tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7675218240107985542024-03-12T19:17:38.517-07:00El pasaje de Piper por otros paíseslowreyphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08899532386802539832noreply@blogger.comBlogger17125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767521824010798554.post-22875500080293793742011-05-15T14:25:00.000-07:002011-05-15T14:25:59.457-07:00and that's a wrap?!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-moY8uubaVr8/Tc-gM6tBUVI/AAAAAAAAATg/1FqnQTv2Wog/s1600/IMG_1361.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-moY8uubaVr8/Tc-gM6tBUVI/AAAAAAAAATg/1FqnQTv2Wog/s320/IMG_1361.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wtBVvDMR3Uo/Tc-fGJuxrXI/AAAAAAAAATA/dbwSOR5GEE4/s1600/IMG_1311.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wtBVvDMR3Uo/Tc-fGJuxrXI/AAAAAAAAATA/dbwSOR5GEE4/s320/IMG_1311.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><style>
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">Amsterdam proved to be a nice last hoorah! Our first night there, Amanda, Sarah, and Rosie (three other girls from our program) were finishing up their last night in Amsterdam, so we met up with them and Eve’s cousin, Jenni. We tried to see all “top” destinations for tourists: the red light district, the Van Gogh museum, Anne Frank’s house, and the Heineken museum. We also got the hummus and Mexican food Eve and I had been seeking out for the past few months, along with Nutella and peanut butter and jelly thanks to the Hostel breakfast.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">The Van Gogh museum and Anne Frank museum were amazing! I couldn’t believe I was seeing the actual paintings of prints I have in my house! There was a “Picasso in Paris” exhibit as well which I really liked that had all of the work Picasso had done while he lived in Paris. The museum also had some Monet—three for one deal! The Anne Frank house took us on a tour of the house she hid in from the Nazis. It had quotes form her diaries on the wall and her actual diary at the end of the tour, along with video clippings from people who had known her, including her father. My eyes got blurry more than once….</span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nrpMn6hPIh8/Tc-e5hsbYOI/AAAAAAAAAS8/03iL4JsyJBE/s1600/IMG_1300.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nrpMn6hPIh8/Tc-e5hsbYOI/AAAAAAAAAS8/03iL4JsyJBE/s320/IMG_1300.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lauren, Eve, Rosie, & Sarah outside the Picasso exhibit. I quickly got yelled at to put my camera away, so this is all I have for proof that we were there!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anne Frank's dad when he returned to the house they hid in</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-egHLg06ypls/Tc-fwONcOsI/AAAAAAAAATQ/pNTuU0Z1U40/s1600/IMG_1349.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-egHLg06ypls/Tc-fwONcOsI/AAAAAAAAATQ/pNTuU0Z1U40/s320/IMG_1349.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">ANNE FRANK'S REAL DIARY!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";"></span><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">One day we all kind of divided and did our own thing. Lauren and I decided we wanted to try to see the tulip fields—Sarah and Rosie had told us it was a must! So we got on the train to get to the fields, but quickly learned upon arriving to a small suburb of Amsterdam called Leiden, that it was going to cost us 50 euro. We decided to pass, and walked around the town instead. It was beautiful! We saw swans, windmills, people taking pictures for their wedding, and a lot of green! (something Sevilla doesn’t have a lot of). No one spoke English, so we heard a lot of Dutch and felt more emerged in the culture than we had in Amsterdam. We got pitas for lunch, had some miscommunications with ordering, and ended up getting a lot more food than we wanted! The waiter realized something had gone wrong and gave us “souvenir” shots. I thought it was funny that the guy knew the word for “souvenir” but not “bread”. Once back in Amsterdam, we went on a tour of the Heineken factory, which was cool. When one of the employees asked Lauren and I us where we were from we were sure to drop the Coors Brewery reference.</span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Windmill!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leiden!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">YUM!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Outdoor bookstore in Leiden!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Amsterdam in a pic: canals, bikes, and cool, flat buildings</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lauren and I having a good laugh</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What goes into beer? The answer.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My cool new friends!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hamburger/ hot dog vending machine?</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Eat as much as you like in one hour!"</td></tr>
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">The reason we were able to go on our weeklong trip to Prague and Amsterdam was due to Feria in Sevilla. Feria is a week-long party in Sevilla during which a bunch of red and green and white striped tents are set up, women wear flamenco dresses, men wear suits, everyone dances flamenco and drinks rebujito. The area in which Feria goes on is so big that it has it’s own street signs, map, and, of course, area of carnival rides! I was able to go Saturday when we got back. Sarah put on her new flamenco dress and I put on my old birthday dress (hey, I tried, it’s a flower print at least) and we headed out to see the festivities.<span> </span>Some old men pushed us out of the way to sit together on a neck-jerking ride that Sarah and I, therefore, endured separately, ate churros and caramel apples, and watched a lot of Sevillano (a type of Flamenco) dancing. It was so cool to see everyone (and I MEAN everyone, there were people ranging from age 4-80 still out at 1 am!) so happy and patriotic. It made me wish the United States had a song and dance that everyone knew (besides the YMCA, of course) and a time of year we all looked forward to.</span><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";"> </span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leonor & our neighbor in their Flamenco dresses!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Feria!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qYVeuxv6vls/Tc-n2zYqw8I/AAAAAAAAAUM/u3OXi8Uba6o/s1600/219320_10150174081314677_535409676_7107503_158498_o.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qYVeuxv6vls/Tc-n2zYqw8I/AAAAAAAAAUM/u3OXi8Uba6o/s320/219320_10150174081314677_535409676_7107503_158498_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-b7MMHqw5nv4/TdAnR2fnnbI/AAAAAAAAAUY/Qx5MXutGnJA/s1600/225781_1962531695885_1020628796_2248637_6219243_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-b7MMHqw5nv4/TdAnR2fnnbI/AAAAAAAAAUY/Qx5MXutGnJA/s320/225781_1962531695885_1020628796_2248637_6219243_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sarah & I in front of the Feria "portal"</td></tr>
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">Getting ready to leave has been pretty bittersweet. Manola keeps randomly telling me she’ll miss me—I’ll be eating a strawberry, walking out of the bathroom, looking for a water-glass and she’ll pop in saying she’s going to miss me. When I showed her my half-packed (and already pretty full) suitcase, she shook her head and left the room sighing, saying, “Don’t show me things like that!” </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-i16yyXbAHzk/TdA8zvQZOYI/AAAAAAAAAVc/cpTcA1XfN1A/s1600/IMG_1443.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-i16yyXbAHzk/TdA8zvQZOYI/AAAAAAAAAVc/cpTcA1XfN1A/s320/IMG_1443.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><style>
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">It gets hard when the neighbor remarks that the baby (Manola’s grandson) never stops crying when she holds him, but as soon as I have him he only smiles. Or when María Jesús (my host-sister) and I laugh together as her daughter Leonor denies that napkins come from trees and we’re crazy for lying to her like that. Leonor grabs my hand when walking home from school and asks me if she can have my cow key-chain to remember me by. Trini, the teacher I observed in the schools here, refuses to say goodbye and plans on seeing me next week—I leave Sevilla Tuesday morning. Watching Greg shake his head over and over, denying that he leaves in the morning makes my heart ache a little bit, and the<span> </span>“remember that one time…”s between Eve and I as we sit on the beach, perfectly comfortable being silent together besides these little interruptions, have started up-- they end in laughter and then silence each time.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CbxaZzG9wYc/TdA8IHao7PI/AAAAAAAAAVM/e4GhO977CUQ/s1600/IMG_1422.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CbxaZzG9wYc/TdA8IHao7PI/AAAAAAAAAVM/e4GhO977CUQ/s320/IMG_1422.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leonor!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EmPza_to8i0/TdA7bmiHpAI/AAAAAAAAAU8/izoe7dut1wQ/s1600/IMG_1114.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EmPza_to8i0/TdA7bmiHpAI/AAAAAAAAAU8/izoe7dut1wQ/s320/IMG_1114.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cXlir0VGPTc/TdA8tdPuFwI/AAAAAAAAAVY/pI-Z_ymOoQY/s1600/IMG_1440.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cXlir0VGPTc/TdA8tdPuFwI/AAAAAAAAAVY/pI-Z_ymOoQY/s320/IMG_1440.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Sfa-XUftWmk/TdA8heQuI1I/AAAAAAAAAVU/iRtMMW_r4eg/s1600/IMG_1424.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Sfa-XUftWmk/TdA8heQuI1I/AAAAAAAAAVU/iRtMMW_r4eg/s320/IMG_1424.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nora's great drawings in my room!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0pHV2stxl6Y/TdA7xZJT2vI/AAAAAAAAAVE/pb02MSFjw4Y/s1600/IMG_1120.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="179" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0pHV2stxl6Y/TdA7xZJT2vI/AAAAAAAAAVE/pb02MSFjw4Y/s320/IMG_1120.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">my room!</td></tr>
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cP2UrJhUryc/TdA95GjVQ5I/AAAAAAAAAVg/YuxL3H5rGco/s1600/IMG_1122.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cP2UrJhUryc/TdA95GjVQ5I/AAAAAAAAAVg/YuxL3H5rGco/s320/IMG_1122.JPG" width="179" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-etdr35ae9P4/TdA_jqmD2-I/AAAAAAAAAVo/fErG9fa0pec/s1600/IMG_0095.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-etdr35ae9P4/TdA_jqmD2-I/AAAAAAAAAVo/fErG9fa0pec/s320/IMG_0095.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">WORMS! (before becoming worms, that is)!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">From here I have two final days left in Sevilla in which I plan on packing, going to all of the cafes Eve and I kept saying we’d go to and still haven’t, and laying in the sun by the river. Tuesday morning I catch the train to Madrid where I’m staying in the hostel I stayed in my first night in Spain and hanging out with Liz (who saved me my first day in Spain!). Wednesday I will head to the airport to go back to JFK to wait and wait and wait and think and think and think (and maybe see Kelly!) before I finally get to DIA, my house, and then, my very own bed (perhaps the most anticipated part)!</span></span></div><div> </div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">I guess I’ll have come full circle. Only now I can speak another language, have been to three continents, seven countries, and have taught English to over 70 Spanish-speaking, smiling students. I have made some friends that I know I will have for the rest of my life and have seen things that have completely changed my view on my future, the United States, and the lifestyles we chose (or don’t) for ourselves. All of this has taught me so much, including one stupid, childish phrase that I’ve heard over a hundred times and never really gave much thought to until now when I can feel it so much.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qcGakhjSGZw/TdBAiDcKQvI/AAAAAAAAAVs/FlPBL7zCXYk/s1600/5e90855099fe4329aeafc5b26767dfc7_7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qcGakhjSGZw/TdBAiDcKQvI/AAAAAAAAAVs/FlPBL7zCXYk/s320/5e90855099fe4329aeafc5b26767dfc7_7.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">A nice view from my Boulder kitchen, thanks to Lee Runyan :)</span></td></tr>
