It’s funny how we are constantly in doubt of ourselves. It’s this unspoken statement in the back of our minds that is telling us that we’re not worth it. The constant drill grinds us down until we’re screaming and kicking in the dentist chair of life and the novocain is nowhere in sight. How did we even get there? Where does the blame fall when we find ourselves in these types of situations—our parents, friends, perhaps even ourselves? What is stopping us from doing that we don’t think we can do?
Anything is tangible as long as you can think it—the hard part is not thinking about it—and just doing it instead. We get so psyched up for something and then we back down because we’re afraid to fail, we’re afraid of rejection, we’re afraid of what everyone else might think. First off, failure is the first step to success because it tells you exactly what you need to do which is obviously the opposite of what you were originally doing. Next, rejection is purely a subjecting thing. If people are rejecting you for your shortcomings then they’re not the type of people that you need to have in your life anyway. Cut them out and you’ll see life in a new life. Lastly, it’s not so much what others might think, but rather what we think that they will think—which once again is subjective and purely biased against us because we are our own worst critics.
The last time you said something negative to yourself did you continue keeping them self-image? Be honest with yourself, if you told yourself that you’re fat did you continue to keep that self-image and therefore act in a manner that might be different than someone who is skinny acts? The answer is that you did. Get over the negative self-talk and move on with your life. This isn’t high school anymore—we’re adults and we’re not helpless—help yourself.
Now that we see where our problem lies—fix it. Find things that complement what is related to where your negative self-image lies and then tell yourself the exact opposite. If you think that you aren’t smart enough, tell yourself that on the next test you’ll do well. Then name off five reasons why you’ll do well. Convince yourself of something other than what your negativity does. After you’ve done that, believe it more than a child clings to the hope that Santa will come and deliver on December 25th. As well, don’t sit around and wait for things to change. If you have to do well on something, study, prepare, and make ready for what is needed to do well. After that, set all stress aside because you’ve done it—that is, you’ve done everything that is possible for success. Success just comes naturally after that. Maybe not right away, but success does come because you want it. Want and you shall receive—work your way to what you want and before you know it you’ll have it.
29.7.10
26.7.10
Nerja--love and hate
So I’m writing this as we head back from Nerja, Spain, which is located in Andalucia. To start off by describing this place I’d have to say imagine clear blue waters, palm trees, bright sun, a calm and tranquil feeling that seems to permeate not only the air but the people as well. The buildings look older as if you stepped into an old part of New Orleans before Katrina and the air smells of ocean, salt, and depending where you are, pizza. The people here are beautiful, tan, and don’t have much of a rush to get anywhere. Nerja, in one word, is paradise.
We arrived early on Saturday morning after an interesting trip from Madrid where we encountered an old hippy stoner, aged 70, from the states who we named “Bill.” He told us nearly his entire life story and we found that wonderful and quite humorous as we waited the three hours for our bus in Madrid. Finally, after nearly an hour-long conversation that consisted mostly of Bill telling us about how he had travelled nearly the entire world and finally settled in Spain about six years ago, we were off. The bus ride was mild and we slept enough to get by. We switched buses in Cordoba and then we were off to Nerja. Now understand that Nerja is surrounded by mountains so as Alex Miller said, it looks much like Maui, Hawaii.
Saturday morning, Alex M. and I watched the sunrise come up over the mountains and it was quite beautiful in the south of Spain. We arrived at Nerja around nine in the morning, found our supposed hostel, then later found out that we were staying and paying at another hostel, and headed off to the promised one. We arrived, were greeted by the owner who told us that the room was ready to go and that there were four beds. First thing that I noticed was no kitchen and no fridge, which meant no cold booze. Okay, so a small setback in a long and wonderful weekend that was guaranteed to make us relax before our last week in Spain. First thing was first—we slept for about three hours—woke up—and headed straight toward the beach. Now oddly enough, the weather in Nerja on Saturday was cloudy but that didn’t stop us—we ate some sandwiches we bought at a sandwich shop from a girl who we named “Sexy-Sandwich-Girl” and went straight to the beach, ate our sandwiches, and went swimming in the Mediterranean Sea for the second time in our lives. It was refreshing and chilly and felt great in contrast to the high temp and humidity. We tried to bake on the beach but with all of the cloud cover we didn’t get much sun. After that, we returned, showered, and went to the supermarket to buy a bottle of Bacardi, coke, orange Fanta, and ice. We also picked up some munchies and breakfast for the next morning. We iced down the drinks and headed out to complete a homework assignment that had been ungraciously bestowed upon us right before we left. We found the boys some potential culprits and then found out that we’d have to wait until about 10:30 that evening to talk with them but that they’d come back and charlar (chat). So, the boys feeling more relieved that they’d found native speakers (mostly) to talk to, we went out, bought pizzas—chowed down—and met back up with our newfound friends. The boys chatted with them, recorded the conversations and I scored a couple of pictures of the full moon and live crowd that filled the plaza. When they were done, we returned to the room, dropped off everything, mixed up some cuba libres (rum and coke) and headed down to the beach. Once there, we sat on some rocks on the beach, enjoying the view, smoking cigars that we had purchased earlier for celebration, and spent nearly 45 minutes just looking out over the sea and talking about how wonderful of a trip it had been. Finishing up our drinks I suggested that we go swimming because I had sweated and despite it being night, it was still quite warm, so we went back to the room, changed, and went night swimming underneath a full moon. I have to say that it was the best idea of the night because it was just so peaceful and beautiful. We were happy, laughing, and just having a wonderful time. It was probably the highlight of our trip and of the weekend and I wouldn’t have had it any other way.
Back at the room we all decided to crash for the evening and slept until nearly noon. We woke up, ate some food we had purchased the night before, realized that all of the ice had melted, and headed off to the beach for another day of fun in the sun. Sunday decided to be sunny and hot, which truly fit the stereotypical Nerja-scene, and so we dipped in the sea three or four times between sun baking and girl gazing. Not exactly sure when our checkout time was, we thought we’d just leave our stuff in the room because the owner had told us she’d be gone all day—thinking we’d take advantage of that we just left our stuff, deciding we could return, shower, and leave without any harm or damage. Back at the room there was a note on the door that told us that we needed to call a certain number so as to reclaim our baggage. Okay, so maybe we should have taken our bags with us, but the lady never told us when checkout was, so we went up to her apartment and she told us that we had overstayed our visit and that she had to give some potential room renters another room or send them to another hostel because our stuff was in there. She then told us if we wanted our stuff we’d have to pay for the room for that day that day as well. Thinking that was fair, I asked her how much it was going to be, and in a matter-of-fact tone told me that it was sixty Euros once again. And we weren’t even going to stay the night! I agreed, of course, taking the blame that we had misunderstood, we paid the lady, and headed back to the room to wait for our bus, which was going to leave at 9:45 in the evening. So we had 7 hours of room use for 60€. Great. Back in the room we all expressed our anxiety, disappointment, and most of all, anger in various manners. I told the boys to shower and that we’d figure it out. Unfortunately, paying the owner another 20€ apiece left me with 40€ for the rest of my trip—therefore ruining any potential souvenirs I was going to buy for anyone else. You see, it’s 6.73€ for a ticket to Madrid from Segovia and vice-versa. Well, Doing the math, that 13.46€ out of my 40€ which leaves me with 26.54€. Plus, I needed a new pair of shorts because I found a hole in my only pair—thankfully I had seen a pair for 6€ down outside of our hostel. So that now leaves me with 20€--which I’m not even sure will pay for an extra bag on the plane ride back home, which means that I’ll have be carrying two carry-ons, which is a bitch if you’ve ever done it—especially since I’ll have to load my carry-ons with a bunch of stuff because there’s a fifty pound weight limit per bag.
