine and a break from sightseeing. Only four of the six ended up staying all day, and I am happy to say that I was one of them! I am also VERY proud to say that I managed to avoid sunburn despite being under the sun the whole day—yay for sunscreen!! It was a wonderfully relaxing day, and a very much needed break from both the daily grind as well as the frantic sightseeing of the previous day. Unfortunately, I was a bit of a ditz and didn’t drink quite as much water as I should have; when we got up to go back to the hostel, I suddenly felt dizzy, nauseated, faint, and way overheated. Oopsies, heat exhaustion! I really should have known better, but I was lucky to have great friends with me to pulled me along through the metro and force fed me water until we got to the hostel, and then basically pushed me into a cold shower, after which I felt much better and was able to lay down for a few hours to regain some strength before dinner. Dinner tonight was much simpler and smaller—pizza at a little cafeteria next to the hostel, and then gourmet ice cream before girly chat time in our bedroom and to sleep.

Our last morning in Barcelona, we wandered the Gothic Quarter a bit and had a coffee next to the Gothic Cathedral before visiting the Chocolate museum, which was both charming and delicious—the ticket to get in was a chocolate bar!!! :) My favorite chocolate sculptures were the ones that reinacted scenes from the French comic Astérix and “Up!” I was super excited about the Up one in particular—it was so adorable!!!

Our voyage home was long but uneventful, other than the fact that I was now beginning to feel positively horrible—congested, exhausted, achy, with very sensitive skin—all sure signs that I’m coming down with something unpleasant. As I had predicted, I woke up Monday morning feeling miserable, and skipped my morning classes to be able to rest and try to get a bit better. Tuesday I also skipped my morning classes, and I am SO glad I did, because by Wednesday evening I was starting to feel better, and today I am all better except for a little residual congestion. Still, you all know how much I HATE being sick, so I was quite a grump at the beginning of the week.

To add to my grumpiness, I had registration for next semester’s classes on Tuesday at 4pm Pacific time… which is 1 am my time. As I do not have internet in my house and didn’t want to stay up, and wander out alone and sick at one in the morning to an internet café, I did something kind of maybe like having my parents register for me. Maybe. I mean, I would never do anything against Scripps rules like give my password out… but come on. No one would blame me if I had.

Anyways, the one class I NEED to complete my general education requirements is a Natural Sciences class. Of course, by the time my registration time came around, both the ones I had picked out as non-science-major classes that fit in my schedule were full. Haha. Ha. Ha. Ha. Yeah. I was not so happy about that. I suppose maybe karma is trying to save me up some good luck so that my plane doesn’t get stuck in volcanic ash on the way home, but still. It was just another blow to my mood during an already difficult week. Well, I wrote to the teacher of my preferred class, and I’m fairly sure he’ll let me in, but I still don’t enjoy the extra stress that registration added to my week. Happily, I got into my three other classes without any fuss—“Voyage et Exotisme” (French class on Travel and Exoticism through literature), “Within the French Salon” (Another French lit class, to be taken with my lovely Melissa!!), and an Intro to Latin American Culture and Civ class (because I think I’ve got Spain covered now).

The next day I was so stressed about writing to the teacher and hearing back from him as soon as possible that I almost RAN back and forth from school—under the hot midday sun, in sandals, while sick—twice, and in doing so, gave myself a very angry blister. Guess where the blister was? Not on the side of my foot, not on my heel, no, on the BOTTOM of my foot, right under my second toe. And it was BIG—it probably protruded a good quarter of an inch (I don’t actually know since I didn’t measure it, but it was a lot of protruding angry blister, that’s for sure). THIS, my friends, was the cherry on top, and suddenly, I wasn’t angry or frustrated any more. Oh no, now I was hysterical, and hysterical for me means that I’m all laughs and giggles—and on the precipice of a nervous breakdown. It’s a dangerous but surprisingly enjoyable state to be in. Well, luckily, things started turning around and I didn’t have to have any breakdowns. When my host mom got home from the movies (Wednesday is her night to go to the movies with her friends, she’s so cute!), I showed her the blister and she called her friend (who was a nurse) to ask what the best course of action was. Because the blister was on the bottom of my foot, there was nothing to do but pierce it with a needle and drain the fluid so that I could walk the next day. I was really nervous that it would hurt a LOT, but because the surface of the blister is dead skin, the piercing and draining process was relatively painless! Concha and I had a good laugh over it and off to bed I went, feeling much more cheerful. Concha always has this affect on me. :)

Over the past two days, I’ve been resting up, and the blister has been healing beautifully under the strict supervision of Concha and repeated sterilization with… iodine? Some yellowish liquid that she uses as an antiseptic liquid. Tomorrow I’m off to the beach with some friends for the day to “work on my tan”—by that I mean lie in the sun all day obsessively applying sunscreen and watching my freckles start to appear. My nose is already highly freckled and adorable. :)

I almost forgot! Monday is Día de la Cruz, and all over Granada they set up crosses and play traditional music and people dance Sevillanas (traditional dance, relative of Flamenco), so yesterday Concha started teaching me Sevillanas! At first she was just going to teach me the first part (there are four parts), but I did so well that we made it right up to the fourth part last night!!! She said that I learned more in a day than many people learn in months of classes—I was very proud. Anyways, she wants me to dance it with her for her friends, which I’m excited about. I just LOVE spending time with Concha—I definitely feel like she has been one of the most positive parts of my experience here in Spain, and she made this week in particular much more bearable. :)

I hope you all have enjoyed a less turbulent week than me, with considerably less blisters. ;)
Pura vida,
Kelsey

The Truth is Out There...?

Hello all,

I feel bad for the last few blog entries I’ve made—after some reflection and re-reading, I realized that I’ve been a little careless about what I’ve been saying and haven’t provided enough context or information for someone who isn’t here in Spain with me to really get what’s going on in my world. I’ve been a little unfair to the Spaniards and am portraying both an unflattering image of those around me and, consequently, of myself.

Happily, this is something I can change. :) Let me tell you what’s REALLY going on here, dear readers.

First of all, I LOVE Spain. I adore the food, the weather (yes, even the rain!), the music, the traditions, the cities, the nightlife, the parks, the art, and yes, the people. For example, the guy who’s sort of like the doorman for our apartment building always greets me with a huge smile and asks me how things are going for me in Spain. I think he feels really proud to have an American living in HIS apartment building ;) but regardless, he’s adorable and always puts a smile on my face. There’s also the guy who owns a kebab place near my school who remembers what I order, what part of the country I’m from, and speaks to me in Spanish and English without making me feel like a dunce. Last week, I spent an afternoon in the park writing postcards and watching children playing, and seeing the Spanish families interact so lovingly filled me with happiness. And we can’t forget that guy who let me stand under his umbrella in the pouring rain so many weeks ago—I think he’s very important to remember. The people here have, by and large, demonstrated to me that this is a warm, welcoming, casual, social, and family-centric culture.

