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Friday, August 5, 2011
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Todo tiene su tiempo
There is an appointed time for everything. And there is a time for every event under heaven—
A time to give birth and a time to die;
A time to plant and a time to uproot what is planted.
A time to kill and a time to heal;
A time to tear down and a time to build up.
A time to weep and a time to laugh;
A time to mourn and a time to dance.
A time to throw stones and a time to gather stones;
A time to embrace and a time to shun embracing.
A time to search and a time to give up as lost;
A time to keep and a time to throw away.
A time to tear apart and a time to sew together;
A time to be silent and a time to speak.
A time to love and a time to hate;
A time for war and a time for peace.
A time to plant and a time to uproot what is planted.
A time to kill and a time to heal;
A time to tear down and a time to build up.
A time to weep and a time to laugh;
A time to mourn and a time to dance.
A time to throw stones and a time to gather stones;
A time to embrace and a time to shun embracing.
A time to search and a time to give up as lost;
A time to keep and a time to throw away.
A time to tear apart and a time to sew together;
A time to be silent and a time to speak.
A time to love and a time to hate;
A time for war and a time for peace.
A time for Spain and a time for Michigan.
Un tiempo para España y un tiempo para Michigan.
Un tiempo para España y un tiempo para Michigan.
...thus close my 180 days in Europe.
...así terminan mis 180 días en Europa.
...así terminan mis 180 días en Europa.
What more is there to say? It was life; I met people: people who happened to be living in southern Spain near the grand Atlantic Ocean and who are really just the same as people in my little town here in the forest on the shores of Lake Superior. I am thankful for the opportunity to learn and grow, not to mention the chance to enjoy hours spent with new friends, delicious meals, necessary siestas and daily adventures.
No sé qué más puedo decir (el pasaje es de Eclesiastés 3 y resume mis pensamientos). Allí viví; conocí a la gente: la gente que vive en el sur de España cerca del mar Atlántico que en realidad es igual que la gente en mi pueblo aquí en el bosque en la orilla del lago Superior. Estoy muy agradecida por la oportunidad de aprender y crecer, y además, los momentos en que disfruté de pasar horas con amigos nuevos, comidas riquísimas, siestas necesarias y aventuras cada día.
No sé qué más puedo decir (el pasaje es de Eclesiastés 3 y resume mis pensamientos). Allí viví; conocí a la gente: la gente que vive en el sur de España cerca del mar Atlántico que en realidad es igual que la gente en mi pueblo aquí en el bosque en la orilla del lago Superior. Estoy muy agradecida por la oportunidad de aprender y crecer, y además, los momentos en que disfruté de pasar horas con amigos nuevos, comidas riquísimas, siestas necesarias y aventuras cada día.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Monday, August 1, 2011
If I ever leave this place alive
[If I tell these stories here now, I won't have to do it later. I'm a pro pointless story-teller. ]
Oh, Lisbon.
The area of town in which my fist hostel supposedly is was so sketch I peace-d out of there ASAP. I didn't actually ever find it either. I just found myself in little alley ways. And on the walk to my hostel--whose existence I almost doubt--I ran into a friendly Portuguese cop. Now, the reason this cop was there was not because there was a Portuguese Donut shop. He was there because the street was that sketch. So, I gladly approached him, practically ran toward him just to feel safer, and after asking for directions in Spanish I asked "now, I'm not going to have to walk up this street? (Gesturing to the street he was patrolling in a rather sedentary fashion) It doesn't seem safe, right?" He looked at me with those big, mournful Portuguese eyes and said, "No."
We found another route to Rua do Maria (linguistic side note: they rrreally rrrroll their r's!). I found a Rrrrrua Maria but number 55 looked pretty absurd...in a negative way. It didn't appear to be a hostel nor was it on a street I'd like to walk down alone early tomorrow morning.