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</style><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Home is where the heart is.</b></span></div><div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"> </div><div> </div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">Oh, and thanks for reading!</span></span></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";"></span></div>lowreyphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08899532386802539832noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767521824010798554.post-7462511160327944192011-05-10T03:47:00.000-07:002011-05-10T03:47:54.920-07:00Defenestration-- Prague's favorite way to get rid of bad leaders<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HMCRkv6y-_k/TchIt3hAS-I/AAAAAAAAAQ4/f2KfvtizisE/s1600/IMG_1183.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HMCRkv6y-_k/TchIt3hAS-I/AAAAAAAAAQ4/f2KfvtizisE/s320/IMG_1183.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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</style> <div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">If Sleeping Beauty, Shrek, or any other fairy tale ever decides it wants to become part of real life, it needs to get set up in Prague; the city is adorable and made me want to be some sort of Princess. Since that was, clearly, not going to happen, I settled on breakfast.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">Sevilla could learn a thing or two from Prague: 1) Bagel shops should exist 2) Bagel shops in Europe that provide tours are going to be successful. Each day of our stay in Prague Lauren, Eve, Greg, and I ended up at Bohemia Bagel, the restaurant down the street from our hostel that knew what breakfast was!, chowing down on bagel and egg sandwiches and chugging endless coffee (free-refills don’t happen in Europe until Bohemia Bagel!) as if we had never seen breakfast before—then again, it’s been 3 ½ months<i> since</i></span><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";"> we’ve seen real breakfast. The bagel shop had a pretty smart deal going in addition to their treasured circular dough—a tourism desk was set up in the front of the store offering free tours everyday. We met a great tour guide named Kate who was originally from Australia but had moved to the Czech Republic twenty years before to teach English. While she was there, she met her husband, and never left. She, too, is studying to be an elementary school teacher, so Eve and I flocked to her for questions about the Czech school system (it’s apparently horrible for those of you who were curious). She took us on a tour around Prague that included the Jewish Quarter and the castle. The tours were based off tips, except for the optional castle tour which was 10 euro, but in our opinion totally worth it. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">Oh, and when I say euro I mean whatever 10 euro is in Czech krona. Upon changing our money, we all received 1000 dollar bills and didn’t know what to think. The whole trip felt like a giant monopoly game—paying 500 for a sandwich and 42 for a beer.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yawBd-DONO4/TchH-BVIAQI/AAAAAAAAAQk/yVy6hJ_x_RE/s1600/IMG_1128.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yawBd-DONO4/TchH-BVIAQI/AAAAAAAAAQk/yVy6hJ_x_RE/s320/IMG_1128.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Outside of the castle</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RoxaTtEdY4U/TchJYUdIalI/AAAAAAAAARE/60Krzfw8foU/s1600/IMG_1193.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RoxaTtEdY4U/TchJYUdIalI/AAAAAAAAARE/60Krzfw8foU/s320/IMG_1193.JPG" width="179" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A mosaic on the Cathedral in Prague-- people nakedly popping out of coffins in weird ways</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AvgS4UdQbmY/TchKE9OQS_I/AAAAAAAAARQ/ucaVtxCzLoE/s1600/IMG_1213.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AvgS4UdQbmY/TchKE9OQS_I/AAAAAAAAARQ/ucaVtxCzLoE/s320/IMG_1213.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The back of the Cathedral which is actually inside the Castle</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">Which brings up the beer. Sevilla could also learn on that one: people tend to like more than one flavor of beer—thank you for recognizing this Prague (Sevilla has Cruzcampo and that is it.. and it isn’t my favorite to say the least… or my father’s favorite to show some real authority). We went to the Prague Beer Museum which had some great, unique beers and a cheap taste-testing thing. We also did a bar crawl which was pretty hilarious—Gabe (who we saw in Barcelona before this trip) and I danced like chickens and made fun of a lot of people who apparently couldn’t hold their alcohol during this event. Those bar crawls love the cheap vodka shots more than the trashy frats back in Boulder do-- I stayed away from those.</span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--4oSIt47bjU/TckS1Ez2MPI/AAAAAAAAAS0/pB7p5dVrDxY/s320/227875_1645193246741_1144170365_32358512_5703079_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eve and I cheers-ing our blueberry brews</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BdawHaFwMZM/TchNdsIbr3I/AAAAAAAAASo/8QCjNEZxdUs/s1600/223466_1645241847956_1144170365_32358651_3721609_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BdawHaFwMZM/TchNdsIbr3I/AAAAAAAAASo/8QCjNEZxdUs/s320/223466_1645241847956_1144170365_32358651_3721609_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gabe lost a thumb!</td></tr>
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">It was very cold in Prague—I’ll take Sevilla’s weather—and we wanted to curl up in bed for warmth more than once, but quickly realized why hostels are not always ideal. We figured that getting a 5-bedroom room for 4 people would be fine—who would want to live with 4 random American kids? Well, let me tell you, 45-year-old, balding Gas from Wales would. Now, I’m probably spelling that wrong, but it is pronounced the same (just with some Wales accent) and it really adds to the effect to explain this man. My first introduction to this character was when I rolled over in bed and saw a bald man with a giant dragon tattoo (of course, I had to call him The Guy with the Dragon Tattoo the remainder of the trip since I was reading that book) laying on the bed over. Needless to say, I rolled back over to spare my eyes. So, yeah, we tried to avoid the hostel. Sorry, Dad, I know this paragraph is making you furious and scared—I’ll be home soon?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">Since we didn’t want to be outside, we made the decision of doing a more in-depth tour of the Jewish Quarter. This was probably my favorite part of Prague. Kate had told us about the museum of the old synagogue during the previous day’s tour. The museum contained drawings from Jewish children who had lived in Prague during WWII. The children were deported to London to avoid the Nazis, and the teacher who accompanied them encouraged them to draw to deal with their feelings and distract them from what was happening to them (awesome teacher!). Many of the children died on the way to London, and those who didn’t made it to London but never got to see their parents again. So we loved seeing these drawings—it’s hard to describe how powerful the view of a child can be to make you realize how horrible something was.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Huj_weubu9c/TchL7bmILLI/AAAAAAAAARw/GsSVc8CGUHc/s1600/IMG_1231.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Huj_weubu9c/TchL7bmILLI/AAAAAAAAARw/GsSVc8CGUHc/s320/IMG_1231.JPG" width="179" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The suitcase they found all of these amazing drawings in!</td></tr>
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">Also in the museum were listings of all of the victims who were deported during the Holocaust from Prague and the areas surrounding the city. Some amazing person had the idea of painting all of the names on the wall with their name, city of deportation, birth date, and death date. These line-after-line facts covered over 15 walls in giant blocks. It honestly took my breath away, feeling like someone had just hit me in stomach with a giant hammer. Eve and Lauren were also immediately quiet as rows of names with different birthdates but similar death dates poured over us; the sadness was drowning. I have to say, traveling to places (I went to Amsterdam next) where the Holocaust was so prevalent really makes the atrociousness of it all more intense.</span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Names in red followed by birthday</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YtGoWwNxrB4/TchLgrDY14I/AAAAAAAAARo/JPDvMfD8j4E/s1600/IMG_1229.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YtGoWwNxrB4/TchLgrDY14I/AAAAAAAAARo/JPDvMfD8j4E/s320/IMG_1229.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-X_Wb006qE_0/TckU6rmEvmI/AAAAAAAAAS4/jiYJ4FGnNjU/s1600/IMG_1226.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-X_Wb006qE_0/TckU6rmEvmI/AAAAAAAAAS4/jiYJ4FGnNjU/s320/IMG_1226.JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="320" /></a></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Jewish Cemetery in Prague-- there are 12 layers of bodies with tombstones piled upon one another</td></tr>
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">On a lighter note, we went back to the Bar Museum that night and played card games and drank berry-flavored brews. Greg had a burning desire to eat Czech food (Eve and I were pretty satisfied with our bagels, but we figured we’d humor him) so we also ventured to a traditional Czech restaurant the next day. Lauren, Eve, and Greg all ordered goulash, and I stuck to spinach and steamed rice. The waiters didn’t speak any English and we got to practice for our next game of charades, and now, although it probably will never be the card she draws, Eve can complete the task of creating the charade for “I would like my change of 20 euros back please” while trying her best to not come off as rude. As my host sister María Jesús had warned me, the Czech people aren’t always the most polite to foreigners. To sum it up, Eve got her change (most of it at least) and we made a beeline for the exit.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RIfKyKwogjs/TchIbbSsyeI/AAAAAAAAAQw/vM57j71fnB8/s1600/IMG_1139.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RIfKyKwogjs/TchIbbSsyeI/AAAAAAAAAQw/vM57j71fnB8/s320/IMG_1139.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The John Lennon wall</td></tr>
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";"></span> <style>
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">We packed up our bags, said adios (not hasta luego) to Gas and the cold. Then we headed to the airport for our next adventure in another place with another unknown language—Amsterdam.</span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uj7BXhFZLwg/TchMpCcdBRI/AAAAAAAAASA/yfwxbO_qPcs/s1600/IMG_1247.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="179" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uj7BXhFZLwg/TchMpCcdBRI/AAAAAAAAASA/yfwxbO_qPcs/s320/IMG_1247.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the Charle's Bridge- freezing in my bright raincoat again</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";"> P.S.-- A defenestration is when you throw someone out a window. Prague has had multiple. </span></div>lowreyphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08899532386802539832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767521824010798554.post-22663262862862940822011-05-09T10:27:00.000-07:002011-05-09T10:27:46.321-07:00“catch a plane to Barcelona cause this city’s a drag…”<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">Can you name the song?? No. Well, anyways…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The "face" of Barcelona</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VjE22THqK6w/TcgdBtwj52I/AAAAAAAAAQQ/VFFpK30r1EI/s1600/225658_1645083964009_1144170365_32358177_4529165_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VjE22THqK6w/TcgdBtwj52I/AAAAAAAAAQQ/VFFpK30r1EI/s320/225658_1645083964009_1144170365_32358177_4529165_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some grasshopper origami</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nSPNa_bzQ44/TcgdC58p22I/AAAAAAAAAQU/LQ1XXGuXOJg/s1600/225115_1645084364019_1144170365_32358178_7898856_n.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nSPNa_bzQ44/TcgdC58p22I/AAAAAAAAAQU/LQ1XXGuXOJg/s320/225115_1645084364019_1144170365_32358178_7898856_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uNmG6lx_Jx4/TcgdDbBhaqI/AAAAAAAAAQY/DgalIwmZV7Q/s1600/226637_1645084724028_1144170365_32358180_5689883_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uNmG6lx_Jx4/TcgdDbBhaqI/AAAAAAAAAQY/DgalIwmZV7Q/s320/226637_1645084724028_1144170365_32358180_5689883_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><style>
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</style><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">After Venice (which actually was very far from a drag), Eve and I got on a plane to Barcelona. My friend from the dorms, Gabe, studied in Barcelona this semester and offered to stay a few days after his program ended to show us around. He did a great job playing tour guide and we got to see the famous church “La Sagrada Família”, the “arc de triomf” of Spain, Barcelona’s Plaza de España (Sevilla’s is better!), and a giant market! The best thing he showed us, though, was the delicious local sandwich shop that we went to back-to-back for giant sandwiches filled with fresh ingredients for a grand total of only 3 euros! Eve and I ventured to the Park Güell (the park designed by Gaudi) and to the beach as well. It was great getting to see Gabe and a new city of Spain!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">La Sagrada Família from the front</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KGbsKg16eq4/Tcgc66Mi6PI/AAAAAAAAAP4/ZklcOQpqXrU/s1600/222084_1645081523948_1144170365_32358168_3712944_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KGbsKg16eq4/Tcgc66Mi6PI/AAAAAAAAAP4/ZklcOQpqXrU/s320/222084_1645081523948_1144170365_32358168_3712944_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...and from the back</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Arc</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Plaza de España</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xfoKDluqBSo/Tcgbtb9hjeI/AAAAAAAAAPc/2SISKhDz0tU/s1600/IMG_1082.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xfoKDluqBSo/Tcgbtb9hjeI/AAAAAAAAAPc/2SISKhDz0tU/s320/IMG_1082.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another market!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Obviously, Eve and I made some purchases at this station</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"little goats"... in case you weren't tired of my nasty dead animal pics by now</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gabe likes little goats</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In the Gaudi park-- a giant mosaic ceiling!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The boardwalk</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-l5Rf00VPwL4/TcgcYftY-WI/AAAAAAAAAPo/bIcIkHAlL54/s1600/IMG_1088.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="179" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-l5Rf00VPwL4/TcgcYftY-WI/AAAAAAAAAPo/bIcIkHAlL54/s320/IMG_1088.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Giant fish out of water!!! (the gold thing in the back)</td></tr>
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Hasta la pasta!lowreyphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08899532386802539832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767521824010798554.post-12436177797366873152011-04-25T11:28:00.000-07:002011-04-25T13:12:54.089-07:00boats, baguettes, and bland alliterations... Venice!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AxAtkhwH_Uw/TbW0OIUAgnI/AAAAAAAAAOA/zOtjqwR8fYk/s1600/218039_1635459763410_1144170365_32342383_7483943_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AxAtkhwH_Uw/TbW0OIUAgnI/AAAAAAAAAOA/zOtjqwR8fYk/s320/218039_1635459763410_1144170365_32342383_7483943_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div> <style>
