London Take 2

London the second time around was a much more accurate depiction (I think) of what winter London weather is like. Except that it was almost April. When I was there in February it was about a million times better weather-wise, but the blizzard and the shut-down underground didn't stop us from getting everywhere we wanted to go during our 2-day stint there. 

We flew into Stansted again so it was like deja vu repeating the same process of going through customs, getting bus tickets, waiting at station 13 for the bus that goes to Liverpool street, getting to Liverpool and going down to the underground ticket office for day passes, and then navigating the subway to the city center (all of which I did with MC 3 weeks earlier). But our first stop in London? Portabello Road Market, a place Stephen and I hadn't made it to. The street goes on forever, selling antiques, baked goods, farmer's market items, souvenirs, and finally lunchtime stands with food from around the world at the end of the street. Once you buy your lunch you can sit inside in an open cafe area and listen to live music. Perfect spot to get away from the cold and still experience the market atmosphere which I love so much. And it was cold. The snow made it hard to see in front of you, and you didn't want to look up anyway because the wind would hit you in the face and make you shrink back into the scarf wrapped 3 times around your face and your tightly-cinched hood, leaving space for only your eyes to see out. That was basically me for the entire trip. I gave up on relying on peripherals for any kind of direction and just followed Kelsey's footsteps in front of me pretty much all week. 

I got a hot chocolate with my lunch but when I took the first sip I was overwhelmed with hazelnut flavoring. And even more, with actual little chunks of hazelnut in my hot chocolate. I used to love Nutella and Ferrero Rocher, but Europe is absolutely way too gung-ho about their hazelnut (and entirely too lacking in the cookie butter/peanut butter department). Everywhere you turn there's a Nutella-flavored dessert, and I am dead sick of it. So when I drank my hot chocolate expecting the normal flavor to soothe my freezing throat, I was instead choked by a thousand little pieces of this overused and abused nut. Not worth 4 GBP. But my Indian curry chicken wrap definitely was. Our next stop was the Natural History Museum and National Science Museum (interesting, yes, but mostly just in a heated building and free). 

Kels pondering one of life's greatest questions, "Who am I?" in the Science Museum

After we left the museums we walked down by the river, to St. Paul's Cathedral, over to Borough Market (which was a ghost town), by the Globe theater and the arts district, and then made our way back to Palmer's Lodge, our little cottage of a hostel, and had some hot tea before bed. Kelsey wasn't feeling great and only wanted a banana and to go to bed early, but Caroline had her mind set on sushi for dinner so I walked with her to Me Love Sushi for her to order something to-go (for take-away). Why didn't I get anything to take-away, you ask? Well because the doughnut lady at Portabello market was yelling "50 pents a piece!" for all her baked goods, so I bought the biggest jelly filled powdered sugar doughnut and carrot cake slice I've ever seen. And then proceeded to devour them both. And unfortunately Kelsey took plenty of pictures of me to document the entire process of first trying to save some, realizing it would get squished within my many layers of clothes, and making the executive decision to stuff my face until it was gone. WELL. All in the past. We hit the hay early and woke up all feeling much more ready to embrace the weather and take on London bright and early. Except I didn't wake up as rested as I probably could have had I not been awakened countless times during the night by my bunk mates (who just so happened to be overzealous Asians, whispering about who knows what). It was my first real hostel experience so I assumed this is probably something I can expect from any type of room I might stay in. But I did learn one thing: If you lock your stuff up in a locker when you go to bed, don't accidentally lock your room key up too. When you wake up early in the morning having to go to the bathroom and then remember you need to unlock the locker, uncover the key, and then book it down the hall, it makes for a rather annoying way to start the day). And maybe it was something to do with staying here, or my bathroom fiasco, or maybe something totally different, but I woke up for good around 8 am sobbing! My dream had been so sad that I woke up with actual tears running down my face. It was the strangest thing, and I ate my continental breakfast of cereal turned oatmeal and "orange juice" rather solemnly. But you know what they say, out of sight out of mind. Today was going to be a full day! We bought a day pass for the subway and were going to get our money's worth out of it, so we took the underground to Buckingham Palace, walked through Hyde Park (the same walk Stephen and I did just 3 weeks earlier, so hard to believe), and after setting our minds to finding crunch Cookie Butter, searched grocery story after grocery store in hopes of finding some for our train ride later. No such luck. 

Did you guys plan your outfits, C?