So, I am in a hotel! The fifth one I've entered after price-checking. I sauntered into a beautiful, five star hotel just for fun and the nice young man told me it was 163 Euro for the night, I think. I told him before asking that it was mostly out of curiosity and so he didn't think it too odd as I tottered out of there with my enormous green back pack and my squeaky, damp moccasins. I heard everywhere from that price to 100 to 63 to 77 to 50. And, here I am. Breakfast included.
Down the street from me is a hostel. The British girl working at the desk was helpful but could only offer me the TV room couch for the night. Various factors led me to my current decision: I would have had to wait to claim the couch until midnight; there seemed to be an astounding number of males between the age of 25 and 30 strutting about the place which doesn't make a public sleeping area that appealing; and the real deciding factor? A wake-up call. I left my clock in Sevilla for my Spanish flat mate. (I am going to make Spain more time-conscious, one person at a time. It's just so funny in the morning when someone starts fussing about how late it's gotten, as if time is some silent panther, creeping about! Thus, I am without an alarm clock. I thought my phone would do--but it won't.) That reminds me, I need to schedule that wake-up call right now.
...done.
The guy at the reception desk must think I'm nuts! I walk into the place, ask how much tonight would cost, and then leave. Five minutes later, I'm back. My first question is, of course, about the wake-up call. Would it be possible? Why then, I'd like to book a room. I found myself stumbling over English. Awesome. (I've been speaking Spanglish all day, which here, works.) My credit card didn't function--I tried two pin numbers though I knew the first was correct. Is there an ATM nearby? Just up the street? Great. I scurry back with the bills practically flying about. He looks on like a dear little Portuguese grand-father.
Of note: a) Look at the bags under my eyes: I'm tired; b) I'm blogging a photo of myself taken by Photo Booth? I'm definitely tired; c) I am also triumphant! I am in a hotel! by myself! Look ma, no help!; d) USA USA USA tomorrow!
Oh, Lisbon.
The area of town in which my fist hostel supposedly is was so sketch I peace-d out of there ASAP. I didn't actually ever find it either. I just found myself in little alley ways. And on the walk to my hostel--whose existence I almost doubt--I ran into a friendly Portuguese cop. Now, the reason this cop was there was not because there was a Portuguese Donut shop. He was there because the street was that sketch. So, I gladly approached him, practically ran toward him just to feel safer, and after asking for directions in Spanish I asked "now, I'm not going to have to walk up this street? (Gesturing to the street he was patrolling in a rather sedentary fashion) It doesn't seem safe, right?" He looked at me with those big, mournful Portuguese eyes and said, "No."
We found another route to Rua do Maria (linguistic side note: they rrreally rrrroll their r's!). I found a Rrrrrua Maria but number 55 looked pretty absurd...in a negative way. It didn't appear to be a hostel nor was it on a street I'd like to walk down alone early tomorrow morning.
So, I am in a hotel! The fifth one I've entered after price-checking. I sauntered into a beautiful, five star hotel just for fun and the nice young man told me it was 163 Euro for the night, I think. I told him before asking that it was mostly out of curiosity and so he didn't think it too odd as I tottered out of there with my enormous green back pack and my squeaky, damp moccasins. I heard everywhere from that price to 100 to 63 to 77 to 50. And, here I am. Breakfast included.
Down the street from me is a hostel. The British girl working at the desk was helpful but could only offer me the TV room couch for the night. Various factors led me to my current decision: I would have had to wait to claim the couch until midnight; there seemed to be an astounding number of males between the age of 25 and 30 strutting about the place which doesn't make a public sleeping area that appealing; and the real deciding factor? A wake-up call. I left my clock in Sevilla for my Spanish flat mate. (I am going to make Spain more time-conscious, one person at a time. It's just so funny in the morning when someone starts fussing about how late it's gotten, as if time is some silent panther, creeping about! Thus, I am without an alarm clock. I thought my phone would do--but it won't.) That reminds me, I need to schedule that wake-up call right now.
...done.
