Walk quickly and carry a big umbrella.

If you are ever walking with a Spanish person, you'll probably notice a few things:

1. You are out of breath

2. Your legs, despite being inches longer than theirs, are far less efficient/speedy

3. You aren't perfected the power walk yet

4. You have to jog every few minutes to catch up

5. No matter how fast you think you are going, they are faster.

If you are ever walking in Spain, you'll also notice:

1. It will probably rain on you if you plan on a walk of any duration above two minutes

2. Your umbrella is not going to survive, instead it is going to turn inside out and break in multiple places.

3. There will be other massacred umbrellas in all the trash cans.

4. Everyone and their mother seems to have an unending supply of umbrellas. No matter how many they break, another suddenly appears in their hand/bag/purse/car.

5. You are going to get wet. End of story.

Mom knows best...

Message from the Mother front:

So, words of wisdom from your mom. If you keep going to the same Mass, some smart madre will notice you and bring her handsome son to Mass with her one Sunday! So, go to church

today!

Love mom.

Let me just say: church is not where you find cute boys on a Sunday in Spain. You find cute boys at the soccer games. Futbol, if you wanna get all fancy. I'm

really starting to wonder if the only place that the

legendary delicious and nutritious Spanish hotties lurk is at futbol games.

Because let me just tell you: they are in hiding. They must have heard that the desperate American girls were arriving, and

they felt it was in the best interest of their health to hide out under a rock, pond, tree, in a small box, cave, marshy area, or the likes. I fail to believe, after sitting in the

cold for 90 minutes (oh... 93 cause the refs get to add time here if the

y want) of dramatic falls, broken ankles that miraculously heal upon standin

g up, shirt grabbing but no real fighting, and zero goals that anyone goes to a futbol game for anything other than the hotties. I'm not sure what that says about all the old men there but as far as I can tell, the only worthwhile

way to spend that 90 minutes of actionless torture (unless taking a slig

ht nap as I was accused of doing) is to check out the players, fans, contemplate kidnapping the precious kids that go to watch and yell really loudly and get very upset, and to eat excessive amounts of candy. No wonder Real Madrid was so famous, with David Beckham and all. Why else would they be? Nothing ever happens in soccer games, maybe a goal (GOOOOOLLLLLLLL) or two, but even then you are getting pretty freaking lucky.

So after my total of two soccer games, one here and one in S

weden, that is my conclusion: hotties are the only reason people go to soccer games. The girls to scope them out, the boys to wish they were them, and everyone else because they have nothing to do because everything is closed on Sunday other than the soccer field and bars that are playing soccer games on TV. I will probably have to start pretending to like soccer so that I can make friends here, because if I told them I

didn't like it, I'm pretty sure they would not only hide under a rock or pond, but would probably also install a high tech sec

urity system warning them against my arrival.

I've been bored enough by soccer for one day though, so new story. Yesterday w

e spent the day in Santillana del Mar and Comillas. Sant. del Mar looks like the town from Beauty and the Beast so of course, I fell in love with it just about the second I stepped

off

the bus. It has precious cobblestone streets which are actually not so precious if you plan on walking, skipping, moving in any way, and then these little shops and I had the sever urge to start singing the soundtrack but decided that might be kind of a. American and b. weird. There's a tradit

ion in S. del Mar that if you go there but don't drink a glass of cold cow milk and have a sp

ongy cake deal you definitely have no hope on Earth of getting married. I'm not sure if I have ever been so excited for a glass of cold whole milk. Literally squeezed from a lovely fat dairy cow into a jar and into the FRIDGE as it should be and then into my cup. As opposed to out of a box that is kept in a cabinet. They drink their milk warm, in Spain. Don't get me started on the things I don't understand about Spain, th

e list is long. This tradition is my new favorite, because not only does it ensure that some

delicious (hopefully) man who will love me as much as whoever writes country love songs loves the girl they are writing about will marry me but it also involves milk. (Now that I think about it, I wonder if girls write those songs and then sell them to male country singers

so they can get famous. I would probably have a mental break down.) I'll probably go back repeatedly just for the milk, but a girl can't get too careful when trying to make sure she gets a good guy, you never know what creeps are out there.

