Sevilla Part... 2?

When I tell people I am staying in Spain for two semesters, almost everyone asks “had you been to Europe before this trip?” Once, I answer… to a little city called Seville, Spain (Sevilla- pronounced Say-VEE-YA in Spanish). I went in high school for 2 weeks to a summer school and to live with a Spanish family. The family was not fantastic, but the experience was nonetheless incredible. I was with my best friends and my high school boyfriend, which translates as any Senior-in-high-school’s dream. So, I have been anticipating the BU group trip to Sevilla since I heard about it in September. 

The 85 students studying with the BU program met at Atocha station and took the AVE speed train to Sevilla on a sunny Friday morning in February. After dropping our bags off at a Franco-era-looking hotel (but a hotel nonetheless… LUXURY in my book) we went to the square in front of the town ayuntamiento (town hall). The streets were lined with orange trees, something I didn´t remember from before, but the arriving to the square brought everything from my memory back to the present. The nostalgia was a lot to take.

My Spanish family, my roommate, and I circa July 2007

Hello again, Sevilla. You are still perfect circa February 2011

 

First, we went to the Cathedral of Sevilla (another cathedral in Spain- surprised?), the largest Gothic cathedral in the world (so not JUST another cathedral in Spain). Coincidentally, when it was finished in the 16^th century, it surpassed the Hagia Sofia (yes, the one in Istanbul that I just saw) as the world´s largest cathedral, a title the structure in Istanbul had held for a thousand years. Thanks wikipedia!

Taking romantic pictures in the courtyard of the Cathedral

Bell-tower of the cathedral

Typical understated gold plated altar of a Spanish cathedral

Supposedly the tomb of Cristobal Colon (Christopher Columbus).
He is a big deal for the Spanish too.

After that, we went to the Reales Alcázares, an old Moorish palace with a series of rooms and gardens. I had seen it before, so I have to admit it was not THAT exciting, it just made me more ready to see La Alhambra in Granada.

We had some free time after that, so Natalie and I got some café con leche at a café I frequented during my last trip there.  We also bought wine at a Chino (it's not racist, it's spanish; they call any mom and pop shop owned by asians a chino) since we are cheap budget-travel savvy. We successfully had two bottles of wine until Natalie dropped her bag and broke her bottle on the marble floor of the café, causing her (and probably me by association) to look like alcoholics. We promptly got another bottle.

Don´t cry over spilt vino tinto

Catedral de Sevilla 

We went to a Flamenco show after that, and I whimsically thought it might be in the same place that I went to as a Senior in high school. When we arrived I was unmistakably sure that it WAS. The mirror image of these two trips was getting weird.

After the show, Natalie and I got chips and salsa and an apple each for dinner (Yes, you read correctly, no need to go back- we are that cheap economical), resulting in very effective inebriation. We asked the front desk hombre where we should go out and he recommended La Calle Betis, coincidentally the street where Alambique Bar is, the bar half of my high school proragram frequented 3 years prior. What was once a slightly run-down local place had turned into a sleek and very full bar. No worries though, they were not so far from where they had once been; they DID have 1 euro shots. This was both awesome and horrible for obvious reasons. After getting our fill- ok, more than our fill- we went to Disotheque Boss, a place my friends and I in high school had seen over and over but could never go in. Our curfew being midnight and this place opening at midnight was a big problem. 

At the end of the night, we successfully found a bad cab driver who let 5 of us get in and were whisked away to our glorious hotel room.

Starting the next morning at an art museum was a little rough, but the BEYOND WELCOME American style breakfast complete with scrambled eggs, bacon, fruit, cheese and toast, helped what I'll just call the group hangover. 

Group Hangover... sunglasses.

After the art museum a group of us used our free time to go to Plaza de España, which I remember being one of my favorite places in Sevilla. Natalie and I had our typical novelty-ice-cream bar for lunch, then four of us rented a group bike to ride around the park. 

This is what my life is like on weekends.

I have a history with these bikes. When I went on a two person bike Senior year here, sandwiched between two 17-year-old boys, we unsurprisingly tipped it over going at who-knows-what-speed into a sand pit. I was determined for that NOT to happen on this ride, and un-climactically, it wasn’t too difficult, considering we were all too hungover to ride any bike athletically.

Sevilla bikes circa July 2007

Sevilla bikes circa February 2011

We topped off the day at a bar on the river (literally ON the river) and I got a thoroughly delicious mojito. 