The guy at the reception desk must think I'm nuts! I walk into the place, ask how much tonight would cost, and then leave. Five minutes later, I'm back. My first question is, of course, about the wake-up call. Would it be possible? Why then, I'd like to book a room. I found myself stumbling over English. Awesome. (I've been speaking Spanglish all day, which here, works.) My credit card didn't function--I tried two pin numbers though I knew the first was correct. Is there an ATM nearby? Just up the street? Great. I scurry back with the bills practically flying about. He looks on like a dear little Portuguese grand-father.
 |
| My mid-travel face? My I've-walked-around-Lisboa-for-five-hours face? |
Obrigada for the cool weather
LISBOA, Portugal -- It is so nice here: grey, rainy and cool. It has
an entirely different feel than Sevilla. The temperature, the odd, guttural
language and the slow pace of the big-eyed Portuguese--really, people
here have large, sad-like-Humphrey-Bogart eyes--are quite a change from broiling and vivacious Sevilla.
On the delayed flight here from dear Sevilla, there was an 8-year-old boy crying for his life (I think he was tired and didn't like the sensation of building pressure in his ears). And I had thought that a baby's crying could be rather annoying...
When I got to the airport, I had to pick up my luggage (which is too heavy, I believe, but Sevilla let me go without paying extra). I had to talk to three different people until I found a way to store it overnight. So, it's awaiting me in the Left Luggage area to claim in the morning.
Prices here are cheaper than Sevilla. And people speak English. As of right now, I would recommend a visit. I am going to roam around some more, find my hostel and then prepare for my flight tomorrow.
...less than an hour later:
I am not in my hostel yet. I started walking there and got sketched out. I am glad I brought a scarf: it's going on my head when I do decide to make the trip to Rue do Maria 55. My rain-soaked moccasins and I are certain that once we are in the hostel, we aren't coming back out again until morning for the flight home! So I decided to make use of my time out of doors before I shut myself away for the evening. I am going to roam around some more in the not-so-sketch areas of Lisboa--there are plenty to be found--while ducking under trees to let the heaviest rain pass before I continue on my adventures.
What have I sought refuge, you may ask? Why, I will tell you. Starbucks--I confess. I have learned to be quite efficient in the 45-minute internet time limit.
About 14 hours and counting until I leave for the wonderful United States.
On the delayed flight here from dear Sevilla, there was an 8-year-old boy crying for his life (I think he was tired and didn't like the sensation of building pressure in his ears). And I had thought that a baby's crying could be rather annoying...
When I got to the airport, I had to pick up my luggage (which is too heavy, I believe, but Sevilla let me go without paying extra). I had to talk to three different people until I found a way to store it overnight. So, it's awaiting me in the Left Luggage area to claim in the morning.
Prices here are cheaper than Sevilla. And people speak English. As of right now, I would recommend a visit. I am going to roam around some more, find my hostel and then prepare for my flight tomorrow.
...less than an hour later:
I am not in my hostel yet. I started walking there and got sketched out. I am glad I brought a scarf: it's going on my head when I do decide to make the trip to Rue do Maria 55. My rain-soaked moccasins and I are certain that once we are in the hostel, we aren't coming back out again until morning for the flight home! So I decided to make use of my time out of doors before I shut myself away for the evening. I am going to roam around some more in the not-so-sketch areas of Lisboa--there are plenty to be found--while ducking under trees to let the heaviest rain pass before I continue on my adventures.
What have I sought refuge, you may ask? Why, I will tell you. Starbucks--I confess. I have learned to be quite efficient in the 45-minute internet time limit.
About 14 hours and counting until I leave for the wonderful United States.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
A rather tardy review of CC-CS and a few bits of advice
My opinion on The Center for Cross-Cultural Studies has changed since my first few days here in chilly February.
