For a long time I've wanted to just take off and travel. I’ve done my fair share of travel already, and I realize how lucky I've been to have had those opportunities so early in my life. But my travel has always been more or less “traditional.” I’ve studied abroad, done internships, and gone on vacations. Throughout all of this, every time I went to a hostel I found myself longing to be one of those people. I have been drawn to backpackers since I first met them. These were my people. They were people who made my travel look like a drop in the bucket compared to their lists that ran on...and on...and on. But I wasn't jealous of them, not really. I was in awe. Somehow all of these people were taking months, maybe even a year or more, to travel the world. The ones without set plans always seemed to have the best stories. I sat listening intently over dry hostel toast and burnt coffee to their tales. Even though I've traveled, I always felt a little bit like an outsider when talking to backpackers. Almost every time I stayed in a hostel I had a set return date and itinerary–I didn't have the luxury of seeing where the wind blew. At some point during my first couple months of work I realized long-term travel didn't have to be a fantasy. There are so many people taking off to travel on a regular basis, so why not me? I had just moved home, I got a great job, and I also realized I was in a very strange point in my life. In just a month I went from having my life pretty much set to having no plans at all. So I made a decision. Traveling long-term wasn't going to be a fantasy I looked back on and regretted never pursuing–I decided that I am going to take a full year to travel around the world. There are two main things I need to pull this off: a passport and a big chunk of money. I have one and need to work on the other. So I set up a savings account and created a budget (which it turns out is harder to follow than I had anticipated). In all the excitement of making this big decision I didn't let it set in that I will away from home for at least twelve months, in all seven continents, alone. Traveling alone for a full year is probably going to be one of the most terrifying, rewarding, lonely, and social experiences I'll have in my life. I'm mostly excited, it's still a year away, but I know I'm going to go through a whirlwind of emotions both leading up to and throughout the trip. Right now it would be a complete lie to say that when I stop to actually think about what I plan on doing that I'm not terrified. I am. Totally and completely terrified. But also exhilarated. I can't wait to learn to tango in Argentina, walk on the ice in Antarctica, and see where else my travels take me, because my main plan is not to have a strict itinerary.
I’m slowly getting ready–I’ve bought a lightweight winter coat, ordered extra visa pages for my passport, and began investigating backpacks. In the next couple months I’ll be able to buy my first flight, and the reality of what I’m taking on will set in a bit more. Until then I’ll keep fantasizing about it all and do my best to continue saving.
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So, it turns out Weebly is blocked in Cuba. It wasn't one of the
things I expected to be blocked by the embargo, but you learn something new every day, right? For the time being I'll be back to my old blog, so feel free to follow me there. Unfortunately pictures won't be up in full force until I get home in May--then there will be LOTS. http://stopandsmelltheadventure.blogspot.com/ Hasta luego! -Claire P.S. Thanks to my family for putting this up for me :-) This blog entry isn’t related to travel. Actually, it is. I was going to say that it indirectly relates to travel, but that would be a lie. This issue directly relates to my travels, and probably to the travels of many women. The issue I’m talking about is harassment and rape culture. I’ll get to how it relates to my life (and travels) later, but first let me tell you why I felt compelled to write about this subject in the first place. I recently read Emily Heist Moss’ article "A Letter To The Guy Who Harassed Me Outside The Bar" (http://www.rolereboot.org/culture-and-politics/details/2012-12-a-letter-to-the-guy-who-harrassed-me-outside-the-bar). I have seen link after link and read countless articles about rape culture. Maybe I had finally read one too many blogs and news articles to sit back and quietly agree, or maybe Moss phrased her letter in a way that I related to especially well. Whatever it was, after reading Moss’ work I decided I needed to write an article of my own. This is saying a lot, because I avoid conflict as much as possible. I don’t like saying anything that could make people mad or cause an argument. Some things, however, are just too personal and too important. Some things are worth fighting for. You