Comillas is absolutely my favorite town in all of Spain, despite it's lack of Beauty an

d the Beast soundtrack singing inspiration. It is right on the most beautiful coast and has tons of huge gothic churches. The man who made it so famous was involved in the first explorations of America (not Chris Columb) and he made all this money trading resources, goods

, etc. and then wanted to prove that he was weathly. To do so, he built the most beautiful school I have ever seen (I'll put a pic

ture on the bottom) which happens to be the top school in Spain to learn Spanish at (lovely that I didn't end up there. not.) and then he had some "famous" architect named

Gaudi? build him a "folly" aka something that is totally not necessary but just there for show which I though was flat out hideous and looked like it came out of a Candyland board game or Alice in Wonderland. He also build a huge palace slash church and had all of his famous architect friends design it, so it has just about every style from Romanesque to Gothic built into it. It definitely made up for his poor taste in the "folly."

After touring the

buildings we had thirty minutes free time so we walked up towards the coast and found this beautiful ancient graveyards. It had some of the most beautiful tombs I have ever seen and was comple

tely full of flowers. Every grave was covered in flowers, most of which were wilting, after being placed there on Dia de los Muertos (day of the dead) which was No

vember 1st. It was amazing, to see that even after so many years, every grave was remembered, and every grave was decorated.

We went to two sets of caves on our little outting, the first one had hand prints and drawings from I think she said 6,000 years ago. The temperature stays at 14 degrees C year round, regardless of the outside temperature. It was totally creepy and drippy and wet and misty and great. The second one..... not so much. It is 10,000 years old, but the r

eplica that you get to see is definitely no

t. It has these really strange and bad dream inducing electronic images of people in a cave (who speak Spanish, of course, because that was the language of choice 10,000 years ago when they lived in caves and painted with bone marrow) and the rocks were plastic replicas of the real deal, cause I guess to preserve it they just decided to shut it down. Not to be a cave sn

ob, but if you aren't a real cave, don't act like it. Just say "Oh hey sorry the real one is closed kay bye!" Instead of spending a ton of money to make a plastic cave with creepy computerized people. If you have been to the dinosaur museum in Vernal, Utah, you'll understand when I say it was soooo much cornier than that.

Last night we went to play pool (my first time ever) and I managed to lose two

games in a row, but also managed to get two balls in the hole. Both were mine, so that was kind of a big deal. The bartender liked us so gave us "bubblegum" flavored shots that you take in a circle and do this chant "Abajo! Arriba! Dentro! Something else I forget!" and then you al

l take it together. Except it really just tasted like those Shirley Temple cherry's juice. Then we went to a hookah bar and almost feel asleep on their fabulous Moroccan couches, and then Erin and Amanda and I started our adventure home.

All drivers in Spain need to thank their lucky stars that almost every single car here is white. Because I promise you, it makes it very hard for drunk wanna be drivers to figure out which car is theirs. Last night this guy was litereally lying on the sidewalk by a car he had been trying to open and then fell over in the process. He then tried the next white car, and kept walking up and down looking at them all like "Well shit, which one is mine?" Let's just all be glad that it didn't occur to him to press the panic button on his car to lead him the right way.

In Spain (and probably everywhere but I just don't know it) there is a fast food called Doner Kebab. It is basically Greek/Turkey-ish style Gyros. DELICIOUS at all times of life but particularly after a few drinks. Yesterday was 70 and sunny, but by nine was windy like no other. Erin and I decided to get DK at 2:30am because if you walk by one, there's no way you don't go in. It was, as always, fabulous. But I had the great idea that we'd get it t

o go and then walk around, totally forgetting that it was about as windy as standing in front of a full blast fan.

Just in case you ever end up in a "to go or to stay" situation with DK, always get i

t to stay. Because DK in the wind is just a bad idea. End of story.

Okay I said I'd put pictures here of something and now I forget so let me go look. OH the beautiful school! And I'll just add a few more for those of you that don't facebook stalk. (Because obviously if you have facebook you just stalk me all the time cause I'm that great. HA. But really I just stalk you cause I am creepy like that.)

Kay pictures:

Okay so this is the school I am obsessed with. This is me eating in the wind. Cute, I know. Then is the school I love. Then is the precious boy at the soccer game. My kids better be that cute. Just saying. I think then the next one is MILK! and then the Beauty and the Beast town :)

Comedy runs in the family.