And because it was still early Sunday morning, so many places were closed. We resorted to warming up in a McDonalds where I ordered coffee for the first time in Europe. Ehh, I could take it or leave it. We trained to Picadilly Circus, then to Camden Market where we sampled and had a great lunch (Jamaican chicken and vegetables), and then made our way to our final destination: the biggest Whole Foods in the world. 3 stories. An entire escalator for your cart to ride. 2 full isles dedicated to Yoga. An unreal salad and hot bar. Delectable hummus samples and a woman making dark chocolate in front of your eyes, to try for free. It was one of our more brilliant ideas to get a salad to-go to have for the train ride that night. After exploring the store front to back, we purchased our salads, went back to the hostel to grab our stuff, and left for Kings Cross Train Station. 

Biscoff spread and banana crepe, no filling...interesting choice?

We had a table for the three of us, and our fourth seat partner, Mandy, a middle aged cruise agent from a small suburb in England, was the best company for our 5-hour ride to Edinburgh. We ended up chatting the entire time, asking each other stupid questions about each other's cultures and countries, the truth to any stereotypes we've heard of, what our daily lives are like...really anything and everything. I think it was the first time I've talked to someone abroad who was actually interested in hearing about aspects of my life in the States. It generally is a one-way questionnaire. And our salads were just as good as we had hoped. We arrived in Edinburgh by 9:30 and walked to our hostel, the Calcedonian Backpackers. It was definitely a polar opposite feel from our previous Swiss cottage- punk rock graffiti and boldly colored abstract art plastered to every wall and a 24/7 bar- but it was so close to the station and we were grateful to have beds to crash into. 

Blissfully enjoying the scenery, not dealing with Ryan Air, and looking forward to our salad bar concoctions (which tasted just like a little bit of home)...Kels, aren't you glad your bag of handy dandy nuts made it into the shot?

Our little nook with our new friend

My 10 GBP (and maybe 10 pound) salad

A sample of the images that covered every wall in every common room, bathroom, bedroom and hallway in our hostel. To anyone who's been to Tijuana Flats in Sarasota, Florida before, think that environment x 100.

Easter Sunday

I have to break from my retelling of spring break to talk about my Easter Sunday. It was definitely one I want to remember. 

When I got back Dublin on Saturday afternoon I hopped off the airport bus to this sight: My first encounter with Semana Santa. I missed all the big events from this week in Sevilla, which include pasos (parades) of all the saints every day of the week, lasting from dusk until dawn, with smaller pasos during the day, involving kids and the elderly alike. People regard their respective saints' pasos as the most reverent of sights one can see. While I traveled out of town for this week, the hotel rates skyrocketed in Sevilla from Saturday until the following Sunday, Easter, and I realized upon getting off this airport bus that it had officially marked the beginning of spring (and the start of the tourist season). The sun was blazing, and I sweated on my walk back to the apartment for first time all semester, and I'm not complaining at all. I thought that the parade I saw was pretty eventful, but once I sat down to a lunch of liver and rice (welcome home, Maggie), Cristina told me how much I'd missed out on. Apparently Easter weekend is the most boring of all the pasos, and that all the really impressive sights were to be caught early in the week of Semana Santa. She actually did a pretty good job of making me feel bad about missing out on that aspect of her culture, but that is neither here nor there. The rest of my Saturday was relaxing. I tried to run a little bit, I unpacked, blogged, did a yoga video from YouTube, and skyped my parents and grandfather after his surprise birthday party. That was definitely the highlight of the day! I so badly wished my flight from Dublin were a super high-speed one back to Charlotte for the day to have seen his face when 30 of his friends were at my house to surprise him, wishing him a happy *75th* birthday :). I'll just have to celebrate his half birthday with him when I get home! But in the mean time the long skype session did the trick. I also went with Cristina and her friend Marisol to see el paso del Virgen del Sol near our house (mostly in an attempt to get back on her good side for missing the entire week).

This extremely heavy and heavily-decorated construction is held up by a group of men that walk perfectly in sync with each other and to the tune of the trumpets (? I don't know instruments) through the narrow streets of Sevilla

So that was Saturday, the day before Easter. And did you know? Time change over here happens on Easter Sunday, not before, like in the U.S.? So I lost 2 hours between the time change and the hour change from the UK to Spain. But I did have to argue the Spring Forward/Fall Back concept to Cristina's friend, Marisol, as she was convinced that we went back an hour at 2 am that morning. At first I tried using the saying "spring forward, fall back" but quickly realized the words for Spring and Fall don't mean the same thing as "moving forward and moving back" in Spanish like they do in English...and do you know how hard it is to explain that kind of play on words in Spanish when it doesn't mean a single thing to a Spaniard? Well anyways I had to backtrack and just say "I'm pretty sure we go forward one hour, we always have in the spring..." but she wasn't budging. "NO NO NO NO NO NO you can ask ANYONE here, it's one hour less, we go back ONE WHOLE HOUR, when it's 2am it will actually be 1!" (except all Spanish). Well. I just hope she wasn't late to anything on Sunday morning. 