really should read Moss’ article (it isn’t that long, I promise), but if you don’t feel like reading the whole thing let me at least share my favorite paragraph: So what? You say. So you get a lot of attention, why is that such a bad thing? Annoying, maybe, but no harm, no foul! You know you mean no harm, but how do I know that? When women get harassed on the street, or at a bar, or on their walk home from work, do you know what we think? We wonder, am I going to get out of this safely? Am I going to walk away from this? Where are my keys if I need to stab someone in the eye? Are there people on the street? Will they hear me? Which way will I run? Solar Plexus, Instep, Nose, Groin. I’m exaggerating, but only so slightly. Does it disturb you that we think like this? That we have to think like this? I understand what she is saying. I have been that girl, and I have shared those feelings. Every time I walk to my car at night after work I have my keys ready—not just to open my car door, but also to have as a weapon if necessary. I am on constant guard. Is it a bit paranoid? Yes. But this is the culture we (unfortunately) live in. How does this relate to travel? I have to constantly deal with men while traveling alone, especially as the “American girl,” which does carry a strong stereotype. Where it became most noticeable was in Italy. Everyone says men in Italy are especially forward and pushy, but that it is just cultural and not to pay much attention to it. Did I have to worry about rape when I walked down the street in Italy? Probably not, at least not any more than when I’m walking down the street at home or at school. The average man calling "ciao" as I passed by didn’t intend for it to be offensive or an attack. Yet I couldn’t walk down the street alone without feeling uneasy. I shared Moss’ feeling of “so this is how it [rape] happens.” There have been multiple occasions where on some level I was worried that I was at risk of being raped. I never was really at risk, and thankfully it never happened. But the fact that I felt that risk—on any level—is not acceptable. I can list countless occasions of harassment. In Germany I had a man sit next to me on a practically empty subway car. At 4am. I, being the person I am, was polite to him. At least, I was at first. When he asked if he could know who I was told him as firmly as I could muster “no” and then stared at my iPod, pretending to be busy, and hoping he would leave me alone or go away. Eventually he did, but that wasn’t the only time I’ve found myself in such a situation. I’ve been victim to men in their mid-40’s catcalling me and my friends on the streets of New York, pinching or smacking my ass at clubs or school dances, meowing at me (ok, I was dressed as a cat, but still), honking as they drive by, and calling out “nice tits!” But the worst might be the man who stopped his car in the middle of the road and then waved me over to it. Seriously? Has that EVER worked for you? Sorry, I jumped the gun on that; I do have a worse story. One time freshman year I was walking back to my dorm, alone, around 1am. Behind me was a group of ten (or so) very drunk guys. I heard them say “Man, she’s just asking for it walking alone.” I have never felt more endangered and been more enraged in my life. I wanted to turn around and punch whoever said it, but I was so scared for my safety that I just kept walking—mind you I walked a little bit faster, kept an eye on the group behind me, and stuck to well lit paths. As terrible as it is, there have been times I felt I almost deserved the unwanted attention. Was I asking for it, walking alone? On that occasion, and others, I felt like I put myself in a situation where I was at risk, and therefore it was my fault; which brings me back to Moss’ article. Do you want to know the saddest part? When I started this essay describing my Friday night, I almost included descriptions of what my roommate and I were wearing. I almost mentioned that we were casually dressed, that our clothes weren't revealing, that neither of us was drunk. I almost fell into the trap of proving to you how undeserving we were of harassment and I'm embarrassed to admit that to you now. That's how easy it is to go into victim mode, how easy it is to absorb the lesson that you are somehow responsible for unwanted attention, for harassment, even for assault. When I was meowed at I was dressed as a cat for Halloween. Did I deserve to be made uncomfortable for dressing attractively? I had a leotard, skirt, tights, and boots on. It wasn’t extremely revealing, yet after being meowed at multiple times I started to question myself and my decisions. Was I asking for it? Should I have worn more, like a sweater maybe? Opted for the jeans instead of the skirt and tights? Not put on make up? What did I do wrong? Did I deserve to feel objectified and unsafe?
