La última semana en España

How did six weeks pass so quickly?

I have been home now for over two weeks, and I cannot believe that I spent the first six weeks of summer in Spain. I have already written of my trip to Gibraltar and Marbella during the last weekend in Spain, but I thought there were a few good stories from the last week and trip home that might be interesting.

On our last Tuesday in Spain, our three ISA directors had a farewell dinner for all of the current ISA students. Our group of summer students plus other ISA students who were there for longer periods of time met outside of the ISA office to walk to the restaurant. Before meeting with the group, Rubia and I went to a Language Exhibition that Malaga had put together in la Plaza de la Marina. We walked through, learning about the evolution of language and taking pictures with the creepy statues of cave people.

All of the information was in Spanish, and we grabbed the Spanish pamphlets at the front door, but a security attempted to be helpful and brought us the English pamphlets. Rubia and I were committed to using our Spanish skills and proceeded to ignore the English versions. At the end of the exhibit, we found an opening with mirrors and a video in the back. Since there were mirrors on every surface, this provided another great photo opportunity. We shamelessly climbed into the display and took as many pictures as we could before the next people came along.

After the Exhibition, we met the group outside the ISA office and followed the directors to the restaurant. Everyone was dressed up, and that added to the sense of festivity. I ended up sitting next to Raquel, one of our directors, Pedro, and across from Rubia, Jen, and another of our directors, Heidi. They made excellent dinner company. After the waitresses (camareras) got our drinks, they began to bring out plate after plate of food. At first we thought they were just serving us appetizers, but as more and more plates of shared food came, we realized we were getting a feast of Spanish cuisine. There were more than 10 courses, and I ate a little bit of each one.

During the meal, Raquel and I discussed our shared love of Twilight and discovered that we like all the same tv shows. We also found that we both have a talent for doing weird things with our eyeballs and speaking in British accents. Basically, we are just ideal friends. We used a lot of Spanish, but switched back and forth since both languages are needed to express different ideas. After dinner, everyone took pictures and headed in their own directions.

Wednesday of the last week was the Festival of San Juan. This festival is local to Spain and especially popular in Malaga. On that night, everyone goes to the beach for a giant party. They make lists of bad things that happened in the past year and through them in bonfires. People jump over the bonfires for luck, and at midnight, everyone goes into the sea to wash their faces and hands for purity. Rubia, Jen, Kendra, Lisa, Elena, and I hung out that night, watching the concert on the beach and then heading to Burger King to sit and chat. I had originally planned to stay out all night, but my bed called my name around three in the morning.

I went to class the next day, but a lot of students did not, for obvious reasons. Kendra and I found out that we were the only two going to literature, so we decided to skip and going shopping instead. Our teacher, Antonio, had told us the previous day that he did not expect to see any of us after San Juan so it was all good. I found a creepy little shop with an old man and old woman staring at me, but they directed me upstairs. After walking up the rickety stairs and down a few narrow hallways, I found a bright, neat room filled with souvenirs and gifts. I bought purses for my mom and sister and a guitar keychain for my father. I later bought coffee roasted in Malaga as an additional gift for my father.

During my last week at school, I made sure to go to the beach everyday during break. I liked to stop at a little grocery store, get some snacks, and then read Crepusculo, listen to my iPod and take naps while browning my skin. I wanted to come home nice and brown and ready to further my tan at the pool. Friday was the last day of classes before finals, and I made sure to go to the El Palo beach for the last time that day. As I gazed at the beautiful sea, I could not believe this was my last day on this beach. After my final Literature class, I headed back to Tere's apartment feeling a little sad. Like I wrote in my previous blog about Gibraltar, my friends and I went out that night for one last fun time together. We danced until early in the morning and got little sleep, but it was worth it.