Site of delicious mojito

As we boarded the AVE, I was not ready to leave this beautiful place. Sevilla in my Boston across the Atlantic. It is so charming and beautiful and it will always feel like a home to me. Te quiero para siempre, Sevilla. 

Quejas.

To give you a sense of my life this semester, I have an internship at a housing agency for 15 hours a week and take 3 classes at La Universidad Autónoma de Madrid (one is an optional language class and does not count for any credits). I have already finished one class (a daily 3-hour seminar class that finished before the regular classes at any Spanish university started). I think it goes without saying that all my classes are completely in spanish, but just in case: this school is NOT a school for foreigners, it is a real live Spanish unviersity. Now that the explanation is over with, it is time for me to throw a personal pity party.

• To register for my Spanish for foreigners class, not only did I have to personally go to Autónoma at 8:30 AM the crack of dawn (according to Spanish standards), I had to wait for an hour before being called upstairs, where I presumed I would register, only to wait in a different room for a half hour before spending literally 40 seconds registering. I was numer 37, so I do not understand mathematically how I waited so long. These events are commonplace at my university.
• To search for classes in my school, La Facultad de Derecho (roughly translated as "School of Law". HOW LEGIT IS THAT?), there is NO order to the website. The classes are listed at random, not in alphabetical order, and there is no way to sort them. I had to go to the office of international relations about 5 times to find out where and when classes met. José, the front desk guy, knows me by name. This is both funny and sad.
• Picking classes was a nightmare because:
• I had to take a class in which I knew it was possible to get an A  (by searching the BU madrid database of recommendations) in order to maintn my scholarship
• I had to take classes that count for my Political Science major (because I am a double major and cannot take any "extra classes") because our programmres said the Spanish literature classes are beyond difficult
• I had to take classes that would work with my internship schedule.
• One class I wanted to take about history and religion for which I really SHOULD have gotten credit in Political Science did not count and I had to join a class I did not want to take. Also, it took me translating my entire syllabus, begging my advisor to count it, and waiting a week to figure out it would NOT count. Thanks BU!
• Registering for classes had to be done in person, which makes no sense at all because it was all on the computer in a room full of confused foreigners.

Here is some of the crap I have had to deal with day to day:

• During my first day in the class I did not want to take, Political Parties and Social Movements, I found out the past semester no students attended class and the teacher failed them, so now the class is overcrowded, more difficult, and with random pop quizes to incentivize students to come to class. I also found out there is now two teachers instead of one. It turns out they can do that. Great.
• I went all the way to Autónoma one Monday to go to my Politics of the Euopean Union class, only to find a note on the door saying "there will be no class today because I am sick, -Fernando Rodrigo Rodríguez", causing me to literally waste 2 hours of my day.
• We were supposed to watch a movie in my political parties class one day and after 150 students waited for the projector to work for a half hour, our teacher told us to watch it on our own and that there were 3 or 4 copies to rent in the library. Well, that is DEFINITELY a sufficient number, professor, GRACIAS.
• My politics of the EU teacher has cancelled class about 4 times.
•  During my Political Parties class, I have to sit in the front row and strain myself to hear because people in the class maintain loud conversations the whole entire time.
• The 45 minute commute to school and back is no fun.
• I feel completely alone all the time. Yeah, emo, but really, I do not see anyone I know during the week and I am amongst this language that I completely understand, but cannot speak perfectly, so I have never been more timid in class my whole life.
• I miss my family. I want to meet my ny niece.
• I miss my friends.
• I am SO SICK of fried foods and sick of Spaniards telling me how healthy olive oil is. Guess what, tíos imbéciles: ITS OIL. Ergo, not that healthy. Get your shit together.
• I am sick of Madrileña food in general. Get me some American VARIETY
• My bed is uncomfortable.
• I am sick of having someone cook for me.
• I hate my family´s horrible monster of a cat that I have tried failed to get to like me for over half a year.
• I miss all the resources of the BU campus (woah. Tourguide comment).
• I miss things being open on Sundays 
• I miss the Northeast and the quaint ambience of Boston
• I miss the dollar.

Ok I´m done.

Of course, I love being abroad and wouldn´t trade this experience for ANYTHING, EVER, but I have been here for 6 months straight. I LIVE HERE. I WORK HARD HERE. I STRUGGLE HERE. This is not some 4 month vacation for me. Any worthwhile experience has ups and downs. The struggles are honestly much more important than one out-of-this-world night of clubbing or an amazing trip across Europe. This is my seventh inning stretch; I am sure the rest of the ball-game will go swimmingly.

