Fast-forward, please

I'm not quite home yet.

The plane that would whisk me away from Madrid and magically spit me out in Philadelphia had a little temper tantrum and wouldn't move from the runway for two hours. Reason? Volcanic ash. I had been wishing and praying to be able to stay longer in Spain since I realized how soon I would be leaving. But spending the extra time in a two square foot space, unable to order a creamy café con leche from my favorite little bakery or chat with my Spanish friends under the shade of an orange tree in the river park wasn't exactly what I was hoping for.

I missed my next flight because of the delay. Instead of being in my own bed last night and seeing my mom and brother for the first time in months, I was shuttled to a quirky Philly hotel for the night. Greeted with a cheerful aloha, I made my way to my HUGE free room with 2 queen beds and a widescreen TV. Not bad, but I'd still rather be in Madison, MS snuggled up with my squirmy little yorkie.

After waking at 4 am, I'm staring through tired eyes at the gate of my fourth and last flight of this part of the journey. The ache I feel when I think of everything I'm leaving behind in Spain still throbs, so I'll focus instead on the good memories that will stay with me for the rest of my life. I'm already trying to figure out how to go back, so stay tuned! This blog may not be finished after all.

Say it isn't so!

As I brush the dust from my red suitcase, a sense of dread creeps up and pours over me.

I haven't cried yet, but I have a feeling tomorrow will be a blubberfest. We have our closing ceremony at school, followed by a dinner celebration and a goodbye party at a salsa club. I'll be bidding farewell to my intercambio and his friends, which is hard to even think about. I haven't actually spent time with them lately since I've been so weighed down with schoolwork, but remembering their hospitality, friendliness and hilarious comments makes me tear up a little.

In other news, since I'm too emotional to think of the impending flood of nostalgia, I'm officially finished with my third year of college. This afternoon I turned in my soul in the form of a six-page paper on Media and ETA in the Basque Country before also critiquing Spanish Baroque art in a final exam. As a celebration, I went out for chocolate con churros with some of my amigas before doing some shopping downtown. So far, I've been successful in trying not to think about leaving.

I have a little gnawing suspicion that reality is about to come up behind me supermega-fast. But until then, I will enjoy a good night's sleep before meeting Christy at the Mercado Central for some last minute perusing. ¡Buenas noches!

egoísta

Some days, life turns your perspective on its head and spins it around a little. Yesterday was one of those.

While walking back with Nina from lunch at Juan and Mari Carmen's house, we dove under the awning of a fruit stand to shield ourselves from the torrential downpour (not even an exaggeration) that fell out of the pudgy grey clouds. Enormous drops of rain smashed the sidewalk and splashed onto our feet. A Spanish woman who looked to be about 40 years old joined us to take shelter too. Frustrated at the inconvenience, I muttered a sentence that matched the thoroughly miffed expression on my face:

"What HAPPENED?! It was so beautiful this morning...and now the rain's ruining everything!"

All I could think about was the fact that the storm was keeping me from getting home earlier to do my work/messing up my hair/getting my new shoes wet/robbing the gorgeous sunshine from the day so _I_ couldn't enjoy it.

The woman shrugged and with an upward twist of her mouth replied "Well, it's good for the countryside! And the snails!" She giggled and turned to watch the raindrops bounce in the street. I realized the sudden change of climate was kind of beautiful.

Oh how selfish I had been. Too often we think about how life's frustrations inconvenience ourselves rather than ways they might benefit others. And you know what? All my pretentious worrying was really for nothing. In less than five minutes, the crashing rain subsided to a mere sprinkle so we could walk the remaining three minutes to our apartment.

I challenge you to stop in the busyness of your day and reflect on how fortunate we are to even be here. Instead of focusing on the things that are going wrong, count your blessings. Or, even better, count the blessings of those around you.

In summary: It's not all about me.

y todo lo que tú amas es lo que yo quiero.

My eyes fluttered open lazily at half past eleven this morning. Weekends are heavenly. I raised my blinds: the sun definitely wasn't feeling shy today. Best part? It was the day we would learn from our madre the generational secrets of Paella Valenciana. This sticky rice and meat dish, inundated with freshly cut green beans, artichokes and giant white lima beans, is a symbol of family nostalgia and unity in Valencia. As a Sunday custom, we joined the thousands of households in this city enjoying plates of this colorful meal. Out of all the times I've tried paella over the past four months, I haven't been able to find any that compare with the full flavor or heartiness of Marisa's.

What a perfect Sunday afternoon. Later, I met some good friends for church; the second to last service we'll have here. It's just starting to hit me that I'm going to miss almost everything about this place. In the interest of maintaining my optimism, I'll instead focus on the eleven days I have left in this beautiful, quirky city. This is a part of my life that I'll cherish for decades.

Reflections...

Spain has changed me, and hopefully for the better. Reason 1: I've never before been interested in politics or history, but lately I've been on the edge of my seat talking with my madre, my intercambio, my professors, and any Spanish shopkeeper or passerby about the controversy surrounding the government leaders in this beautiful but divided country. It's fascinating to hear firsthand experiences of totally different sides of the issues and try to make sense of it on my own. My inquisitive nature is blossoming (wish it'd shown up a bit earlier though!) and I love it.

Reason 2 for said change: I'm also becoming more assertive. Yessss! FINALLY. In Spain, the people are a zillion times less politically correct than in the US, and while at times it makes for uncomfortable lunchtime chatter, I appreciate the lack of useless formality. People say what they feel, no matter if their Aunt Lolín will vehemently oppose it or if they have to shout over the two red-faced men bickering across a plate of paella. This has done wonders for my ability to express my opinions clearly without fear of what others may think.