After returning from Gibraltar and Marbella on Saturday, I felt wiped out and got some much needed sleep. I woke up late on Sunday, and after spending some devotional time, I headed out for one last day on the Malagueta beach. Apparently there had been a huge festival the night before in Malaga, and the beach was packed with Spaniards from out of town. I found my little piece of sand and took a nap on the sizzling ground. After waking up, I took a long walk through the water and then through town, taking some photos of the harbor and going into gift shops, trying to find a present for my brother. I wanted an Espana Jersey, but the stores were all sold out.

I studied for my finals that night, and got up early on Monday morning to prepare. After my first test in Culture, I really was not worried, but I wanted to finish strong. The Culture final was simple, and the Literature final was by far the easiest test I have ever taken. I said goodbye to a few friends at school, and it felt strange to realize that I would most likely never again see these people who had been so important to me for six weeks. Tere made paella for lunch that day, and her daughter, Terecita was there as well. Terecita took a photo with Matteo, Tere, and me after the meal.

Matteo and I packed up our bags and scoured the room, making sure we had not forgotten anything in the room. When we left the apartment for the last time, I gave Tere a thank you note I had written in Spanish and thanked her deeply for everything she had done. She gave us the dos besos, and sent us and our bags down the elevator one at a time. When I got in the elevator, a few tears slid down my face. For the first time, I fully accepted the fact that I was leaving Spain. Zach joined Matteo and me outside, and we walked across town to the Cathedral. I met a few other host parents who had taken their kids to the bus, and we said our goodbyes to the students who were saying and to our fabulous directors: Iker, Heidi, and Raquel.

Iker made the overnight trip with us to Madrid. We were pretty rowdy and shared memories--no one really felt like sleeping. Andrea and I watched the most recent episode of the Bachelorette on our way to pass the time. When we arrived at the Madrid airport, the three Grand Valley Girls (Aftyn, Andrea, and Jen) hopped in a taxi and took off across the city to meet their Bilbao group. The rest of us stumbled into the airport, knowing that at 4 am we would have to wait a while before checking into our flights. Kendra and I were flying the same airlines so we headed to the same security checkpoint.

At the Duty Free store inside the airport, I finally found a gift for my brother: an authentic Spain World Cup scarf. I ate Subway as a way to transition back into the American way of life, and slept until my flight began to board. On the Madrid to Amsterdam flight, I sat by two Madrilenas in their early twenties. They were on holiday to Amsterdam, but neither spoke English or Dutch. We spoke for about two hours in Spanish and had a lot of fun. When we arrived in Amsterdam, I pointed them in the right direction and gave them some English tips.

Dutch airports are different because instead of having lots of sitting room and boarding by sections, everyone just makes a giant line and stands around for two hours until everyone is on the flight. On my trip across the Atlantic, I sat by a girl from Germany. A few years before she had spent a year in Minnesota as a foreign exchange student and had visited regularly ever since. We discussed many things and like the Madrilenas, she told me about the international significance of the terrorist attacks on September 11, 2001. I never realized how much of a global effect that event had, but all three women could identify where they were when it happened and how it had changed their home countries.

Customs in Minneapolis went smoothly, but after helping many people get their luggage off the conveyor belt to put it back through security, I found that mine was missing. The airport guard told me to just go through security with my carry-on and claim the luggage in Sioux Falls. I decided their was no point in worrying, and headed off to my gate. Once there, I switched on my cell phone and felt like I was finally home. On my final flight to Sioux Falls, I sat by an elderly mother and her adult daughter who had just vacationed in Canada, taking a tour of the garden's of British Columbia. This sounded dull to me, but they seemed to have enjoyed it.

Mom and her friend Becky picked me up in Sioux Falls. I made a luggage claim before leaving the airport, and they delivered it to my house in less than two days. We drove home to Hospers, and I dropped my bag in my room, took a shower, and got ready to go out again. Although I had not slept in over 48 hours, I really wanted to go to the Midnight showing of Eclipse with my sister. We saw the film, and it was both the perfect ending to a magnificent six weeks in Spain and a marvelous beginning to the rest of summer.