I didn't speak all that much Spanish during the semester and that was my biggest complaint. I didn't find the classes challenging, but I really should have taken courses at the university. I didn't speak Spanish all the time in the Center--I confess--but no one else did either. At home, my roommate and I ended up chatting in English every so often when we weren't around our host señora. I could have been responsible for myself and only spoken in Spanish, but I didn't. So, I want to clear this up for myself and tell future study abroad students: speak Spanish. You might be the only one doing it, but do it anyway. Avoid Americans. This means you'll be a loner for a while, but do it anyway.
Volunteer. Take basic dance classes at Voulez-bar in Nervión. Do something other than going to Buddha or Caramelo with Americans if you can help it. Well. Maybe go once. It's an experience. Hang out with your intercambios, too.
Find a neat bar or café near your home and go there every so often. Get to know the people that work there or frequent there and you'll have found yourself a speaking partner and they won't even be aware how beneficial they are to you. Una tostada con mermelada (my favorite) y café con leche would be the perfect complements to a Spanish conversation at breakfast.
This is just if you actually want to improve your Spanish. There is plenty of fun to be had with little to no effort involved if you don't really want to practice too much. Anyway, those are some of my consejos.
The CC-CS staff have always been helpful, as far as I've found. Helpful in the Spanish way, but definitely there to lend a hand, whether it means getting help in a roundabout way or a different-than-American-organized way--they get the job done. We are in Sevilla, España after all. Things are not the same as in our country.
And a report of their office staff: a few days ago, I went to hand in my cell phone. I ran into the director who A) remembered my name though we hadn't spoken much, and I hadn't been there since mid-May! and B) took a minute or two to chat. I love that about Spanish culture: there is (almost) always time to catch up with someone you happen to run into. And last week, I ran into one of my professors on the street. She was shopping, paused to chat a bit, and--like the director--remembered my name, too! I really appreciate when people remember names. It's just a nice detail.
In the main office, the women are kind and offer a hello and a smile along with their useful aid for us ignorant guiri students. Take advantage of the opportunities when studying abroad. Get over the cultural differences. Be prepared to be offended sometimes but be aware you may be offending someone sometimes too. Focus on the positive! ¡Y habla español!
EDIT: After reading this, I've realized the enormous amount of command forms. Be prepared. This is the way we speak here. Commands twenty-four seven. It's so efficient!
I didn't speak all that much Spanish during the semester and that was my biggest complaint. I didn't find the classes challenging, but I really should have taken courses at the university. I didn't speak Spanish all the time in the Center--I confess--but no one else did either. At home, my roommate and I ended up chatting in English every so often when we weren't around our host señora. I could have been responsible for myself and only spoken in Spanish, but I didn't. So, I want to clear this up for myself and tell future study abroad students: speak Spanish. You might be the only one doing it, but do it anyway. Avoid Americans. This means you'll be a loner for a while, but do it anyway.
Volunteer. Take basic dance classes at Voulez-bar in Nervión. Do something other than going to Buddha or Caramelo with Americans if you can help it. Well. Maybe go once. It's an experience. Hang out with your intercambios, too.
Find a neat bar or café near your home and go there every so often. Get to know the people that work there or frequent there and you'll have found yourself a speaking partner and they won't even be aware how beneficial they are to you. Una tostada con mermelada (my favorite) y café con leche would be the perfect complements to a Spanish conversation at breakfast.
This is just if you actually want to improve your Spanish. There is plenty of fun to be had with little to no effort involved if you don't really want to practice too much. Anyway, those are some of my consejos.
The CC-CS staff have always been helpful, as far as I've found. Helpful in the Spanish way, but definitely there to lend a hand, whether it means getting help in a roundabout way or a different-than-American-organized way--they get the job done. We are in Sevilla, España after all. Things are not the same as in our country.
And a report of their office staff: a few days ago, I went to hand in my cell phone. I ran into the director who A) remembered my name though we hadn't spoken much, and I hadn't been there since mid-May! and B) took a minute or two to chat. I love that about Spanish culture: there is (almost) always time to catch up with someone you happen to run into. And last week, I ran into one of my professors on the street. She was shopping, paused to chat a bit, and--like the director--remembered my name, too! I really appreciate when people remember names. It's just a nice detail.