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">Warning: A person who has been forced to eat Spanish food for the past four months wrote this blog. It will contain large amounts of reference to food that most people have the opportunity to eat everyday. You have been warned.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">Eve and I spent these last few days in Venice, Italy, which I have to say has probably been my favorite trip, although it is hard to say with Morocco in the running… not. </span></div><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">The Thursday before leaving I didn’t have time to go home for lunch due to group projects. This was kind of a big deal because lunch in Spain is similar to dinner in the US—it’s the time of day the family comes together at home for some downtime. In Spain it’s so expected all of the stores close (yes, those siesta rumors are kind of true). As soon as I walked in the door for dinner around 9:30 Mañola had me in her arms. She wouldn’t let go of me as she started screaming (don’t forget she’s hard of hearing), “You leave tomorrow! I’m going to miss you!” She then started beso-ing (those European kisses, yes also a true rumor) my cheek as I flailed around with my giant backpack. My cheeks turned pink with the warm feeling that rose from my stomach.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">Friday morning our plane left Seville at 6:30 am, so we were pretty tired when we got to Venice. We found our way to the hostel we rented for the first night and were pretty thankful right away to only be staying there for one day: Clara, the hostel-owner, had mistaken bubble=wrap thrown on top of some old plywood planks for a mattress—a confusion my neck was less than pleased about. Nevertheless, we napped a good part of the day before walking around of the city, which is simply beautiful. Tourists do clog the streets as a few people had advised us before leaving, which was a little odd to get used to, but it’s very understandable why anyone would want to travel here—IT’S GORGEOUS! We tried to use Spanish and wore our scarves to feel extra cool and European. It worked great—all of the hostess men outside of restaurants invited us in (yes, that is their job), and more than one called us “espagnolis” which means Spaniards (no, I’m not at all positive that’s how it translates). We were called Spaniards more than once here which we took to be a compliment, until we considered how quiet, clean, well-kept, and composed Italians are in comparison-- Spaniards have started to look a little insane….</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oDxXnhTxc1M/TbW0IYMNDdI/AAAAAAAAANk/6_mexlReRPI/s1600/222599_1635454803286_1144170365_32342333_162158_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oDxXnhTxc1M/TbW0IYMNDdI/AAAAAAAAANk/6_mexlReRPI/s320/222599_1635454803286_1144170365_32342333_162158_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FDK3dD5jNNk/TbW077hHBmI/AAAAAAAAAOs/5J7GHYLTM-I/s1600/IMG_0942.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FDK3dD5jNNk/TbW077hHBmI/AAAAAAAAAOs/5J7GHYLTM-I/s320/IMG_0942.JPG" width="179" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";"></span><style>
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">The next morning we took the metro=boat-taxi to the apartment we rented for the remainder of our stay. The taxi and the apartment were awesome! We got to see so much from the boat and having our own quiet place with a kitchen was indescribable! After taking long, hot showers and getting ourselves together we went to the grocery store and stocked up on tons of vegetables, coffee, PASTURIZED MILK!, cheese, TORTILLAS!, pasta, and eggs. I had forgotten how much I love being able to cook my own meals and control how much butter, oil, and meat (yes, I did have to say that) goes into them. We were so happy with our cooking we photographed every meal: salad, scrambles, pasta.</span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Xj8F7Q8bH9s/TbWznSaGXxI/AAAAAAAAANE/u_frhdfIyaM/s1600/216587_1635455723309_1144170365_32342342_4902775_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Xj8F7Q8bH9s/TbWznSaGXxI/AAAAAAAAANE/u_frhdfIyaM/s320/216587_1635455723309_1144170365_32342342_4902775_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from the boat taxi-- an outdoor market</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You have to pay for bags in grocery stores in Europe, so we used Eve's suitcase to hail our food back to the apartment... it was heavy.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1fj42cpoulY/TbW0REr03XI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/tLCJuSDyfuE/s1600/222503_1635462603481_1144170365_32342407_7881652_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1fj42cpoulY/TbW0REr03XI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/tLCJuSDyfuE/s320/222503_1635462603481_1144170365_32342407_7881652_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Salad!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zGJZt8WakDw/TbWzxlP553I/AAAAAAAAANQ/sYH9FjN6_Jk/s1600/217279_1635457603356_1144170365_32342362_2701167_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zGJZt8WakDw/TbWzxlP553I/AAAAAAAAANQ/sYH9FjN6_Jk/s320/217279_1635457603356_1144170365_32342362_2701167_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eggs, strawberries, T-swift (of course), and TORTILLAS!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-45n4-t3TpU0/TbWzn46ZpkI/AAAAAAAAANI/jqCGz5owPP0/s1600/217271_1635461963465_1144170365_32342401_2771309_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-45n4-t3TpU0/TbWzn46ZpkI/AAAAAAAAANI/jqCGz5owPP0/s320/217271_1635461963465_1144170365_32342401_2771309_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pasta with asparagus and other goodies!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fWhpMot77R0/TbWzzla__NI/AAAAAAAAANY/ta1ompmJuOo/s1600/222359_1635463203496_1144170365_32342411_7841496_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fWhpMot77R0/TbWzzla__NI/AAAAAAAAANY/ta1ompmJuOo/s320/222359_1635463203496_1144170365_32342411_7841496_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">WAY TOO MUCH FOOD & BEVERAGE!</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">Before the trip we had looked up what to do in Venice and the number one piece of advice was to put your map away and get lost. Well, we followed this advice, almost a little too much. The first night we had found so many little pizza shops that served 2-euro slices, we thought it would be a great thing to do for dinner the second night. We figured we’d head towards what we figured was the residential area, find a local pizza shop, and call it a night. Well, that didn’t happen. We probably walked around getting lost and dead-ending at waterways until we finally walked back towards the places we had seen in the touristy areas. It was worth it though—we got a 13inch pizza for 5 euro. Pleased with ourselves, we started walking back toward our apartment when we passed a bar playing Elton John and Janis Joplin. We kept walking but then decided to turn around and get a beer. It ended up being one of the best choices we could make. It was a TINY bar, but everyone (a crowd ranging from ages 18 to probably 75) was dancing, singing, and enjoying themselves. We stood outside, speaking Spanish (still trying to play off the European card), and sipping on our beers (which were much better than the Cruzcampo and Keystone Lights I’ve become so accustomed to) when some Italian boy came up to us and asked us where we were from. We started talking to him and his friends who were all very nice (boys AND girls, don’t start making those faces, folks, I see your brain wheels turning!). We met a couple girls from England, as well, who were teaching English in Venice and we’re also very friendly. We had so much fun and could not stop talking about how great of a night it had been—we’d made more Italian friends in one night than we had Spanish friends in three months!</span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SD-9-cUKTnM/TbW0vzhqcuI/AAAAAAAAAOc/T7P3ocAS95g/s1600/IMG_1064.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SD-9-cUKTnM/TbW0vzhqcuI/AAAAAAAAAOc/T7P3ocAS95g/s320/IMG_1064.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our little bar!</td></tr>
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</style></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">The next morning, we woke up, made eggs (a God-send), and headed out to see the Piazza San Marco church and square. The line was INSANE and tourists everywhere made me feel like I was in a bad <i>Where is Waldo? </i></span><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">picture. We, therefore, gave up on the church and decided to re-do our search for the residential area—this time it went much better. We walked for a really long time and finally arrived at a beautiful park. It was so GREEN!, by far the most grass either of us had seen in Europe. We rested at the park for awhile and then made the long trek back. We, of course, stopped for gelato and when we got back to the apartment we passed out napping and needed coffee to wake us up to make dinner. We, of course, cooked and ate again—this time eggplant, pasta, and salad. We could hardly eat even half of it, but thoroughly loved every bite! After dinner we had planned on going out in hopes of meeting some more friends (this time preferably some of the good-looking Italian boys we’d seen on the streets), but instead, after laying down on the bed to digest a bit, we both realized we wouldn’t be moving the rest of the night—the only boy we met was Stieg Larsson as we read our Dragon Tattoo Girl books like some true old ladies. Clearly this host mom thing is rubbing off on me too much.</span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AgjPeVbH9l0/TbWzwtn8NiI/AAAAAAAAANM/7KYlHDXxkBY/s1600/IMG_0956.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AgjPeVbH9l0/TbWzwtn8NiI/AAAAAAAAANM/7KYlHDXxkBY/s320/IMG_0956.JPG" width="179" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">leaving our apartment (this was our street!)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9-l7t2XgdOE/TbW0Hc_ul8I/AAAAAAAAANg/wxksHrYgY2g/s1600/IMG_0996.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="179" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9-l7t2XgdOE/TbW0Hc_ul8I/AAAAAAAAANg/wxksHrYgY2g/s320/IMG_0996.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Piazza San Marco</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VFu1-J6UBvk/TbW6dTRHGYI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/LFYy0anFIJs/s1600/IMG_1002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="179" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VFu1-J6UBvk/TbW6dTRHGYI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/LFYy0anFIJs/s320/IMG_1002.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Like I said, tons of tourists. Can you spot Eve?</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me with a giant cat outside the military base</td></tr>
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">Our last day we had a lot of homework things to do and studied at a hotel that had Wi-Fi. We walked around the city some more and shopped, ate a slice of pizza and packed up our things for Barcelona.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">To put it simply, if it weren’t for Spanish, I would have studied in Italy. Ever since around 8<sup>th</sup> grade I have wanted to learn Italian and move to Italy one day, and before this trip I had started to think that was a dumb idea, but now I am determined to retire in Venice… I could sink with it.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tHV6gzRz7-0/TbW0JVGExYI/AAAAAAAAANo/9ozsucoSuuw/s1600/223591_1635455443302_1144170365_32342339_2473419_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tHV6gzRz7-0/TbW0JVGExYI/AAAAAAAAANo/9ozsucoSuuw/s320/223591_1635455443302_1144170365_32342339_2473419_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">an outdoor vintage market-- very cool!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Like I said, we went shopping... if you know me well enough, you know I have trouble taking that very seriously... this thing had poofy-ness under it & made me feel like a fairy in Midsummer Night's Dream</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mwnk3Yoyv6k/TbW0aFoho_I/AAAAAAAAAOU/8LIeBLRQfGA/s1600/IMG_0949.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mwnk3Yoyv6k/TbW0aFoho_I/AAAAAAAAAOU/8LIeBLRQfGA/s320/IMG_0949.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mechanic shop in Venice... get it?</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Really cool store-- Venice is known for glass blowing. These are Coke bottles converted into high heels!</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TNlZXkLhqy8/TbW1WRHH_gI/AAAAAAAAAPM/XYlx1mWv6eA/s1600/215271_1635454163270_1144170365_32342328_3156227_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TNlZXkLhqy8/TbW1WRHH_gI/AAAAAAAAAPM/XYlx1mWv6eA/s320/215271_1635454163270_1144170365_32342328_3156227_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TgWrCHZAOtU/TbW1TtmCCNI/AAAAAAAAAPA/ip3uQjQTME4/s1600/224967_1635457363350_1144170365_32342360_6252024_n.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TgWrCHZAOtU/TbW1TtmCCNI/AAAAAAAAAPA/ip3uQjQTME4/s320/224967_1635457363350_1144170365_32342360_6252024_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">I LOVE ITALY!!!</span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"></div>lowreyphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08899532386802539832noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767521824010798554.post-58718030315379344862011-04-18T04:56:00.000-07:002011-04-18T04:56:18.070-07:00¡locura en sevilla!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><style>