Part of my heart is still in Spain. One day I will go back and retrieve it.



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Monkeys and British people

Sometimes you just need to go play with monkeys.

Two Saturdays ago, June 26, Rubia, Jen, and I decided to take advantage of our last weekend in Spain by visiting the Rock of Gibraltar and its infamous monkeys. We waded our way through the confusing bus schedule on the internet and found a way to go Gibraltar for the day, and then spend a few hours in the late afternoon/early evening in the capital city of the Costa del Sol, Marbella. It all looked good on paper, and we planned to meet Pedro and Alejandro in Gibraltar after they took a later bus.

Our bus left at 7 am and that time came far too early for Rubia and me. Wanting to soak up every last moment of our ISA Malaga experience, we went out Friday night, hanging out with friends and dancing in the discotecas until much later than we should have. We walked back together to our neighborhood around 3:30 am, and I slept until around 5:30 am. This was the earliest I had woken up in over six weeks, and I was feeling pretty sleep-deprived and nauseous.

However, I took a bunch of ibuprofen, grabbed the sack lunch Tere had packed me, and walked over to the Plaza de Toros to meet Jen and Rubia. Jen loves monkeys more than anything else in this world so she was filled with joy and excitement. Rubia and I were semi-comatose. We hailed a cab and asked the drive to take us to the Estacion de Autobuses. After a zippy cab ride, we arrived at the bus station, purchased our tickets, and got on the bus.

Rubia and I ran to the back of the bus, taking advantage of the full bench in the back row and taking a nap for an hour and a half. When we got to the Marbella bus station, our nap had to end for the bus filled up with people, including a sailor-mouthed Englishman who sat between Rubia and I on the bench and rolled his own cigarette while telling us about his life and how to get to Gibraltar. When we got to the final stop in the Spanish city of La Linea de la Concepcion, he grabbed his pack, pointed us in the right direction, and headed for the border.

Rubia and I were a bit more alert and this point, and Jen was still the happiest and most optimistic I have ever seen her. We made our way to the border, and showed our passports. To get to the city of Gibraltar, you have to walk across the Gibraltar airport--in fact you have to walk on the airport's one runway. Gibraltar is owned by England, and upon entering the United Kingdom, we immediately spotted one of those red telephone booths that everyone takes a picture inside when they go to England. I have been jealous of those photos for years, so I made sure that I got my photo taken in it.

We followed the signs toward the historic town center. Along the way, guides called out to us, offering to show us the highlights of the rock. Jen and I believe that those things are scams, so while Rubia wanted to take advantage of that opportunity, we wanted nothing to do with it. We passed through the town center, and Rubia got some Gibraltar pounds out of the ATM. In the distance, we saw a cable car system going up the Rock in the center of the town, and we decided to try to find where it went up.

When we got to the bottom of the cable car center, we were confronted by a highly persuasive guide that offered to show us the main sites of the rock for 25 euro. He told us that we would save over 3-4 kilometers of walking, gain entrance to some sites on top, and still pay less than the cable car. Despite Jen's and my initial prejudice against that sort of this, this made a lot of sense so we finally listened to Rubia and joined a British family and our guide in the van.

Our first stop was at the southern most point of the Rock. From the lookout point, you can see Africa. Legend says that a mountain used to separate the Atlantic Ocean and the Mediterranean Sea, but Hercules smashed it, connecting the bodies of water and leaving behind two columns. Gibraltar is one of the columns and some African mountain is the other. At the closest point, only 3-4 miles separate Spain and Africa, and it was incredible realizing that we were looking across the sea at another whole continent.

We got back in the van and the little English boy, Tim, sat by me. He was short and plump with glasses and a British accent, and we found him hilarious. Our next stop was some caves within the rock, and on the way Tim asked me, "Do you like caves? I'm a bit afraid of them, but I do rather like them." Tim was on holiday with his mother and father, and his maternal grandparents. His grandfather used to be in the navy and lived in Gibraltar for a while before returning to England.