This is, according to my mother, what will happen in January when she leaves after visiting me:

Theresa:

I think it is a bad idea for me to come see you and then leave. it will make you homesick and sad and then you will resort to drinking....

nooooooo

hahahahhaha

hahahhahaha

that is funny though

i resort to shopping online

which i can't do here

and then you will get depressed and drink more and then you will cry in your beer and water it down and then you will complain that it is watered down.

Just thought that was necessary to share with everyone :)

Moss and green things that grow

I am constantly astounded by the ability moss has to grow anywhere. Or even plants, for that matter. Out of rocks, on rocks, on trees... as corny as it is, the fact that something can grow despite the circumstances just intrigues me. I was home sick today, which was typical because the past week we have literally had a hurricane and today it decided to blast sunlight and be 71 degrees, while I was stuck in bed.

I didn't know I was in a hurricane, when I was. I mean, I'm from Steamboat. I do white out blizzards, near death driving on Rabbit Ears, four feet all at once snow, but I don't do hurricanes. Well, I didn't. I guess I do now. The official definition of a hurricane is a huge storm caused by warm and cold water mixing; that is according to Rachael who is from Atlanta and goes to school in New Orleans, so if I am gonna quote her on anything, I'd probably guess that she was right about that, so I won't be called out. Well, I'd quote her on that and on anything pertaining to Louise Vouton (yes, I just spell checked that to see if it is available. It isn't. So pardon me for the spelling issue.)

I'm the worst at getting sick, because I absolutely can not stay inside all day. I refuse to do it. I did once, after a slightly rough night out and a rain storm and I thought I was going to die. I mean, I love my little cave, and you can definitely tell I've been sick because there are clothes all over the place and it looks like my room at home, but I just can't stay inside. But back to my story about how I love moss and why that is relevant at all to my day/life/your reading this/but let's just be honest it probably won't really be relevant. I went out for a walk to watch the sunset. I've realized, other than my obsession with moss and green things that grow, that I love being alone. Which might sound weird, for an almost 20 year old to just be realizing that, but I think between the boyfriends, the family, friends at school and living with a roommate in my room for two years, I just never spent time on my own enough. But since getting here, the days or afternoons I spend exploring on my own, walking on my own, eating on my own, are the best. Today I found out that I can bypass the huge long walk around the bay and instead walk over the hill by two palaces and the mansions of Santader's wealthiest, including the owner of Banco Santander which is the biggest bank in Spain and one of the top banks in Europe. No big deal or anything, but we are practically neighbors. So if you feel like robbing him, I can scope it out for you.

The most beautiful area to walk here, aside from along the coast and beach, is called Calle Reina Victoria (Queen Victoria) and it has all these vine covered gazebos and walks along the coast. So on one side you have huge mansions, palaces, and houses that you want to take creepy pictures of (which I did...) and kind of want to just knock on their door and announce that you are their long lost child and hope the husband was scandalous enough to believe he knocked up your "mom. Then on the other side you have the ocean, this islandy beach, and behind that you have little towns and rolling green hills and then mountains covered in snow. It's enough to make anyone just want to stand and stare for the rest of their life. Or until the sun goes down and you can't see anything anymore.

Along my walk I was the creepy person taking pictures of beautiful houses, of the sunset, and of moss. I'm pretty sure a little girl asked her mother why I was taking pictures of the ground. I felt borderline pedifile taking pictures right by an elementary school, but at least I was taking pictures of the moss and not the precious kids. Now is when my "I want to kidnap babies and cuddle with them" comment comes in and I just step up my creepiness to the max. But I like kids. In a strictly let me kiss you and squeeze you and love you kind of way. Not, as a friend so kindly suggested, in a Michael Jackson way. But don't worry, when he called me Michael, I just thought he forgot my name and reminded him that my name is Michelle. He then reminded me that I am a possible pedifile like Michael. And that thank you very much but he knows my name. I think I give too little credit to the male gender.

My walk ended at Lupa, the grocery that is right by my house. Which means that whenever I motivate and do anything, like go on a walk on the beach cause that is such hard work, or don't buy Regma icecream when I walk by it three times a day, I reward myself with a trip to Lupa for donuts. Because those are so healthy and everything.