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">Spring has hit Seville! And when I say spring, I mean summer, at least in my book. It has been at least 80 degrees everyday, and last Friday it hit 90, leaving me shocked at the amount of sweat my body can actually produce. Also, it turns out I am very allergic to orange blossoms and encourage everyone to buy stock in Kleenex because I have been greatly helping their cause.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter"; font-size: 12pt;">Classes have been going well, though, I’ve come to realize how prevalent tradition is in Spain. I’ve known this for a while, but it’s amazing how much it comes out in the education system. Classes run the same way everyday no matter what, and teachers re-use materials that they’ve had for years without any modifications. This applies not only to the classes I’m taking, but the English ones I’ve taken over. Workbooks are God, and after taking education classes at CU that drill the idea of creative lessons filled with read-alouds and story writing within a “community of learners”, I have been very discouraged by the regularity of lecturing and fill-in-the-blank</span> <style>
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</style> <span style="font-family: "American Typewriter"; font-size: 12pt;">activities</span> <span style="font-family: "American Typewriter"; font-size: 12pt;">. As early as first grade students have their teachers shuffled around for each subject: that’s to say that instead of having a cozy homeroom feeling where Miss Honey (Roald Dahl reference for those of you on you’re “A” game) reads you a story from a rocking chair, you’re teacher changes every hour and you don’t move from your desk (which is in a row) besides recess. Fighting this system has not gotten me far—the students don’t know how to react when you tell them to get out of their seats, and the collaborating teachers always look up from the back of the room as if I’ve just lit the chalkboard on fire. Also, I’m realizing how much language effects behavior== encouraging words and politeness are not key to Spanish. Saying “gracias” after every meal, offer, or compliment is very foreign and considered “over-polite”. This means that when you get an answer wrong in class there is never a “Well, I see where you’re coming from, but…” or “Interesting way to look at it, however…”—No. More often the teacher interrupts with “No! Pay attention” and then calls on someone else. My eyes have popped out of my head as if I were hit with a chalkboard on more than one occasion.<span> </span>Needless to say, I’ve come to value the education I’ve received and the one I hope to give others one day.</span><br />
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">On a lighter note, the past weekend (April 8<sup>th</sup>… sorry I’ve been slacking!) was a blast!! On Thursday after class, sick of caring what</span> <style>
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</style> <span style="font-family: "American Typewriter"; font-size: 12pt;">Spaniards</span> <span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";"> think of us and ready to let loose a little, Greg, Eve, Amanda, and I were on a mission to pretend we were back in the states. How you ask? Well, we found cups, ping-pong balls (I’m pretty sure it was the only existing pack in Spain), a plank of wood, and well, beer. Classy or not, we set the plank of wood up in a plaza near our house outside of a playground (we’re drawn to children?) and played beer pong. Like mashed potatoes loaded with butter, it might not have been the best idea, but it was a true home comfort. We also got a lot of exercise in chasing after loose balls… all of us were a bit out of practice.</span></div><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter"; font-size: 12pt;"></span><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">On Friday, the school we teach at hosted a “Día de Deportes,” pretty much a very competitive field day. We had no idea how important this day was for the school until we saw all of the children cheering and crying when the “winning team” was determined. It was fun to spend time with our students outside the classroom and see how school pride translates here. Also, some of the events would never fly in the USA, like having students run at a central mat from six different directions (needless to say some collisions occurred) to eventually go through a hoola-hoop. After the events, we went out to dinner with one of the teachers we observe and practiced some Spanish. Sarah, Eve, and I were really on a Spanish kick and decided to watch The Notebook in Spanish—it was cool to see how they translated things since we knew pretty much every scene and line. Turns out it’s a great chick flick no matter the language. </span></div><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The "best student in the school" carrying the school flag before the games began.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Everyone watching the sporting events</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-size: small;"> <span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">Saturday Eve and I met up with Gabby and here friends, Lily and Jessie. It was sooo fun to see Gabby! We had breakfast and toured the cathedral. I hadn’t actually seen the whole cathedral yet, so I was glad I actually figured that out… I would’ve felt pretty dumb if I’d left Sevilla without seeing the whole thing.</span></span><style>
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">That night, we drank wine and caught up in the hostel… old habits die hard I guess. </span></span></div><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gabby and I hanging out with Christopher Columbus</td></tr>
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">The next day was Greg’s birthday and the weather was great, so we all got on a bus and went to the beach. We took a picnic consisting of bread, Pringles, peanuts, oranges, bananas,<span> </span>and wine. The combination of the sun, salt, wine, ice cream bars (following the wine and sun) and good friends left a smile glued to my face as we raced into the water, froze at how cold it was, got in any way, and then ran out to lay in the sand some more. The mere 17 euros I spent on the day proved money isn’t always key to happiness. </span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lMsTCjLcHwE/TawjJrjZxHI/AAAAAAAAAM0/z8B0n4hTlSI/s1600/IMG_0912.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lMsTCjLcHwE/TawjJrjZxHI/AAAAAAAAAM0/z8B0n4hTlSI/s320/IMG_0912.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-n24F5I1IpOo/Tawjn8B3iDI/AAAAAAAAAM4/I5WzFThbniQ/s1600/IMG_0910.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-n24F5I1IpOo/Tawjn8B3iDI/AAAAAAAAAM4/I5WzFThbniQ/s320/IMG_0910.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>lowreyphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08899532386802539832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767521824010798554.post-6924737207750956292011-04-03T07:43:00.000-07:002011-04-03T07:43:55.987-07:00Mr. Hobbs Takes a Vacation... more or less...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tXTKB9K7o20/TZhvrh2q18I/AAAAAAAAALk/eJf3yWTUI4E/s1600/IMG_0724.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tXTKB9K7o20/TZhvrh2q18I/AAAAAAAAALk/eJf3yWTUI4E/s320/IMG_0724.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"> <span style="font-size: large;">"You don't really understand human nature unless you know why a child on a merry-go-round will wave at his parents every time around-- and why his parents will wave back."</span>-- <span style="font-size: small;"><i>William D. Tammeus</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cádiz</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mom and James at Plaza de España</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">James eating a montadito!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Underneath the Palace Alcázar</td></tr>
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As they say, a picture is worth a thousand words-- but since I just can't help myself from talking... -- you can see that the fam came for a visit which was quite lovely, and I have become just oh- so- artsy! The last part was a joke, the first part wasn't. Seeing my family was sooo great. It was a little bittersweet since I still had to go to class during the week and didn't get to spend as much time with them as I would have liked, and seeing them leave brought big tears to my eyes, of course, but time is starting to fly around here and I'll be home soon!<br />
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Here are some pictures I took in Cordoba, a small town in Southern Spain that I visited last Saturday.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-h2_Ux6aqTCg/TZh0194r8dI/AAAAAAAAAMc/2jn5Hszro-4/s1600/IMG_0826.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-h2_Ux6aqTCg/TZh0194r8dI/AAAAAAAAAMc/2jn5Hszro-4/s320/IMG_0826.JPG" width="179" /></a></div>lowreyphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08899532386802539832noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767521824010798554.post-64875469940771265732011-03-18T19:29:00.000-07:002011-03-18T19:29:39.117-07:00Morocco, Granada, Sevilla... oh my!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-f0V-fQvw2eE/TYQLsliD_bI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ENJvF91SJYU/s1600/IMG_0609.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-f0V-fQvw2eE/TYQLsliD_bI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ENJvF91SJYU/s320/IMG_0609.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">Woo! I’m here and alive, I promise. Midterms made me fall off the map for a little bit there, but I’m back to being a regular study abroad student now… which means the studying part has returned to it’s special place called “the back burner”. Well where do I start? I guess with Morocco….</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-5oQuYS7QQ40/TYQOioP4PEI/AAAAAAAAAKU/sH2_gQ8TlEs/s1600/IMG_0540.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-5oQuYS7QQ40/TYQOioP4PEI/AAAAAAAAAKU/sH2_gQ8TlEs/s320/IMG_0540.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-W92dYCmNMCw/TYQOG30kgiI/AAAAAAAAAKM/oy4u7P1jA-w/s1600/IMG_0558.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-W92dYCmNMCw/TYQOG30kgiI/AAAAAAAAAKM/oy4u7P1jA-w/s320/IMG_0558.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-wIW0fz-zclE/TYQNxv5mc_I/AAAAAAAAAKE/NIVHDTIQ5ik/s1600/IMG_0527.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-wIW0fz-zclE/TYQNxv5mc_I/AAAAAAAAAKE/NIVHDTIQ5ik/s320/IMG_0527.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-D78RRuSBYgE/TYQN8x0k3GI/AAAAAAAAAKI/_DS_L8cYYnI/s1600/IMG_0550.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-D78RRuSBYgE/TYQN8x0k3GI/AAAAAAAAAKI/_DS_L8cYYnI/s320/IMG_0550.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";"> </span><style>
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">I spent March 4, 5, and 6<sup>th</sup> in the third continent I have ever stepped foot on—Africa! I guess the nicest way to put it is: There have most certainly been things that have shown me how lucky I am to have grown up in the United States, and this was one of them. The main problem stemmed from not knowing what was in store for my group and me during the weekend. We didn’t know that we would spend everyday with fifteen-year-old students who didn’t speak Spanish and only some choppy English, so we unfortunately didn’t get to practice a lot of Spanish. Another obstacle from the trip that I hadn’t weighed enough before departure was how different women are viewed in Morocco. The first day in town I realized we were the only girls walking around outside, so when two girls with head scarves eventually passed, I got excited—OTHER GIRLS! Our guide quickly made mention that they were prostitutes… my excitement declined. A teacher we talked to later actually said “Women should do jobs lime teaching and nurses whereas harder jobs like engineering should be reserved for men”. I have never considered myself a huge feminist, but in this moment I could practically feel steam coming out of my ears.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">The biggest surprise that Morocco held, however, was the discovery of my new career path (obviously not engineering, those dreams are crushed). MAKE WAY, CU WILL HAVE A NEW PLAYER LEADING THEM TO THEIR BIG BREAK NEXT YEAR! That’s right, despite the fact that all I have ever done successfully with a basketball was bounce it off the floor to a partner in gym class one time in fifth grade (yes, I did throw in the word “one” to signify “once”….), I am now a professional basketball player. Or at least the people in Morocco think so, and I’m sorry to admit that I really did not leave them with a very good impression of American basketball… blame the genes that made me 5’ 3” and lacking in the hand-eye-coordination department. Let me start from the top. The kids in my program and I were told we would play basketball one day before lunch while in Morocco. Most of us dressed as we would any other day-- long sleeves and jeans. I decided to throw on the gym shoes, thinking, “Sure, I can shoot a couple hoops, play HORSE, call it a day”. Well, when we walked into a giant stadium with ROWS of bleachers that were quickly filling up, led to a locker room by our new “Team Manager Mohammed”, and given GIANT men’s uniforms for the game, we realized something wasn’t exactly right. Then our “manager” asked us how our season was going. We all just looked at each other, unsure as to what to say. We finally broke the news to him that none of us had played basketball in quite some time. He went a little white in the face and said in broken English “Oh… well dat not so good. We playing real team. They be quite goooood.” He raised his eyebrows as he pronounced the “o”s in “good”. We all just smiled at him, shrugged our shoulders, and laughed as we followed him into the stadium that was now filled with fans. Cheering for Morocco, that is. I don’t know if it was the jeans (the uniforms were NOT going to stay up alone), the lack of ability to shoot a lay-up, or the defense mechanisms that involved grabbing the arms of the other team that gave it away, but the referee (yes, we had a referee) soon realized how bad we were and quickly stopped blowing the whistle when we made mistakes. We scored a grand total of two points, losing by a long shot (pun intended, sorry). It was overall a good laugh, though.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-1o-pMrim2Oc/TYQPDcQ09oI/AAAAAAAAAKY/TIv-LmsSB2c/s1600/188823_1245276850189_1177410475_30909904_3893072_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-1o-pMrim2Oc/TYQPDcQ09oI/AAAAAAAAAKY/TIv-LmsSB2c/s320/188823_1245276850189_1177410475_30909904_3893072_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our epic team</td></tr>