When we got out of the van, we saw our first Gibraltar monkeys. The guide told us to ignore them--there would be more later--but we could not resist taking a few photos of them scampering up walls and clinging to their babies. We went into the caves and while they were beautiful, I thought that the ones in Nerja were better. Jen, Rubia, and I left the caves before the British family and were greeted by our guide and a pack of monkeys. He had each of us take a turn standing by a post. A monkey then jumped on our head and crawled onto our shoulders, eager to get a peanut from our hands.

Tim was really excited about the monkeys. However, when it was his turn, a much bigger monkey got on the post. The guide tried to shoo him away, but the monkey was determined. It jumped on Tim's head, almost knocking him over, and we all tried to convince Tim not to be freaked out. After that, the guide gave us more peanuts and taught us how to make the monkeys jump up on our arms, warning us, "You don't touch the monkeys--the monkeys touch you!" Jen's face was filled with the purest glee and joy I have ever seen. All of her dreams came true in that short time.

Our next stop was a lookout point on the peak of the Rock. We took some wonderful pictures and saw some more monkeys. Our final stop was the tunnels of Gibraltar. The Rock is filled with kilometers and kilometers of man-made tunnels that the British made for defense back in the day. The tunnels we traveled were filled with mannequins dressed in traditional British military garb and posed in different scenes that would have occurred in the tunnel. Going down was much easier than going up.

Outside the tunnels we had one last photo opportunity before heading back down. Jen's camera broke while in the tunnel, deleting all but eight of her photos so she lost her good temperament and sulked the rest of the day. We still love her. Tim's father took photos of Rubia and I with Spain and the sea behind us, and we let Tim jump into a few photos. Our guide finally got us back in the van and took us back down to the city. Money well-spent.

The next bus did not leave until 3:30 pm so we still had about two hours to kill in Gibraltar. Rubia had spotted a restaurant with lots of vegetarian options on the way to the cable car site, so we made our way back there. After weeks of practicing our Spanish in every restaurant, it was strange to order food from a made speaking English. I ate the bocadillo Tere had packed me and tried a cheese and ham pizza at the shop. We spent the rest of our time wandering and exploring little shops and displays on the way back to the bus stop.

We called Pedro on our way back to the center, and he told that the 10 am bus had too full for Alejandro and him to board. Despite my tired start of the day, I was thankful that we had pushed ourselves to get up so early. When we got back to La Linea, we discovered that the bus information online was wrong and the next bus did not leave until 4:30. I was out of money and wanted to find an ATM, so we ventured into the city of La Linea. It was hot, dry, and unattractive. We felt blessed to have studied abroad in Malaga, and based on what I saw, I do not recommend that International Studies Abroad create ISA La Linea.

Finally our bus came, and we headed off the Marbella. Tragically, the change in bus times left us with only two hours there instead of three. When we arrived at the Estacion de Autobuses in Marbella, we quickly got off, bought our tickets from Marbella to Malaga, and sped walked the twenty minute walk to the beach. We decided we had about 45 minutes to spend and the beach before we had to head back, so Rubia and I quickly changed into our swimming suits. Jen sat by the stuff while we ventured out on the pile of rocks that extended far out into the sea.

On our way back to the sandy part of the beach, Rubia realized her dream of playing paddle ball with natives, and I swam my way back to the main beach. Marbella's beach was beautiful and filled with shells, and I decided to collect some. I met a young boy from Sevilla there, and he helped me find shells. Like many young Spaniards, he was excited to hear that I was from the United States. While I did not make many lasting connections with Spaniards, little interactions like this made my experience so much more worthwhile.