Speaking of Sunday morning, it was beyond strange to wake up at 11:30 am and no one being awake in the house. It was silent. I ate a bowl of oatmeal sent from the states and sent a few emails, trying to be productive and getting on top of the week of school coming up. I didn't even think about the fact that it was Easter until I talked to my dad later that afternoon. Even at lunch with Cristina we didn't talk about it. While Semana Santa is bigger than Christmas over here, the actual day of Easter is made the least fuss about. I couldn't remember the word Pascua which means Easter, and I asked her what this special day was called in Spanish. She had to think for a minute and then said "....dia de resureccion? no se." As in she didn't really know. Or care. 

I really missed being at home on this day, probably more so than any specific day so far this semester. There's been times that I've felt a pang of homesickness for a specific food, or to do a specific thing, but never because I was missing out on a special day. So these two days in a row of missing my grandfather's birthday and missing out on the Easter celebration at my aunt's house was a bit of a double whammy. And I know I've just had desserts on desserts on desserts over the past week while traveling, but a little piece of me did want a solid chocolate Easter bunny sitting at the foot of my bed when I woke up in the morning. I can't find those anywhere here!

So I did something else, on a whim, after dinner. I rolled out my yoga mat in the little space between MC's bed and mine, and even had to move around the desk and chair a little to be able to roll it out all the way, but I wanted to do 40 sun salutations. I guess for the 40 days of lent I pretty much totally disregarded. It took me about an hour but halfway through I made up my own flow to break it up and on number 20 I switched from sun As to sun Bs. And as I was about 40 minutes through my practice I realized I had made up a whole class, completely off the top of my head. And when I finished it was past 12 so it wasn't even Easter anymore, but I still like to think of that hour as my church service for the day. I attempted to dedicate each salutation to a different person I thought of in the moment and wanted to send love to. Not a traditional way to celebrate the day, but it was my own and it turned the day into something a little more special for me. And I hope to continue working on self practice a little more every day! There's so much more to explore with it. And now that its no longer Easter I have to turn my attention to reading 4 philosophy books and preparing a presentation about women's rights in the European Union.

Florence, the city of endless pizza, pasta, paninis and yoga

Tonight I'm beginning to chronicle my 10 day spring break trip, so I'll start from the beginning: Florence, Italy. 

Reliving AP Art History at its finest...seeing the Duomo in real life

view from atop la Piazza de Michaelangelo 

walking across these bridges and seeing the mountains gave me the most unreal sensation of: "Helloooo, you are in Tuscany"... suffice it to say it was magical.

The Ponte Vecchio

Pictures may speak a thousand words, but my photos of Florence don't do the place justice. I couldn't get the scope of the duomo in a single shot, it was just unfair to the landscape to put a box around what I saw while sitting on top of the Piazza de Michaelangelo at sunset while listening to live acoustic music, and there's simply no way that taking a picture of my Margarita pizza from Gustapizza will ever convey the taste that graced my lips. So I'll try using some words instead.

On Wednesday morning (missing class and volunteering and meeting with my intercambio, again...whoops. But I'm about to embark on a trip to Italy, London, Scotland, and Ireland...priorities people) I left for Florence, via Barcelona. During my 4 hour layover there, I realized that the last time I was sitting in that airport I was coming home early from my trip to France the summer after freshman year, sick, homesick, and pretty much miserable. At that point I couldn't have dreamed in a million years that I would be back in that airport, happier than ever, about to travel to 4 countries in 10 days with my best friends. 

So I arrived in a rainy Florence (precursor to how our entire week would turn out to be) Wednesday afternoon and guess what my first stop was: gelato. My flavors of choice? Coffee crunch and sesame honey swirl. From there I went to Caroline and Kelsey's school with them and researched places to see in Florence while they took a midterm. They weren't on spring break yet, so I filled time of them studying for exams by doing Insanity in their living room, but as soon as I was finished we went to aperitivo hour at Kitsch. Don't know what aperitivo is? I didn't either, but I quickly found out that upon ordering a cocktail at a restaurant that serves aperitivo, you are immediately granted access to an unlimited buffet of decadent, and I mean all-out, Italian-to-the-core dinner options. 