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">After the game each of us went with a group of our new Moroccan school friends for lunch—the family I joined was especially lucky since I smelled like a pansy after basketball. We ate cous cous, which was much better than what we got at dinner. Eve and I, not realizing what “the little bowl of white things with GARLIC AND HERBS! (flavor is unheard of around here)” ate a bunch of “fish that never grow up”—the identity our friend Sarah alerted us to after the meal. I had wondered why the Moroccan girls weren’t diving in—I guess fish eyeballs are not part of their basketball team’s special diet. Maybe that is what we Americans need to change; garlic and herbs and tadpole things need to be dismissed if we want to win any championships. Or games for that matter.</span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-yvtSO1MaE1Y/TYQPDrgb6JI/AAAAAAAAAKc/X-Jb7tGvfP8/s1600/189319_1807845828835_1020628796_2069496_3805265_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-yvtSO1MaE1Y/TYQPDrgb6JI/AAAAAAAAAKc/X-Jb7tGvfP8/s320/189319_1807845828835_1020628796_2069496_3805265_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">LOOK AT THE EYEBALLS AHHH!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-frL3syvhGhA/TYQNmBDy59I/AAAAAAAAAKA/sO-PEEBuAys/s1600/IMG_0575.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-frL3syvhGhA/TYQNmBDy59I/AAAAAAAAAKA/sO-PEEBuAys/s320/IMG_0575.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My lunch group</td></tr>
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">The trip ended with a lot of dirty clothes, a lot of puking on the bus (which curved around corners at a speed that had me praying for survival in the backseat) and boat (which endured some bad waves due to a coming storm), a lot of sleeping, and let’s just say I considered changing my address to read “The Bathroom” so that the postman would be aware of my new residences… sorry, but it was not pleasant. Overall, we were all happy to be back in Sevilla.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">For dying fabric</td></tr>
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">With high hopes we took off for Granada the next weekend—ready for a little less culture shock. We lucked out. We saw the church, La Capilla Real, which holds the tombs of Isabel (actually spelled Ysabel back in the day) and Fernando. It was really neat, but, unfortunately, we were not allowed to take photos there. We also went to La Alhambra, the palaces and garden that the Spanish kings used to use for their weekend vacas. This was absolutely gorgeous—filled with Muslim architecture, which is so detailed and beautiful. Fun fact about La Alhambra—it is the second most visited touristy spot in the world. Do you want to guess what #1 is?! I can be all crafty and wait until the next blog entry to tell you?!<span> </span>You can spend a lot of time researching and wait for my next entry like this is the real deal?! Like I’m that girl that tried to copy Julia Childs?! Okay, I figured. It’s the Taj Mahal. But both La Alhambra and La Capilla Real were very beautiful and I’m really glad I saw them. We went out at night, which was fun, but we failed to find the bars that give you a free tapa (an appetizer, not a “top” like one of my friends thought it was before she visited…. cough cough Michelle) when you order a drink (what Granada is supposed to be kind of known for). I suppose our mistake was going to an Asian-owned bar instead of a Spanish-owned one, but they still gave us a piece of bread so we pretended that we had accomplished our goal of finding tapas. It rained on the three-hour bus ride home which gave us all sometime to relax before gearing up to study for midterms when we got back.</span></div><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">La Alhambra</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eve and I being raptors/ worms</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rick! We could run a business in Granada! These were in a store window.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A weird store on the ride home-- this is a furniture store, but that doesn't look like furniture to me....</td></tr>
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">This week was a busy one. I start TEACHING (not just observing!) my Spanish 4<sup>th</sup> and 5<sup>th</sup> grade classes NEXT week, which is pretty exciting, but I am a tiny bit nervous! I have had some trouble with communication between my Education class here and the actual school classes. To sum it up in the most kind way via the worldwide web: After seeing how teachers show up 30 minutes late to a 45 minute class, yell at students in front of everyone when they have not done a workbook activity, how professors seem to believe that once they are a professor they know all and do not need to listen to anything their students have to say and can interrupt them at any point and ignore their questions (sorry the kindness monitor fell off there) and how when teachers receive promotions to administrative positions they think they know all and can yell at their co-workers, I have realized how thankful I am to have gone to school in the United States and plan on teaching in the United States. I know some of these things happen in the USA, too, but let me tell you; it’s to a new level over here. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">My homestay gets better everyday, but my stomach is still not sure how to handle all of this fried food. I’m not sure what exactly the problem is, or what to do about it, for that matter, but I’m hoping it just goes away… I sound a little too much like my grandpa (he also wasn’t a huge doctor fan) when I say that, but I just can’t imagine going to the doctor here and trying to explain “After I eat sometimes, well, only on days after I workout (which I no longer do) my back hurts, and then when I don’t work out, (which I now never do) my stomach hurts on the left-hand side right under my ribs, but it feels like I am being tickled, but only off-and-on, but the back part was just a terrible pressure”. No gracias-- I’ll take my chances. Oh, also, for all of you who were around for when I couldn’t hear out of my left ear for a solid two weeks last year during midterms—it’s back! (read in that creepy sing-song voice people sometimes use with children) Luckily, I still have some prednisone from the last time it happened and have been taking those, but I just ran out so we shall see. It has worked to my advantage in the morning, though. When Manola turns on the TV every morning at exactly 8:30 am and I do not feel like waking, I just roll over so that my bad ear is not on the pillow and then everything is just muffled and I can sleep in! We’ll see how this goes for my history class at 9 a.m…. hopefully the alarm doesn’t get muffled, too.</span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The pizza at our new favorite place in Sevilla!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Manola & her grandson Manuel</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A typical lunch. 4 plates. FOR JUST ME.</td></tr>
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">I come home in exactly two months from today, and I am excited. I realize I am going to really miss speaking Spanish whenever I want to (something that generally gets odd looks when I do it in the States), traveling, the people I’ve met here, and sitting at little cafes in the Sevillan streets in 70 degree weather. But I will be so happy to watch baseball, take long showers, sleep in, look people in the eye on the street without being considered… well… easy, listen to the radio, hear the Pledge of Allegiance, see men who are NOT wearing scarves ALL OF THE TIME, go for runs without being looked at as if I have grown a tail (I wouldn’t be surprised if I had after all of these body issues), and a whole lot of other stuff. The number one thing I’m excited for is up in the air—either to see all of my family and friends or to eat Kraft Macaroni and Cheese and salsa. But that one is a tough call.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">Thanks for enduring this. I’ll be home in exactly two months. Odd, I know, but I figured I’d give you a heads-up since the party in Colorado will soon be ending due to the return of the wicked witch of the north (me). And for all of you españoles who have been reading (which means all of the white kids in my program from Chicago), the party will be ending shortly because you will no longer get to hear about my bodily functions due to eating weird fish. Pity, I know.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">Well until next time. Oh! Start looking forward to: Barcelona, VENICE!, Prague, Amsterdam, and a visit from Rick, Gretchen, and Junior Chubs (aka my family). It should be good.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">¡Ha’ta luego! ¡Adio’! and in the words of Manola: ¡TEN CUIDADO! ( (BE CAREFUL) don’t worry Mom, she tells me it everytime I leave the house, just like you tell me to “be aware of my surroundings”… I can’t escape!)</span></div>lowreyphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08899532386802539832noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767521824010798554.post-33593377298493191682011-03-01T16:15:00.000-08:002011-03-08T13:56:05.645-08:00Way up North where the air's STILL WARM...!<style>
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<div class="MsoNormal">Everyone warned us that A Coruña, a small city on the Northern coast of Spain, was going to be cold but that didn’t stop Eve, Lauren, and me from taking the risk! However, upon arrival Friday morning, the foggy, cold air left us all a little skeptical upon exiting the A Coruña airport. LUCKILY, after putting our bags down at the hostel (which smelled funny but had wonderful mattresses) it warmed up significantly, and we were able to sit in the sun, drink coffee, eat croissants, and play cards. That sentence pretty much defined our time in A Coruña… we drank a lot of coffee, ate a lot of pastries, and managed to get up to 2,000 points on the Gin Rummy scorecard. When we weren’t doing these things, though…</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-R6H_VCE4E6c/TW1xl2vntkI/AAAAAAAAAIg/3mb5dpCPJn8/s1600/188616_1490802267063_1144170365_32264087_293154_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-R6H_VCE4E6c/TW1xl2vntkI/AAAAAAAAAIg/3mb5dpCPJn8/s320/188616_1490802267063_1144170365_32264087_293154_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-oqasLMQKSbE/TW1y0JYlYDI/AAAAAAAAAJI/boiaunWRsaM/s1600/IMG_0499.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-oqasLMQKSbE/TW1y0JYlYDI/AAAAAAAAAJI/boiaunWRsaM/s320/IMG_0499.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal">The first day, after our tummies felt satisfied, we explored a little bit. We realized A Coruña is much smaller than Seville when we managed to get from one end of the map to the other in less than a half hour. In that time, we stumbled upon a cool looking building that we decided to go into—why not? After passing a few rooms with chalkboards, we realized it was a school. We REALLY realized this when a short man in a sweater started yelling at us. We were about to scurry out of there, when he told us to stop and wait. Uh oh. He went into a little office and came back out with a key, which he used to open the door of --- the torture chamber. Not really, (I’m reading too much of <i>The Princess Bride</i>, sorry) it opened an auditorium with a huge ornately decorated ceiling and some statues of fancy people. Another teacher with glasses, a sweater vest, and no hair on the top of his head came into the room and asked what was going on. After an explanation from the first short-sweatered guy, he asked to see our map. We handed it over and he proceeded to mark which clubs and bars we should go to. His little bald head bobbled over the map, telling us to “start here around 8:30 and then go here and then around 2 this club will be great!” Did I mention he was about 50 years old and teaches microeconomics? Only in Spain. We giggled the whole way home.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal">When I say “home”, I mean the grocery store. We spent the majority of our visit there. We stocked up on bread, cheese, apples, carrots, peanuts, yogurt, and three boxes of Special K (which we ate in total due to the Authentic Chocolate that is unheard of in the US). The last morning when we could no longer stay in the hostel, we took our yogurts and Special K outside to a street corner to eat breakfast. We looked a little bit like homeless people who had splurged on the cereal brand, but we managed to have at least 10 people tell us “buen proveche” which means “Bon Apetit!” Even a passing policeman, who we feared was going to tell us to not loiter on a corner, wished us a good breakfast!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Special K is going to be calling for new models real soon</td></tr>
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal">A Coruña isn’t a huge tourist city, which gave it a friendly, peaceful feeling. Also, I think we were the only non-Spaniards we saw (one lady asked if we were French--score!) which was pretty cool. Everyone was really helpful and smiled when eye-contact was made (unheard of in Andalucia!), and it was interesting to hear how much slower the people of Northern Spain speak than those in Andalucia. We did manage to do a little cite-seeing—we walked along the beach, found some cool-looking buildings (that I still can’t tell you the names of… I guess that’s not my strong point on this whole world-traveler thing….), saw the oldest working lighthouse in Europe (El torre de Hercules), saw an old prison, ATE MEXICAN FOOD (still haven’t had salsa… Chad, you know how that’s torturing me!), and went to the cemetery. And I think I’ve mentioned the cards, coffee, and pastries, but if I hadn’t, just know that those were definitely thrown in there on more than one occasion….</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lauren and I pretending to be tourists haha</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Piper, you look so happy..."--Holly Lowrey, my mother...what can I say, I have a sweet tooth?! </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A sweet tooth for wine, too? And style.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brr! More power to them.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">BEST BREAKFAST EVER.</td></tr>