Our time flew by far too quickly, and Jen, Rubia, and I returned to the bus stop, drying our swimsuits and bodies as we walked. Marbella was a beautiful town and put La Linea to shame. The Spanish bus system further caused problems, and we accidentally got on a non-direct bus to Malaga instead of the express bus for which we had paid an extra two euro. I slept on the bus, weary after a day of monkeys, sun, and high-energy British children. We took another zippy taxi ride back to la Plaza de la Malagueta and headed to our respective apartments. Thankfully, Tere had supper waiting for me to heat up when I returned.

Despite all the stress and confusion, a monkey sat on my head--that made it all worth it.



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Nerja > Clase

I never got to do Senior Skip Day in high school.

As part of their communist-totalitarian coalition, my principal and vice principal decided that Senior Skip Day was a violent uprising against their supreme authority and declared harsh penalties for anyone that participated my senior year. Robbed of the chance to take a day off and enjoy the company of our classmates before graduation scattered us to the wind, my classmates and I trudged our way through classes while a dozen foolish individuals still skipped.
The administration called their parents, and they were all back by noon.

With this tragic history, you can imagine my excitement at the change to take a skip day in Malaga. Two Fridays ago, June 18, we decided to take the day off and go to Nerja, a nearby city. On Thursday, we informed our teachers that we were skipping class, and they responded by suggesting places to go and things to do. I love Spain and Spanish teachers.

Our group met by la Plaza de la Marina at 9:30 the next morning to buy our bus tickets. We got on the bus, napping during the hour-long bus ride. Nerja is known for both its beautiful beaches and also its epic caves, and while most of the group was only interested in the former, Daniela, Meghan, Cristina, Andi, Polly, Rubia and I wanted to see the caves. We paid the bus driver an extra euro to keep going after he dropped the rest of the passengers off in the center of Nerja.

When we got to la Cuevas, Meghan discovered that the sweet old lady next to her had stolen her clutch, containing 40 euro, her driver's license, a copy of her passport, and her credit cards. The bus driver helped her look for it and took her to a lady at the gift shop who spoke English to give Megan advice. Meghan called her mother to cancel the cards, and by the time her mother called, the woman had already taken hundreds of dollars out of Meghan's bank account. It is sad that you cannot trust anyone when you are traveling.

After that big mess, we headed into las cuevas. The caves at Nerja are HUGE, but they only let you see about 1/3 of them. We read some information about them at the entrance after having an awkward interaction with the photographers at the entrance, and then entered the main cave. I was immediately overwhelmed by the grandeur and immenseness of the cavern. We had met two little old British ladies earlier when we asked them to photograph our group, and they summed up my feelings perfectly when they began to sing "How Great Thou Art" while walking through the cave. On our way out, I found a floppy white hat they had left on a bench and gave it to a security guard, telling him it belonged to "las ancianas inglesas que cantaban." He knew exactly who I meant.

We took the bus back to Nerja, and then walked our way through town down to la Playa Burriana. In contrast to the sandy beaches of Malaga, la Playa Burriana consists of smooth, small rocks which I greatly preferred. Malaga has two main beaches and both fall short of Nerja's beach. El Palo leaves you covered in sticky sand, and La Malagueta dirties your towel, suit, and body with dust.

Upon arriving, I discovered that quite a few people had already gone to lunch so I went and joined them. Nerja has an amazing all-you-can-eat paella place right on the beach. I sat at a table with Matteo, Alejandro, Elena, and Pedro and quickly signaled the waitress to bring me a plate. She brought me a plate covered in delicious paella made with whole crayfish called langostinos and small clams called almejas. Elena taught me how to rip the head and tail off of the langostinos and how to remove its shell and legs. It was kind of an epic fail and I got crayfish blood on my shirt, but I ate until I was stuffed.