Now after I had done all of this math, realizing that I’d just given a woman one-third of the rest of my money for a seven hour room stay, didn’t put me in a very good mood. In fact, despite the fact that our trip to paradise had been unmarred, paradise quickly became hellish. I was miserable and depressed and didn’t want to talk to anyone. All I wanted to do was get my money back so that I could at least get my friends a couple of souvenirs from the country that I told them I’d get them something from. Unfortunately that is now impossible because of some cunty-bitch who apparently has no sense of manners and can’t understand that even though she didn’t tell us that we needed to leave by noon, we should have. Sorry Miss Uppity-Bitch, but the last time I checked, I couldn’t read minds.
Well, needless to say, I was quite pissed for quite a long time. The boys tried their best to cheer me up, but I wasn’t going to have it. If there is anything in this world that makes me upset, it’s money. It’s the only thing that there is never enough of yet it constantly needs to be used. I don’t come from money, nor was I able to work this summer because instead of doing that, I decided that graduating from college a semester early was much more important and would save much more money than any type of money I’d ever make waiting at Bob Evans part-time with a shitty boss who favors some half-ass worker over someone who is true need. Forgive me for wanting to better myself and my career rather than work this summer, I think that the money I make in the future because of the networking and experiences that I’ve had will pay off much more than some stupid nowheresville job like that of Bob Evans. (No offense to anyone who makes a living there—it’s just not for me).
I spent most of the remaining time plotting revenge, trying to forgive, fighting back the desire to jump off the cliffs and onto the rocks, and many other various forms of death, murder, and forgiveness. I finally lightened up when we started people watching (and by people watching, I really mean scanning the beaches for topless chicks). The day didn’t improve and nothing magically got better, but my mood did. A billion Euros didn’t fall out of the sky either to compensate me for having such a helluva time with Miss Teutonic Twat Thief. However, I still had my toros and we had some “How I Met Your Mother” to watch when we got back to the room. We watched, laughed, and minorly bitched about how the money issue sucked, but we’d get through. (Well, they’ll do okay, but I’m a broke mofo still).
Finally, time to leave, I told the boys to go down and wait for me, I’d drop the key off and try and talk to the landlord louse once more. She answered the door, with the key in my hand, I gave it to her and she apologized once again for the misunderstanding—but I felt as if it were empty. I once again said that there was an obvious miscomprehension between the two of us. She then rambled about how it was just common knowledge and assumption that check-out was at noon. A huge surge of anger rose up in me and I just wanted to scream at her that she very well ruined Nerja for me, that she was a bitch, a thief, and a lying puta that needed to go and self-fornicate in a dark corner. Of course, like a decent Christian, I simply pushed the anger back down, and said that assumptions were for fools—and left without another word. I then bought those shorts that I needed and we headed toward the bus station.
I got a text message from my friend Casey Ostermeyer who told me she was moving out today and that she had all this extra stuff including a desk and computer chair she’d leave for me. I replied that that would be swell—snapped a few last pictures of “paradise” and was off toward Madrid.
Am I happy yet? By a long shot—not at all. I’ve had nothing but bad experiences with the people of this country. They’re rude and quite selfish. I’m coming to truly dislike Spaniards, who I originally thought were quite outstanding people, but this year has shown me another side of them. Perhaps this is all attributed to knowing more about their culture, understanding their language more this time around, or a various amount of other reasons. Whatever the case, matters to me not, what is quite apparent is that this country is quite lacking in first off, manners, second, selflessness, and thirdly, personal hygiene including but not limited to deodorant use. The latter is less important as the first two.
Now a small letter to the woman who owned the hostel.
Dear Miss Uppity Bitch-Thief,
First off, I’d like to say that your rooms are beautiful. They are quite lacking in scenery, but rather comfortable and clean. Despite not having a kitchen, I felt quite comfortable in your room. Thank you for promptly greeting us in the beginning, I appreciate that.
I do believe, however, that you have quite ruined Nerja for me. I always knew people like you existed in this world, but I always crossed my fingers that I’d never run across them—as luck would have it, which I don’t even believe in, you would cross my path and quite utterly cripple the outstanding view of what I thought I had of Spaniards and of Spain. Thank you for showing me the truth. When I came to the room and found that you had removed all of our possession for ransom of 60€ for a mere six hours because one your potential tenants couldn’t stay in there and you might possibly lose money for one god-forsaken night, I was utterly pissed. Don’t you know how to be selfless? I thought that this country was a country founded upon religion and a belief in some sort of higher power? I never knew that high powers had an ego and greed complex. Thank you for also shedding light upon that. I’d like to say that you are a cunty-bitch-whore who deserves nothing other than a slap in the face and a taste of your own medicine. Unfrotunately, I’m too much of a man to ever consider striking a woman, save if she is a ninja assassin after me. However, I am not above telling people how things are and you are lucky that I thought it would be best that I hold my tongue because it’s what Jesus would do. I hope that you know that there’s a special place reserved for people like you who take advantage of those who aren’t in totally accord and understanding with you—I believe that place is called Hell—and I hope that you enjoy an eternity in it, you lying fiend. As well, I hope that one day you realize the error of your foul and pretentious ways because your actions sure as hell aren’t going to save you—pray that God can. I hope that the money we gave you brings you happiness as it could have with my friends, you thief. As well, I hope that you don’t come to an unfortunately quick ending, however I’ll be looking forward to it and plan to subscribe to the local newspaper just to read your obituary about how the whore who stole from me met an untimely demise in a mixture of shark teeth, arsenic, and old lace.
Consider this mild,
N.D.
Of course, I’ll never send that to her and do I mean most of it? Maybe. I don’t get mad often and once I’m back in the states, things will be better. My friends will laugh at the fact that I wrote a very cynical and threatening theoretical letter to the owner of the hostel I stayed at in Nerja. They will of course forgive me for coming back empty-handed and we shall relive my memories in Spain instead. Life will be better once I’m out of the most selfish CoUNTry in all of the world because at least in the United States, people are a bit more gracious, understanding, and less-selfish (Surprisingly).
I have four days left of class, one project to complete, some more god-forsaken homework that will no doubt hinder my seeing of Segovia because I’ll be too busy working on it to go out—not that it matters now as I have 0 spending money left thanks to Nerja-Dueña-Pendeja. Oh well, at least I’ve got my good buddies Alex C. and Alex M. We’re going to make the most of this week and hopefully contact ETA with the whereabouts of a very potential next target in Nerja.