Women are forced to walk a line—a line between being feminine and putting up a wall. If you are too mean then you aren’t being feminine. If you aren’t mean enough then you are asking for it. Victoria’s Secret is sexy and desirable, but sexuality is taboo. These are some of the conceptions of women and sexuality. Yet even writing them I feel like I am reinforcing them. No one deserves to be harassed or assaulted. Maybe I’m just re-writing what has already been written elsewhere (and has been written much more eloquently, I’m sure). I’m not a scholar on the issue. I’ve never even taken a women’s studies course. The only qualification I have is personal experience. But this discussion needs to be happening, and that means involving everyone, not just academics and feminists (nothing against them at all, they are crucial contributors to this topic). This is just one blog entry and one opinion among many, and maybe it won’t make any difference. Most likely the only people who will read this are my friends and family, but maybe someone else out there will see it. Maybe, just maybe, it will start a discussion between two people, or make someone read Moss’ article. Rape culture is a major issue—an issue that needs to be confronted. Yet I have no idea how to go about confronting it. There is no quick fix to this problem. We can’t pass a law that will make harassment and assault magically go away. At the end of the day this is a call to action without any plan of action. I’m sorry that I don’t have more to offer than my opinion. I’m sorry that I don’t have a solution. Believe me, if I did then I wouldn’t be writing this, I would just go ahead and fix the problem. To be honest I’m not completely sure why I did decide to write this. I won’t be able to walk down the street at night any more comfortably now than I was able to yesterday or the day before. I’m not changing anything by reiterating what Moss and so many others have said. I guess my only concrete reason is that at the age of 20 I have had too many men put me in uncomfortable situations and I need to contribute to the discussion, no matter how small of a contribution it may be. I've been home for almost a month now. How in the world did that happen? It seems like a week ago I was flying back from Spain. The idiom "time flies when you're having fun" is certainly true. Well, that is using the term "fun" loosely. I definitely am having fun, but I also am working, and networking, and wasting a lot of time watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer. (My brother got me hooked and it's streaming on Netflix, what can I say?) So I guess it's more "time flies when you're having fun, working, and vegging out watching too much TV, and then working some more" or something like that. Time also flies when you have a lot on your plate and haven't dealt with it all yet. Right now I have a full plate, and I just keep poking at each part, but haven't made much significant progress on any one section.
Getting ready for Cuba really isn't that bad. Most importantly, I need to pack. When I was getting ready for Spain I had the mentality that whatever I forgot I could just buy there. Well, it's going to be a little different in Cuba. I'm supposed to bring all the toiletries, medications, etc. that I will need for 90 days. It is a daunting task, but surprisingly I think this is making me pack less. I am planning on taking one little suitcase (really, it's carry-on size) and a backpack. That's it. Hopefully I will be successful. Outside of packing there is homework. Like most college students, I have found it difficult to motivate myself over winter break. The deadline seems so far away, and then suddenly it's only about two weeks from now. Like I said, time flies. I have to admit, when I started my reading the other week I actually really enjoyed it. Most people are complaining about going back to homework, and I know homework can be tedious, but I was happy to be reading a book for school again. Doing work in Spanish was different, and I can't really explain why, but it was. Picking up a book (written in my native language) and reading about politics and history was exciting. Ask me again in a hundred pages or so and I might say it's tedious, but for now we can stick with exciting. There is so much more on top of packing and homework that I need to do: organizing summer plans, turning in official forms and meeting various deadlines for school, keeping up with work (by that I mean part-time job work, not just school work), contacting my doctor about necessary vaccines, deciding whether or not I'm taking the GREs in May and if so preparing for them, and I should eventually clean my room. It can all be a little overwhelming, but I can't do much about it except try to take on one task at a time...or two...or three...I tend to multitask. In just over two weeks whatever's done is done, and the rest...well, I'll figure it out then. Oh, and did I mention that I'm deactivating my Facebook account when I leave? Yep. I'll probably only have internet once a week while in Cuba, so why bother? Not to mention it will be nice to not have Facebook--at least for 90 days--for the first time in years. The internet is great for so many things, but I can't say I'm upset that I'll have some distance from it. I'll manage to put the occasional story up here, and I'll still have email. After all, internet is used for financial aid, class registration, and professional communication for work and school. So even if I did want a total internet blackout it wouldn't really be feasible. Once a week on one computer is immensely better than checking two email accounts and Facebook multiple times a day on a laptop and a phone. Maybe I'll read more, or discover I'm an artist or something. Ok, I'm not an artist, but I can read more, or write, or study for GREs, or....who knows? I guess I'll have to let you know when I figure it out. I woke up this morning and my mind could not grasp the fact that today was my last day in Spain. Whether or not I wanted to believe it though, I had to realize that it was. With that realization (which really didn't set in until today) I decided to take full advantage of the day. I met up with friends at the Mercado Central and got breakfast and coffee, then wandered around the city, at lunch at home, and went back out. The second outing entailed climbing the bell tower of the Cathedral, drinking horchata, seeing the Christmas lights, getting coffee with my language partner, buying Alice in Wonderland in Spanish (plane reading!), and getting one last pan de queso...and a lot of photos, of course.