Don´t worry, I will post my Sevilla trip tomorrow and everything will be flowers and mariposas again.

Stagnant (and a little restless) in Madrid

I arrived to Hotel Regina in Madrid at around 2AM Friday morning and was not especially excited to wake up at 8AM in the morning. I was happy to meet some of the newbies, though. I am trying as hard as I can to avoid talking about last semester, but it is proving difficult, especially since I miss the dynamic so much. Last semester there were half as many people, everyone attended the International Institute, and everything was new to everyone. This semester, I attend La Universidad Autónoma de Madrid (a legitimate Spanish university with a campus and everything), had a one month intensive daily seminar before classes at la UAM started, and I will start an internship soon. Sure, change is great, but it is hard all the same. As much as I was surrounded by people I knew last semester, I am alone and isolated this semester, but admittedly improving my Spanish a lot more.

Found a nice little fatty in La Plaza de Colón

Natalie and I skipped the orientation presentations and waited until night-fall to start bonding with the new kids. We drank in our friend´s hotel room, went to El Tigre for cheap drinks and tapas and then to Club Joy to finish the night. It was a comforting and familiar way to start up the Madrid-party-weekends again.

On Saturday, I returned to my home-stay and anxiously awaited the arrival of my new roommate. Her name is Shana (pronounced like Shayna) and neither of us were particularly happy they put two people with such similar names together. However, she is smart, goes to BU and is good at Spanish, so I like her.

Sunday was my hibernation and gchat day. I also had to start reading for the 3-week intensive seminar I had (that I almost done with; THANK GOD). The seminar counts as a full class (4 credits) and took place before my classes started at la UAM in February. We had 2 hours of class a day, usually had to watch a movie, and had 1-2 hours of reading daily (so usually 6 hours of hard academic work a day). It was every day except Sunday. I am finishing my final paper for the seminar class now and it is as enjoyable as getting hourly paper-cuts between my toes.

On Friday, my seminar started later in the day, so Thursday I botellon´d in the streets with Shana and some other new girls in my program then went to Club Kapital (7 floors of epic-ness if you have forgotten). I realized at 4AM I had promised to skype with my Dad, so I may or may not have skyped with him in a drunken state.

Note the child at our table at the Bar

On Friday, Natalie and I went to see También la Lluvia (Spanish movie about the Bolivian “Water Wars”) and on Saturday, I went to a tourism fair as a requirement for my seminar and was very upset about the lack of free things they gave out. Highlights: A free piece of Jamón Ibérico (very expensive ham) and Carnaval dancers from the Murcia region (there was a male dancer gayer than Ricky Martin´s silver pants he wore to the Grammys; he was obviously our favorite). On Sunday, I met my 3 new roommates, who all sorority sisters at Syracuse University. Two of them have never taken Spanish and one started recently, so I am doing a lot of translating for them. Obviously this is both good and bad in terms of helping me with my Spanish. Having five students instead of four, like last semester, makes this place feel eerily like a dorm, of which I am not a particular fan. However, having been here last semester pacifies any strange feelings of being an outsider in the family. It took a while, but now I truly do feel like these people are my second set of parents and siblings.

Later during the day, Natalie and I went to a free exhibit on Dalí and Lorca at Caixaforum. That night, after a failed attempt to go out, Natalie I saw “Carne de Neón”, one of the worst movies I have ever seen.

Obviously Dalí

"Birth of Infant Jesus" Dalí. HAHAHAHA

Stopped in the Anthropology Museum to
see some really weird exhibits 

The next week was full of stress, reading, watching Spanish movies, writing reactions, and picking classes. Picking classes was more difficult than I could have imagined. There is no order to the Spanish university´s website and no way to know if classes are full until you try to officially join them. Even worse, there is no RateMyProfessor.com. So, if you go to BU and complain about registration in front of me, I will be tempted to slap you across the face.

Thursday night was a Kapital night again. Natalie and I went Dreams beforehand where they have a free open bar for girls on the weekdays (I HAVE NO IDEA WHY THEY DO THIS, I just know that it is absolutely amazing). On Friday night, I went to Maoz (a vegetarian chain in Europe) and had a delicious giant Falafel Pita, followed by a massive stomachache due to the size of said pita.