Now. Catcalling in Spain isn’t exactly the same as it is in other places. From what I understand (from my limited knowledge of Spanish history and culture), it is generally seen as a way to compliment a woman without losing a sense of one’s manhood. Perhaps the aggressive—and quick to reject—nature of Spanish women contributes to its prevalence (this is just conjecture on my part). Spanish women are notoriously difficult (according to all the guys I’ve talked to—especially my American friends, poor guys) and when they reject a man’s advances, they generally do it brutally. Coming from a culture in which the feminism of our grandmothers has catapulted into a culture in which a slightly off-color comment can get you slapped with harassment accusations, yet women turn right around and expect their bad behavior to be tolerated because they feel entitled, or “men have had this coming,” I’m not exactly used to having men be so forward and publicly… appreciative. For awhile here, I actually really enjoyed the catcalling, because for the most part it wasn’t disruptive to my day, the things people were saying to me were generally nice and not too raunchy, and hey, it feels good to have someone say, “Hey, look at that hottie,” to their friends as I pass by. It’s nice to know that guys find me attractive, even if this isn’t exactly the manner in which I would choose for them to express it.

Lately, I’ve been feeling a bit of frustration with life in general (it’s just a stage of cultural adaptation and nothing to worry about, it was bound to happen sooner or later), and men have become the target of my wrath purely because, well, a certain few exhibited some bad behavior right about the time I needed a target to shoot at. Several female friends have had very recent, very bad experiences with guys (both Spanish and American) that I had originally seen as wonderfully sweet and harmless, and add that up with a few rude comments from creepy old guys and one friend who actually had a guy try to grab her very inappropriately when she was merely walking down the street, and RAWR, I AM AN ANGRY WOMAN, AND MEN ARE THE DEVIL!!! Oh, boy.

Clearly, men are not the devil. In fact, I find that I often prefer to hang out with my guy friends because, generally speaking, they’re quicker to say what they mean, get to the point, decide on a purchase, they can keep up with me drinking, and they make better dance partners. I’m just sayin’. :P No, but really, I appreciate my guy friends SO much—when I need someone to talk to, they make great listeners and honest advisors; when I’m down, they bring me ice cream and funny movies or take me out dancing; they don’t mind when I swear like a trucker, and they teach me new things, like how to each sunflower seeds, and don’t laugh TOO much when I fail (thanks, Ben!); when I get myself into “situations” I don’t know how to get out of, they step in and clear things up without me even having to ask; when I need someone to walk me home at four in the morning, they don’t hesitate and they don’t bitch about how far away I live; and when I make a fool of myself, they are (for the most part) perfect gentlemen and don’t make fun of me or tell embarrassing stories at school the next day. The men in my life are what add the color, the depth, and the sanity to what would otherwise be a world way too full of estrogen and drama. Thank you, guys; you are truly great friends to have.

So, if I sounded a little (or a lot) like a raving mad man-hater in my last posts, please realize that the anger comes from frustration at seeing the pain my friends have experienced, and just the fact that I’m exhausted from eight months of being “that foreign girl” everywhere I go, of struggling to communicate, of feeling like an animal in a zoo (I get a lot of stares, even when I dress like a European), of stressing over travel plans, and of missing some of the people I love most in the world.

I also want to apologize to the universe for insinuating that I’ve been incompatible with the wonderful guys I’ve dated over the years. Yeah, so it didn’t work out, but the truth is that I really have dated some great guys who were all really right for me during the time I was with them, and who I still admire, respect, and care very deeply about. In fact, I am still on very good terms with most of them, and the rest I don’t talk to just because I don’t know how to get in contact with them! Enfin, I may have made some interesting dating choices in the past, but I always made them for the right reasons, and I always had at least some degree of compatibility with the guys I chose to date. I just don’t want anyone to think I harbor any hard feelings towards any ex-boyfriends—in the grand scheme of things, the disagreements were small, and the fights rare, and I’m willing to let that stuff be water under the bridge.

I think part of this much more peaceful and forgiving attitude comes from the fact that I’ve recently gotten back in touch with a few guys who may have hurt me (and who I hurt) over the last few years, and the amount of respect, forgiveness, and love that they have demonstrated to me really makes me feel happy, hopeful… and bad about giving men such a hard time. :P So, thank you, friends. You really are some special guys, and I want nothing more than to see you ALL happy and healthy.

It could also simply be that I am returning to my senses after an episode of over-emotional irrationality. I would like to believe that, deep down, I am a peaceful and forgiving person. :)

Wait—did I just express all of that in coherent English?!?! Clearly I haven’t been speaking enough Spanish lately! :P I’d better go fix THAT problem right away! OH—by the way—Concha has started teaching me Sevillanas so that I can dance in the street on Día de la Cruz (May 3), and she says I’m great already! Especially my hands and arms—I guess I was just born to dance Flamenco. ;) ;) But shh, I want to surprise my friends here and whip it out when they’re least expecting it!! Teehee! Sometimes, life is really fun. :) The sun was shining today, and I walked home just as the sun was beginning to set, when the sky was gold and baby blue with white polka dot clouds. Just when I think the world is all blackness and meanness after a hard weekend, the universe has a way of sending me gentle reminders that I am ok, the world isn’t full of crappy people after all, and the best thing I can do for both myself and the world around me is to be happy and keep loving, even when it’s hard.

I send my love across the ocean to you, dear reader, with a hug and a smile,
Pura Vida,
Kelsey

PS. Please think positive thoughts in the direction of Iceland and its nasty volcanoes… apparently, another one is supposed to erupt soon, but I need it to wait until I’m safely home in the states, ok? I understand that the world thinks it’s coming to an end, but please help me remind it that Kelsey needs to be back in Bellingham to see some adorable chicks, a lovely little apartment, the best big brother ever, the most supportive parents, and the best friends a girl could have before Armageddon rolls around. ;) Thanks.

Sevilla, Olive Oil, and Why Boys Suck

First of all, I want to note that actual good guys are going the way of the dinosaur. Men are quite scummy these days. I just thought someone should raise the alarm on that one. (I’ll tell this story later on.) **Edit: Ok, FINE. Guys are generally kind of awesome, I just fell in with the wrong crowd for a minute there. And, to be fair, women can be just as bad (often worse) than men. I'm sorry I got upset and said that men are scum. Sorry, men. You aren't all bad, the bad guys just seem to be more... vocal.**

Anyways. This weekend, a few friends and I went to Sevilla, which is the capital of Andalucía and a really cool city. It was a bit rainy on and off during the day, but it was actually pretty awesome to hear thunder occasionally, and at one point, it was ACTUALLY RAINING—not sprinkling like it usually does, but really coming down! I definitely went and danced around in it for a minute. :)

The first place we went to we actually found on accident, because we were lost. :P It’s called the Plaza de España, and it’s one of the buildings that was built in 1929 (I think?) for a big fair thing, and it has representations of each Spanish municipality in these cute little booths, all done in lovely Sevillan tile work. We found the one for Granada and took pictures of it and with it, of course. The building is built in a semi-circle, and it has a cute little fake canal and very cool bridges that go over it—all very useless but beautiful.

Next, we walked through a lovely couple of parks in search of the Cathedral and Alcázar (palace), and played around on this awesome tree with a really cool, complex, above-ground root system. Then, we got lost in the old Jewish neighborhood—judería, which pretty much every Spanish seems to have, and they’re all beautiful and cool. (We did a lot of getting lost and finding cool places by accident.) Eventually, we actually made it to our destination, the Cathedral. I kind of feel like I’ve seen so many gothic cathedrals that they all blend together and look the same to me after awhile. However, this cathedral is supposedly the third biggest in Europe, which is pretty awesome. Also, its belltower was built by the same guy who built a belltower I saw in Rabat, Morocco, which is pretty awesome. It has a ramp up to the top instead of stairs so that whoever was going to ring the bells could ride a horsey up to the top, which I loved, because sometimes walking up or down a lot of stairs gets me pretty close to having a panic attack, actually. (I’m remembering the tower in Bruges – it was not very fun trying to come back down from the top. Poor Melissa had to coach me through it—I miss that girl!)