That’s all for now!
We arrived early on Saturday morning after an interesting trip from Madrid where we encountered an old hippy stoner, aged 70, from the states who we named “Bill.” He told us nearly his entire life story and we found that wonderful and quite humorous as we waited the three hours for our bus in Madrid. Finally, after nearly an hour-long conversation that consisted mostly of Bill telling us about how he had travelled nearly the entire world and finally settled in Spain about six years ago, we were off. The bus ride was mild and we slept enough to get by. We switched buses in Cordoba and then we were off to Nerja. Now understand that Nerja is surrounded by mountains so as Alex Miller said, it looks much like Maui, Hawaii.
Saturday morning, Alex M. and I watched the sunrise come up over the mountains and it was quite beautiful in the south of Spain. We arrived at Nerja around nine in the morning, found our supposed hostel, then later found out that we were staying and paying at another hostel, and headed off to the promised one. We arrived, were greeted by the owner who told us that the room was ready to go and that there were four beds. First thing that I noticed was no kitchen and no fridge, which meant no cold booze. Okay, so a small setback in a long and wonderful weekend that was guaranteed to make us relax before our last week in Spain. First thing was first—we slept for about three hours—woke up—and headed straight toward the beach. Now oddly enough, the weather in Nerja on Saturday was cloudy but that didn’t stop us—we ate some sandwiches we bought at a sandwich shop from a girl who we named “Sexy-Sandwich-Girl” and went straight to the beach, ate our sandwiches, and went swimming in the Mediterranean Sea for the second time in our lives. It was refreshing and chilly and felt great in contrast to the high temp and humidity. We tried to bake on the beach but with all of the cloud cover we didn’t get much sun. After that, we returned, showered, and went to the supermarket to buy a bottle of Bacardi, coke, orange Fanta, and ice. We also picked up some munchies and breakfast for the next morning. We iced down the drinks and headed out to complete a homework assignment that had been ungraciously bestowed upon us right before we left. We found the boys some potential culprits and then found out that we’d have to wait until about 10:30 that evening to talk with them but that they’d come back and charlar (chat). So, the boys feeling more relieved that they’d found native speakers (mostly) to talk to, we went out, bought pizzas—chowed down—and met back up with our newfound friends. The boys chatted with them, recorded the conversations and I scored a couple of pictures of the full moon and live crowd that filled the plaza. When they were done, we returned to the room, dropped off everything, mixed up some cuba libres (rum and coke) and headed down to the beach. Once there, we sat on some rocks on the beach, enjoying the view, smoking cigars that we had purchased earlier for celebration, and spent nearly 45 minutes just looking out over the sea and talking about how wonderful of a trip it had been. Finishing up our drinks I suggested that we go swimming because I had sweated and despite it being night, it was still quite warm, so we went back to the room, changed, and went night swimming underneath a full moon. I have to say that it was the best idea of the night because it was just so peaceful and beautiful. We were happy, laughing, and just having a wonderful time. It was probably the highlight of our trip and of the weekend and I wouldn’t have had it any other way.
Back at the room we all decided to crash for the evening and slept until nearly noon. We woke up, ate some food we had purchased the night before, realized that all of the ice had melted, and headed off to the beach for another day of fun in the sun. Sunday decided to be sunny and hot, which truly fit the stereotypical Nerja-scene, and so we dipped in the sea three or four times between sun baking and girl gazing. Not exactly sure when our checkout time was, we thought we’d just leave our stuff in the room because the owner had told us she’d be gone all day—thinking we’d take advantage of that we just left our stuff, deciding we could return, shower, and leave without any harm or damage. Back at the room there was a note on the door that told us that we needed to call a certain number so as to reclaim our baggage. Okay, so maybe we should have taken our bags with us, but the lady never told us when checkout was, so we went up to her apartment and she told us that we had overstayed our visit and that she had to give some potential room renters another room or send them to another hostel because our stuff was in there. She then told us if we wanted our stuff we’d have to pay for the room for that day that day as well. Thinking that was fair, I asked her how much it was going to be, and in a matter-of-fact tone told me that it was sixty Euros once again. And we weren’t even going to stay the night! I agreed, of course, taking the blame that we had misunderstood, we paid the lady, and headed back to the room to wait for our bus, which was going to leave at 9:45 in the evening. So we had 7 hours of room use for 60€. Great. Back in the room we all expressed our anxiety, disappointment, and most of all, anger in various manners. I told the boys to shower and that we’d figure it out. Unfortunately, paying the owner another 20€ apiece left me with 40€ for the rest of my trip—therefore ruining any potential souvenirs I was going to buy for anyone else. You see, it’s 6.73€ for a ticket to Madrid from Segovia and vice-versa. Well, Doing the math, that 13.46€ out of my 40€ which leaves me with 26.54€. Plus, I needed a new pair of shorts because I found a hole in my only pair—thankfully I had seen a pair for 6€ down outside of our hostel. So that now leaves me with 20€--which I’m not even sure will pay for an extra bag on the plane ride back home, which means that I’ll have be carrying two carry-ons, which is a bitch if you’ve ever done it—especially since I’ll have to load my carry-ons with a bunch of stuff because there’s a fifty pound weight limit per bag.
Now after I had done all of this math, realizing that I’d just given a woman one-third of the rest of my money for a seven hour room stay, didn’t put me in a very good mood. In fact, despite the fact that our trip to paradise had been unmarred, paradise quickly became hellish. I was miserable and depressed and didn’t want to talk to anyone. All I wanted to do was get my money back so that I could at least get my friends a couple of souvenirs from the country that I told them I’d get them something from. Unfortunately that is now impossible because of some cunty-bitch who apparently has no sense of manners and can’t understand that even though she didn’t tell us that we needed to leave by noon, we should have. Sorry Miss Uppity-Bitch, but the last time I checked, I couldn’t read minds.
Well, needless to say, I was quite pissed for quite a long time. The boys tried their best to cheer me up, but I wasn’t going to have it. If there is anything in this world that makes me upset, it’s money. It’s the only thing that there is never enough of yet it constantly needs to be used. I don’t come from money, nor was I able to work this summer because instead of doing that, I decided that graduating from college a semester early was much more important and would save much more money than any type of money I’d ever make waiting at Bob Evans part-time with a shitty boss who favors some half-ass worker over someone who is true need. Forgive me for wanting to better myself and my career rather than work this summer, I think that the money I make in the future because of the networking and experiences that I’ve had will pay off much more than some stupid nowheresville job like that of Bob Evans. (No offense to anyone who makes a living there—it’s just not for me).
I spent most of the remaining time plotting revenge, trying to forgive, fighting back the desire to jump off the cliffs and onto the rocks, and many other various forms of death, murder, and forgiveness. I finally lightened up when we started people watching (and by people watching, I really mean scanning the beaches for topless chicks). The day didn’t improve and nothing magically got better, but my mood did. A billion Euros didn’t fall out of the sky either to compensate me for having such a helluva time with Miss Teutonic Twat Thief. However, I still had my toros and we had some “How I Met Your Mother” to watch when we got back to the room. We watched, laughed, and minorly bitched about how the money issue sucked, but we’d get through. (Well, they’ll do okay, but I’m a broke mofo still).