On Saturday, I finally went El Museo Thyssen-Bornemisza, which holds one of the largest private collections of art in the world. At night, Natalie and I walked around La Calle Huertas and stopped in Chocolat, which is our new favorite café. They have the best chocolate con porras (thick churros) I have ever tasted and OFFERED free water, which is very rare in Europe. We went to Museo del Jamón (a chain bar in Spain) to get 1 euro sandwiches and catch a fútbol game after that. Our night plans went awry because we are cheap and refuse to pay to get in anywhere. Hmph.

Water fountain in a museum in Europe! 

The following Monday, our seminar broke into two sections, economics and my section, literature, which meant a lot more reading and a significantly more horrible final paper than the economics section. I did enjoy the week of literature much more than the previous weeks talking about Islam in Spain, though. I did NOT enjoy going to the office of international relations daily at La UAM through the week to try to find classes that would work in my schedule and for my majors.

For one day of our literature section we had a lecturer discuss immigration and integration. “At what point is an immigrant truly integrated into his or her new country?” She asked.

She asked us about American cultural intricacies that would impede integration. We could not think of anything. She gave us an example she experienced in Spain. In the cafeteria of a school in which she worked, the daily meal had ham (no surprise because the Spanish are obsessed with ham). The ham was a problem when more and more Muslim children started attending the school and their parents asked if they could leave the ham out. The “Spanish” parents were furious, questioning why they should have to adapt their customs for new people. After hours of debate, the “Spanish” parents said they would allow for the dish to exclude ham for some, but not all, days of the week.

No one could think of an similar example from their experience in the U.S. to satisfy her; she was shocked. We all explained, in our own way, how much America truly feels like a mix of cultures and thus, stories like the one she told were very uncommon. While I love that we can be relatively tolerant in America (I will admit our society is not perfect), at the same time I sometimes feel that we lack a unified culture. While, I love being able to discuss cultural backgrounds with fellow Americans and feel like I live in a truly diverse country, I will always be a little envious of the cultural unity many countries in Europe have. Catch-22, can´t have your cake and eat it too, whatever you want to call it, it’s one of those truths that if you have one thing, you must forgo the other. Clearly, I really enjoyed the class controversy this professor stirred.

That weekend was GastroFest in Madrid, so there were deals at restaurants all over the city. I went to Estado Puro, a very sheek bar (probably too sheek for my friends and I) to have some Mahou (Spanish version of Bud) and the best jamón croquetas I have ever eaten. We went to Club Riviera after that to dance the night away, drink, etc, and I FINALLY experienced the joys of the Madrid Night-bus (my excuse for never using it before is that I did not have a monthly transportation pass)

Estado Puro Bar

Anna, Natalie and I at Estado Puro

Natalie and I at Riviera

The next day Natalie, myself, and a girl-posse went to Aranjuez, a quaint city just South of Madrid. It is home to a Royal Palace constructed in the second half of the 16^th century (while Phillip II was in power), adorable pastry shops, and royal gardens. Not everything was as green as we would have liked (it was February after all), but the weather was amazing and I was so happy to get away from the city for a day.

Aranjuez is famous for Strawberries...in the summer. woops.

Palacio Real in Aranjuez

Natalie and I in front of the Palacio Real 

Super Cute duck pastries at a Pastelería

On Wednesday, I was very pleased to finally be able to go out with my host sisters, Maria and Marta. We went to a local bar (I mean very local; it seemed like everyone knew everyone- Madrid ‘Cheers’ status) to watch a friendly Spain vs. Colombia fútbol game. I unfortunately had to go home early to do reading for my seminar. Blah.

Marta, Shana, Maria, and I

Maria and I!

 BUT... Friday... Sevilla, España... would make all the reading and horrible-ness disappear.

(Insert Generic British Phrase Here)

Sometimes you go on that one trip where everything works out perfectly: the flight there, the flight back, the intricate plans of each day’s travel. My London trip was SO not one of those trips. Although I had a great time in the country whose asses we kicked some 200 years ago (ok, the French helped. WHATEVER), it was punctuated with waiting, confusion, and complete failures in planning (none of which were my fault). Ok, well… maybe they were my fault a little bit.

I already abbreviated my travel from Warsaw. I made what should be a 3-hour trip take 12 hours, saving about $100. Yes, it was worth it. $100 is $100. Here was my London plan:

Stay with “Cousin Nick” (my sister’s boyfriends cousin) and his family of 7 (7!) in Coulsdon, near, London from Thursday until Monday.