After seeing the cathedral, we took a lunch break on a bench in the square in front of it, and did some people watching and horsey watching—there are a lot of carriages that hang out there to take tourists on little jaunts. Then, we went to the Alcázar, which is the palace where the King stays when he visits Sevilla, and very similar to the Alhambra. One really cool thing about the Alcázar is that a lot of the paint is still intact, so you can get an idea of what the Alhambra would look like if more of its paint decorations were still intact, too. There were a ton of rooms, and we kept discovering new little nooks and courtyards, each one cooler and more charming than the last. Also, one of the girls I went with was pretty goofy because she’d stayed out all night the night before and was a bit sleep-deprived (ahem), so she got us all to sing Disney songs and dance around through the royal halls and gardens. It was pretty awesome. She also serenaded the fishies in one of the many fish ponds (which were all pretty grody looking, poor fishies) with a lovely rendition of “Come little fishies, I’ll taaake you away…” from that movie, the one with the witches… what was that called? Anyways, all in all it was a pretty awesome day.

The next day, my program took us to an old olive oil making place that is now only a museum, and it was super cool to see the way they press olive oil. We didn’t actually get to see them make any, since the machinery isn’t functional anymore, but still. Olive oil is such a huge part of the culture here, and I love how good it is for you, as well as how good it makes me feel—my hair and skin are definitely softer, for one thing! So that was fun. Plus, there was this cute doggie who accompanied us on our tour, and we named him Jack. I wanted to take him home and give him a bath, and maybe a few rabies shots. :P

So, I guess I should explain my frustration with men a little further. Besides the gross catcalling and horror stories of harassment I keep hearing from my friends about Spaniards, I have become pretty disillusioned with some of the guys in our program lately, too. A lot of them seem really nice, right up until you realize they’re just looking to get some action and don’t actually care too much about developing a friendship with you. I’m really NOT looking to hook up with anyone, and as soon as they figure that out, many of them have stopped being so friendly. It’s really quite charming. There’s one guy in particular who seems to be making the rounds of the girls, pursuing one until he hooks up with her, then ditching her to pursue someone else. And this is a guy I thought originally was really a sweetheart—shows you how good a judge of character I am!

Anyways, not all men are scum, as evidenced by my friends back home and two guys here who have yet to mar their reputation in my eyes. One of them is the guy who has been really great at supporting me and talking through things with me concerning my ex-boyfriend—he’s really challenged me to be strong and take care of myself first, which I appreciate a lot. He’s been a great friend to have here. The other guy is super nice, has a girlfriend, and is SUPER great with boundaries. He makes it clear that he isn’t going to do anything that would make his girlfriend uncomfortable (she is one lucky girl!), but he’s still really fun to hang out with. So last night when we all went out, I kind of just stuck with those guys, and had a really good time (even though some of the not-so-cool guys were around doing their not-so-cool thing, which got me all sorts of mad). They taught me how to eat sunflower seeds! And danced with me without being gross and sexual. It was very nice. So, I guess, most men are scum, but there’s still hope. Sort of.

I’m a little worried about how jaded and bitter I seem to be, but, well, I think it’s a normal part of the growing-up process, and I think perhaps it’s good for me to be seeing bad behavior and identifying it as such. Maybe it will help me to make better decisions about who I get involved with in the future. I’m pretty frustrated with dating people I’m not very compatible with (haha).

I am pretty excited about coming home—being away from all of my friends and family for a little over eight months is pretty difficult and exhausting. I feel SO lucky and SO grateful that I’ve had this experience—I’ve done a LOT of learning and growing up, and I wouldn’t change a thing that has happened in these eight months. Still, I miss home. I miss a sense of predictability in life. I miss not sticking out like a sore thumb—being stared at in the street actually gets old after awhile. :P

Love to all, and see you in a little over a month!!
Pura Vida,
Kelsey

A day in Córdoba!

Yesterday, a friend and I took an early morning bus to Córdoba, a lovely little town to the northwest of Granada. Córdoba is very Andalucían in that it demonstrates an interesting mix of the three cultures that shared (or fought over) the region over the past millennium: Christians, Jews, and Muslims. My friend, Katie, and I decided to walk from the bus station to the famous Mezquita, and I’m glad we did, because we ran smack into the Judería, the old Jewish neighborhood, which is surprisingly well-preserved compared to, for example, the Jewish neighborhood in Granada, and incredibly charming. I don’t think I actually took any pictures, so I’ll try to describe it so you can create your own mental images. The streets are tiny—some too small for even the tiny European cars to fit down—labyrinth-like, and speckled with sundrenched little plazas. The peaceful monotony of whitewashed walls is broken only by flowerboxes protruding from small windows, many with star-of-David patterned wooden screens or shutters, and wrought-iron doorways in the wall that tempt passerby with glimpses of lush, intimate little gardens or courtyards. The buildings are generally about two or three stories high, and from some streets, you can catch a peek at the tower of the Mezquita, which, at only half of its original height, is still impressive.

So, when did I turn into a guidebook?!

Anyways, we walked through the Judería to the Mezquita, which is now Catholic Cathedral, previously a Muslim Mosque (Mezquita), previously a Christian Church. Confused yet? Ok, so, the original Church was bought by a Muslim ruler to provide a place for the burgeoning Islamic community to worship, and he built the original Mosque on top of the former church’s foundations. The Mosque was enlarged over time, and at the height of its beauty, must have been absolutely breathtaking, with its forest of columns (with material from all over the region—Roman, Visigothic, Syrian?!), domed skylights, and desert-like colors of white and terracotta. A few centuries after the Catholic Reconquista, however, somebody had the brilliant idea to tear out the center of the Mosque and build a Cathedral in its place, and I bet you everybody who saw it before and after the addition was pretty heartbroken. Although the Cathedral is lovely, with gorgeous carved mahogany choir stalls, it seems completely out of place and absolutely ruins the mesmerizing design of the Mosque. It’s depressing to think that this unnecessary display of religious dominance by the Catholic Church destroyed such a unique and beautiful historical site.

After the Mezquita, we walked over to the Alcázar de los Reyes Cristianos, which at different times in history has housed kings, the Spanish Inquisition, and a prison before being opened up to the public as a historical monument. The building itself didn’t seem that impressive to me (after the Alhambra and the Palacio Real, it’s hard for anything to call itself a palace and measure up), but the gardens were EXQUISITE. If I ever have the space and energy to create my own sort of decorative gardens, I would definitely try to do a miniature version of the gardens at the Alcázar. One of my favorite flowers, the Calla Lilly, was everywhere, and there was a fish pond, and numerous fountains, and long pools with arcing spouts of water and lillypads, and geometric cropped bush gardens, and even a little ducky pond! I was in heaven here. It was so peaceful and ordered and yet natural and colorful and lovely.