plate number 1...of 3

On Thursday I'm pretty sure I woke up with what can qualify as a food hangover. It was like I couldn't remember where all that deliciousness came from the night before, it was all just a dreamy blur of pesto sauces, fresh salmon fillets, grilled vegetables and meatballs in marinara. Somehow I still managed to eat breakfast before hitting the town by myself while C and K took their last tests. And I have to say, I feel like a semi-pro at exploring new cities on my own now, not to toot my own horn or anything. But I feel like if I navigated Madrid, I can pretty much do anything. My first stop was the Accademia Gallery to see the David. I got there early enough but the line was already out the door and around the corner. I went ahead and got in line but was almost sure that I would head out in a matter of minutes to just walk around the city instead, but a pair of Vietnamese sisters from Virginia got in line behind me and we started talking. Then the woman in front of me turned around after hearing us speak English and explained that she was British but was has now retired to Greece, and then a group of tourists from Mexico standing behind us all got involved when they heard I was studying Spanish and wanted to practice English with me/offer their Spanish for me to practice. So before I knew it I had waited an hour and a half just talking to these random people who had quickly become my friends. I learned quite a bit, too, most importantly that I need to visit Greece at some point in my life, hopefully sooner than later. And from what I can tell living there doesn't sound like too shabby of a deal either. 

Chatting with these folks was honestly one of the highlights of the trip; it epitomizes what its like to be abroad. You immediately bond with anyone if you speak a common language, especially if you're in a place where you are the minority. And when I did finally get inside, the wait  became even more worth it. The David is a masterpiece, and the hype is most definitely not overrated. But by the time I left it was already time to meet back up with Kelsey who had just finished her classes! She took me to the market right by their apartment (SIDENOTE: their apartment is beautiful, I was in love. Huge doorways, tall ceilings, ample living room space [for Insanity and yoga purposes of course], a gorgeous kitchen, wooden floors, huge bedrooms, window views of the duomo, the market, and downtown Florence), and we bought an unnecessary amount of dried fruits to snack on. From there, more walking and exploring until we reached a panini place that I was told I must try. I Fratellini Firenze, I think it was called, is just a little shop/stand with a list of paninis and a list of wines, and no seating. You eat your deliciously crafted panini on to-die-for bread with your perfectly paired mini glass of wine on the street beside the shop. 

After lunch we met up with Caroline who just finished her last exam, and continued to walk around the city. Fun fact I learned while walking? The big, tourist-attracting gelato stores with mounds upon mounds of thick, creamy-looking gelato (I won't lie, it was enticing to me) is a rip-off. It's all air! The good stuff is much less ostentatious and often cheaper). At sunset we walked to the top of the Piazza de Michaelangelo, and boy was I unprepared for the view of Florence I got. The guitarist playing songs like Hallelujah only amplified the surreal feeling of where I was. Italy has always held some kind of magic in my mind. It didn't matter that this was the 3rd or 4th big trip I've taken since being abroad, there was still something unique and special about being in Italy. I can't quite put my finger on it, but I do know that eventually in my life I want to see every part of this country. 

Dinner was Gustapizza, an unpretentious restaurant you might have missed if you walked by at 6:30, but by 7pm a line starts forming around the outside and if you get there much passed then, you'll be waiting for hours to eat. The doors open at 7:30 and you have a choice from 7 or so pizzas and that's it- that's the menu. The choice was easy for me; when you're in a place like this and you know the pizza is going to be the real deal, you gotta go for the Margarita. 

The guys make it right in front of you in the this brick? wood fired? oven? I don't really know, but I watched them make pizza after pizza and call number after number, hoping and praying that the next would be mine. When they finally did call 55 and saw that pizza number 55 looked like it was the best one they'd made all night, my heart skipped a beat and I leaped up to grab it. After combining their special spicy olive oils and balsamic vinegars to dip my crust in to, I was in pizza heaven and I never wanted it to end. 

That being said, I left dinner for the second night in a row feeling absolutely stuffed to my fullest capacity. Luckily it was early enough (dinner at 7:30?!? What is this?!) that I had time to digest while we watched episode after episode of New Girl. 

Although I tried desperately to take a picture of this to document it and prove its truth, none of my attempts worked, but we actually did wake up at 6:55 the next morning to do Insanity all together. Plyometric Cardio Circuit in the triangle formation, just like old times. A quick shower and oatmeal breakfast, and then it was to the train station for the three of us to buy day trip tickets to Lucca, Italy.