I guess the moral of this "story" is that, despite all things, moss grows. You can hurricane on it, and you'll still have moss growing all over. Okay maybe not so much in winter when it's blizzarding, but still. I guess it makes the corny "Michelle is trying to grow up and discover herself so she can do something awesome with her life other than write about eating donuts" part of me want to hope that despite whatever situation I am in, I'll find some way to grow from it. Now is when you can all get out your kleneex or, if you are my mom, you can get out a handkerchief, and dab your eyes :)

On to a quick new topic called my other new obsession other than moss is Modern Family. I love it. If you have 20 minutes when you are eating and kind of bored, get on ch131.com and start with season one. I promise you will:

a. be laughing a little bit hilariously (perhaps to the extent that your roommate goes and buys ear plugs. Which might also be the partial result of your sleep talking, not that it just happened to me or anything.)

b. never be bored again when given 20 minutes to watch

c. be addicted to something awesome

and

d. find every part to be relevant in some way to your own family.

I just really appreciate a show, book or movie that can depict real life. Or that can use intelligent humor, can tie everything together, doesn't have to use sex/drugs/rock and roll to get people interested, and can hold my attention repeatedly. Such as HP (one week till it comes out!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and till I see it in Spanish, not too excited but at least I can see it, right?) anything by Jane Austen, and I would say Grey's Anatomy but they really just get me with the scandal, the sex, the surgery and the constant blood and love.

Just watch it. And appreciate how great moss is. And try and see deep corny messages from plants. Love you bye!

Monday takes the cake.

I feel like we should give Monday an award for constantly kicking every other day's ass at being able to, despite all circumstances, be the roughest day of the week. I mean, I'm used to the terrible waking up early after two sleeping in days, used to the first few hours of class that feel like a sin, the dread that you have four more days of sitting in class while it is sunny out (okay so not so much here but still.)

(SMALL FREAK OUT MOMENT I JUST HEARD THUNDER! YAYYYYYY! I love Tuesdays.)

Let me just tell you though, about my Monday (yesterday) and why I am sure that I will never be able to say "Monday sucks" again without just being grateful that it wasn't my day yesterday.

So in order to stay here for a year, they told us (they being the ISA people) that we just have to get a year long visa. About three weeks ago, I was reading my visa and realized, oh hey, PS it expires at the end of November. At which point I asked our director Gloria what was going on and she remembered that we needed to actually apply for residency and get a residency card. Begin the official fight with the Spanish police. After trip one down to the Center and then up into the ghetto we left the police with some rando papers to get stamped at a bank. Blah blah that isn't exciting, bank stamping, passport pictures in a photo booth (ps we are NOT smarter than photobooths, as I discovered 8euro later) and such business.

Let's jump to yesterday. Wake up, full on down pour, walk to class, literally get blown into a tree, and Facbook stalk for an hour in my 8am. I have decided that the 8am class is my social hour, to catch up on the lives of America and such.

At eleven we left to go to the police for our appointment at noon. An hour should be plenty for a 20 minute bus ride. HA.

Cool story called seven stories of scaffolding decided that due to the wind it was just too much work to stay in place and decided to take a little lie down in the road. You know, no worries about the cars, people, buses, little men on mopeds in the pouring rain, etc. So the 20 minute bus ride turned into a 45 minute bus ride seven blocks. At which point we bailed and walked (but let me just say that for Spanish people walking is my running. I don't know what it is, but I just wasn't given the gift of being speedy. For example for the two weeks I attempted to do track in high school, I was full on sprinting and it was everyone else's warm up. I'm just not quick. So hopefully nobody ever wants to chase me, cause I'll lose that real quick.) The walk wasn't exactly close, seeing as we'd taken five of the 20 minutes on the bus. And Mother Nature decided to just be a real pal and start bawling her eyes out on us, while also thinking it would just be nice to continue with the scaffolding destruction strength wind. I tend to just laugh when freaking out, so I was walk/jogging (YAY LIGHTNING!) and laughing and about ready to cry because it was freezing and I looked like I had stood in an ice shower for five minutes in all my clothes. Let's just say, that upon arriving at the police, I am really surprised they didn't think I was some crazy person trying to blow everyone up and/or cry and get free food.