Finally, time to leave, I told the boys to go down and wait for me, I’d drop the key off and try and talk to the landlord louse once more. She answered the door, with the key in my hand, I gave it to her and she apologized once again for the misunderstanding—but I felt as if it were empty. I once again said that there was an obvious miscomprehension between the two of us. She then rambled about how it was just common knowledge and assumption that check-out was at noon. A huge surge of anger rose up in me and I just wanted to scream at her that she very well ruined Nerja for me, that she was a bitch, a thief, and a lying puta that needed to go and self-fornicate in a dark corner. Of course, like a decent Christian, I simply pushed the anger back down, and said that assumptions were for fools—and left without another word. I then bought those shorts that I needed and we headed toward the bus station.
I got a text message from my friend Casey Ostermeyer who told me she was moving out today and that she had all this extra stuff including a desk and computer chair she’d leave for me. I replied that that would be swell—snapped a few last pictures of “paradise” and was off toward Madrid.
Am I happy yet? By a long shot—not at all. I’ve had nothing but bad experiences with the people of this country. They’re rude and quite selfish. I’m coming to truly dislike Spaniards, who I originally thought were quite outstanding people, but this year has shown me another side of them. Perhaps this is all attributed to knowing more about their culture, understanding their language more this time around, or a various amount of other reasons. Whatever the case, matters to me not, what is quite apparent is that this country is quite lacking in first off, manners, second, selflessness, and thirdly, personal hygiene including but not limited to deodorant use. The latter is less important as the first two.
Now a small letter to the woman who owned the hostel.
Dear Miss Uppity Bitch-Thief,
First off, I’d like to say that your rooms are beautiful. They are quite lacking in scenery, but rather comfortable and clean. Despite not having a kitchen, I felt quite comfortable in your room. Thank you for promptly greeting us in the beginning, I appreciate that.
I do believe, however, that you have quite ruined Nerja for me. I always knew people like you existed in this world, but I always crossed my fingers that I’d never run across them—as luck would have it, which I don’t even believe in, you would cross my path and quite utterly cripple the outstanding view of what I thought I had of Spaniards and of Spain. Thank you for showing me the truth. When I came to the room and found that you had removed all of our possession for ransom of 60€ for a mere six hours because one your potential tenants couldn’t stay in there and you might possibly lose money for one god-forsaken night, I was utterly pissed. Don’t you know how to be selfless? I thought that this country was a country founded upon religion and a belief in some sort of higher power? I never knew that high powers had an ego and greed complex. Thank you for also shedding light upon that. I’d like to say that you are a cunty-bitch-whore who deserves nothing other than a slap in the face and a taste of your own medicine. Unfrotunately, I’m too much of a man to ever consider striking a woman, save if she is a ninja assassin after me. However, I am not above telling people how things are and you are lucky that I thought it would be best that I hold my tongue because it’s what Jesus would do. I hope that you know that there’s a special place reserved for people like you who take advantage of those who aren’t in totally accord and understanding with you—I believe that place is called Hell—and I hope that you enjoy an eternity in it, you lying fiend. As well, I hope that one day you realize the error of your foul and pretentious ways because your actions sure as hell aren’t going to save you—pray that God can. I hope that the money we gave you brings you happiness as it could have with my friends, you thief. As well, I hope that you don’t come to an unfortunately quick ending, however I’ll be looking forward to it and plan to subscribe to the local newspaper just to read your obituary about how the whore who stole from me met an untimely demise in a mixture of shark teeth, arsenic, and old lace.
Consider this mild,
N.D.
Of course, I’ll never send that to her and do I mean most of it? Maybe. I don’t get mad often and once I’m back in the states, things will be better. My friends will laugh at the fact that I wrote a very cynical and threatening theoretical letter to the owner of the hostel I stayed at in Nerja. They will of course forgive me for coming back empty-handed and we shall relive my memories in Spain instead. Life will be better once I’m out of the most selfish CoUNTry in all of the world because at least in the United States, people are a bit more gracious, understanding, and less-selfish (Surprisingly).
I have four days left of class, one project to complete, some more god-forsaken homework that will no doubt hinder my seeing of Segovia because I’ll be too busy working on it to go out—not that it matters now as I have 0 spending money left thanks to Nerja-Dueña-Pendeja. Oh well, at least I’ve got my good buddies Alex C. and Alex M. We’re going to make the most of this week and hopefully contact ETA with the whereabouts of a very potential next target in Nerja.
That’s all for now!
23.7.10
The Spanish Countryside
It’s the trees that really get me, you know? They pass by like and blur together behind cool glass illuminated by the sun. They’re spread out over hills until your eye can’t see anymore. They’re old, they’re wise, and they’ve seen it all. The rolling mound of this peninsula has me at a loss for words and at a desire to roam. I’d like to just throw everything I know away and roam until my feet can’t carry me anymore. Then I’d sleep and walk some more. I’d like to live like the gypsies and know their culture, their way of life, their secret occult beliefs that provide them the insight that so many seem to have forgotten.
Have you seen the sunflowers? There are fields and fields of them, brightening the landscape with their bright and cheery faces, rising up and following the sun like an unspoken revelry day in and out until they rest their heads at night. They illuminate a cold heart and warm even the bleakest of mountaintops.
The roads seem to stretch into eternity here. Just when you think that you’ve reached the end of one, you’re met with yet another hill and then miles more of these curving devices that divide and guide its weary travelers toward destinations desired.
And the history of this place, oh lest we not forget the history of thousands and thousands of years. Close your eyes and imagine the millions of marching men that paraded over those hills in the distance not but yesterday it seems—though we all know that it was well over 2000 years ago that these Grecians and Romans conquered, rose, and fell all within the blink of an eye, but left behind heritage and rich culture.
These buildings have seen the sun and smiles, cries and wars, survived it all like the trees. They hint at us who once was and what was helped to construct them.
Spain—here and now, the same as yesterday as it will be tomorrow. Thankfully we have today to see it all.
22.7.10
It’s hardly about who finishes first, but rather what has been done to get you there
(Wednesday)
Achievement is something that isn’t based just upon what is done—but how one gets to a place. As well, it doesn’t matter if you finish the race, as long as you gave it your all when you could.
Once again we did the whole class thing. We went—we sat on our butts for three hours—and we returned home. Alex Miller had planned out a pretty decent day after school for us that included homework, project work, a run, and a movie after dinner. Thinking this all ideal, we proceeded with his plan. After lunch, which I was not impressed with at all, we took a siesta (nap) for about an hour—got up—started reading the difficult to comprehend homework for linguistics and wrote a very sloppy interpretation of it. It pissed us all off to be honest. This homework is ridiculous and hardly understandable without elaboration and we don’t receive that until after the homework is due—so I was getting fairly anger and we decided to put off project work to go running. Alex Miller and I ran—and we ran—and we ran. Two and a half miles later we finished up the trail—walked back home—showered—and started on more homework that was much easier and much more comprehensible. Maricarmen came home around 9:20, fixed us a delicious dinner of pasta and small chunks of hamburger (maybe?) and we topped it all off with some yogurt, water, and delicious Mahou beer. We’ve gotten smart our beer buying now. We bought two liters of it for less than we would have paid for a six-pack, which equals up to just over a liter when combined—so we definitely got the better deal. After dinner we watched Walk Hard, which I recommend to all you fine readers—quite the funny movie.