My first ever train ride 

The historic part of the city is built within walls that stretch around for 4 kilometers, and we walked along the top of the walls for almost the entire circumference of the town. In warmer, sunnier weather, Lucca would be ideal to rent a bike and cruise around for the afternoon. Although most things were closed for us, we still got the feel for this sleepy, elegant little town just by walking. The shops were expensive, but it was fun to browse around and to admire their famed Buccalleto pastries. Lunch was in a quiet little restaurant where C and K ordered amazing soups and I ordered a sausage pasta. My pasta wasn't anything to write home about, but their soups were crazy good (note to self: if you see a farro soup on a menu in Italy again, order it). After lunch we leisurely walked back to the train station and made it in perfect time to catch the 3:30 train back to Florence. 

Upon arriving, we changed clothes and headed out for another highlight of my week: a yoga class. This yoga class, I did not know, was advanced Ashtanga- something I've only practiced maybe twice before. On top of that, it was in Italian! And on top of that we were practically the only girls in the class. But how interesting and cool it was! I realized mid-practice that even though I didn't know the language, the rhythm of the words matched what I'm used to hearing during a practice, and I could follow along without having to look around to my neighbors. It was like an out of body experience to be able to keep up with a class of people who know exactly what they're doing and can understand what's being spoken to them, and to feel one with the people in the room. At this moment it became more apparent to me than ever that yoga is an extremely powerful and unifying force. It can bring people together in a way that I'm not sure any other thing can. My inhales and my exhales are the very same as my Italian mat partners' who I have never met and will never see again when I breathe through sun salutations. And the best part? Savasana. Here they give you blankets to cover up with...basically asking you to fall asleep, but I was in heaven. Everything about the place- the candlelit room, the huge windows opening out to Florence, Italy (I keep having to remind myself that I'm in Italy), the smell of lavender and eucalyptus- was so peaceful. Just what I need my spring break to be. And just the perfect way to end my stay in Florence.

After a delicious salad for dinner, packing for C and K, it was still early but it was time for bed after such a full day. Plus we were getting up at 4am to leave for London...

Lisboa, Portugal

Oh dear. I'm behind. I left last Wednesday (March 2o) for a 10 day excursion with Kelsey and Caroline so I didn't have time to finish writing about my dad's trip to Sevilla! Not only was he here for a whole week, we even made it to Portugal.

On Friday morning, we ate breakfast at a cafe outside, scrambled eggs for me (when I saw it on the menu, there was no way I wasn't going to order it...who cares that they were probably 8 euro) and the Sevillan version of pa amb tomaquet (tomato/olive oil/garlic scrubbed on bread) for dad. From there we got a cab to the train station where we both were about to step into entirely unknown territory. We rented this little, red, two-door Fiat for the weekend to drive to Lisboa, Portugal. Who came up with that ridiculous idea?! Well I did. And even though when I realized I was going to be the navigator of this 5 hour excursion into a new country I became beyond stressed, I'm oh so glad we did it. After sitting in the car for a good 30 minutes getting everything situated, taking it for a parking lot spin to test everything out, learning that we don't know how to drive it in reverse and having to ask for help to figure that one out, I attempted to use the map and the Eurocar receptionist's directions to get us out of Sevilla. Turns out (who could've guessed) that the directions turned out to be something totally different than what I read on the map or had been told. I was almost certain I'd taken us off on the wrong ramp and was just praying (jokingly) for a sign somewhere posted that said "HEY: PORTUGAL THIS WAY".... but not a minute later we came upon this sign (see above). It was a miracle. We had gotten out of the city without a single wrong turn. That's the moment I knew we were going to be fine- no not fine, we were going to do great- on this road trip.

A little over 5 hours, a random stop in Evora to look for a chapel made of bones (no such luck), a few ridiculously pricey toll booths and 2 mixed CD's later, we were dumped into Lisboa in about the same fashion that Sevilla threw us out. There was almost no traffic the entire way but as soon as we crossed into the city limits of Lisboa (at 5:00) the clearly-labeled mapquest directions became jumbled again and we were passing streets, crossing lanes, making turns, and taking exits of traffic circles faster than I could keep track of where we had started. Again, I thought we were lost, but my dad took a right turn onto a less-busy street and as we looked to our right, there it was: the Tiara Park Atlantic Hotel. It was our hotel, just right beside us, as if we'd meant to take all the crazy turns in order to make shortcuts to our destination. Yep, definitely gonna be a good trip. 

view from our hotel window

Although we were wiped out and I could've just gone straight to sleep, we ventured out to find dinner (I was also pretty hungry since our potential lunch stop in Evora turned out to be a total bust). We walked down the very steep Lisboan hills into the city center, then back up to the Bairro Alto. Eventually we landed on a little place with no one inside. It looked off the beaten path, not too touristy, and most importantly- open. It was still so early for dinner and I think the restaurant staff were surprised to have customers at 5:30 but there we were and the dinner was awesome. Cabbage soup for me, tomato soup for dad as appetizers, delicious bread and olives (which, as we learned later, is a Portuguese tactic to get your money...they put bread and butter on the table when you sit down like normal restaurants do, but they charge you for each thing separately. You've been warned), and mushroom chicken/spaghetti carbonara as our main dishes. We left stuffed and relaxed in the hotel, and I watched extremely American television until I fell asleep.