After lunch, I decided to conquer my fear of heights and jump off a cliff. While I was paralyzed in fear my first time climbing up, the rest of the times were much easier and I jumped six different times. At the top of the cliff, I met two Spaniards who apparently lived in Nerja and jumped off cliffs all the time. I felt a little like Bella Swan meeting the Quileute cliff jumpers. We chatted for a little while and they told me they were rooting for me. They also told me that you had to yell "Gazpacho" when you jumped. I love traditions and quickly embraced this one.

Stepping out on the edge, I gazed out all the clear blue water and resolved myself to the jump. I took a deep breath, launched myself from the cliff, and yelled "Gazpacho!!!!!" My body hit the water hard, but the adrenaline and rush of the jump kept me from feeling the frigidity of the Mediterranean. As my head broke the surface and I gasped the sweet air and tasted salt water on my lips, I felt complete euphoria. God clearly made cliff next to the sea so that we could jump off of them. Our whole group enjoyed the jump, and despite the fact that the sharp rock cut my hands and feet on the climb up, I felt like I could do it for the rest of my life.

After jumping over and over, I decided a nap was in order. I laid out my towel, put on Glee soundtrack on my iPod, read some Crepusculo, and then drifted off to sleep. Beach sleeping is so relaxing and has the added benefit of rewarding you with a tan. Over the next hour or so people began to head off to the bus stop to go home.

When I awoke, Lisa, Elena, Rubia, Alejandro and I decided to go for a little adventure before heading back to the bus. My culture teacher, Cristina, had told us about el Balcon de Europa which is a beautiful lookout spot in Nerja, and I really wanted to find it. We traveled down the beach, coming to a little cove where two teenage girls were hanging out with a much older man. It was a little sketchy. We ignored them and heading over to a broken stone staircase. Elena and I waited there while the other three went off to climb some rocks and take pictures.

After that extensive photo shoot, we climbed a staircase up the cliff, spotting a secret garden of cats. We walked for a while, and I fearlessly led the group as we wondered narrow streets, trying to find el Balcon. After about 20 minutes of walking, we found it. El Balcon is huge and extends out over the sea, giving us some more photo ops and letting us soak up the wonder of the Mar Mediterraneo.

After our photo taking adventure, the five of us hurried back to the bus stop, hoping to make the next bus. We made it with a few minutes to spare, finding the rest of the group ready to go home as well. Rubia and I shared a bus seat, and we read our respective books in Spanish. Everyone was exhausted and fell asleep on our way back to Malaga. As Rubia and I walked back from the bus stop, we saw a flamenco concert going on in the park. This country never stops fascinating me. When Matteo and I got home, Tere was already in bed but she had left us delicious bocadillos, chips, and flan. We love her.

Nerja was infinitely better than class.


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Soy malagueño

Malaga has begun to feel like home.

First of all, I want to apologize for not updating my blog in a while. Despite the fact that my life is mostly free time, I feel like the days go so quickly. However, I do not really have an excuse, so I will man-up and try to be better in the future.

Wednesday (2 weeks ago) was our first day of class. Matteo and I got up at 7:45 since we had to be at the school at 9. Tere made us cafe con leche and gave us pan tostado with mantequilla and mermelada de fresa. In English, that is coffee and toast. I had purchased my bono-bus pass the night before, so Matteo and I walked half a block to the bus stop and waited for el Once (number 11). Here's a traveler's tip: Matteo couldn't buy his pass yet because he couldn't cash his travelor's checks. NOWHERE IN SPAIN TAKES TRAVELER'S CHECKS. Matteo FINALLY got them changed to money yesterday, and he has been trying for over two weeks.

When the bus came, we quickly missed it because we had no idea what we were doing. Eight minutes later the next bus came, and we got on. At this point we were a little worried about making it to school on time. Our nervousness made us get off 4 paradas (stops) too early so we had a bit of a hike before making it to school. However, Spanish school never starts on time so our lateness did not really matter. We took a placement test, and I made advanced, exactly what I needed. Since I was not taking language, I had three hours off, so Jen, Andrea and I headed back home to la Playa Malagueta to catch some rays.