At the end of the movie, the main character, John C. Reilly sings a song called “A beautiful ride.” The song is all about his life and the things that he has done—finally concluding that this life isn’t about all of the accomplishments, but rather, what you’ve done to get there. Earlier, I looked into the mirror and felt like I barely recognized myself. I’m not little Nathan Dale anymore. I’m getting older and it’s a good thing. I’m happy with who I am because I think that I’ve made wise enough decisions to get me where I am today and I’m happy about that. But more than that, I’m happy about the road that I’ve taken, the bridges that I’ve crossed and burned, the rivers that I’ve waded, the houses I’ve helped build, and the people that make my life so sweet. It’s been a beautiful ride thus far and I look forward to the years that are to come and pass all like scenery on a highway flitting by a mile a minute.
Achievement is something that isn’t based just upon what is done—but how one gets to a place. As well, it doesn’t matter if you finish the race, as long as you gave it your all when you could.
Once again we did the whole class thing. We went—we sat on our butts for three hours—and we returned home. Alex Miller had planned out a pretty decent day after school for us that included homework, project work, a run, and a movie after dinner. Thinking this all ideal, we proceeded with his plan. After lunch, which I was not impressed with at all, we took a siesta (nap) for about an hour—got up—started reading the difficult to comprehend homework for linguistics and wrote a very sloppy interpretation of it. It pissed us all off to be honest. This homework is ridiculous and hardly understandable without elaboration and we don’t receive that until after the homework is due—so I was getting fairly anger and we decided to put off project work to go running. Alex Miller and I ran—and we ran—and we ran. Two and a half miles later we finished up the trail—walked back home—showered—and started on more homework that was much easier and much more comprehensible. Maricarmen came home around 9:20, fixed us a delicious dinner of pasta and small chunks of hamburger (maybe?) and we topped it all off with some yogurt, water, and delicious Mahou beer. We’ve gotten smart our beer buying now. We bought two liters of it for less than we would have paid for a six-pack, which equals up to just over a liter when combined—so we definitely got the better deal. After dinner we watched Walk Hard, which I recommend to all you fine readers—quite the funny movie.
At the end of the movie, the main character, John C. Reilly sings a song called “A beautiful ride.” The song is all about his life and the things that he has done—finally concluding that this life isn’t about all of the accomplishments, but rather, what you’ve done to get there. Earlier, I looked into the mirror and felt like I barely recognized myself. I’m not little Nathan Dale anymore. I’m getting older and it’s a good thing. I’m happy with who I am because I think that I’ve made wise enough decisions to get me where I am today and I’m happy about that. But more than that, I’m happy about the road that I’ve taken, the bridges that I’ve crossed and burned, the rivers that I’ve waded, the houses I’ve helped build, and the people that make my life so sweet. It’s been a beautiful ride thus far and I look forward to the years that are to come and pass all like scenery on a highway flitting by a mile a minute.
21.7.10
I never believed in luck, but fate pushes the die in a different way
(Tuesday)
The past two days haven’t been anything too extravagant—for this reason I haven’t found a need to blog. I know, naughty me, not blogging and telling the world all about my adventures, but I know that only a few people are reading this. This isn’t my opus, my masterpiece, or by far the best thing that I’ve ever written. But I know people are back home reading this and that’s good enough for me—so here is the blog for the past few days
Monday started late, we didn’t wake up until nearly 11am and that was a nice change from waking up early. Alex M. and I sat around all morning and afternoon and wrote two papers and started planning for the rest of our week. I received an e-mailing telling us that once again our plans had been foiled for Nerja—what a surprise? I think not. The e-mail told me that our room wasn’t available because there were no more three-person rooms at the hostel. However, the man offered to find us another place of equal price. I sent an e-mail back, understandingly agreeing that things happen and that we would take whatever he could give us. I mean we’re not going to let a little hostel problem ruin our trip, right? I told the boys and they were quite disappointed to hear that our hostel wasn’t available because of its convenience. After that, we headed off to class and just didn’t do much. We watched a very gratuitously over-sexed movie about a woman named Juana la loca, a princess who marries a king and then gets blamed that she is nuts and later on then her man dies and she takes his body all around the countryside talking to him. Nuts or not—the movie was full of Spanish breasts—which are not in short supply on the beaches here in Spain. We returned home—watched The Big Lebowski—laughed a bit—and crashed for the evening. Today was more of the monotonous similarity that happens everyday—we class—we eat—we nap—we homework—dinner—then bed. There are small variations—but for the most part, it’s all very similar. Today, at the end of our classes, I opened up my e-mail and to my surprise, had received a return e-mail from our friend Eduardo at the hostel in Nerja. He informed me that there would be no hostel for us. Instead, a two-bedroom apartment, complete with kitchen, refrigerator, two bedrooms, and a balcony for the exact same price—or less than we were already paying for the hostel, and all will be ready for us on Saturday until Sunday. Now, I don’t believe in luck. I think that’s a stupid thing to believe in. I believe in God—I believe in Divine Intervention and prayer. I know that it was God that put us there in that apartment for one reason or another, He’s been faithful of course, all this trip. Now look, instead of a hostel—we have our own APARTMENT IN SPAIN.
Okay, just to get a little personal here, there are times when I have these little thoughts—little tiny thoughts that just flit across my mind and I think to myself—that’s be so nice if…(fill in the blank with thought). The funny—funny—FUNNY thing about these little thoughts is that they always come to pass through whatever means. It’s not through prayer because I don’t pray for these little things, they’re just like added bonuses that would be nice—but I settle for what the good Lord provides because He sustains me. Well, I was having this thought that it would be nice to have cold drinks on the beach. Since it’s our last weekend we’d like to celebrate by buying a bottle of Bacardi and some coke and Fanta to mix up and drink on the beach. Well hostels don’t have fridges and booze isn’t sold cold here—so that was really out of the question. So is life, right? Not for Nate Dale, apparently. No, our apartment this weekend has a fridge, which means cold booze, cold coke, cold Fanta, refreshed toros sitting on the beach, chowing down on some pizza and catching a buzz and a sunset over the Mediterranean Sea. Aw shucks.
It all just makes me laugh. So many people just doubt the existence of God—filling in that blank with something else—Luck, Karma, Good Intentions. It’s all so empty. What greater power controls Karma or Luck? Good intentions are all just as jaded as the person they’re coming from—perhaps the most noble out of the three, but dead without faith. Anyway, I just thought I’d share.