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal">Well, I think that's enough conversation about my predicted weight-gain. Next weekend I’m headed in the opposite direction of the world to step foot on my 3<sup>rd</sup> continent— I’m off to Morocco! I have a feeling this will involve even more sun, and hopefully, for my heart’s sake, less pastries, but until then… “que todo pase bien!”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">P.S. Lots of photo credit to Eve Kaiser. This blog is becoming her's slowly but surely.... </div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>lowreyphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08899532386802539832noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767521824010798554.post-42481501705735455152011-02-21T09:15:00.000-08:002011-02-21T09:15:49.147-08:00Views from above and 101 reasons to stay vegetarian in Spain<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iuanqAN3J3U/TWJJfl7IDOI/AAAAAAAAAGs/xniEy8IiEzs/s1600/IMG_0350.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WrTtFeXHyIQ/TWJE3Mf5z4I/AAAAAAAAAGI/t4_OR3emGCY/s320/IMG_0413.JPG" width="320" /></div><style>
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Chalkboard Bold";">This weekend was packed full!! School is finally picking up! I actually have a paper due on Wednesday… granted it is only two pages long, but a paper none-the-less! I also started my practicums this week and really, really am excited for those. In a mere 4 weeks I will have full reign over three (one fourth and two fifth grade) English classes here twice a week! Frightening for the students and me, but we are all excited so hopefully that helps. Spanish schools are very different from American schools, though—talking in the middle of class, looking out the window in a daze, and messing around in your backpack are all very acceptable despite what’s going on with the chalkboard—a cultural difference that is going to take some getting used to!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Chalkboard Bold";">But I’m going to keep the text short on this one so here is a brief description of what you are looking at: </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Chalkboard Bold";">1)<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Chalkboard Bold";">Carmona- a small town near Sevilla with some castles and stuff</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Chalkboard Bold";">2)<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Chalkboard Bold";">CADIZ! A place I could live the rest of my life—beach, small town, happy Spanish people—but not eat the rest of my life. You’ll see...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Chalkboard Bold";">3) Hiking in Aracena, another small town in the "mountains" (the same place where I went to the mine etc. etc.)</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Carmona</td></tr>
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</tbody></table><blockquote><blockquote>This is the market in Cadiz... I am struggling to add captions for an unknown reason, so just so you know this is what you are about to see 1- Fruit (normal enough) 2-SHARK! (not so normal) 3- Sacks of baby fish eggs (ew!) 4- Little Bunny Foo-Foo no longer hopping through the forest....5- More of that... 6- Sea urchines which I tried & taste like a block of salt 7- Squid 8 & 9- Cadiz from above! 10- The Beach!! 11- Sheep! 12- Donkey! 13- The best picture I have ever taken-- my photography skills are really improving!</blockquote></blockquote><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">¡Hola! Or should I say Bonjour?! I’ll stick with Hola, because it turns out I don’t speak a lick of French. Let me back up before I explain how I learned that though…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">As of February 14<sup>th</sup>, 2011, I have officially been living in Spain for a month! And classes finally started last week—putting the “study” part in study abroad… kind of. I am excited about class, though, because deep down (okay, surface level), I am a giant nerd and love having something to fill my time! Mondays and Wednesdays I wake up before the sun to go to History of Spain at 9. Then I have Translation and Practice at 1 pm. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, I will have my practicums in the mornings where I will teach fifth grade English! Tuesday/ Thursday afternoons I have Methodology of Teaching a Foreign Language and my Professional Teaching Development classes. We visited the elementary school last Thursday to get a feel for how that would run and it got me very excited—all of the teachers seem really excited to have us—offering us coffee and cookies as they took their “breakfast break” in the teachers’ lounge (only in Spain…), and the kiddos paused to grin at us as the chased after the soccer ball at recess. I know I will probably end up liking teaching English a lot, especially since I liked teaching in Spanish so much last semester!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">Thursday night an unfortunate event left me missing home, and since there is really no way to sugarcoat this one I’ll just say it: I puked. Now hold on—I hear you all getting ready with your jokes “I remember my first beer, too” my father is already saying, BUT I did not consume any alcohol! No, I merely ate dinner, and twenty minutes afterwards got to know my trashcan on a whole new level. Four times. Now I don’t mean to be gross, but this little detail is important when considering I was leaving my humble abode for Gabby’s NOT so humble abode Paris the next morning at 7:00 am on the dot. To say it in a sentence airport security, airplane bathrooms, and navigating your way through the Paris metro is probably a little bit more fun when you have slept more than four hours the night before and when the noise your stomach makes isn’t being confused for the jet’s of an airplane by the other passengers. But all in all, I got to Paris in one piece, got the two best hugs I’ve had in a month, and had a lot of fun.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">For starters, I’m not joking about Gabby’s house. She shares a block with Julia Roberts, need I say more?! Michelle and I were both very grateful to be able to stay with her, not only since it saved us a bunch of money and we had a lot of fun, but Gabby did a great job helping us fulfill of tourist duties. We saw everything (and our feet definitely felt it)! The Notre Dame, The Louvre, The Seine River (?), The Arc de Triomphe, Crème Stands (yes, I did just capitalize that and put it in between two historically beautiful places), Sainte- Chapelle, the Sacre Coeur, an Egyptian protest, and a few other churches and plazas whose names I sadly cannot remember right now.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">The place that made everything hit me, though, was the Eiffel Tower. I didn’t expect to fall in love with it; I figured I was way above that typical touristy shock, I wouldn’t need 100 pictures or anything else—one shot and I would be good to go. Well, I was wrong. We were walking along a basic Paris street when all of the sudden-- there it was! And I couldn’t even see it right because my vision was all blurred from all these messy, sloppy tears that had chosen that exact moment to invade my eyes. I guess I realized how amazing study abroad is—I was at the Eiffel Tower with two of my best friends, and I’m only 21 years old. Some people die without seeing things like this and I WAS THERE! Needless to say, I took more than one picture.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">That night we made dinner in the fancy kitchen—salad, pasta, bread, cheese, and wine. Sez skyped us, Gabby made crepes with melted dark chocolate, I could hardly keep my eyes open, and Michelle and I fell asleep in a cushy, soft bed—overall, a pretty good day!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">Sevilla welcomed me with rain, a language I could at least PARTIALLY understand (trying to buy a Metro ticket in France was humbling… thank God for gestures…), and an odd feeling of something similar to a home, or at least a feeling of belonging. When I walked in the house, Manola smiled up at me from the sofa asking how it had all gone, and when I left the house later Eve and Greg greeted me with big hugs and we went for a walk with umbrellas in hand. But enough of my blabbering, here are some pictures!!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-igtyLeOfSkE/TVl-rrM1oeI/AAAAAAAAADs/Yi5hgYsWiSw/s1600/IMG_0206.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-igtyLeOfSkE/TVl-rrM1oeI/AAAAAAAAADs/Yi5hgYsWiSw/s320/IMG_0206.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Norte Dame from the back</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gH7J7YGp5LY/TVmAFP2BbfI/AAAAAAAAAEE/JGUn8fn_gMc/s1600/182976_497119166501_674801501_6704112_5441286_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gH7J7YGp5LY/TVmAFP2BbfI/AAAAAAAAAEE/JGUn8fn_gMc/s320/182976_497119166501_674801501_6704112_5441286_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A wacky woman feeding pigeons and letting them climb all over her as if she were some type of street lamp... nasty.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-D5hHe_FygZE/TVl-wz3EMOI/AAAAAAAAAD8/M9jW2E530sg/s1600/169002_497119941501_674801501_6704125_1135806_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-D5hHe_FygZE/TVl-wz3EMOI/AAAAAAAAAD8/M9jW2E530sg/s320/169002_497119941501_674801501_6704125_1135806_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">The Seine River </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xDUALtdkRaY/TVl9hNlz6xI/AAAAAAAAAC8/YeX1Xkv4vFE/s1600/IMG_0205.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xDUALtdkRaY/TVl9hNlz6xI/AAAAAAAAAC8/YeX1Xkv4vFE/s320/IMG_0205.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This bridge behind the Notre Dame has "locks of love" (not the hair thing....) </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YC-B-jYBDgo/TVl-xlw6TjI/AAAAAAAAAEA/86QsDQzOeTI/s320/180385_1577254908511_1149751737_32580874_3467059_n.jpg" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So we had to join in!-- our lock!</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wW4D7dtGThI/TVl-RlOvVnI/AAAAAAAAADc/6lN-GXmPOy0/s1600/IMG_0212.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wW4D7dtGThI/TVl-RlOvVnI/AAAAAAAAADc/6lN-GXmPOy0/s320/IMG_0212.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Louvre</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dLbxbXyv9yA/TVl-GF8MIvI/AAAAAAAAADU/E1tn9N0X84k/s1600/IMG_0218.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dLbxbXyv9yA/TVl-GF8MIvI/AAAAAAAAADU/E1tn9N0X84k/s320/IMG_0218.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of my favorite paintings</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jCIXHeUCRLg/TVl-hwe_w2I/AAAAAAAAADk/woRQWH7BDxs/s1600/180304_1577237028064_1149751737_32580780_581267_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jCIXHeUCRLg/TVl-hwe_w2I/AAAAAAAAADk/woRQWH7BDxs/s320/180304_1577237028064_1149751737_32580780_581267_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">WHOA! </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fM5LOyVJ1lY/TVl92Q2RMbI/AAAAAAAAADE/svVIp1gJ4ug/s1600/IMG_0234.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fM5LOyVJ1lY/TVl92Q2RMbI/AAAAAAAAADE/svVIp1gJ4ug/s320/IMG_0234.JPG" width="320" /> </a></td><td style="text-align: center;"></td><td style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Outside the Louvre at night</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nkbLTnouIUs/TVl-sQNtEjI/AAAAAAAAADw/u-seLMr7Q6Q/s1600/180649_1577244748257_1149751737_32580822_541969_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nkbLTnouIUs/TVl-sQNtEjI/AAAAAAAAADw/u-seLMr7Q6Q/s320/180649_1577244748257_1149751737_32580822_541969_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In front of the Arc de Triomphe</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iOxMzs-MKK0/TVl94Y7HOzI/AAAAAAAAADM/Xdjzw4jy88Y/s1600/181753_497126256501_674801501_6704255_5224757_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iOxMzs-MKK0/TVl94Y7HOzI/AAAAAAAAADM/Xdjzw4jy88Y/s320/181753_497126256501_674801501_6704255_5224757_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Century Schoolbook";">Sainte- Chapelle (I think?... I don't remember the names, but this stained glass was amazing!)</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sITpLnnVoIA/TVl-wP56IsI/AAAAAAAAAD4/DqRDshV42sA/s320/180169_497127951501_674801501_6704295_2506818_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A carousel right across the street from...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RBuNq4yqt70/TVl-HgouMxI/AAAAAAAAADY/b3Olmo2iC1I/s1600/181709_497129581501_674801501_6704347_5167641_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RBuNq4yqt70/TVl-HgouMxI/AAAAAAAAADY/b3Olmo2iC1I/s320/181709_497129581501_674801501_6704347_5167641_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The beautiful Eiffel Tower!!!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vTw42BGnV4o/TVl9r9pp7KI/AAAAAAAAADA/gqsFQcZPKyg/s1600/IMG_0290.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vTw42BGnV4o/TVl9r9pp7KI/AAAAAAAAADA/gqsFQcZPKyg/s320/IMG_0290.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Michelle, Gabby, and I looking pretty good!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wI8EW4_1M6k/TVl95Ca6UWI/AAAAAAAAADQ/yaBbpsdv7ZU/s1600/181545_497130806501_674801501_6704365_3823717_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wI8EW4_1M6k/TVl95Ca6UWI/AAAAAAAAADQ/yaBbpsdv7ZU/s320/181545_497130806501_674801501_6704365_3823717_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Delicious Dinner! I never realized that I would miss cooking! If you strain your vision you can see past the wine! :)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3EpMWWDMiVU/TVmAjVeAuhI/AAAAAAAAAEI/N1TtbGC2jvc/s1600/IMG_0307.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3EpMWWDMiVU/TVmAjVeAuhI/AAAAAAAAAEI/N1TtbGC2jvc/s320/IMG_0307.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Back in Seville, about to turn down my street, trying to stay dry!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"> <span style="background-color: #ead1dc; color: #cc0000;">Happy Valentines Day</span></span> <span style="font-size: large;">to all of you! I am so thankful for all of my loved ones, and I think of you all everyday!</span> <span style="background-color: #c27ba0; color: #351c75; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">XOXO!</span><span style="background-color: #c27ba0; color: #351c75;"></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>lowreyphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08899532386802539832noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767521824010798554.post-70640611399961218992011-02-01T13:02:00.000-08:002011-02-02T00:44:36.862-08:00From Pepé to Piper<style>