The rest of the day was spent wandering in search of lunch, then ice cream, and hanging out in the local park, which was very relaxing. On the bus ride home, they played the movie Wall-E, which made me happy but also homesick—I love that movie. :)

It has been wonderfully sunny in Granada lately, and Katie and I have started meeting up in the park—Parque García Lorca) to lie on the grass in the sun (don’t worry, I wear sunscreen—not interested in skin cancer or nasty leather skin in thirty years) and do homework or just hang out. It’s so wonderful to finally get to wear my skirts and dresses and not have to worry about coats and that sort of thing. We’re talking about going to beaches the last few weekends we’re here after our trip to Barcelona—apparently there are even some black sand beaches nearby that Katie wants to check out, and I am down for anything that includes me floating in the Mediterranean, let’s be honest. ;) I’ll be sure to keep you updated.

I send my love, and many hugs,
Pura vida,
Kelsey

La Belle France!

Bonjour a tous!

I just got back from visiting friends in Nantes and Paris, France, and although I am happy to be home in Granada, I had the MOST wonderful time in France. I think that going back to France for Spring Break may have been the best idea I’ve had so far this year.

I took a bus to Madrid, and flew from there to Paris, where I had lunch with Kristin (who lived in the same town as me in Costa Rica) and her friend before hopping on a train to Nantes to be with Nora for the weekend. As soon as I got off the plane in Paris, I felt incredibly comfortable and at home, which surprised me, because I am completely unfamiliar with Paris and Nantes. However, all little cafés, the wrought-iron balconies, and of course, all the French being spoken felt SO much like Aix to me. And as much as I may have kind of struggled through my semester in Aix, it WAS home for four months, and I must say, my French is a LOT better than I thought it was. This is something I would never hear myself say, but I can express myself pretty darn well in French! So that was exciting to realize. :)

I had a fantastic weekend in Nantes with Nora. On Friday and Saturday nights, Nora sang in a choir concert, which was absolutely lovely and I adored. I LOVE concerts like that—mostly unaccompanied group singing in beautiful churches—and I discovered that it’s particularly beautiful in French… maybe it’s just that I can appreciate the phrasing and how delicate the language sounds, but I can also understand (for the most part) the meaning of the song. Anyways, it was a great way to spend those two evenings. During the day on Saturday, Nora and I explored the castle and the cathedral, both of which are awesome, but the cathedral in particular was breathtaking and moving.

Can I pause for a moment and say how hard it is to express myself in English nowadays??? It sounds so awkward, and I only have a few sentence constructions that come easily to mind, which makes my writing sound elementary and repetitive. Egad. Boy am I glad I don’t have to write my thesis in English, what a disaster THAT would be. :P

Anyways, I also got to meet a few of Nora’s friends in Nantes, and they were all SO wonderful and fun; I didn’t want to leave, I was having such a great time. On Sunday, we had lunch with Nora’s host mom and then two of Nora’s friends joined us for dessert and a game of Trivial Pursuit, which was definitely an adventure. I most certainly did not win, but I DID learn that Robinson Crusoe was stuck on his island for over 28 years.

Also, Sunday was apparently a holiday or festival in honor of the camellia, Nantes’ special flower, of which is has upwards to 500 varieties (or something crazy like that). Nora and I took a lovely stroll through the Jardin des Plantes and enjoyed watching these funky, big-footed birds chase each other around the daffodils and camellias. It was a really great weekend, all in all, and I was sad to leave on Monday morning; I couldn’t imagine Paris being fun after such a lovely city such as Nantes.

As soon as I got to my hostel and met up with my friend, Elisa, however, I realized how wrong I’d been. I had SUCH a blast in Paris!! Our hostel was in Montmartre, the old artistic/bohemian hill neighborhood in the northern part of Paris. We walked a few blocks south and found the Moulin Rouge; a few blocks north and we were at Sacré Coeur. Elisa and I didn’t have any plans for that first day, but by the end of it, we’d seen actually quite a lot of Paris: the Moulin Rouge, Sacré Coeur and a gorgeous view of the city, the Louvre (although it’s impossible to ever say you’ve “seen” the Louvre after only one day), Place de la Concorde (where people were beheaded during the revolution; also home to the Obelisk), Jardin des Touileries, the Champs-Elysées and L’Arc de Triomphe, and to finish off a fabulous day, a picnic dinner under the Eiffel Tower, which sparkled every hour. By the end of this first day, I was absolutely enamored with the city. The atmosphere, the history, the winding sidestreets and wide boulevards, the petits cafés and thousands of bouquinistes (used bookstores)—it’s hard to believe that Paris is real, it is truly SO magical.

The second day, we got up at 7 am so we could get an early start to a busy day. First, we went to Cimitière Père Lachaise, the cemetery where a lot of very famous people are buried, including Jim Morrisson and Oscar Wilde. Of course, I insisted on kissing Oscar’s Tomb, even though I think Elisa thought I was bonkers. I have photographic proof of my kiss, which, I am happy to say, left a mark! Thank god I always travel with red lipstick, just in case…
Next, we went across town to see the Catacombs, which were eerie, barely lighted, and damp. It was super creepy, but also very very cool and interesting. Inside the catacombs, there are a lot of plaques with quotes related to death, and I had fun trying to translate for Elisa. After the catacombs, we walked up towards the Latin Quarter, passing through the Luxembourg Gardens to get there. We peeked at La Sorbonne and wandered the streets enjoying the ambiance before grabbing a couple sandwiches and tartelettes and installing ourselves in front of Notre Dame on l’île de la Cité to eat our lunch. The pigeons were super aggressive, and often very gross-looking, too, but we enjoyed ourselves nonetheless. I adore Notre Dame, especially her backside, so we walked all the way around before continuing to our next destination—the Bastille. To get there, we walked along the Quai d’Orleans on the Île St. Louis, then up a lovely boulevard that lead right to the Bastille. It’s a very impressive monument, but beside it is something quite funny—the Opera Bastille, which was built rather recently and has been criticized for looking too modern, and is nicknames the Toilet because it looks a lot like the public bathrooms you can find on Parisian streetcorners. After those adventures, we took a little break before meeting up with Kristin for another Eiffel Tower picnic dinner.

My third day in Paris was the most peaceful, mostly due to the fact that I was on my own for much of the day and spent much of it in museums. I started off in the Latin Quarter again because I loved it so much, then went to the Musée Rodin followed by the Musée d’Orsay. These were by far my favorite museums in Europe so far. Rodin is my favorite sculptor, and his museum was very well done, as were the gardens surrounding it filled with copies of his most famous works. I remember the Rodin exhibit that came to the Bellingham Museum a few years ago, and I have to say, I am really impressed with how good of an exhibit that was. The Musée d’Orsay was fantastic as well—if you know anything of my taste in art, you know how much I adore impressionism, and so this museum was heaven for me. I wrote down the names of artists I saw and liked there of all different styles, so go look these guys up: Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, Henri-Edmund Cross (pointillisme), Renoir, Pissarro, Degas, Manet, Van Gogh, Gauguin, Alfred Sisley, Monet, and Georges Seurat. Wandering through these two museums was a wonderful way to spend the majority of my last day in Paris. I spent the afternoon and early evening back in Montmartre enjoying the neighborhood, had a simple dinner at an adorable bistrot, and then met up with Kristin and her roommate to go out for a drink. We went to a little Irish pub near their apartment, and it was pretty deserted, but we got to meet an adorable little doggy, which really made my Parisian experience complete. :)

The trip back was a little miserable—I had to get up at 4 am and didn’t get home to Granada until about 6 pm or so, but I was able to sleep a bit on the bus from Madrid to Granada, so it was alright. I arrived in the midst of Semana Santa celebrations, which I will have to blog about later, but oh boy, it is CRAZY here in Granada—so many people!!