Alex M. and I ran today—it wasn’t my best run—but it was a run nonetheless. We ate some dinner, drank a couple of beers in the house, watched Push, and now we’re blogging here. It’s been a good day, a good day to see God work, a good day to pass the heat by with the bulls, and just a good day. Tomorrow, I’m sure, will be even better. Alex M. and I have a large culture project due next Thursday and we’re going to try and get that started and finished this week so that there is no pressure over Nerja—just good vibrations and buzzes.
Home is just 9 days away for me—thus far this has been the best experience in Spain. All made possible by the love God bestows and by the guys I’m living with. Alex Clary and Alex Miller have truly made this trip for me and I’m grateful for them both.
19.7.10
Meet the Millers
(Sunday)
I didn’t update yesterday (Saturday) because Alex Clary and I spent all day doing just about nothing. I worked on Sociology—napped—and just spent some downtown around the house. Today we awoke early and headed off to Madrid to meet up with the third bull, Alex Miller and his parents. We arrived promptly at 10am and did all of the introductions. We then made our way to the open air market in Madrid which is rumored to be one of the largest in the world. I’m not too sure about that, but it was quite extravagant. We walked around—the boys bought a couple of souvenirs for some friends back home. Afterward the Millers treated us to some Spanish McDonald’s and I opened the eyes of Kevin Miller (Alex’s Dad) to the beauty of beer at McDonald’s with your value meal. He loved it and asked if I thought they had free refills (mostly joking I think). Later, the Millers and company were set on going to the Prado Museum. We made our way there and they were nice enough to once again treat us to the entrance fee of 4€. We toured the Prado for well over two hours seeing all the paintings that we’ve studied over the past few years and I revisited quite a few loved paintings there as well. Around 5pm we all took on two pitchers of sangria and some tapas (appetizers) for about an hour. The Millers and their friends returned to their rooms to rest and the boys and I made our way for more souvenir shopping. Alex M. was able to find a shirt for his sister and a shirt for himself, which he proudly sported for a few moments later in the evening. Back at the hotel, we said goodbye and we all hugged. The Millers are heading back to the states tomorrow for rest and relaxation after 14 days in Europe. Lucky them.
This evening we worked on some homework for Tuesday, ate some dinner, had a few drinks with a couple of chicas from our group, and watched a little bit of the 10th Kingdom. We’ve almost finished up the whole movie—but there’s still an hour and some change left. So we’re crashing now—Alex Miller didn’t feel the need to blog tonight because I think he’s just too tired. We walked very far today and I’m definitely feeling the overexertion that my body withstood today—not to mention that my legs are really really chaffed and it’s killer. Anyway—tomorrow we’re sleeping in because classes start at 4pm and last til 9. It’ll be interesting—but whatever.
Playing Uno—on top of a mountain
Sometimes goodbyes are tough things, aren’t they? They remind us that nothing in this life is forever and that eventually we all have to part in some way or another. Whether we’re parting from dear loved ones from this life into the next, friends as one moves into their next stage of life and it takes them far away, or short goodbyes that will be embellished with warm hellos sooner or later, we’ve all got to say goodbye.
(Friday)
There was no class today and it was wonderful. The three bulls got up around 9:30 and we headed toward the bus station to go to a small town outside of Segovia called Granja. Granja isn’t too small, but in comparison to Segovia, quite a bit smaller. We arrived and took a quick tour through the massive gardens and passed by the Royal Palace in which the King stays at during the summer. In fact, I think he’ll be coming out there soon because an elderly man informed us that tomorrow they’ll be turning the fountains on and I could tell that they were making last minute preparations and cleaning for some special occasion. It was a beautiful and sunny day and we all enjoyed passing by the elaborate fountains and intricate designs in the flowers and bushes. Afterward we sought out a place to dine and after some debate we decided on a small little restaurant that served American style hamburgers and cheeseburgers. You might think that a little tacky to eat American food while in Spain but try going without a burger for a long time—there’s nothing better than some grilled beef patty slapped with a couple pieces of bacon, cheese, tomato, and onion. To top it off, they cut a hole in the top of my bun and put a fried egg in there as well. It was all just so delicious and reasonably priced that we decided to return before the trip ends just to do it again. After we left I realized that they sold Guinness, which is my beer of choice any day, but instead of ordering one, we headed off toward our original destination—a beautiful park that has long trails through the woods. Walking out of Granja, we headed up the road. I thought that the park wouldn’t be too far down the road and the whole time we trekked, I was enjoying every minute. The smell of pine was ubiquitous and permeated the air like strong perfume. The birds and other sounds of animals off in the forest off of the bike path we were walking on filled our ears and it was probably one of the most beautiful adventures we’ve taken yet. Trekking up a small mountain about a mile and a half outside of Granja we stopped for water and played a couple rounds of Uno. It was silly, but I thought to myself that no one plays Uno on top of a mountain, so we should. After playing a few rounds, we decided that the park was too far, headed back into Granja, and caught a bus back into Segovia. We showered and passed the time with a little bit of The Tenth Kingdom. Around 6:20 we escorted our toro, Alex Miller, to the bus station and waited with him until his bus arrived.
Now as lame as this sounds, it really sucked to see him go. We three have done everything together since the beginning of this trip and without one bull we just weren’t complete. He left us with hugs and smiles and boarded onto the bus. Alex Clary and I then headed off to Oso Blanco for a beer and croquet, chatting and reading some newspaper articles. Later, we returned home, met Carmela and her husband, the daughter of our señora, Maricarmen. The three are attending a boda (wedding) tomorrow and won’t be in the house all day. I can say that I’m quite relieved to see her go for a bit. She’s rather overbearing and has issues with control that every older woman has. So I have to say that tomorrow I’ll be hardwiring into her Internet to download my homework for Sociology, write some papers, and just relax in the peace and quiet. After dinner, Alex and I planted ourselves in my room and watched Repo Man and Repo! The Genetic Opera. Both are of course amazing movies in one manner or another. Now it’s around midnight and I’m thinking to myself that this blog entry feels weird without Alex Miller to share his blog and music with me. On the brightside, we will be reuniting with him on Sunday to meet his parents and have lunch. Now it is time for sleep though, the 5+ miles of walking we did today really made me tired but it’s a good tired. Rest and homework tomorrow—woohoo for Spain.
Absolut-ly Ridrinkulous.
(Thursday)
Today started off like any average day, save that we headed off early to the centro to make our official Nerja plans. I gave the bus company a call and was pretty well shot down with my Spanish. For some reason the girl who was on the other line couldn’t understand me well enough for me to buy bus tickets so I said goodbye and that was that. Approaching our director, Inma Pertusa, I explained the situation and she was wonderful enough to make the appropriate phone calls to get our tickets—only to find out that our tickets weren’t being sold. So—we tried online. Finding all of our information—passport numbers and names, she input all of our information in and what do you know? It actually worked! That means that Nerja 2010 is on like Diddy Kong! I’m ready to go and get bronzed at the beach! It was probably the biggest relief of the century to hear that everything worked out well. So our hostel is booked and so are our bus tickets. I’m ready to rock and so are my two Alejandros.