• My whole family has met cousin Nick, but I somehow missed this momentous experience every time. 
• My message to him went something like “I have never met you, but know you live in London and my family loves you so…”
• He returned the message with a simple 'absolutely' and what station was closest to his house
• Switch to stay with Liz (LIZ!!!!!) at the BU London dorms in South Kensington, London.
• Return to Madrid and hibernate. 

During my time in the Gothenburg, Sweden Airport, sans internet, I realize I only have the name of commuter station where I have to go in order to be close to Cousin Nick’s house, but no phone-number or address. I decide to wing it. DID I LEARN NOTHING IN KRAKOW?? I blame sleep deprivation and cabin fever for this idiotic decision.

I arrive to London at 11PM and to Liverpool station at 12:30AM. I ask the bus driver how to get to Coulsdon South Station. He speaks with a heavy middle-eastern accent and I can’t understand him. “I was so excited to visit a country where I spoke the language perfectly!!!” I sputter. I blame sleep deprivation and growing up in New Hampshire for this comment. 

A British man notes my distress and points me to the police station across the street. A man in uniform and with a British accent put me at ease… until he tells me the next train to Coulsdon South is at 6AM. He points me to the 24-hour dinner. After 3 hours, I decide hey, what the hell, why not order a full English breakfast. I see my fair share of bacchanalians, night-shift police, and creepy-looking night romers, but never feel unsafe at this place.

New Favorite/least favorite place in the world

This picture was captured at: 4AM. I am so working class I can't even handle it.

There is a euphoric hour of internet where I tell Nick my stranded situation and ask for his number and/or address. Internet  access ends. It starts to rain outside. It is 6AM. I still don’t know where to go. I find out an internet café around the corner opens at 10AM. I wait. By 7AM, after being awake for 23 hours, I break. I give myself 5 minutes to cry in Liverpool station and none of the British commuters take notice. Finally the café opens. Nick has messaged me with his address and phone number. I go to Victoria Station and after more confusion than anticipated get to Coulsdon South, call cousin Nick, and he is already waiting there. I am inexplicably happy.

He gives me a quick tour of the house, but I am zombielike. Did he just say “pool” and “sauna” and “gym”? After sleeping until dinner, I realize that the family’s house, is, in fact, completely beautiful and I had heard correctly. That night we go to Nick and his wife's friend’s house for a birthday party where we eat some delicious curry succeeded by a whole lot of alcohol.  

It turns out Cousin Nick used to be a tour-guide and knows seemingly everything about London’s quirky history, his favorite thing to talk about being the Tower of London (next to the Tower Bridge), so we head there first. We get in a cab after that to hit all the major sites in an hour before he has to go to go be an adult (re: go to a meeting with a client). 

Tower of London to the left and the Tower Bridge to the Right (NOT THE LONDON BRIDGE. Nick informed me multiple times how Robert McCulloch bought the "London Bridge" to bring to Arizona and when it arrived he was very unpleasantly surprised to see he had bought the wrong one) 

Big Ben!!

Another section of the British Parliament (Big Ben is a PART of the monstrous building)

Westminster Abbey

Such Cool cabs. Inside and out. 

The Victoria Memorial at the East Front of Buckingham Palace

Buckingham Palace. You may have heard of it.

London Eye! Nick and I were going to go on it but it was closed until January 20! Sad sad sad.

The Southbank of the River Thames (pronounced Tems) was one of my favorite areas of the city

Before he leaves me to discover the city for myself, though, he buys me a ticket to see the musical Jersey Boys in Soho!! Because he has already let me stay in his home, eat his food, and showed me the whole city, I didn’t expect him to do even MORE for me. Craziness.

JERSEY BOYS!!! SPOKEN IN MY NATIVE TONGUE (ok, the trashy version of my native tongue)!!

The next day, I plan to go to Stonehenge with my friend’s friend, Richard (rent-a-friend, as Cousin Nick calls it), a Portugeuse South African who has lived in London for a couple years but still has never been to the lovely pile of rocks. I told him to book us a ticket for a tour, but when we met up that morning he informs me he hasn’t. Fine. We can get one, it's only 10AM. Well, 10AM is too late to go on a Stonehenge tour. I hide my anger successfully from my new rent-a-friend. We do a day of site-seeing instead and I return to Cousin Nick’s just in time to experience a “proper British roast” at their friend’s house. Really, how did I get so lucky?