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}@<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">font</span>-<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">face</span> {
<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">font</span>-<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">family</span>: "Candara <span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">Bold</span>";
}p.<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">MsoNormal</span>, <span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">li</span>.<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">MsoNormal</span>, <span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">div</span>.<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">MsoNormal</span> { <span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">margin</span>: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; <span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">font</span>-<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">size</span>: 12pt; <span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">font</span>-<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">family</span>: "Times <span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">New</span> <span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">Roman</span>"; }<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">table</span>.<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">MsoNormalTable</span> { <span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">font</span>-<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">size</span>: 10pt; <span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">font</span>-<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">family</span>: "Times <span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">New</span> <span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">Roman</span>"; }<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">div</span>.Section1 { <span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">page</span>: Section1; }
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Candara Bold";">Hola! Welcome back to another episode of Piper’s Life Abroad… terrible title-- forgive me. Forgive the corny TV catch phrase, too, but since Manola (my señora) enjoys the TV so much and chooses to watch shows that resemble Spanish Jerry Springers, at all hours of the day, I’m starting to feel like maybe I am living one of the crazy soap operas she so enjoys! Oh, also, Extreme Makeover Home Edition with Ty Pennington is about 100 times better dubbed in Spanish—Ty Pennington scored himself the squeakiest little mouse voice I’ve ever heard, and when the people walk in the house all they say is “¡Oh Dios Mio!” which makes me realize how much Americans say “OMG!”… sickening, really.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Candara Bold";">But enough about the grand ol’ tube. Onto bigger and better things!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Candara Bold";">Last weeks classes went well, we visited more churches, drank more coffee, and learned more Spanish slang. I’ve started to use my map less, umbrella more, and am definitely finally stepping out of the “hate” stage of being abroad. ¡Oh Dios Mio! I just admitted it online! Okay fine, you caught me—when I first got here I wasn’t exactly in the “Honeymoon” stage as some of my peers exclaimed to be… at ridiculously loud levels everywhere we went.… No, I was pretty annoyed that I just skipped the whole bliss stage after having to listen to some dried up, old lady with a monotone voice discuss the “4 Stages of Going Abroad” into a crackly microphone at Study Abroad orientation—seemed like I deserved some sort of prize for sitting through that. But I guess that’s the price you pay when you have great people surrounding you in a place you love, and then you decide to jump ship (questionable joke and that sounded like brown-nosing… sorry). BUT the point of this complaining is to say—I AM STARTING TO REALLY LIKE IT HERE! I have not sent my mother emails twice a day (sorry Mom, no hard feelings), I have not skyped someone everyday (don’t take it personal folks), and I HAVE laughed everyday (aren’t I a ray of sunshine?!).</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A wall in a church I saw with my class-- it hasn't been renovated at all since 1496, and that is gold dust blown on the sculptures... the lack of flash doesn't do it justice!</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Candara Bold";">Speaking of sunshine, it’s getting warmer here, and yesterday my friend, Eve, who lives in my building and is in the same program as me, and I made the trek up to the roof of our University. We were able to see the “skyline” for the first time and sit in the sun—two very big pluses... my Vitamin D reserves were really running low. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uypgVEQUQPQ/TUhldqeVYAI/AAAAAAAAABE/8AlHRE5wRkk/s1600/IMG_0154.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uypgVEQUQPQ/TUhldqeVYAI/AAAAAAAAABE/8AlHRE5wRkk/s320/IMG_0154.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Candara Bold";"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><style>
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<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">font</span>-<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">family</span>: "Times <span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">New</span> <span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">Roman</span>";
}@<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">font</span>-<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% yellow;" class="goog-spellcheck-word">face</span> {
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Candara Bold";">Even better, today I ran in shorts and little kids smiled at me on the street… HOLD ON—I know that sounded creepy, but people do NOT smile at one another here unless they are already in conversation. The people are all very nice, but no one smiles as they pass by—it’s very different than in Colorado… so that’s why the kids smiling at me made me happy. Alright, well…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Candara Bold";">The sun helps. Especially because I was sick with a nasty cough for awhile there. I originally blamed it on the cold and rain, but after pulling my bed away from the wall and seeing the amount of dog hair and dust that was hanging out back there, I got another idea. So come Sunday, as soon as Manola had finished banging some pots and pans in the kitchen (what Eve refers to as my “daily wake up call”) and had left for Mass, I found the broom and went to town. As if reading my mind, Manola changed my sheets when she got home and told me I could hang photos on my wall. So my room actually feels like MINE! This also is partially due to the fact that Manola and I have been getting along much better. You probably could tell things are better since I’m actually using her name, but she is using mine now too—I am no longer Pepé or Pee Pee… two things I would like to never think about in corrilation (sorry spelling is really hard for me these days...) to my identity again. But. At first I struggled to gage how much time I could just shut my door and be alone in my room versus how much time I should sit and watch Pedro try to find his long lost brother via some female Jerry Springer… clearly I have done a little of both. But after Manola told me the same story about her fear of swimming for… oh… probably the seventh time, I realized she wasn’t exactly remembering every session we spent in front of the TV together, and started to feel less guilty about retreating to my cuarto… Vale.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: "Candara Bold"; font-size: 12pt;">So! Saturday when I still questioned if death was going to come grab be in between coughing and blowing my nose, my program and I headed up to Arácena, a little town in the mountains (Ha! Mountains my butt). We saw a mine (NOT super exciting) and a cave (SUPER EXCITING!) Unfortunately, photos were profibited in the cave, but not in the mine (typical), but due to some of my more rebellious amigas, I have a few shots for you below! Manola made me a beautiful cheese and tomatoe sandwich for the day (which all the other kids were jealous of, not to be a first grader or anything…) and the whole experience of traveling made this idea of being a study abroad student thing kind of click finally—in a good way!</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rosie, Eve, and I at the mine.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">CAVE!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">CAVE! Oh P.S. the humidity in these babies did wonders for my cold!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The little town of Arácena</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Mountains"... I'm still laughing.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Candara Bold";">Rosie, another friend from the building & program (see pic above!), agreed to join me in my quest to go to the art museum. The museum was nice… full of guards who took their jobs extremely seriously and quite a bit of Jesus pictures… but overall a good time. To make up for my… hmm… feelings… toward the museum (yes feelings…), I took a lot of pictures on the walk home… I’ll make my own art…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Obviously art-worthy... CHOCOLATE! (I'm coming home AT LEAST 20 lbs. heavier, get your fat jokes ready!)</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was actually in Arácena, too, but how funny is this?! A fish shop with a shark on the front!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Outside the Museum</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ceiling of the Museum</td></tr>
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<tr style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A broken water-pipe outside a store! This poor store owner had to sweep water out of his store!</td></tr>
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Candara Bold";">¡Hasta luego! </span></div>lowreyphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08899532386802539832noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767521824010798554.post-73303859569637388902011-01-25T14:46:00.000-08:002011-01-25T14:52:06.331-08:00Episode 3: Piper NEEDS to make more friends here and type a lot less...<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Woo! </span>I have to catch my breath before this one-- things have sped up! GET READY FOR ME BLABBING (maybe read this in intervals? I really am sorry.)!</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Saturday my program and I had a scavenger hunt through Sevilla. It was an unpleasant experience due to wind and cold (I take back all of my "oh, I'm from Colorado. I'm so tough-- nothing is cold!" comments...), but we did stumble upon the Plaza de España and much like Sir Charles Wasson told me-- it was pretty darn cool. The producers of Star Wars liked it so much they pretended Princess Leia lived there-- she wishes. Charlie also gave me that information-- I wont try to take credit... but here is a picture of me freezing to death in a bright teal raincoat (unheard of to wear color or raincoats here...didn't get that memo... or care once I got it....) at the Plaza de España:</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hard to see, but there is a moat behind me!</td></tr>
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</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">On Sunday, my program and I went to see Alcázar-- the beautiful palace Isabel and Fernando lived in. It was absolutely breath-taking (cliché, I know, but I have to be a corny European tourist now and then). The palace has an amazing mixture of Italian, Arab, Gothic, and other types of architecture that I can't think of right now. When Spain decided to "discover" America (a thing they know don't seem to like to talk about too much...) Alcázar was where the king made all the big decisions about it. A garden sits outside the palace (but is fenced in) and hosts peacocks (pavos reales en español). Once it gets warm I plan on camping out there to study... peacocks are bound to make that dreaded activity more fun, and students get in for free! Hoorah! Unfortunately, it was pretty chilly outside so we didn't stay in the gardens for long because we all just wanted to go get coffee and sit in a room with central heating, but here are a few pictures from the whole ordeal!:</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Part of the garden at Alcázar</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Virgin Mary-- she's pretty popular in these parts</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A SMALL part of a wall in the palace</td></tr>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">So while on the subject of cold I guess I should fill you in on my living situation a little more—if standing, please sit: my stupidity/ the ridiculousness of it all is about to kick in.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">So my señora is quite old. To say as minimal as possible: she has a fear of fire, trees, water, people of Sevilla, running after eating, and what could possibly happen if I forgot to turn the modem off every night. What <i>could</i> happen you ask? Well it could start the bookcase on fire, which would then start the entire living room on fire, and then, of course the entire house would be incinerated. I could say more, but for the sake of being a “good” (ha!) person I am going to leave it at that. Well, due to all of this fear, I figured after stepping into the shower one morning and BLASTING it on hot only to receive freezing cold water that left me gasping and with tears in my eyes, that we sadly didn’t have a water heater (I mean if a modem is going to start a fire, a water heater most certainly will!) This cold shower business went down twice, before I finally inquired with a quivering jaw and icicles dangling from my hair—turns out we have a waterheater! More excitement followed: we have a hairdryer! My father will no longer have to inquire via skype if I am indeed “going rasta on” him. Still no central heating or carpet, but today I went for a run (which, those of you who know me well enough, know that always puts me in a better mood), took a warm shower, and blow-dried my hair! Talk about a great day! I was ecstatic all afternoon!</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I started class yesterday, and my teacher told me that she didn’t see the point of grammar worksheets in a classroom to learn Spanish when we are IN Spain. She brought a whole new experience to “hands on learning” (don’t worry not like THAT): we left class, went to a church where precious old ladies prayed in front of an intricately sculpted Virgin Mary and Jesus, and then went to a café for café (coffee for those of you who haven’t had yours today ;) ). She is a great teacher and told us all about colloquial language here: she told us that she thought vulgarities in language show what that culture values (Spain values men, not women). Now I will know if anyone says mean stuff to me at a bar here… and how to respond if they do!</div><br />