Hasta pronto, besitos a todos,
Kelsey

Flamenco Concert

Hiya! I wanted to blog really quickly about this wonderful Flamenco concert we went to last week before I run off to France and get too many cool things to blog about. :)

Last Tuesday my program took us to this Flamenco show by Sara Baras, who is arguably the best professional Flamenco dancer in Spain right now, and who is also a palindrome (read her name backwards). I was VERY excited because I love watching dance performances, but this completely surpassed my expectations. Her entire dance company was stellar, and the musicians that accompanied them were absolutely fantastic. It was really inspiring. All the dresses swooshing around making beautiful shapes, the constant clicking and stomping of the feet, the clapping and husky singing and passionately strummed guitars in the background, the interaction between dancers, the intense emotions they portrayed… and then Sara’s solo pieces, oh my goodness, BREATHTAKING. Her movement across the stage, her hips and arms and feet feet FEET all over the place, but with such control. It made me want to dance—it reminded me of learning Paso Doble (shame! shame on me! but still, Paso Doble WAS adapted from Flamenco… I think) and the power and control and cool shapes you get to make with that. I feel so lucky we got to see this show—especially since tickets were way too expensive for me to have bought one for myself if the program hadn’t have been paying.

I FINALLY SHOT THE MOON!!! Sorry, I’ve taken up the habit of playing hearts on my computer during study breaks and stuff, and this is the first time I’ve successfully shot the moon!! I’m very excited.

In other news, I just finished midterms and am flying off to France tomorrow EARLY in the morning from Madrid, so tonight I’m jumping on the overnight bus to the Madrid airport. Oh boy. I’m nervous because I feel like every time I’ve travelled here, something has gone wrong, but then again, it’s been magical anyways. So here I go again, and this time I’m going to see wonderful friends in Nantes (Nora) and then Paris (Kristin and Elisa, friends I met in Costa Rica!). Wish me luck, wish me good health, and wish me peace of mind. Maybe a change of scenery will be good for me—and coming home to Granada, even better. :)

Love to all,
Kelsey

Weekend in Madrid!!

Written March 15th.

Wow, what a weekend. It was fraught with emotional turmoil and anxiety and even anger, but it was also incredible and provided me wonderful bonding time with some of my new friends here.

So this weekend I went to Madrid with my program. On Friday morning, we left (early, too) on the five hour bus ride to Madrid. I sat next to Katie and we napped and listened to music all the way. We stopped in Toledo for a tiny bit, which was fun for me because I’d already done all the sights, so I got to enjoy hearing about the history and taking random pictures. There were some adorable doggies there, and one of them hit me with his tail! I felt loved and special.

We got to Madrid in the late afternoon, and Katie and I took a nap before going out for dinner with some other girls. I forgot my camera, which was a bummer because we walked by the Palacio Real and the Plaza Mayor, both of which were really lovely by night. We found a nice little Italian place that gave us two free bottles of wine for the six of us, and we had delicious pizza and talked about boys and life and travel and all that fun stuff.

Saturday, we went inside the Palacio Real, which was SO beautiful. One of our teachers told me that there had been a king who really liked clocks (or something like that, can’t actually remember the story) and that there were a TON of awesome clocks, so I made a point of noticing them, and they were really spectacular. Tables that were clocks; sculpture clocks; globe clocks; massive clocks; tiny clocks; they were all beautiful and unique. THEN, we went into this room—and YOU GUYS—it had a full quartet of Stradivarius instruments!!! I was about to faint. They are SO beautiful, and my teacher says that really awesome professionals get to play them for the King and his family!!! I was in awe. SUCH beautiful instruments.

All the rooms in the Palacio Real were exquisite, and all very different. I loved one of the rooms that had pale blue silk on the walls… another was decorated with ceramic walls… another was a lovely dusty rose color with lovely dark wood accents… it was overwhelmingly lovely, but also kind of overly decadent. I kept thinking how I would have NO idea what to do with all that space if I were the queen! I’m looking forward to my wittle apartment this summer, I think it’ll be a relief after seeing that massive palace.

After seeing the palace, Katie and Luis and Russell and Jess and a few others (can’t really remember who) and I wandered around shopping for awhile. It was fun to look at clothes and shoes and stuff, but I wasn’t in the mood to buy anything, so I got bored with it fast. We had lunch, and then Katie and Alissa and I went to the modern art museum, the Reina Sofia, which I ADORED, although I’m not sure the others liked it as much as I did. I was fascinated by all the Dali and Picasso and… well, other artists as well, but I’m bad with names. Picasso’s “Guernica” is in this museum, and it was really moving to see it in person. The museum also has a lovely little sculpture garden-courtyard, which was fun to wander through. After seeing the museum, we walked up to the Parque de Retiro and wandered around enjoying the sunshine. We wanted to rent a rowboat for half an hour, but the line was too long, so we just took pictures of other people in rowboats instead. :P

I was pretty exhausted by the time we got back to our room, so I just showered and took a nap before dinner. Dinner was uneventful; we found a little cafetería with relatively cheap, decent food and made a fool of ourselves trying to pay (haha). THEN, we met up with the group and went to see a play!!!! It was SO GOOD. Ok, so maybe just me and Luis thought it was awesome; I think everyone else gave up trying to understand and fell asleep for the most part, but I LOVED it! It was “La Ratonera,” or “The Mousetrap” by Agatha Christy, and it had me on the edge of my seat—partly because I was trying so hard to understand, but mostly because it was really great. It was a murder mystery, and I had NO idea who the murderer was until the very end when he revealed himself. SO GOOD! And all the actors were pretty great, although one guy could have projected better and another kind of overdid some things that I thought didn’t need to be overdone. But that’s just me being elitist. :P Anyways, I was glad that I sat next to Luis, because he understood it perfectly (of course) and could explain things I missed, and also because he enjoyed it, too, and made me feel like less of a freak for getting so excited about it.

On Sunday, we went to the Museo del Prado, the main art museum which houses a lot of the works of Goya, Velazquez, El Greco, and many other important Spanish and foreign artists. I really loved the Flemish art wing, especially the seascapes, and also seeing Goya’s work transform over his life and into his Black Period—when he went kind of crazy and his paintings are ACTUALLY terrifying. The eyes he paints are the most simple yet expressive eyes I’ve ever seen… it was captivating. Of course, the “Meninas” was fabulous, but I actually preferred some other artist’s paintings of little girls (why can’t I remember his name??) which expressed a lot more interest, motion, and emotion to me. Ok, I’ll stop being an art snob now. :P

When we got exhausted from art overload, Katie, Luis, Russell, Mary and I went to lunch (I had a delicious sandwich) and then wandered around in the sunshine eating ice cream and enjoying Madrid. We ran into a mariachi band in the plaza Puerta del Sol, and Luis got really excited and it was very cute. :) Then, we kind of just window-shopped and chatted until it was time to go get on the bus to come back to Granada.