Reason 3: I stay up until at least 2 a.m. almost every day, and waking up before 9 or 10 is painful. I used to get tired around 10 pm and practically unconscious at 11. Problem: I just signed up for 9 am classes next semester. (Time to smack my forehead repeatedly)

Reason 4: I can now navigate safely and confidently around a totally foreign airport. My brother will appreciate this. Once, when traveling together alone for the first time, I started walking the exact opposite direction of the departure gates in a German airport and he just stared at me. Stephen, I have found my sense of direction. Well, I did get turned around today on a street that runs parallel to my house, but that's another story. Point: European airport transit frequency = better sense of where to go. Or just the ability to read signs.

Reason 5, and perhaps the most important: I'm enamored of the Spanish culture and can't handle this being my last experience in this land. I mean, I still have tons to learn and don't profess to be an expert, but what I do know is enchanting. My Spanish has improved immensely, and I've been given a slightly more clear perception of what it is I'm meant to do with my life. I guess that was more like 3 reasons in 1, but you get the idea. (Cue dramatic inspirational music) I've been transformed by the differences in culture to a more socially aware, opinionated, observant, late-sleeping and motivated person. En serio.

¡Fallas!

The second after I stepped off the plane from Italy, I noticed that Valencia had changed. In the metro on my way home, I was squeezed tightly between a pair of eager German tourists, a group of teenage girls giddy about being out of school for an entire week, and an elderly man with a disgruntled, tired look on his face. I looked down the length of the train and glimpsed the perfectly coifed shiny black hair of a Fallera, pinned in place for a day of representing the festivities while wearing an ornate and colorful dress. Fallas had begun.

As I broke ground level after surfacing from the belly of the underground, I noticed even more signals of the arrival of this sensory celebration. Children filled the streets, laughing and running with one another. For a split second, I smiled and found this absolutely adorable. The kids were just enjoying the fresh air and each other's company, right? ....No. A child, who couldn't have been more than six years old, pulled out a lime green lighter and lit something in his hand. In exactly four seconds, a ridiculously loud ''BOOM!'' erupted from the tiny paper roll he had thrown to my right.

I have to admit that I jumped a little. Okay, a lot. This must have been hilarious to them because the little devils began happily tossing more and more sound-bombs in my direction. I picked up my pace and hurried past, muttering to myself that I would never let my six-year-old play with fire.

Aside from the petardos (the loud firecrackers), there are many things I loved about Fallas week. One of my favorite parts was the sudden appearance of numerous street stands that offered fried sugary delights such as churros, buñuelos or lanzas served with steamy thick chocolate. Although I could definitely handle having those all year round, my figure would probably suffer drastically. I just had to settle with smelling their sinful scents and tasting their greasy goodness for a short time. I already miss them.

Most importantly, the sudden appearance of numerous elaborate, sometimes gigantic, papier-maché structures was impressive to witness. Here are a few examples, since my explanations would not even begin to do them justice without pictures:

Alas, the entire celebration of Fallas culminates in the Cremà, the night where all the statues erupt into flames and burn away. Most of the structures are parodies of events, people or ideas from the past year. This burning is a very symbolic exchange because it represents a cleansing in order to make room for a new, fresh year. The whole thing seems a bit sad to me with my limited foreign understanding of a festival that has integrated itself into the Valencian community for decades. It's disconcerting to see such beauty displayed for six days and then completely destroyed in a three-minute show of fireworks and flames. Here are a few pictures from this night:

You'll notice that they were taken from a distance. This is because Christy, Abby and I decided to stand at the very front of the line and subsequently found ourselves in a shower of ashes when the HUGE structure burst into flames above us. Needless to say, we high-tailed it out of there. Here are our shocked expressions:

Overall, Fallas was nothing like I'd expected. Aside from the annoying firecrackers and suffocating crowds, I enjoyed watching and taking part in this tradition. Seeing the structures burn and wither into smoke and soot, I felt strangely connected with the community. Witnessing something so spectacular and unusual undoubtedly brings people together. Old or young, three-day tourist or Valencian native, we all experienced the moving power of art and ingenuity.

I've only been back in class for a week and a half since Fallas, but this Thursday is the start of our 12 day vacation for Holy Week. I'm looking forward to spending a week with my Dad in Madrid and then jetting off to London for a few days to meet some girls from my program. Hopefully, I'll also be able to reconnect with a high school friend. With countless decisions and transitions on my mind, it'll be good to have some time to get away.

Buenas noches a todos.

Italia

These past two weeks were a speeding blur of crazy, vibrant, delicious, fiery, and tranquil.

I loved every minute.

My trip to Italy with Christy was full of gelato, beautiful buildings, sore feet, new friends, and multiple triangle-shaped pieces of cheesy heaven.

We stayed in Milan for all four nights and explored the city on our first full day:

On our second day, we caught an early morning train to say buon giorno to foggy Venice and spoke Spanish while strolling through the streets with our new Chilean friend Felipe.

Our third day was scheduled to be spent in Fair Verona, home of Shakespeare's Capulets and Montagues. We missed our early train but decided to make the most of the morning: we read leisurely and played in a park.

We had plenty of time to catch the next train to Verona. We spent the day wandering through the city admiring the style of the buildings, visiting a grand plaza with a Roman arena, walking through the Juliet House, stopping for a generous slice of pizza for lunch, and seeing Juliet's tomb.

I'm so thankful that Christy and I were safe and happy throughout our entire trip. I already miss Italy, but being back in Valencia is comforting. At least I know the language, and can (usually) find my way around the city without a completely confused look on my face. I'm going to miss this place.

Come back soon for pictures from Las Fallas, an annual week-long celebration full of firecrackers, street food, fiestas, millions of tourists, and elaborate paper-mache structures of societal parodies erupting into flames!

Ciao.