We got there at 12:05 so missed our appointment and thus got to sit waiting in our soaking clothes in the wind for an hour. On the bright side, they just finger printed me (and don't even worry, I already sent my prints to the FBI and I haven't been convicted of murder/terrorism/child-napping/grand theft auto/blood diamond smuggling, you know, all the regulars) and then sent me on my merry way, allowed to return 45 days later for my card. No bother that my visa is up in three weeks. It's Spain, stop worrying. Of course.

Let me just not jinx anything and say I AM SURE it could have been worse, I could have been the one smushed by the falling construction work, or swept off a dock by a massive wave, or run over by a crazy person on a moped, or not been fed a delicious dinner. But I am obsessed with rain, and even I wasn't obsessed with yesterday. Or today, since it was basically the same story.

But you don't even KNOW how awesome the lighting and thunder is right now. If I was braver/not freezing I'd go scope it out, but I might be tempting fate then and would probably get fried like a squirrel on the powerlines behind my house in Steamboat. Those little buggers just seem to have the worst luck when it comes to getting buzzed. (Lizzy, my friend at CSU, just really loves squirrels so she might cry when she reads this. She is yet to fall in love with geese though. I'll convert her. Because let me just tell you: the geese at CSU are pretty adorable, minus the little digestive presents they leave you all over.)

If you want some mad puddle jumping, or want to watch people get crushed by scaffolding or surfers get pummeled by hurricane force winds, hope on a plane, you know where to find them! OH and quick funny story: my Spanish teacher was asked by some Americans how to say "cheers" in Spanish, but she thought they said "what is your name" so she said "Gema!" and they progressed to say "Gema!" every single time they had a drink. I don't even want to know how many times I have said something equivalently as mixed up as that :)

No big deal or anything....

Big wind, big waves, pouring rain....
makes for:
insane surfers risking their lives,
scaffolding being blown onto cars,
showing up to class dripping wet,
getting sick and wanting to crawl in bed,
watching excessive amounts of tv and reading Harry Potter
anddd....
the closest thing to a hurricane I´ve experienced.

These were taken by the newspaper/news yesterday and this morning. So thanks to them because now I have proof that we don´t even know what wind is in Colorado :) Wanna walk to class with me?

maybe it's time to motivate?

Here's my number one problem about Sundays: I sit around and think about all the things I should be doing.

For example:

1. Running off the three pieces of different pastries and the chocolate mousse that Ma fed me last night.

2. Washing the tattoos that her granddaughters gave me off my hands and arms.

3. Writing the first few pages of my eleven page paper.

4. Doing Spanish homework (and also, remembering what the homework is would be a good start)

5. Making vocabulary cards because I am DETERMINED to be fluent soon. It's just not working. Something's gotta change.

6. Getting all my papers lined out to go to the police tomorrow to declare myself NOT a their/terrorist/prostitute/homeless person/assassin/kidnapper (other than babies and cute little animals)

7. Stretching

8. Cleaning my room slash trying to find all the things that I lost (and trying to remember what all those things are)

9. Searching for all my MIA socks.

10. Blow drying my soaking boots.

11. Not sitting on my bed for hours stalking every person I am friends with, all their boyfriends, all their ex boyfriends, all their friends/sisters/brothers/mothers.

12. Reading guide books about Spain so I know how to get from Madrid to Santander for less than 200euro.

13. Booking my plane ticket from Madrid to Seville (YAY)

14. Eating lunch (this one might actually tempt me enough to accomplish)

15. Reading HP instead of stalking.

Overall, the culprit is Facebook and the victim of seduction by Facebook is me. I think it is time for Facebook and I to sit down and have a little talk, things are just not working out, he demands all my time and is far too needy and dull yet addictive. I think it is time we broke things off for a little while....

however, like with all bad boys, I know I'll keep coming back. What a tragedy.

OH but can I also just add that I got Belle on the FB Disney Princess survey? This is why we can never break up, because that is necessary to my life happiness. Can you imagine if I had gotten Snow White? Or Sleeping Beauty? The world as we know it, would be over. I'd have to take down my Belle poster on my door or would have to pretend that quiz never happened (kind of like when I got Slytherine on the which House would you be in quiz. I deleted that ASAP and am ashamed.)

AND my Ma made Paella for lunch today. I'll report back as to how legendary it is. I am preparing to be astounded by food amazingness, hopefully I'm not let down!