I’m sorry I can’t be more excited or expressive about these descriptions, but I’m still in a bit of a weird emotional place and it’s hard for me to get excited about this trip right now. It doesn’t help that I have a bit of a cold, and I always get grumpy and paranoid when I’m feeling under the weather. It WAS a wonderful weekend altogether, though, and I had some great bonding conversations with Russell (who reminds me of Heath a bit) and some really fun moments with Katie and Luis, so all in all, I feel good about how it turned out. Although in hindsight, I should have bought that scarf… ;)

I hope everyone I love had a fantastic weekend, and maybe one a little less tumultuous than mine. Tomorrow I’m going to see a Flamenco show, which I’m super excited about, so stay tuned to hear about that!

Pura vida,
Kelsey

Granada and Toledo with NORA!!

Wow, how is it already March?! That seems impossible! I can’t believe how fast time is passing here!

I just got done with one of the most exciting, fun, and stressful weeks I’ve had here. Nora, my really great friend from Scripps who is studying abroad in France right now, came to visit me from Tuesday to Friday, and then we went to Toledo together for the weekend. We stayed in a hostel together during the week while I ran back and forth between classes and sightseeing with her, and it was sooo much fun, but also incredibly busy. We had fun exploring the different neighborhoods of Granada, sipping tea at a Tetería, eating greasy churros con chocolate, and all the fun touristy stuff I don’t really get to do on a regular basis. We were lucky to have great weather while Nora was here as well—I think it only sprinkled once or twice the entire time. On Thursday, we had lunch with Concha, and unfortunately Nora got sick, so our plans for the afternoon kind of went out the window. It happened to be the birthday of one of my best friend’s here, Katie, and as much I wanted to stay in and be with Nora, she reasoned that there wasn’t anything I could do for her anyways, so I went out for a bit to wish Katie a happy birthday. It was actually really fun to hang out with my new friends, but I was worrying about Nora the whole time, so I guess it was a mixed fun and not so fun night.

On Friday we traveled to Toledo, which was really quite a journey! The bus from Granada to Madrid takes about 5 hours, with a stop in the middle for food/coffee/bathrooms. It was a beautiful ride from what I could tell—I was asleep for much of it—but my booty certainly didn’t appreciate sitting for that long! Then, we took another bus from Madrid to Toledo, and a taxi to our hotel. Both Nora and I were pretty exhausted and feeling under the weather, so we stayed in Friday night and just chatted, watched part of a weird movie on the TV, and went to bed. Saturday was our one full day in Toledo, and I actually feel like we managed to see a lot of the city in only that one day. Toledo is a lovely, well-preserved old city with tiny labyrinth-like streets and a lot of awesome artwork and historical buildings/museums. I was so excited to get to see a lot of work by El Greco, not only because he was a great and important artist, but also because we just studied a few of his pieces in my Art/Lit class!! And the few that we studied were all in Toledo, and I saw them!!! It was so cool to be able to tell Nora what my teacher had told me about the shapes, colors, themes, etc. It was super fun. We also went to a Jewish museum that is in an old Synagogue, and that was both beautiful and really informative. It had a few really lovely courtyards, too, which we took advantage of for little recuperation breaks (Nora was still not feeling very well, and my arm was bothering me for some reason).

On Sunday, we woke up early to get back to Madrid in time for Nora’s flight, and for me to get a bus back to Granada. I met this really nice lady in the bus station in Madrid while waiting for my bus home, and we talked for a good 20 minutes. I like random nice people.

Once I got home to Granada, I took a quick shower and then went out for coffee and a snack with my friend, Katie, which was super fun bonding time. :) That night, we also went out with two other friends, who I absolutely adore, and it was so nice to just hang out with these wonderful people. OH, guys, by the way, one of my new friends here, Luis, CAN DANCE. AND LIKES TO DANCE. WITH ME. It’s maybe the best thing ever. I have missed dancing SO. MUCH. I have missed dancing with a good lead on a regular basis more than I thought I had. And yeah, ok, it’s not exactly like we’re waltzing around the bar (ha.ha.) but he knows salsa and merengue and, um, just how to move his hips. Haha. I know my dancers out there are all rejoicing on my behalf—thanks, guys! Anyways, I hope we end up being good friends so I don’t have to be creepy and stalk him and force him to dance with me. :P

Yesterday was Día de Andalucía—basically a day celebrating the region—so we had the day off of school today! Yay! It was great, I did homework all day. :P No, but really, I needed to catch up on my homework, so it actually was a good thing we had the day off. Tomorrow, it’s back to life as usual, and I’m not unhappy about that. I loved traveling and being a tourist and hanging out with Nora, but I’ll be glad to be back to my normal schedule, and to have some down time again this week.

Oof, time to get back to my reading! Love you all!

Pura Vida,
Kelsey

A Note of Gratitude

I am so grateful for my wonderful friends—for Kat and April and Rowan and Lydia and Nora and Concha and Zach and Matt and my big brudder and my mama and my daddy and for everyone who has been holding me up and enhancing my life with every positive thought they think about me. I swear to you—te lo juro—that you guys must be sending me some pretty freaking positive juju, because my life has been a series of amazing moments, awe-inspiring moments, and moments of intense connection with the world around me recently. I know it cannot always be wonderful, but I am starting to adhere to the theory that our moments (or day, months, or years, as the case may be) of darkness help us to appreciate the light and the goodness of life when it is good.

GUYS. I am HAPPY. HAPPY. Daily, weekly, from moment to moment, I’m happy. It’s something I didn’t expect to find here, and it really snuck up on me, but here I am, living in a new, strange city and culture and speaking a foreign language and making new friends and I’m HAPPY. Laughter comes easily all of a sudden, and I think I’m smiling more than I have in… too long. France was an amazing experience as well, but I wasn’t happy there like I am here. I was GLAD to be there, but I am happy here, and just happy with life in general here, and God, Universe, Love, whatever might be out there that is bigger than my small self, thank you. Whether or not you had anything to do with me coming here to find my happiness, thank you for my existence, for the opportunity to prove to myself that I am stronger than my circumstances, that I am bigger than bitterness, that I am smarter than stagnation, and that I am braver than I ever thought possible.

Thank you, everyone who loves me and thinks of me kindly and fondly from time to time. You are the hands that propel me upwards and pushed me out that door and onto that airplane—metaphorical and physical—that whisked me away from emotional death to the baby phoenix of new beginnings and new opportunities. My behbeh phoenix is growing healthy and strong and trying out its drying wings. Off we go together into this sweet, small world! Thank you for blowing away the ashes that stifled us.

I love you.