Everything from last night through today has been the perfect end to the semester. Hanging out with the program and exploring the city was a calm end to my four months here--exactly what the doctor ordered after finals. Also, I was told I speak good Spanish and have a Cuban or other Latin American accent, and the waiter at Pan de Queso said "merci beaucoup" to me (I guess he thought I was French? I'll take it). Since it is the end of the semester I decided I should revisit some of the stories I forgot to tell. So here is the very brief version of it all (really, I could write a lot more).... I loved France. Absolutely, completely, whole-heartedly loved it. Paris was beyond my expectations. Other than having two pick-pockets in the course of a few hours it was a great experience (and they gave what they stole back, so it wasn't disastrous). The people were friendly (no, I'm not kidding, they really were friendly), I got asked for directions multiple times (this has happened everywhere I've been...Italy, France, and Germany). Also, the chocolate festival (with many many many testers and a chocolate fashion show) was extremely entertaining. Aix-en-Provence was also beautiful in a completely different way. Plus I got to see two of my best friends. So that weekend was a really really good one. Frankfurt and Luxembourg. Where to start? I've wanted to go to Luxembourg for years. I'm so glad I did. It was beautiful (and snowy). Go. Just take my word for it. Oh, and they have a GREAT history museum. Frankfurt was also amazing. Couchsurfing is a must. If you are studying abroad I highly recommend it. Oh and the Christmas markets. They are the best. Go for Christmas, the whole atmosphere is so cheery and festive. But be prepared to drop a fair amount of money--between cute souvenirs and gluhwein you will spend a lot. Lastly, while packing I found a notebook I wrote a couple notes in while I was in Italy. I was sitting by myself at dinner, and decided to write a bit so I didn't look so strange sitting there solo. Reading over them was so fun. I had forgotten some of the details, and it was also interesting to see what I was thinking in the moment, rather than what I remembered looking back on it. There were details from that dinner that had completely escaped my memory. With that, I bid Europe farewell...for now. I'll be back, without a doubt. P.S. Photos are all up (except for the ones I've taken these past two days, but those won't be up until I get home). Also, there is a little video from Paris. Happy Holidays! Turns out right when you start to get a hang of a second language everything linguistic you know begins to jumble up. In Paris I had someone say "Bon appetit!" to me in the hostel as I was making dinner. My response? To smile and nod. I couldn't think, for the life of me, what language I was supposed to be responding in. Italian? French? Spanish? English? My brain drew a total blank. In my defense that day I spoke English, Spanish, and French (ok, not much French...but enough phrases to confuse my overloaded brain). A good awkward silence later I explained to him that I drew a blank and couldn't remember how to respond. Being a hostel employee who is used to lots of languages flying around he understood.
Even more entertaining than fumbling through the few phrases I know in German and French while traveling, is the effort it takes to use English. I am a good speller. By no means do I intend for that to sound pretentious, but unless a word is particularly long or complicated I don't have trouble. I was runner-up in my 3rd grade spelling bee. (I lost on oxygen. I will never spell that wrong again. But honestly, they said it like "oxy-gin" so that is how I spelled it.) The point is I normally don't spell things wrong, which makes what comes next particularly entertaining. In Spanish everything is spelled phonetically. Which is great for learning Spanish--but dangerous for switching back to English. As I noticed my loss of ability to spell simple words in English I decided to start a list. So here it is, a list of words I have spelled wrong over the past month or so (the way I spelled it is on the left, the real spelling is on the right): neer-near thaught-thought plunty-plenty sais-says grees-grease screan-screen deer-dear (meant dear, wrote deer) cole-coal analisis-analysis Most of them I caught...but sometimes (especially on Skype, where I don't have spellcheck) I would just stare at the word, wondering why it looked so wrong. So it's that point in the semester. Finals crunch. Normally this is accompanied by an extremely overwhelming urge to get home for the holidays, and nothing else. Well, lots of stress and a lack of sleep, but that's about it. Mostly I just want to be home.