Saturday: We wandered out early while it wasn't raining, even though the sky looked ominous from our hotel window. We walked down into the Baixa, noticing all the things we didn't see the night before. The cobble stone streets are out of this world. Such intricate designs- and covering every walking space in the entire city. The buildings were colorful and everything is so hilly that it reminds me of San Francisco, but its rough around the edges. There's a lot of empty, vacant buildings, although they are still gorgeous. Tile walls, huge doors, artful windows. We had breakfast in a pastry shop where my first order was sub par (a sausage croissant=cold hot dog wrapped up in a mini piece of bread) but the sweet pastries were to die for. 

Dad from outside the shop, admiring the goods

More walking. and even though the sky grew darker and darker, it was still gorgeous. We walked down to the port, the market by the water, back up some winding streets, and somehow stumbled upon the path the castle. 

We spent about 3 hours exploring this awesome castle, and if you're ever in Lisbon and enjoy 360 degree panoramic views of a city, I recommend going. You can see the castle up on the hill from any point in the city, and you can see just about every building in the city from some part of the fortress. It went on forever, too. When I thought I'd walked around it all, there was another wall that led somewhere else with another tower to climb and see a different view from. 

We spent the rest of Saturday exploring different little streets, going through the shopping district of Chiado, taking rests on various benches to people-watch, have ice cream, coffee, dodge the rain, etc. All in all we probably walked 10 miles up and down the 70 degree hills of the city. By the time dinnertime came around, we were more than ready to pop a squat for a while. We sat outside at a restaurant with a view of the castle and ordered salmon and a seafood stew (they're known for their seafood, especially cod). The shrimp were as big as my hand and they served them to us completely whole. I didn't love having to see their little eyes in my food, but once you got passed that the stew was delicious. Much better than paella, I have to say. After dinner, more pastries (why not? You're only in Lisbon once...) and we called it a night. I have to say that having a nice hotel to stay in when you're traveling is so grand. I'm used to staying in hostels and they're generally fine, but when you can have a comfy bed to just sink in to, a room to yourself, a TV to watch, and you don't have to wear shower shoes, you just really learn to appreciate it. 

Not my pastry of choice, but this huge dessert with hard-boiled eggs baked into it were everywhere. A Portuguese specialty, perhaps? I'll never know, but I was definitely intrigued.

Sunday: Slept in instead of waking up early to make a side trip to Sintra or Belem since it was raining. It would've been cool to visit, but the rain was pretty steady and it would've meant more navigating a foreign city, foreign country, in a foreign car, and with the time crunch to get back to Sevilla. We went looking for a leisurely breakfast Sunday morning but Lisboa, Portugal, had checked out for the day. Not a soul was out on the street, much less a store open- and it was 10 am. We settled for fruit and pastries in the one store we could find and hit the road back to Sevilla. The drive back was equally easy, plus we knew where we were going which took a lot of the stress off. Riding along in a car is so much more preferable to me than driving, and I love listening to music with my dad (the first CD was a mix he made for me during my senior year of high school, filled with popular songs from his senior year, and the second CD he brought along was one I burned for him as a father's day present years ago), so it was great to just sing and eat gas station snacks as we drove through the beautiful Portuguese countryside. Maybe its the tolls that keep everyone away but we had the rode to ourselves, and it made it all the more relaxing. 

Back in Sevilla we checked into another hotel and went out for tapas (ahh back to the tapas) before going to La Carboneria to see some flamenco. It was the most crowded I've ever seen the place and we ended up having to stand at the bar to see, but I'm still glad we went. It was a little taste of Sevillan culture and I think my dad appreciated seeing and hearing it. 

Unfortunately on Monday I was running around a little bit like a chicken with her head cut off-- I had class, I wanted to show dad the Triana market, I had a meeting with my philosophy professor, I had to study for an exam at 5, I had class again, I had to meet with a group to study for another exam on Tuesday, I had to go back to Cristina's for a change of clothes, I wanted to show dad the park, dad left his good jacket in Lisbon so we were going to try to find him another, and I wanted to take him to La Confeteria for dessert. Somehow I managed to configure my schedule to fit most of it in. The highlight of the day though was buying to-go sandwiches from Starbucks (pretty much the only place you can get take-away food if its not fruit or veggies), an avocado, a mango, and humongous strawberries from the farmer's market and taking it all to Maria Luisa Park for a picnic. 