Kelsey


PS. I will blog about this WONDERFUL WEEKEND tomorrow. Stay tuned. It's been exciting. :)

Meet my future husband

Written February 16, 2010

I’m listening to wonderful jazz and finally snuggled up on my bed after a long, but productive, day. Tuesdays, a woman comes early in the morning to clean the bathroom and a bit more of the house, because Concha has problems with her back and it isn’t good for her to do too much serious housework—like washing the floor on her knees or something. I always kind of wake up when I hear her working in the bathroom, which is next to my room, and then go back to sleep for another hour or so before I get up for breakfast. I don’t have to be at school until 11:30 on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but I like to get there about 15 minutes early to check my email and say hi to my friends before classes start. I had a great lecture and then a great discussion class this morning, and homework is starting to roll in. All doable, but I was so enjoying such a long vacation! :P Lunch was fantastic today, really scrumptious. We had a fish soup thing—more squidlies, but I’m getting used to eating them now, and have actually started thinking of my stomach as a fishbowl where all the little fishes and squid-ums can have a lovely little party. If anyone had any doubts that I am absolutely bonkers, I think I just did away with them. ;) ;) Anyways, along with the fish soup we had this delicious salad that reminded me very much of ceviche—clams, onions, tomatoes, lemon juice, YUM. And, of course, a hunk of bread and a wonderful Spanish orange—the oranges here are AMAZING.

After lunch, I went back to school to work out some travel details, and I think I have some exciting trip plans for March and April! Mid-march we have a week off—semana santa, the holy week before easter—and I’ll be heading to France to visit Kristin and Nora and meet up with Elisa! I am very excited. I’ll get to see Paris and Nantes and three of my favorite ladies in the world. :) Now, I just need to book flights and start looking into trains and places to stay. Then, mid-April, I’m going to go to Barcelona with a group of my new friends here! The plane tickets are shockingly cheap, and I am SO EXCITED to spend an extended weekend in this wonderful city. Yay!

Tonight I had the first classes of my Phonetics and Granada Seminar courses with José—the guy who also teaches Tutorías—and OH MY GOD, I am going to marry this man. He. Is. HILARIOUS. I will give you examples (because I’m nice like that):

1. At the beginning of Phonetics, he bumped the cord for the screen that all classrooms have that you can project things on—you know those that are annoying and never stay down when you pull them down? Anyways, so it starts swinging and clicking on the white board like a grandfather clock—tick, tock, tick, tock. And his eyes get huge and he turns and slams his hand onto it and says, in English, “I can’t stand it, it’s like a torture!” It was the cutest thing ever. Then, he put the cord up on top of the white board and it falls down, so he puts it up again and steps back and stares at it for a good thirty seconds. Then, turns to us and in total sincerity says, “I am scared!” I love this crazy v-neck-sweater-wearing Spaniard.

2. He was explaining how different phonemes are formed in the mouth, such as “Guh-guh—like in goose… kuh, kuh—conquer.” When we got to f, he said, “Fff, ff—fugly.” We were all so surprised that there was a pause, and then the whole class burst into laughter. I’m telling you, LOVE HIM.

3. While explaining the different sorts of phonemes we have in American English but aren’t in British English, he used the example of the ‘r.’ I don’t know why, but I just about died from too much funniness when he was saying, “Caaw, caaw, CAR. CAR. Caaaw, CAR.”

4. He speaks English very well, but still has a very Spanish accent and uses this one phrase all the time that just sends us into a tizzy of giggles: “It’s ok?” I don’t know why, just the way he says it is fantastic.

5. At one point while talking about gypsies, I think, he threw out an amazing X-Files reference that just about sent me over the edge. He said, “No one really knows where this custom came from, but it’s like Mulder and Scully, you know? The truth is out there.” This was the moment in which I knew I must marry him. Screw the thirty year age gap and the fact that he may very well be gay; it’s gonna happen.

Another really funny moment from the phonetics class was when he was having us practice our Spanish rolled ‘r’s, and everyone was going, “rrrRRRRrrrr… rrrRRR? RRRRR!!” And I turned to the girl next to me and I was like, “I feel like we’re all hitting on each other; it’s great!” It really was great.

Tonight, Concha fixed me a special dinner. Usually I just have a sandwich and a yogurt, but tonight I had a lovely roasted garlic and leek soup with apple cider vinager sprinkled on top, a small green salad and some fried little ham rolls, which are SO YUMMY. It was really to die for. I’ve kind of just had a to-die-for evening, it would seem. :)

Whoof, I bet you can tell how tired I am from my rather lack-luster entry today, but I really wanted to share about José anyways. I miss you guys a lot; I wish you were here so I could tell these stories over a coffee or tapas instead of over the internet. I’ve been trying to write postcards and letters whenever I have free time, too, because I know getting something personal in the mail is so much better than a blog or even an email. I hope you know how much I love you and can’t wait to see you again!

Pura vida, y que tenga un buen día!

Kelsey

Morocco/Marruecos/Maroc!

Oh my goodness, first real post! Yay! Well, let’s start with Morocco and Italy while they’re fresh on my mind. OH MY GOD YOU GUYS. I think I am the most fortunate person in the world. Both Morocco and Italy were AMAZING. Doing a play-by-play might be a little much, so I’m going to try to organize by highlights.

The most incredible thing about being in Morocco was meeting all of these wonderful, generous, lovely people. With the program my program went with (how many programs? there will be a test later), we stayed with a host family for two nights in Rabat, the capital city. My friend Rachel and I stayed with a young couple, Fatima and Saïd, I think, and they’re ADORABLE 2 year old daughter Ghita. (At first we thought her name was Rita because they pronounced it as if the first sound was a very guttural French ‘r.’) Ok, no seriously, the pictures of her and us are really cute, sure, but they DO NOT do her justice. This girl is not only the most charming child I’ve ever met, but also the most gorgeous and cute. She is going to have the boys lining up across the freaking city when she gets to be our age. No seriously, guys. And she was SUCH a daddy’s girl, it was so adorable. She always wanted to give him kisses and he coddled her and clearly loves her to pieces. He had her do her “top model” walk for us—she strutted across the room grinning with one hand on her hip and the other on her head, it was maybe the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. I almost died of a cuteness-overload-cardiac-arrest right there on their Moroccan sofa. And she is obsessed with two things—Dora the Explorer (she showed us her Dora backpack) and makeup. Whenever Rachel or I got out lip gloss or anything, she would get SO EXCITED, and she had this little foundation compact she carried everywhere, and whenever she could get it open (it was complicated, ok?) she would smear it on her face and her parents would get all exasperated and wipe it off and close the compact, and the process would start again. Oh my goodness, I feel like I’m writing ridiculously bad run-ons, but I can’t express to you all enough how much I fell in love with this little girl. It was really hard not to kidnap her when we had to leave. REALLY. HARD.

Her parents were so great as well. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree—Fatima (probably mid to late 20’s) is absolutely beautiful, so you can see where Ghita gets her good looks. Both Fatima and Saïd were super sweet and engaging and welcomed us into their family as if we’d been there all along. They both speak great English; I think Saïd might work for some foreign relations branch of the government? And Fatima graduated college with an English degree and is looking for a job doing… something with that. The first night we were there, Saïd had a very earnest conversation with us (mostly him talking and us agreeing) about how many Americans or westerners in general have a very bad image of what it means to be “Muslim” or “Arab,” and how incorrect that image is. He assured us that he didn’t care what religion we did or didn’t practice, that he respected us for how we behave and what we do, and not who we worship. He also explained that the general tenants of Islam are those of generosity, brotherhood, and love, and that there are extremists in every religion that distort the truth to fit their needs. I can certainly tell you that from my experience, this family, along with everyone else I met in Morocco, demonstrated to me that he is right about Islam. If they represent what it means to be “Islamic,” I wish more of the world were Islamic. I have never met people more giving and open and accepting of others. They made me feel so very welcome, and that it was ok for me to be me—and different!—and that that wouldn’t interfere in our relationships. Wow, right? I felt more at home within two days with that family than I ever did in France, for example. I am definitely intrigued and want to spend some more time in Muslim countries now. Before going to Morocco, I was interested, but now I’m hooked. I need to know more. Why are they so awesome, and why doesn’t anyone else seem to realize it? And I definitely want to learn more about Islam now, since it is clearly such an important part of their lives and culture.