This year, well, it's different. I want to be home, I can't wait. I keep thinking about my family and friends. I'm starting to have dreams I'm home (but then in the dream I realize I haven't taken my finals and it gets stressful). My cozy house and lovely town are calling me home. (And Christmas--I LOVE Christmas.) But...it's bittersweet. This time I actually am a little sad to leave. Suddenly the end is here and reality is sinking it, and it's hitting me that I'm not coming back. It's not like Connecticut College where leaving means you'll be gone for just a month. Everyone is still there when you get back. Your room is exactly how you left it. Leaving for break isn't really leaving. There is no coming back to this. Sure, I'll come back to Spain. We have a pretty good thing going. When I come back, though, it won't be the same. I won't be studying. I won't have my room up on the ninth piso with my host family. The study abroad group I've spent four months with won't be here. I feel like the semester flew by, and there are so many things I meant to do. I meant to make more Spanish friends. I meant to go to the Mercado Central more often. I meant to write in my journal every day. I meant to blog more. I meant to travel around Spain more. I meant to go to the beach more often. I meant to eat more paella, drink more horchata, and go out for tapas. I meant to do so much. And I didn't. Or did I? It seems like the semester went by without anything happening. To be fair I have had classes (this is still a semester of school, after all). And when I really think about it, even with classes I've managed to do a lot. I've had an internship in cardiovascular surgery. I've been teaching English to two kids. I have a language partner. I've made Erasmus friends from England. And I've traveled to multiple countries. I have done a lot, I just didn't do exactly what I had planned. So I guess I feel like I didn't do anything because I didn't really do anything I was expecting to do. But maybe that is exactly why we should study abroad. Throw your plans out the window. Realize that life happens, and you don't always do what you had planned on. Sometimes it works out for the best, even better than your plans could have been. Sometimes you miss out. I missed out on some things, sure, but I also did so much I never would have planned. In the end I can't say I've regretted this experience at all. I've met great people along the way and there are so many moments I'm never going to forget--everything from seeing a heart stopped for surgery and scrubbing in, to the cliché but obligatory trip to Paris, to the nights spent wandering around the park with friends or staying up to watch the sunrise, to the panic caused by Iberia announcing a huelga (strike) for the date of our flight home (which was cancelled, by the way). Despite all that, it is still finals crunch, and it is still the holidays. The normal urge to return home is there (it's like I'm living on a migration pattern or something). My time here has been amazing, but nothing beats home for me. I am a homebody. I love my family--blood family and the family you just kind of gain as you go through life. (They may not have any legal standing as my family, but I challenge you to tell me they aren't.) Charlottesville is my home, and as sad as I am to be leaving Valencia, I can't think of a place on Earth where I am happier. So in a little over a week I will recharge in Charlottesville. And then I'll be off again. Then home for a bit, and off again after that. But, no matter what, I'll always make my way back home. Because I've yet to find anywhere that is more of a home than good ol' C'ville. Pretty much what I looked like today. This morning I was really comfortable in my bed. It was warm, I had three blankets, and when I began to peel them away decided my room was much too cold to justify moving from my cocoon. The only problem was I had my internship. I had to get up. (Also Valencia "cold" is nothing, I could take it.) My lack of motivation made me arrive to the hospital at 9am...later than normal. Yet, as I expected it didn't matter that I got there at 9am. There was nothing to do. I changed into scrubs, and then went and sat and waited...and waited...and waited. The past couple weeks I had lost motivation to go to my internship. I observe surgeries and....that's it. Yes, it is amazing and I know I'm lucky. BUT when you just stand out of the way and can't see anything, it gets kind of repetitive. Also, I had fainted a while back in surgery, so I now constantly am preoccupied it will happen again--luckily it hasn't. Anyway, back to today. Finally, after about an hour, they were prepping for surgery. I donned my scrub hat, and shoe covers and then waited. Nothing. I was thirsty, and decided to ward off any possibility of fainting, I should go buy water. When I got back from the vending machine the med-student I had been waiting with was gone, so I decided to loiter outside the operating rooms and see which surgery looked more interesting. I decided on the second one because there was music, and honestly I didn't know what the procedures were just from the prep. As I'm standing there, trying to be as much of a wallflower as possible and not get in anyone's way, the doctor comes up to me. "¿Quieres lavar?" I was shocked. He was asking me if I wanted to scrub in. Of course I wanted to, I just hadn't been forward enough to ask anyone. After some babbling through surgical masks and across language barriers it was understood that I had never scrubbed in, but would like to learn how. And I did. I learned the proper way to wash your hands and arms, put on the sterile gown, and of course struggled with the gloves. Guess what? I even got a job. I got to dry the blood, so that the surgeon could properly see what he was doing. Mind you it wasn't a big job, there was suction and he was also drying the blood, so mostly