It was a perfect day for the picnic, and it was something I'd been meaning to do for a while. I think I might have found a "spot" too. I love it when I can find a place that is in public or just in my path of travel on a daily basis that I can call mine. I have one at UNC where there's almost never anyone sitting, so I call it my spot. Sometimes I go there in between or after classes on a warm day, or I'll sit there at the end of the semester before I leave for a long time just to think or reflect. I found a place in the park that is so quiet and comfortable to sit. I studied some here while my dad walked around, and I could easily see myself wandering back there much more over the remainder of the semester. The day was crazy, but I got everything accomplished that I needed to, I think (at least I hope) my dad still had a good day, and this little respite a midst the craziness was a real blessing. When I think back on it it makes me realize that there is always, and there must always, be time for you in a day. No matter what you have to do, what you need to do for yourself is just as important. I'm tired of eating bread and fatty meats every day, but when I have free meals available I'm reluctant to go out and find a more expensive meal. But the fresh fruit and pesto sandwich was just what I needed that day, and it'll be worth it again to skip out on one of Cristina's mystery soups to have some time for myself in the next coming weeks. Life is full of obligations, some of them we're excited about fulfilling and some not so much. I'm coming to realize that the more fulfilled we are through the little things, the more rested and energized we feel to complete all of them. 

Tuesday morning dad had to be at the airport at the crack of dawn so I hopped in the cab with him and got dropped off back at Cristina's on his way out. It was unbelievably cool to have him here and show him my life for the semester, as well as to experience something totally new with him. I know we'll look back on it years and years from now and have nothing but good things to say. Plus we have enough pictures to relive it all again and again...and again.

Esteve in España

This week, since I got back from Madrid, has been almost one big blur. I had to write a 7 page research paper on women's rights in the European Union (in Spanish, obviously), I had a test in my Islam and Spain class, my dad was coming to visit on Wednesday, we were going to Portugal (renting a car and driving ourselves) for the weekend, I had a test in my EU class on Monday, a meeting with my philosophy professor about how far I've come with my Metaphysics readings (all in Spanish, obviously), and a test on the Tuesday my dad left in my History of Americas class. I'm writing now because I've just finished with that test! Which means I am all done with work before spring break and all that's left to do is pack and perhaps try to go on a run which I haven't done in weeks. Tomorrow morning at 7:35 my plane leaves for Florence! So that's the week before spring break in a nutshell. Most important part? My dad was here for 6 days and it was so awesome to have him here and show him around where I live. Now that I'm looking back at pictures for the first time, it's crazy to see him in Spain. Can't believe he was here, and now- practically in the blink of an eye- he'll be back in Charlotte recounting stories to my mom. 

So Steve made it to Sevilla! Or as the locals say, Esteve en Sevilla. Wednesday- he gets in around 1pm, I met him at the airport and we took the bus back into town together where we got him checked into his little apartment in the middle of el centro. Awesome location, awesome place. I would definitely recommend staying at Calle Fabiola Apartments if you're ever in Sevilla for an extended period of time. The woman who owns the place was very cool and I've got her number so we might hang out soon! I was pretty much starved and dad was pretty much delirious by the time we could finally eat lunch, so  I dragged him through the winding city center streets to find the nearest lunch place that had more than just tapas on the menu. I'm not sure he even remembered the meal, he just had a dazed look the entire time. Maybe taking in the scenery, probably trying to keep his eyes open. I had to go to class at 5 so I led him back to take a nap (good call). That night when I got back to the apartment he had just woken up so we meandered out to find some dinner. Much more coherent at this meal. That's when he realized (and I don't know how I didn't put two and two together before) that he eats like a Spaniard anyway. I personally don't like eating little tapas for a meal, but that's what he does at home anyway. He'd rather have a big variety of lots of little things to just pick at and share with people. I'm normal and prefer one good, big, hearty meal all to myself. But he loved the tapas, so tapa-ing we went for most of our meals in Sevilla. Thursday morning I had class and a test but right after I took him to see el Alcazar, we walked to Plaza de Espana, by the river, through the city, through Maria Luisa Park, had lunch (of salmorejo so he could decide if the one he cooked at home compared...and he decided his was better) and ended up at Cristina's for a merienda at 5.