Coming back home this afternoon we were met with lentil soup and hot dogs—quite the ironic mix if you ask me. Afterward, we all napped until 6 and then wrote essays for our culture class over how soccer is probably the most unifying thing in this country and how the United States doesn’t have anything like that. Finishing up our essays, we showered and headed down to the supermarket to buy a bottle of Absolut Vodka, Orange Fanta, some delicious cream and Nutella mix, and croquets. Back at the house, hunger pangs invaded our privacy and we all went upstairs, fried the croquets, and heated up our dinner of ham and a not-so-delectable veggie mix that we ended up trashing. The dinner was pretty good minus the veggies. We ate out on the terraza (the terrace) and watched the sunset and it was one of the most beautiful nights I’ve spent in Segovia thus far. Afterward we broke out the bottle of booze and Fanta and I started mixing drinks. With the drinks we continued on our quest of finishing the 5 hour-long movie—The 10th Kingdom. We’re about 3 hours in after it has been all said and done. After a few drinks though, Segovia got even prettier. We were all feeling pretty good and after about 4 drinks I realized that there was no more Absolut in the bottle and our Fanta was gone as well—the boys and I were feeling pretty good. To be honest, it has been one of the most fun nights we’ve had thus far in Segovia. Now, let’s not compare this night to the beach in Barcelona because beer and pizza on the Mediterranean is quite different…but in comparison to expensive nights spent drinking beer at Oso Blanco—this has been a very wonderful evening and very cheap too.
To be honest, not much happened today, but I felt the need to blog. It’s a good habit to keep and I want to keep doing so. Do I still feel pretty good? Most definitely! That’s the beauty of Spain though; there is no shame here—(I blame Socialism). haha. Anyway, tomorrow we’re going to Granja—which is a local little city where we’re going to hike all over and enjoy the beautiful day. We’re excited. As well, Alex Miller is leaving us to go and meet up with his parents in Madrid tomorrow night. He’s pretty excited about that and I don’t blame him. It would be amazing to meet up with my loved ones in Madrid for three days of just fun. Alex Clary and I are going to visit him on Sunday and escort him back to Segovia since his parent’s are leaving on Monday—quite early. Saturday is dedicated to Sociology homework and whatever else Alex Clary and I can fathom. I expect shamelessness, as I am a shameless flower—according to my wonderful friend, Kristin Diggs.
That’s enough for this evening. Good night. =)
Today started off like any average day, save that we headed off early to the centro to make our official Nerja plans. I gave the bus company a call and was pretty well shot down with my Spanish. For some reason the girl who was on the other line couldn’t understand me well enough for me to buy bus tickets so I said goodbye and that was that. Approaching our director, Inma Pertusa, I explained the situation and she was wonderful enough to make the appropriate phone calls to get our tickets—only to find out that our tickets weren’t being sold. So—we tried online. Finding all of our information—passport numbers and names, she input all of our information in and what do you know? It actually worked! That means that Nerja 2010 is on like Diddy Kong! I’m ready to go and get bronzed at the beach! It was probably the biggest relief of the century to hear that everything worked out well. So our hostel is booked and so are our bus tickets. I’m ready to rock and so are my two Alejandros.
Coming back home this afternoon we were met with lentil soup and hot dogs—quite the ironic mix if you ask me. Afterward, we all napped until 6 and then wrote essays for our culture class over how soccer is probably the most unifying thing in this country and how the United States doesn’t have anything like that. Finishing up our essays, we showered and headed down to the supermarket to buy a bottle of Absolut Vodka, Orange Fanta, some delicious cream and Nutella mix, and croquets. Back at the house, hunger pangs invaded our privacy and we all went upstairs, fried the croquets, and heated up our dinner of ham and a not-so-delectable veggie mix that we ended up trashing. The dinner was pretty good minus the veggies. We ate out on the terraza (the terrace) and watched the sunset and it was one of the most beautiful nights I’ve spent in Segovia thus far. Afterward we broke out the bottle of booze and Fanta and I started mixing drinks. With the drinks we continued on our quest of finishing the 5 hour-long movie—The 10th Kingdom. We’re about 3 hours in after it has been all said and done. After a few drinks though, Segovia got even prettier. We were all feeling pretty good and after about 4 drinks I realized that there was no more Absolut in the bottle and our Fanta was gone as well—the boys and I were feeling pretty good. To be honest, it has been one of the most fun nights we’ve had thus far in Segovia. Now, let’s not compare this night to the beach in Barcelona because beer and pizza on the Mediterranean is quite different…but in comparison to expensive nights spent drinking beer at Oso Blanco—this has been a very wonderful evening and very cheap too.
To be honest, not much happened today, but I felt the need to blog. It’s a good habit to keep and I want to keep doing so. Do I still feel pretty good? Most definitely! That’s the beauty of Spain though; there is no shame here—(I blame Socialism). haha. Anyway, tomorrow we’re going to Granja—which is a local little city where we’re going to hike all over and enjoy the beautiful day. We’re excited. As well, Alex Miller is leaving us to go and meet up with his parents in Madrid tomorrow night. He’s pretty excited about that and I don’t blame him. It would be amazing to meet up with my loved ones in Madrid for three days of just fun. Alex Clary and I are going to visit him on Sunday and escort him back to Segovia since his parent’s are leaving on Monday—quite early. Saturday is dedicated to Sociology homework and whatever else Alex Clary and I can fathom. I expect shamelessness, as I am a shameless flower—according to my wonderful friend, Kristin Diggs.
That’s enough for this evening. Good night. =)
15.7.10
Concerning gypsy death, you’ll have to avoid those “oso” dark paths.
Puns—seriously are my favorite form of humor. Most people hate them too, which is another great reason to love them. I like puns because they’re clever, witty, and not everyone understands them. Because of this, I can enjoy a little bit of humor that might take Mr. Jock or Ms. Beauty Queen a few minutes to process.
Skipping over the “boring” parts of the day—we went to class and it was boring like most everyday. I think that this trip would be much better without the classes—Alex Miller suggested that it would be nice if we could just have a big project that awarded us credit or not. But whatever, we will make the most out of it. Anyway, after class I called Chris Allen and talked to him for a few minutes and Mom as well. She told me that God had answered some prayers and a couple wonderful ladies from her church gave me some money for my trip. How awesome is that? So I’ve got enough money to pay off my debt to Lindsey and just enough to pay for my bus ticket this coming next weekend. While I was on the phone with Chris, the two boys came across a Texan couple with their two boys who were going through Spain. The lady was particularly friendly and gave us her e-mail because she is an elementary teacher and told us that Spanish speakers are needed down in Texas to teach. It’s a good opportunity and they start off at $45K a year. I could deal with that as a beginning salary. Afterward, we went home, dined on some fresh fish and a delicious salad/egg mix. The boys crashed for a little bit and I started to read the very dry Linguistics homework—I ended up falling asleep as well—mostly from boredom.