We also had the opportunity to eat lunch with a rural family that lives in a village in the Rif Mountains. We had a translator to help us ask questions, and the family was very kind and happy to answer everything we could think of to ask. And OH MAN I almost forgot to rave about the food!! This family made us a wonderful couscous and vegetable dish that was almost impossible to stop eating. Fatima made Rachel and I the best food ever—spaghetti our first night, but à la Morocco of course, and a yummy lamb dish the next day (very traditional and soooo tasty), and then this delicious ham and egg and cumin thing that night. Moroccan food rocks my world. The spices they use are super duper tasty, and they eat using bread and their hands (very similar to what I’ve heard and seen about how food is eaten in India), and the bread is amazingly yummy, too! It’s just all to die for.

Of course, I cannot forget to mention how beautiful Morocco is. On the first day, we stopped in the town of Asilah on the Atlantic Ocean to ride camels (HELL YES it was awesome, but kind of just like riding a really tall horse, but still!) and wander through town. The city itself was beautiful—white buildings, colorful art graffiti (there’s apparently a wall art festival every spring there?)—but the view of the ocean was breathtaking. It was also mind-blowing to think, wow, I’m standing on the edge of the Atlantic Ocean… in Africa. Holy shit, right? Rabat was pretty awesome architecturally speaking, and it was especially cool to see some Roman and Arab ruins there, and then the local market (the medina? I don’t know). The ruins are inhabited by storks, and there’s also a fertility pond there, so clearly, this is where all the babies in the world come from. Which must be why Ghita was so amazing, because her parents got to go right to the source to pick out the cream of the crop, right? I mean, that IS how babies happen, right, a stork delivers them? ;) Just teasing. Anyways. The fertility pond has EELS in it, and you throw in a hardboiled egg, and if the eels eat it, you’re good to go, and if not, you’re out of luck. Cool fertility clinic, in my opinion. And there are a lot of kitties there, because the eels only get the white of the egg, so the guy who sells you the eggs gives the yolk to the cats. Anyways, the ruins themselves were really awesome to see and wander around in (see my pictures, they can describe it better than I can), and at one point, we definitely saw some storks getting it on. Someone must have fed the eels…

Shopping and walking around in the market in Rabat was such a cool experience. Our guide dude totally liked me best (haha, hope none of the other girls read this), and when he wasn’t running around trying to keep track of five girls all with shopping missions, he helped me pick out scarves and bargain with merchants. And I was soooo proud of myself, because I used my French to bargain a few times!! (For those who don’t know, the French colonized Morocco for a bit there, and even though they’re gone now, French is still very widely spoken there, and almost everyone speaks it fluently in the big cities.) I got some very very beautiful scarves for ridiculously cheap prices, as well as a few more trinkets to give as gifts or decorate my spankin’ new abode this summer.

Another really cool place we went was Chefchaouen, a city in the Rif mountains that used to be really secluded—as in, when they rediscovered it in the 1920’s or thereabouts, the people were still speaking medieval Castilian Spanish, because the last group of people to move in there had been medieval Spaniards. I kid you not. Anyways, now it’s a pretty touristy place because it is GORGEOUS—blue and white buildings tumbling down the hillside, a river on one side, rolling hills/mountains on all sides. Go look at more of my pictures of it, it was SO pretty. And I made friends with a doggy there. :)

Something I want to mention about Morocco before I move on to Italy is that it was very lush and green. Which I know is not exactly the common image that comes to mind when one thinks of an African country of the edge of the Sahara Desert. Of course, we were only really in the north and pretty close to the coast most of the time, but that IS where much of the population lives. I just thought I’d blow your minds with that little factoid. It’s SO GREEN. It reminded me of Costa Rica, and made me really miss my family there… but that’s a whole ‘nother story.

Alright, there are so many more things I could say about Morocco, but if I keep going, we’ll NEVER get to Spain, so I’d better stop there.

Ok maybe one more thing.

Our group leader was a Peace Corps volunteer who had just finished up her service, and she was from Seattle! She was really awesome. But anyways, talking to her and to other Peace Corps volunteers I met and reading some of the articles the program provided us with really made me think about my future and what I want to do with it. I think often we hear people saying “I want to make a difference, I want to change the world!” and we don’t see a lot of serious action to actually do so. I want to be different; I want to follow through on my desire to change the world, even just a little piece of it, even just one life. And while I’ve focused on the really positive aspects of my trip to Morocco, there is, of course, another side to this beautiful and generous country. That side is one of poverty, and struggles for women’s equality, and a lack of basic knowledge about safety, sanitation, and health in many communities. For example, when we visited the family in the rural village, one girl wanted to know where to throw away a candy wrapper (I think), and they said to just throw it on the ground—and outside on the ground there was garbage everywhere, not really even localized in one area. Some of the garbage was things like nails and pieces of scrap metal, and plastic containers that looked like they may have contained cleaning fluids or car fluids and stuff like that which could be really harmful to the kids or the animals if they play with and ingest them. I know that they probably don’t have access to a garbage pickup system like the one we take for granted in the United States, but at the same time, I was honestly pretty surprised to see some of those things left where they could be a potential health hazard, especially knowing that the nearest hospital or clinic was pretty far away. Anyways, that is only an example of some of the eye-opening things I experienced in Morocco that made me realize that I really DO want to make a difference somewhere, and that I don’t need a degree in medicine or waste management to help people in developing countries take better care of themselves and their surroundings, for example. Or that I don’t need a degree in women’s studies or conflict management to help empower women to stand up for themselves and enjoy their rights to the fullest. Basically, I think I want to do something at some point that involves taking an active part in helping others to help themselves and improve their living conditions. And maybe I won’t do the Peace Corps (continuing health issues are enough to dissuade me from putting myself in that sort of intense and probably grueling sort of situation at this time in my life), or at least not right away, but maybe Fulbright? And maybe I won’t even do this work in a developing country, but what about the people struggling with similar issues in our own backyards? Regardless of how or where or when, I was really inspired—and sobered—by what I saw and experienced in Morocco, and I don’t want to let myself continue living my comfortable and charmed life without giving back some of that love and generosity I know and have experienced in some way or another. I wish that everyone could feel this inspiration and this call at some point in their lives; I’ve been lucky enough to feel this urge multiple times in my life, and each time stronger. The call is getting strong enough now that soon I’m just going to have to buckle down and get my hands dirty, you know? Stop talking, and start doing. I want to finish my degree first, and then… who knows. Off I go!!

On that note, I have to get going. Italy and Spain will have to wait for another post. I love you all. I miss you all. I wish you could be here, doing this all with me. Then again, I don’t wish that—I wish that you are all doing exactly what you need to do to be happy and inspired and as fully alive as is possible, just as I am.

Pura vida, siempre.
Kelsey