Since then, we have fallen into a nice pattern of school and nightlife. Each day I have culture class from 9-11 and literature class from 1-3. During the two hour break in the middle, Andrea, Jen, Kendra and I hang out, sometimes buying fruit at the fruit stand at the corner, getting bocadillos across the street, going to the beach, checking our email, napping, reading books, or watching the Bachelorette, although that last part is mostly Andrea. I have a love/hate relationship with the bus--I love the idea of mass transit but practically it is annoying.

After class I head back to Tere's piso for comida (lunch). I usually get home around 3:20 but Matteo gets home at 2:20. I found out today that he usually eats lunch with Tere's 8-year-old nieto (grandson) during which they both watch Kim Possible in Spanish. This makes me more jealous than I think you can understand. By the time I get home, everyone else has eaten, and Matteo is enjoying one of his 2-5 hour siestas. The typical Spanish siesta is 20-30 minutes, but we Americans tend to abuse the system a tidge. Sometimes Tere's adult son or adult daughter come for lunch, and that takes longer, giving me some dining companions.

I usually spend my afternoons at the apartment or at the beach in front of our building. Sometimes I watch a tv show, take a siesta, or go grab some rays. A few days we have gone shopping--there are some great malls and shops that we can reach with a short bus ride. Supper is usually eaten around 9-10, and Tere prefers 9 since she goes to bed a little earlier. Tere goes out a lot at night to visit friends and family, so she frequently prepares our bocadillos beforehand and leaves them in the toaster oven for when we are hungry. We love her.

After dinner, we see what the night brings. There are seven of us from ISA Malaga that live on la Playa Malagueta, so people meet on the beach every night at 10:30 to hang out. Sometimes that means just chilling; other nights it means hitting the Centro and going to the Discotecas to dance the night away. A few days into our time at Malaga Matteo bought a guitar, and now he brings that down to sing and play. He and I are collaborating on a recording of Kanye's Heartless. Other nights we go out for tapas or helado. Ironically, our two meeting points tend to be the Burger King at Plaza de la Malagueta and McDonald's at Plaza de la Marina. We are so American.

One night Pedro, Sarah and I went to el Centro Comercial Larios to watch Prince of Persia: Arenas de Tiempo in Spanish. Thankfully you do not need to understand much of the dialogue in action films. I highly recommend it--I really enjoyed the film. It has one of the happiest endings of any adventure film I have seen in a long time.

So many crazy things have happened, and I have more stories than I could every tell or write. I have been catcalled by a transexual, interrogated by an old crazy man about where the Weapons of Mass Destruction are in Iraq, dined in the shadow of the Arabic castle and the unfinished Cathedral, danced with Jen to protect Rubia from a creepy Spaniard that would not leave her alone at the discoteca, had several old ladies think I was Spanish and call me guapo, attended church with six other people, gotten very lost in el Centro, pretended I did not understand Spanish, eaten so many pitufos de tortilla, gone swimming in the Mediterranean, made friends with two kebob guys, climbed Mount Gibralfaro, met people from Australia, Germany, Italy, Holland, Spain, the DR, Cuba, Colombia, England, France, and Canada, and so much much much more. I cannot wait to tell people everything in person.

We have taken a few trips since coming here, and I have enjoyed them all. Iker, a native Spaniard and one of our directors, gave us a tour of Malaga on our first day. Since then, he also gave us a tour of la Alcazaba, a Muslim fortress and castle, and took us to the Museo de Costumbres y Artes (Museum of Customs and Arts). We also took a day trip to the picturesque city of Ronda which is divided by a HUGE ravine and may have the prettiest vistas (views) I had seen since coming to Spain. Tomorrow we head to Sevilla for the weekend, and I am excited to see yet another magnificent city of Spain.

Life is beautiful. Skype me!


Click here for photos of MALAGA
Click here for photos of LA ALCAZABA
Click here for photos of RONDA