Cristina was so sweet and bought us cookies (that we've never had in the house before)

 and an ice cream cake because I told her my dad loved chocolate and ice cream

It was awesome to show him around where I lived and let him get a taste of what the home-stay life is like. The translating was a bit hard; I kept going back and forth, saying English to Cristina and then Spanish to my dad. All in all, though, I think C was very happy to meet him, happy to show him her home, and she's always in the mood to tell a story or two. MC ate with us, too, which was awesome, first so that everyone could meet everyone, and second to have a second translator around. 

We ended up staying and chatting for a long time at Cristina's (how could I have underestimated the time we'd spend talking??) but left in time to browse some shops in el centro, see Las Setas at night, and have another late dinner of tapas. This place we found looks like nothing out of the ordinary, but it has some of the best tapas I've ever tasted. They all have a twist on the same old theme (like instead of espinaca con garbanzo beans, espinaca con nueces y bacon...not chickpeas but nuts and bacon instead). 

Seafood salad-stuffed avocado

Eggplant cake...the best Spanish thing I've tasted here thus far

Goat cheese spread with a caramelized onion sauce, I think?

After filling up, we headed back to the apartment to crash. In the morning we were heading off to Lisboa, Portugal [which will be a whole post in itself]. So Friday-Sunday we were in Portugal, but when we got back on Sunday night, we checked into a new hotel, took a stroll around the city at night, ate dinner at the hotel bar just downstairs, and I took him to see flamenco at la Carboneria which I knew he'd enjoy. I never bring my phone with me when I go places nowadays, so I should probably get a watch, but as of now I hardly ever know what time it is anymore. So I wanted to get to flamenco early enough to have drinks, get a good table, and sit and relax some, but when I asked a man on the street what time it was he said 9:00. So I'm thinking, we have at least 45 minutes until we need to leave, so we go back to the hotel and I open my computer, only to find that its 9:45. So it wasn't 9, it was like 9:40. This is a perfect example of how Spanish time works- it's all in the same general vicinity of an hour and that's all that matters. Moral of the story is A. I don't mesh well with this approximation-style time-telling [I might be too punctual, but their way of doing things is just a little ridiculous], and B. we were late to La Carboneria and couldn't get a seat. No matter, we stood by the bar drinking sangria and tinto de verano and watched the short flamenco show standing up. And I was right, he loved it. 

Monday might have been my favorite day of all though. I had a meeting with my philosophy professor at 12:30 and a test at 5 (which turned out to be comically impossible), but other than that it was the most relaxing of days. After my early class I walked my dad to the market in Triana and we bought fresh strawberries, a mango, and an avocado. We then bought drinks at the grocery store and to-go sandwiches from Starbucks (practically the only place you can buy to-go food), and took the makings of a picnic to the park. It was a perfect day- warm, sunny, not windy, not hot-- it was a prime day for a picnic if I do say so myself. I patted myself on the back as I spread the avocado and olive oil on the Starbucks turkey/spinach sandwich to give it some pazazz and ate strawberries half the size of my fist on this fine day. I'd been wanting to pack a lunch for the park for a long time and this plan just came together in the most perfect way! I was so glad I could share it with my dad. I've been going and going and going for the past 3 weeks or so, and its all kind of culminated in the midterms of the past week while my dad's been here. It's looked like I've been extremely stressed to him, I think, which is so not the case at all. But this lunch was really what I needed to decompress a little. Plus the park is like a little island oasis- a great getaway for anyone at any time when they just need a moment to themselves. 

I studied for my exam there, sitting by the water where the ducks were swimming, taking in some sun, and felt completely relaxed by the time I actually had to take the test. Unfortunately I had to meet with a study group to study for my next test which was Tuesday morning for a couple hours after I finished the Monday night one. But after I met back up with my dad, and he told me how he got lost a few times but managed to find his way back to the hotel by the time I did, we returned to our newly discovered gem of a tapas spot and had more eggplant cake. It wasn't a disappointment the second time, either. La Campana was our last stop to pick up a pastry and a muffin for a snack later and then it was back to the hotel for dad's last night in Sevilla. I fell asleep studying after a while, but was awoken by alarm at 4:05 am. A cab came at 4:20 to take him to the airport and me back home. Such a weird thing to be writing this now, now that my last test is finished and I'm done with all the studying, but just this morning I was riding in a cab with my dad and now he's back in America, almost back home! And NOW I'm about turn around and go to the airport myself for a 10 day trip to Florence to see my best friends Kelsey and Caroline, and then we're all going to London, Edinburgh, and Dublin together! Talk about a whirlwind of a month...

A definite highlight of dad's trip for me: A stash of goods from home...peanut butter, gum, Nature Valley bars, Trader Joe's oatmeal, Girl Scout cookies, Crystal Light, my Nike spandex and jean jacket