In the main office, the women are kind and offer a hello and a smile along with their useful aid for us ignorant guiri students. Take advantage of the opportunities when studying abroad. Get over the cultural differences. Be prepared to be offended sometimes but be aware you may be offending someone sometimes too. Focus on the positive! ¡Y habla español!
EDIT: After reading this, I've realized the enormous amount of command forms. Be prepared. This is the way we speak here. Commands twenty-four seven. It's so efficient!
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Being where I am 45%.
My enthusiasm is running low and filling me with the same dread I feel when I’m at a café with WiFi and I see my computer battery is low and I don’t have my charger and adaptor.
Which, in reality, is not that big of a deal.
Today is Tuesday. So soon--Monday, August 1--I will be leavin’ on a jet plane, don’t know when I’ll be back again...
In some ways, life is going to be so easy and comfortable back in Meecheegan. But, life is still fun and chock-full of learning experiences here. I’m entirely aware that the idea of being able to escape and leave behind my life here is something that doesn’t really happen normally. So, I have to continue to choose to be totally here.
Easier said than done.
Yesterday, I almost cried. I almost ditched plans with a group of people.
Today, I decided, is the last day I’m going to Starbucks--I think.
Tomorrow...well, I’m just not going to worry about it. Today’s enough. At the very least, I have plans to hang out with the one girl that’s been a friend to me this summer.
Part of being here 100% feels like I’m here 250%--hurtling me out of my comfort zone, stretching me, challenging me, scaring me and definitely, bettering me.
One way I have needed to step out of my comfort zone is in accepting invitations to dine at people’s homes. And, due to a) not being where I am 100% b) my idiotic fear that people dislike me and c) a cultural miscommunication, I was totally and accidentally rude last week! I was invited to eat lunch with a family after church, I accepted and then didn’t go to church. I didn’t exactly forget but I didn’t really think I was expected either and I had something else to do. Really, I just didn’t think. At all. Until the next week, when I hurriedly apologized and was just as quickly, and sweetly, pardoned. I realize one reason that I pushed it from my mind was because after inviting me casually, the couple left and said ‘bye without confirming plans. I think the confirmation is essential in the States. Or maybe that’s just me? Anyway, I convinced myself they didn’t really expect me and voila!: accidentally impolite.
So, take people at their word! Period. Letting your 'yes be yes and your no be no' is a good thing to practice and to accept from others. If people say something is okay, it’s okay. If you ask them if they want help and they say no, leave them be: but, one may encounter issues: for instance, here, you have to deny what people want to do to/for you (for example, more helpings of food multiple times)--just remember that. There are, of course, worse problems to encounter. If people invite you over for lunch, they may just want you to come over for lunch. Gee whiz, what a thought!
Because I like adventures, because I want to be sent to some far corner of the world with Wycliffe Bible Translators and because I am me; I chose to stay here to live in another culture and push myself personally and linguistically. SUCCESS! I couldn’t have chosen from many other options that would have beaten me up mentally and emotionally as much as this summer has. I am so thankful for this experience! I have learned a lot--equal parts of Andalucia’s culture and language and a greater understanding of myself and the blessings I’ve received. I will always have fond memories of Sevilla and I am already dreaming of when I can come back, if I can fit it into my future. We’ll see. I mean, I will need a few weeks before I start dreaming about coming back...but it will happen.
And you too can experience (something hilarious and moderately representative of) la cultura andaluz. Check this out:
Así sí…
Which, in reality, is not that big of a deal.
Today is Tuesday. So soon--Monday, August 1--I will be leavin’ on a jet plane, don’t know when I’ll be back again...
In some ways, life is going to be so easy and comfortable back in Meecheegan. But, life is still fun and chock-full of learning experiences here. I’m entirely aware that the idea of being able to escape and leave behind my life here is something that doesn’t really happen normally. So, I have to continue to choose to be totally here.