Later we wrote our analyses of the articles, chatted about what we were going to do for the evening, and “officially” planned our next weekend out. That weekend will probably just involve los tres toros because the girls don’t know how much money they’re going to spend. No problem there. However, when I checked the bus to San Sebastian, the one coming home was too full and so there wasn’t a way to get back in time for classes on the last Monday and skipping would result in the loss of a letter grade. So, defeated we looked for other beaches. We finally settled on southern Spain in a place called Nerja. It’s in Andalucía, which is southeastern Spain, and has a very beautiful beach there. I checked bus times and it was as if God had wanted us to do this all along because bus tickets ida y vuelta (there and back) were about 20€ cheaper. As well, we found an awesome hostel to stay at for just about $30 for one night per person. So tomorrow morning I’m going to make the appropriate phone calls and get our tickets bought for Nerja 2010! We are pretty excited because the beach is only 4 minutes away from the hostel and the hostel is 2 minutes away from the bus station. SUPER LUCKY!
This evening we decided to go out after dinner because we were bored. So, thinking we would go to Oso Blanco, we put on shoes and started off. I jokingly complained that it was too far and Alex Miller said, “Oso Blanco is oso far.” A wonderful pun for the evening and so I congratulated him on the great use of pun making. Well, Oso was closed, so we went to the bar street, stopped in at a place called The Old Station, ordered sangrias and played about three or four rounds of Uno. It was just a silly time and it was nice to unwind. Afterward we searched for another bar but then settled on going to Alcázar (the big castle outside of town) and looking over the lights. I then took the boys down in front of the castle but not before leading them a very dark and steep stairway path that saves nearly 20 minutes of walking but at the expense of sure death. Alex Clary probably had the hardest time, making comments about how there were wild animals and gypsies that wanted to come and kill us. I laughed at his comments and before we knew it, we were down in front of the massive castle, staring up in complete admiration. This was the first night I’ve actually been down in front of Alcázar. It was a great experience despite the fact that the yard sprinklers were on. I suggested we take the running path back but Alex Clary told me that there would probably be more gypsies that would kill us, henceforth referring to any scary place as “gypsy death.” So instead of taking the gypsy death path back, we walked along the well-lit road and enjoyed the beautiful sights of Segovia all lit up at midnight. I tell you, these boys don’t know what a little adventuring really is. (I say this as a joke of course—mostly). Alex Miller is a city boy and Clary grew up in Bloomington—so plenty of adventure potential, but most definitely untapped.
I think growing up in the country has helped me to not be so afraid of what could “potentially” be out in there dark and rather to face the facts that 9 times out of 10, the boogeyman isn’t waiting for you in the shadows. You might run across some wild animals or some thieves here in Spain but that’s why we were travelling as a group. All together, a wonderful night that leads up tomorrow being the last full day of classes for the week. Friday morning the boys and I are getting up early to go hiking in Granja, a small little pueblo outside of Segovia 20 minutes. After that, Alex Miller is off to Madrid to visit with his parents and Alex Clary and I will be left to our own devices, which can only mean pure scandal. That’s all she wrote.
¡Hasta Mañana!
14.7.10
What's Going On
There’s this catchy little tune from this chicky-90s band called 4 Non Blondes—the song’s title: “What’s going on.” Of course this has nothing to do with this blog entry but maybe it does. Maybe this will tell you what’s going on while I’m here in Spain—tell you what’s happened today.
Well we didn’t have class today—instead we took an excursion to Salamanca and Ávila, two very beautiful and historic cities. We toured Salamanca with a guide, ate some bocadillos of pepperoni and “difficult” bread as Alex Miller called it, and went to find find some regalos (souveneirs) for Alex’s friends and perhaps mine. First off I started by hitting up the ATM to get some money out. You see, Salamanca has this very famous university and I really wanted a t-shirt from there because I don’t think I’ll be able to ever study there, so I’d like to own a t-shirt from there. Well, checking my bank statement it reported back to me that I had about 3€ in the bank at that moment. Now I thought my mom had taken care of those things, but I know that these things take time and money doesn’t grow on trees. So I just didn’t get anything, which put me in a sort of bad mood. I was looking forward to buying myself a shirt from there and perhaps a few gifts for family and friends but I was unable. Alex M. bought for his girlfriend, mom, and dad sweatshirts emblazoned with the emblem of the University of Salamanca. They’re very sharp and they were rather cheap so it was most definitely a good find. After we finished shopping we just piddled around Salamanca, walking the streets, seeing the sights, and snapping pictures. It was a rather uneventful day and that was okay with me. We were all tired and it was pretty warm today. We visited the park dedicated to Christopher Columbus because supposedly he was either born or attended the University of Salamanca, so they have a park and statue dedicated to him. More time wasted—we finally headed back to the bus, but not before a quick stop at the cow where the servant of Lazarillo de Tormes slammed Lazarillo’s head into, in the fictional novel, and told him never to trust anyone. Back on the bus, we visited the small city of Ávila where Santa Teresa de Jesús is from—a reformed Jew gone Catholic third generation. She wrote such works as Vivir sin vivir. Instead of touring the city this time, los tres toros took to a bar and ordered a beer, coke, and Fanta and utilized the free Wi-Fi that was available. I made some more phone calls—to no avail—and chatted on Facebook for a few minutes. Finally, back on the bus, I continued writing in my novel Resonance that I’m hoping to make a good chunk of progression on while here.
Back in Segovia, we returned to the house, watched some cartoons, ate a delicious dinner of what was very similar to enchiladas, and reunited with the girls at the Aqueduct to go to Gran Hook, a bar that has 3€ all you can drink beer and calimocho (coke and red wine mix). While sitting at the Aqueduct we found out that one of our fellow students had made friends with a group of gypsies. The word gypsy in Spanish is gitano and they are not well liked among the people here, having the tendency to steal and lead dishonest lives. One young man came over, was introduced and told us that Gran Hook was closed for vacation. I didn’t get a bad impression from the young man, but you can never tell with gypsies. Eventually we parted ways with the gitano and headed to the bar, Toys, instead. We enjoyed a couple beers then headed to an Irish pub where the girls drank Heineken while my two boys split a small Guinness. I’ll have to be honest with you, Guinness is my favorite beer and I was sad to see that I was short about a 1.20€ when it came to getting a Guinness but I know that my time will come to enjoy the smooth taste of a Guinness—tall and dark. Alex Miller was de-Guinness-ified this evening and he enjoyed the smooth and bold taste. I was glad to hear that. It’s just another great bonding point—good beer. Some people just don’t have the taste for it, but a good beer goes a long way in my book.
Today, on the way home, I looked over the hills in Spain, the long plains, and the mountains because we passed through all of it today, and just wanted to be out there. I wanted to walk across the land, throw a tent up at night, and just live simply, like a gypsy. I don’t need the thievery and dishonesty because it gets no one, nowhere, fast. But the idea was just so romantic that I was nearly inspired to write a little bit of poetry—perhaps another time—I was working very hard on my novel, which is my second. I aspire one day to have both of these novels that I have, published, and selling in Barnes and Nobles. To be honest, it could happen. I’m a good writer—a gift from God—and I’ve seen crazier things happen. Despite some faults and flaws, I’ve lived quite an extraordinary life that leads me to be the “old man” that I am. I think for 21, I’m a little bit more adept and a little bit more ready. That’s not to say that there isn’t time to be crazy and have some fun, but for the most part…that is what’s going on.
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