I just stood there. But still. I was right there, participating in my small way in a real live surgery. Participating in this internship has solidified the fact that I don't want to be a surgeon (although today I did have a few moments where I thought maybe I shouldn't throw that idea out the window just yet...those thoughts didn't last long though). There is nothing wrong with it, but surgery just isn't for me. I would love to do it, but only for a year or so, and then I would want to switch--so surgery isn't a viable option considering how long I would be in school. It's not really a career you can commit to for only one year. However, this internship has made me a little more confident in the fact that I want to do medicine in some way. I think. There is still time to figure that out. For now, though, I just have to say that was awesome. It is amazing that I was able to scrub in and participate. I don't think I ever would have had that opportunity in the US without being a med-student, and I am extremely grateful for this opportunity. Oh, and one last note. Did I mention there was music? Ok, but did I mention that this was the last song that was playing before I left for class? (Class which I ended up being late for, oops! It was worth it though.) Photos:
http://www.brooksidepress.org/Products/Scrub_Gown_and_Glove_Procedures/images/scrub250.jpg http://www.expressmedicalsupplies.com/images/products/i11379.jpg Oh the joys of the internet, especially Stumbleupon. It is a dangerous vacuum for productivity, but sometimes you find some gems out there. So in my procrastination I've found these, and thought I would share them. (Because if I'm sharing then it isn't complete procrastination, right?) First, an entertaining cartoon from the NY Times about a flight. http://niemann.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/08/03/red-eye/?smid=pl-share Next, this (which I looked up and discovered was a quote from Saint Augustine. And last, but definitely not least, a quote from Mark Twain.
"Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one's lifetime." Just some food for thought, more on my travels later! Going to Granada was amazing. It was a small trip--just me and one friend from the program going to visit a friend from home. Not traveling alone was nice. After Italy it was good to have a trip where figuring out buses and transfers wasn't a solo operation. Not to mention we understood Spanish, which helped even more. If you ever get the chance to stay at a pension I would say to seriously consider it. I opted to book the pension instead of a hostel, because it was closer to my friend and about the same cost. What a great decision. We had our own room, it was quiet, and tucked away right by the university residence where she lived. The only downside was we got completely lost trying to find our way back because no one had heard of the street (yep, when I say tucked away I mean it). I guess the other downside was the accordion player who decided to perform at the exact same time as our daily siestas--but I have to admit I grew to...like him. I can't say love because some of his songs were really annoying. But mostly it was charming. Mostly. To the actual city. Other than the rain, it was amazing. The Alhambra was beautiful, and with the rain there weren't as many people there (going off season has its benefits at times!) As amazing as that was though, I would have to say it was the little things that made the visit. Going out to tapas at a vegetarian bar (veggie burger? yum. curry tofu tapa? yum. eco-wine from the region? yum.) There was definitely the smell of pot mixed with body odor when you walked in...but in a charming hippie way...you probably have to be at least a little hippie to understand how that could be charming, but just trust me. Oh, the nice thing about Granada? Every time you order a drink (soda, wine, beer...basically anything but water) you get free tapas. Other than the curry tofu, which was delicious, I would have to say the eggplant with honey was my favorite (sounds weird? try it, right now). Tapas hopping, the botellón (drinking in the street), and the Alhambra are all nice, and they are great typical Granada experiences. My favorite moment though? Hiking up into the olive groves to watch the sunset. Being in Valencia is wonderful, but it was really refreshing to see trees and mountains again. And green. So much green. And the view was stunning. The company was genial (first word that came to my head...translates to 'great' or 'brilliant'). As it turns out, uncured olives not so great--actually they are really bad. But did I mention the view? I did. Well you should see it for yourself... Breathtaking, isn't it? And this too... Not as breathtaking in the photo--but rows and rows of olive groves is pretty stunning.
Basically, it is the little things that you wouldn't find in a guidebook that made this trip so great. Getting lost and asking what felt like every shop owner for directions, getting lost and walking the long way back (hmm..pattern?), walking around the various neighborhoods with one of my best friends, and hiking up into the olive groves, followed by some delicious tea at a Moroccan tea house. Granada felt a little bit like home. A larger, European (more specifically Spanish) version of home. But in some strange hippie and mountainous way, it reminded me of C'ville. Then again, who am I kidding? Nothing could ever live up to C'ville for me. Hasta luego! |
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Claire AngelineI am traveling the world from October 2017-October 2018, and the plan is to visit all seven continents. I'm a vegetarian foodie, a baker, a dance enthusiast, a nonprofit co-founder, and a huge travel addict. When I'm not traveling I'm putting my MPH to good use and doing public health research. Archives
September 2016
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