Easier said than done.
Yesterday, I almost cried. I almost ditched plans with a group of people.
Today, I decided, is the last day I’m going to Starbucks--I think.
Tomorrow...well, I’m just not going to worry about it. Today’s enough. At the very least, I have plans to hang out with the one girl that’s been a friend to me this summer.
Part of being here 100% feels like I’m here 250%--hurtling me out of my comfort zone, stretching me, challenging me, scaring me and definitely, bettering me.
One way I have needed to step out of my comfort zone is in accepting invitations to dine at people’s homes. And, due to a) not being where I am 100% b) my idiotic fear that people dislike me and c) a cultural miscommunication, I was totally and accidentally rude last week! I was invited to eat lunch with a family after church, I accepted and then didn’t go to church. I didn’t exactly forget but I didn’t really think I was expected either and I had something else to do. Really, I just didn’t think. At all. Until the next week, when I hurriedly apologized and was just as quickly, and sweetly, pardoned. I realize one reason that I pushed it from my mind was because after inviting me casually, the couple left and said ‘bye without confirming plans. I think the confirmation is essential in the States. Or maybe that’s just me? Anyway, I convinced myself they didn’t really expect me and voila!: accidentally impolite.
So, take people at their word! Period. Letting your 'yes be yes and your no be no' is a good thing to practice and to accept from others. If people say something is okay, it’s okay. If you ask them if they want help and they say no, leave them be: but, one may encounter issues: for instance, here, you have to deny what people want to do to/for you (for example, more helpings of food multiple times)--just remember that. There are, of course, worse problems to encounter. If people invite you over for lunch, they may just want you to come over for lunch. Gee whiz, what a thought!
Because I like adventures, because I want to be sent to some far corner of the world with Wycliffe Bible Translators and because I am me; I chose to stay here to live in another culture and push myself personally and linguistically. SUCCESS! I couldn’t have chosen from many other options that would have beaten me up mentally and emotionally as much as this summer has. I am so thankful for this experience! I have learned a lot--equal parts of Andalucia’s culture and language and a greater understanding of myself and the blessings I’ve received. I will always have fond memories of Sevilla and I am already dreaming of when I can come back, if I can fit it into my future. We’ll see. I mean, I will need a few weeks before I start dreaming about coming back...but it will happen.
And you too can experience (something hilarious and moderately representative of) la cultura andaluz. Check this out:
Así sí…
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Finally, photos from Norway!
 |
| Danger at Besseggen. |
Well, see this and more, lovelier photos in my web album of my Norwegian adventures. There are about three hundred. Dedicated followers may peruse them all but I do plan/hope to sort through them and delete the riff-raff.
This was our route:
Saturday, July 23, 2011
Naive
See post: "Like a tap dance..."
That guy just gave me the drink for free. Of course I can´t walk in there and pay later! He just didn´t enter it in the system. And I suppose I cannot imagine myself walking in ¨Hi, the other day, someone gave me a free drink? I´m here to pay for it...¨
My one American friend here laughed at me for thinking that I actually was expected to pay for the frap.
So, muchas gracias, Starbucks guy.
(Maybe that´s why he looked at me like I was silly when I asked when the machine would work again...) Good heavens.
(Do things like that happen in America? I feel like they don´t really.)
In other, much less embarassing news, yesterday during a conversation I was asked ¨How many years have you lived in Spain?¨ (...in case it´s not obvious, it was in Spanish. I don´t actually speak that much English these days.)
Qué guay.
Interesting fact of the day:
I set a new record for myself. Thursday night I got three hours of sleep, leaving me pretty exhausted on Friday. I went to Huelva with my American friend, helped him teach a dance workshop thing to españoles, colombianos and brasileños and then went out to lunch with three Brazilians. (Side note: I find Brazilian Portuguese much lovlier than Portuguese Portuguese. And I’m not alone in this.) On the bus ride home, I slept for 45 minutes of the hour-long trip, then got home at about 7 PM, said hi to my flat-mate and that I thought I’d take a little siesta.