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Oh! And for all of Cohort G buddies, here is what the children’s section of the library looks like here! (Yes, I have already been to the library, and yes I did take a picture of it, all of you can stop judging me now.):</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uypgVEQUQPQ/TT9RfyEQVNI/AAAAAAAAAA4/KvCJwpIYx0o/s1600/IMG_0097.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uypgVEQUQPQ/TT9RfyEQVNI/AAAAAAAAAA4/KvCJwpIYx0o/s320/IMG_0097.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I have made a few friends in my program who live in the same building as me. We went to a tea place to study the other day, had pizza, and went to Burger King for ice cream. Nothin’ like going overseas to act American!… In our defense every local ice cream store was closed and women need their chocolate when they need their chocolate—obvious rule of life.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Some verrry exciting (and frightening) news: the wonderful Michelle Toteve and I just purchased tickets to go see the lovely Gabrielle Gelinas in Paris this February. Can’t wait to spend some time in a mansion overlooking the Eiffel tower… ah, how homestays vary :).</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Well, until next time... take a water break... hope you skimmed that puppy. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Miss each and every one of you-- I mean that from the bottom of my heart.</span></span></div><br />
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<span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";"></span>lowreyphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08899532386802539832noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767521824010798554.post-63888438382036557122011-01-22T09:55:00.000-08:002011-01-22T09:55:16.382-08:00<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My señora's pup-- Lika! She's my buddy.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">"I realized soon that no journey carries one far unless, as it extends into the world around us, it goes an equal distance into the world within."<span style="font-size: large;">-- <i>Lillian Smith</i></span></span></div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i></i></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uypgVEQUQPQ/TTsWXSgKVyI/AAAAAAAAAAg/fnqMjJdq0EI/s1600/IMG_0060.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uypgVEQUQPQ/TTsWXSgKVyI/AAAAAAAAAAg/fnqMjJdq0EI/s320/IMG_0060.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The adorable plaza right outside my door- Plaza de Pelicano (Pelican Plaza!)</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I've had healthier snacks... but if you can't beat 'em, join 'em, right?!</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</tbody></table>lowreyphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08899532386802539832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767521824010798554.post-31072314234328154552011-01-19T07:35:00.000-08:002011-01-19T07:39:05.518-08:00The Beginning....<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uypgVEQUQPQ/TTcC2HZ28iI/AAAAAAAAAAU/I9p1MM2Fc7s/s1600/IMG_0034.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uypgVEQUQPQ/TTcC2HZ28iI/AAAAAAAAAAU/I9p1MM2Fc7s/s320/IMG_0034.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was the view from the bus! these "mountains" divide N& S Spain</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;">Sevilla!</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";"></span> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">I finally made it! Lauren and I took the bus the other morning (I can’t remember how many days right now because my head is all confused), but we were about to navigate the Metro in Madrid, get on the bus, and make a Spanish friend who walked us to our hotel! Lauren stayed in a hostel due to a lot of confusion, and I started orientation my Teaching Development Program. Everyone in the program is really nice. There are 15 of us: 14 girls and one boy… oooh education classes. At first I was worried that no one was going to speak in Spanish, but at breakfast the next day everyone really picked it up and we’re been hablando ever since. We walked around town yesterday, saw Flamenco, and ate tapas. Today I got my host madre and I am SO happy with her. She a 4 foot tall bundle of joy who is afraid that 2 bananas, 2 oranges, 1 loaf of bread, 5 pieces of cheese, a dish of pasta, a salad, pudding, and 2 glasses of Coca Cola is NOT enough food for me. I had to decline on about, well, ¾ of this, not the pudding or pasta, of course.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">I was really missing home at first there, but after walking around the beauuutiful city and meeting Manuela (my senora), I am starting to see how people can get attached.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My mom is going to say "spoiled brat!" when she sees this photo :)</td></tr>
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">WEIRDEST STORY: While waiting for our friend by the Metro, I commented to Lauren how cute this little old man in a green tie was. He proceeded to walk over to a silver box on the wall, pull out a Coca Cola, drink from it, and put it back. Lauren and I looked at each other a little confused, hoping that what we thought had just happened hadn’t happened when, much to our disappointment, another man walked over and deposited a dirty napkin in the box. Our friend, Liz, who lives in Madrid explained that the city doesn’t have water fountains and no one uses water bottles (I won’t be able to assimilate in this way since my Camelbak might as well be attached to my hand…) so some people use this method…. I guess the little man wasn’t as cute as I had thought.</span></div>lowreyphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08899532386802539832noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767521824010798554.post-10458465739806887182011-01-15T08:26:00.000-08:002011-01-15T08:26:25.919-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uypgVEQUQPQ/TTHJ5XFZSdI/AAAAAAAAAAM/Rt6AZFaUqNI/s1600/IMG_0007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uypgVEQUQPQ/TTHJ5XFZSdI/AAAAAAAAAAM/Rt6AZFaUqNI/s320/IMG_0007.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uypgVEQUQPQ/TTHKa_ZjLbI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/-R6I0bDvYrA/s1600/IMG_0010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uypgVEQUQPQ/TTHKa_ZjLbI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/-R6I0bDvYrA/s320/IMG_0010.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>The view from our plane & hostellowreyphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08899532386802539832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767521824010798554.post-20601533271337241472011-01-15T08:10:00.001-08:002011-01-16T02:49:23.295-08:00Getting to Madrid<style>
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic";">Let me start by saying I do not know if this will turn out anywhere close to as cool as the lovely Hannah Jane McKnight’s did, but she inspired me, and we all know that not being able to text and chat everyone’s ear off at the Rec, driving to Brighton, and late at night is about to give me a panic attack, so here comes Piper venting via the world wide web I guess!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic";">When people said this was going to be an adventure they weren’t joking around—the craziness has already began. First of all, when I got out of the car and loaded my bags all over my body, I realized it all wasn’t that awkward to carry, going so far as to declare to my mom, “Well wow, I’m pretty pulled together!” Of course, as soon as that came out of my mouth I managed to land on my butt slipping on ice—guess I shouldn’t get too cocky too fast.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic";">Lauren, Michelle, and I went through security together and no one got pat down—success! Michelle went on her merry way to the polar ice caps, and Lauren and I went to our gate. Our flight to New York went just swimmingly, and we thought our transition to the flight to Madrid would go just as well (besides the $15 sandwiches…) because we thought our gate, B22, was right where we were—at gate 22. Well, turns out 22 and B22 are not the same thing (Kelly, I should have asked for an airport run-down before I left Boulder!) and if we would have gotten on the plane at 22 we would have been flying in the opposite direction to Los Angeles and not leaving the country at all (by the way, Lauren figured all of this out, not me, so thank goodness she agreed to do this thing together!!). Unfortunately, we didn’t figure this out until 5 minutes before we boarded so we had to jet (no pun intended…ha!) down the airport, onto some shuttle that I’m pretty sure circled the entire JFK airport just to see if they could give Lauren and me a heart attack as we giggled nervously. LUCKILY our gate was <u>right </u>where the shuttle door opened, and we made it in time—missing our plane really wouldn’t have been the best way to start this whole thing off.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic";">Of course, once we got on the plane we didn’t leave for another hour than we were supposed due to some electrical problem—such a shame when you develop a small ulcer in vain.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic";">Oh, movie review from the airplane—Eat, Pray, Love (which Brad Pitt produced?!) was lame-- come on Julia Roberts, Katherine Heigel (or whatever that girl from Grey’s Anatomy is named), did a better job in that pathetic movie where two people raise their friend’s baby better than you did. Please note: I did not have the sound on for either of these and I could still make this review with success. Don’t waste your money.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic";">Our bags were lost in Madrid, but we found them, made it through customs, and met up with Liz who saved our lives! After trekking around on the metro we finally made it to the hostel and the lady who runs it said she was going to have chocolate milk for us in the morning—things are looking up!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic";">I swear I’ll shut up now.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic";">Hasta luego! –PDL</span></div>lowreyphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08899532386802539832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767521824010798554.post-25743125173286355802011-01-11T23:08:00.000-08:002011-01-11T23:08:13.154-08:00<span style="font-size: x-large;">"</span><span style="font-size: large;">There are four <span style="color: #6fa8dc;">obstacles</span></span>. First: we are told from childhood onward that everything we want to do is <b><span style="font-size: small;">impossible</span></b>.... If we have the courage to disinter dream, we are then faced by the second obstacle: <span style="color: #e06666; font-size: large;">love</span>. We know what we want to do, but are afraid of hurting those around us by abandoning everything in order to pursue our dream<span style="font-size: small;">....<span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span><span style="font-size: large;">We do not realize that those who genuinely wish us well want us to be happy and are prepared to accompany us on that journey</span>. Once we have accepted that love is a stimulus, we come up against the third obstacle: <b><u style="color: orange;">fear of the defeats</u><span style="color: orange;"> </span></b>we will meet on the path... we cannot fall back on the old excuse: '<b>Oh, well, </b>I didn't really want it anyway.' <b><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="color: #93c47d;">We do want it </span></span></b>and know that we have staked everything on it.... <span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><b>So why suffer?</b></span> Because, once we have overcome the defeats we are filled by a <span style="color: purple; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">greater sense of euphoria </span>and <u><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">CONFIDENCE</span></u>. Then comes the fourth obstacle: the fear of realizing the <span style="font-size: large;"><b>dream</b></span> for which we fought all our lives.... This is the most dangerous of the obstacles because it has a kind of saintly aura about it: <span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: #93c47d;">renouncing</span> joy</span> <span style="color: #e06666;">and<span style="color: #351c75;"> </span></span></span><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-size: large;">conquest</span>.</span>"-- Paulo Coelho, <i>The Alchemist</i>lowreyphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08899532386802539832noreply@blogger.com0