St. Paul's Cathedral, built in the 17th Century 

Richard at the Tate Modern! Oh, and Monet's Water Lillies

SO PROUD.

Shakespeare Theatre

The Rosetta Stone at the British Museum!!!

I am determined to go to Stonehenge Monday so I wake up with the sun and get a nice, cheap 20 pound tour. After 2.5 hours of attempted sleep, we arrive to Stonehenge, pick up our audio-guides and start learning about this 4000(ish)-year old rock formation. Yes, we only spend an hour there. Yes, the travel time was 5 hours. Yes, it was worth it. IT’S FRIGGEN STONEHENGE and I am sick of people telling me it isn't worth it. 

Stonehenge, me, and a do not cross sign

That night, my rent-a-friend, who is my real friend at this point, and I go to Brick Lane for some Indian food. There is a promoter outside of every restaurant offering a free bottle of wine with our dinner or a free appetizer, or 25% off our check and every other deal imaginable. Warning: when getting Indian food in London, know that it will be delicious, but not at all spicy.

Meeting up with Liz the next day proves very difficult, especially since I have to depend on pay phones (yes, the red ones). I transverse the very large city twice before finally meeting up with Liz and Kat at Starbucks in the VERY posh neighborhood of South Kensington. We go to Harrod’s Department store, which is like a more expensive version of Saks, get lost in there for an hour, then to dinner with her floor. It is so weird to feel like I am at BU while I am still thousands of miles away. 

Sorry to be American but OHMYGOD NOMMMMMM CHIPOTLE!!!!!!!!! 

One of the many ridiculously ornate rooms in Harrod's Department Store

We go to Imperial College Bar (the bigger, better version of BU pub), where I feel even MORE like I am back in Boston, but in the best way possible. I see about 20 people I know from BU and one person I know from high school! Even weirder, she is roommates with a girl I knew from Freshman year at BU. I swear the world is shrinking as I see more and more of it. 

SAM!!! This girl keeps me young.

Being the huge nerd that I am, I go to the BU’s orientation lecture on British Politics at 10AM and see literally 100 people I know (naturally, since there are over 300 people in the program and it is required to attend the lectures). After that, I take the short walk to the Natural History Museum, the Victoria and Albert Museum, and the Science Museum. ALL PUBLIC MUSEUMS ARE FREE. Win. 

Science Museum. Not a must see.

Tapestry room in the Victoria and Albert Museum, which IS a must see. 

Really cool entrance in the Natural History Museum. This place would have
been a lot better without screaming children running in circles around me.

At night I go to Top Shop with Liz and her roommates, which just upsets me because I can’t buy anything. God, I hate shopping. At night, I decide I should insert myself even further into BU London life and go to the orientation comedy night. Stand-up, wine, and dinner for 7 pounds? It was impossible to resist.

I cannot leave London without seeing Platform 9¾, so the next day I go there with Sam (my summer roommate) and Liz. It is nearly impossible to find and a huge disappointment when we finally do. Sam runs off to class after that and Liz can only hang out for a half hour longer, but we say good-bye knowing we will see each other in Berlin in a few weeks. 

Feigning excitement to go to Hogwarts

How could I NOT take one of these pictures?

Liz and I in front of the London Eye!!!

Parliament Square

I decide I need to get fish and chips before I leave the city. I am a fan. I am not a fan of the ‘mushy peas’ that go with it, nor the feeling I get a half hour after eating, though. 

Fish N' Chips. yum. Mushy Peas (yes that is their official name). Not yum. 

To end my London epic (look at how long this post is; it is an epic), I meet up with Kat to see Abbey Road (I will not explain to you what Abbey Road is). It turns out this is a crosswalk without walking signs and people from London are ACTUALLY cold meanies, so crossing proves difficult and terrifying.

Casually crossing Abbey Road with Kat.

As I pack up my things, I realize how ready I am to return to my new home and new language. I was lucky enough to meet some unbelievably generous Brits, but unfortunately, they were the exception, not the rule. Who knows if they are defensive, bitter, or just generally unpleasant to anyone who asks for directions; to me, half of the natives I met seemed to be pissed off about something. Of course, this was only MY experience, so I challenge you to go London and find the other half.

So my 3.5 weeks of travel came and went and I had an amazing time, but I anxiously anticipated going "home" as much as I did all my other destinations.

Next Stop: Barajas Airport. MADRID. Semester 2.