Well.
That siesta lasted a long time, I realized, when I woke up at 1:20 AM! I got up, got a sip of water, said good night and went to bed again. Until 9 AM. I calculate I slept about 14 hours. Cielos. I’m not sure if I should be worried or not.
That guy just gave me the drink for free. Of course I can´t walk in there and pay later! He just didn´t enter it in the system. And I suppose I cannot imagine myself walking in ¨Hi, the other day, someone gave me a free drink? I´m here to pay for it...¨
My one American friend here laughed at me for thinking that I actually was expected to pay for the frap.
So, muchas gracias, Starbucks guy.
(Maybe that´s why he looked at me like I was silly when I asked when the machine would work again...) Good heavens.
(Do things like that happen in America? I feel like they don´t really.)
In other, much less embarassing news, yesterday during a conversation I was asked ¨How many years have you lived in Spain?¨ (...in case it´s not obvious, it was in Spanish. I don´t actually speak that much English these days.)
Qué guay.
Interesting fact of the day:
I set a new record for myself. Thursday night I got three hours of sleep, leaving me pretty exhausted on Friday. I went to Huelva with my American friend, helped him teach a dance workshop thing to españoles, colombianos and brasileños and then went out to lunch with three Brazilians. (Side note: I find Brazilian Portuguese much lovlier than Portuguese Portuguese. And I’m not alone in this.) On the bus ride home, I slept for 45 minutes of the hour-long trip, then got home at about 7 PM, said hi to my flat-mate and that I thought I’d take a little siesta.
Well.
That siesta lasted a long time, I realized, when I woke up at 1:20 AM! I got up, got a sip of water, said good night and went to bed again. Until 9 AM. I calculate I slept about 14 hours. Cielos. I’m not sure if I should be worried or not.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
"Like a tap dance..."
...an excerpt from a quote by Marina, regarding my life. Oh, Spain.
Today I enjoyed a free caramel frappuccino from Starbucks! Well, free at least for today. The guy working there kindly told me to come another day and pay, since the credit card machine was down and I had no cash on me at the moment. Wow! That would not happen in the States.
Trust is an odd issue here in Spain. A friend of mine will tell me to look away as she types her e-mail password in and yet a Starbucks employee will let me walk away with a drink that costs €4,30. I find this so unusual. I may be making generalizations based on these particular instances, but I have seen this type of behavior elsewhere too. Walking through my apartment building, people peer out of their windows to see who am I. And it isn't because I'm a foreigner: if they hear anyone going by, they look to see who it is. Why does it matter?
I look forward to baking again. Vanilla extract here is atrociously expensive. As is maple syrup, among other things.
Though I am so excited to get home, I am still going to be where I am. For right now, that means Sevilla, España. Thanks Brown, for good advice.
Today I enjoyed a free caramel frappuccino from Starbucks! Well, free at least for today. The guy working there kindly told me to come another day and pay, since the credit card machine was down and I had no cash on me at the moment. Wow! That would not happen in the States.
Trust is an odd issue here in Spain. A friend of mine will tell me to look away as she types her e-mail password in and yet a Starbucks employee will let me walk away with a drink that costs €4,30. I find this so unusual. I may be making generalizations based on these particular instances, but I have seen this type of behavior elsewhere too. Walking through my apartment building, people peer out of their windows to see who am I. And it isn't because I'm a foreigner: if they hear anyone going by, they look to see who it is. Why does it matter?
I look forward to baking again. Vanilla extract here is atrociously expensive. As is maple syrup, among other things.
Though I am so excited to get home, I am still going to be where I am. For right now, that means Sevilla, España. Thanks Brown, for good advice.
10 days left!
Therefore be careful how you walk, not as unwise men but as wise, making the most of your time, because the days are evil.
--Ephesians 5:15, 16
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