Tales from a Travel-loving Teaching Assistant

The Last Hoorah: Hasta Luego, Madrid

2010-07-02T17:18:00.011+02:00

I am back in the United States of America, sitting at the coffee table of my Florida beach house. The winds from Hurricane Alex blow through the palm trees and the clouds are moving quickly. Their soft white and grey forms billow up into the sky, taking on fuzzy shapes whose interpretation of form is left to the imagination. My imagination can’t help but take me back to Madrid, to the regal Gran Vía and to the charming Plaza Mayor. I’ve been home for three days, but half of me is still in Spain.

My last days in Madrid were nothing short of spectacular. I did quite a number of new things—with Sarah by my side on almost all occasions—and we also made sure to revisit our old hang outs. Here are the highlights from the last hoorah in Spain:

• The Opera at the Royal Theater: On Thursday, June 17th, SK and I got last call tickets at a 90% discount for some stellar seats in one of Madrid’s grandest theaters. Our box seats were literally next to the Royal Box, so I don’t think we could have asked for a better deal. We saw a German opera, The City of Death, which may not have been the happiest plotline in the world (it’s about a man obsessed with his dead wife), but it was a great experience and something both of us have wanted to do since arriving in Madrid. The orchestra played beautifully, and naturally, we were inspired by the actors to work out our vocal chords.

• A Saturday in Segovia: SK, Patrick and I took the AVE train to Segovia on the 19th of June. There, we marveled at the ancient Roman aqueduct, explored the Alcazar Palace, and strolled through the charming streets of this quintessential Spanish town. Also, we had cochinillo (suckling pig) for lunch and then I took them to El Oso Blanco to drink the best sangria in all of Spain. Segovia was the very first place outside of Madrid that I visited, and I think it was quite fitting that it should be one of the last places, too.

• A Saturday in Ávila: On the 26th on June, SK, Patrick, and I met at the Menendez Álvaro bus station at “Stupid O’Clock” (as Hitler, I mean, Patrick called 9:00 AM) in order to spend a few hours in Ávila. Ávila is the home of the famous Saint Teresa (of Ávila, duh), and the city center still maintains its medieval atmosphere. In fact, it is surrounded by an impressive wall with 88 towers standing tall and firm to protect the city. For me, visiting Ávila was something of a spiritual experience, because I deeply admired St. Teresa for her passion and commitment to God. We toured through a museum in her honor and we even got a glimpse at her ring-finger, finger, ring and all!
Later on, we found out that certain bars-restaurants were competing in a tapas competition, and it became our mission to eat as many different ones as we could. In less than 2.5 hours, we stopped at 7 different places, guzzled down our claras, and snacked on the free tapas that accompanied our drinks. We rated them according to presentation, flavor/taste, and price-value. (The winner was a fried-wantony-thing-of-goodness. The loser was the pig-ear goop we got served without knowing what it was beforehand.) By the end, we were literally running through the streets to get to just one more bar before we had to catch our bus and beat the rain showers rolling in. It was a magical day, full of the famous mystic’s presence and fanciful tapas. I really liked Ávila!
• I might have been living in Madrid for (almost) two years, but it took me that long to discover some of the cities best kept “secrets.”

o I finally took a turn through the Real Academia de Bellas Artes de San Fernando, an often-overlooked museum and former royal art school that houses pieces from some of Spain’s best artists.

o SK and I trekked across town to see the Ermita de San Antonio de la Florida, a small chapel built in 1789 that has stunning frescos painted by none other than Goya.

o SK & I circled the Royal Palace until we found the singular entrance to the Campo de Moro, a beautiful park that lies just below the palace hill. There we were enchanted by the peacocks fluffing their feathers and by the gorgeous vegetation surrounding the quiet footpaths. Before reaching the lovely park, we spotted the Muralla Árabe, the remains of the ancient Moorish wall and the namesake of the park.

o I played volleyball one last time with some girls one Thursday night. Afterwards, Ana and I went out for dinner and said our goodbyes. She was the teammate who most pursued a friendship with me from the beginning, and I really appreciate her desire to get to know me on and off the volleyball courts.

o One of Patrick’s hobbies is to go “pool hopping.” He scrutinized the Google satellite map of Madrid for rooftop pools, came up with a list of hotels, and then met SK & I on Sunday the 27th to try to “sneak in” one. After two unsuccessful ventures, we decided to walk into a random 4-Star Hotel on Gran Vía, where we nonchalantly took the elevator to the top floor, and, low and behold… we found two jacuzzis! From the roof, we could see almost all of Madrid—from the Royal Palace to the Casa de Campo and even the sky scrapers situated in the north of the city. The red-shingled roofs reflected the warm sunshine, and we were ecstatic by our find. In fact, SK & I spent a couple of hours there the following day (our last day), accompanied by a bottle of cava and strawberries, and it was the absolute most perfect send off either one of us could ever have wished for.

• My last two Sundays were also refreshing and delightful. I went to the Community Church of Madrid and on the 20th I went to the University Pool in Moncloa to relax and catch some sun rays. On the 27th, I brought flowers in honor of “all the beautiful people of CCM who have ever walked through the doors,” and I stood up to give thanks for that amazing community of people. After my last service, the normal “Coffee Crew” decided to do something a little more special, and we went to VIPS for lunch; they paid for both mine and Sarah’s meal as their parting gift. I can’t express how grateful I am to have found the Community Church of Madrid. It was a haven of support and a greenhouse of love and life-lessons, and it had a lasting effect on my experience in Madrid and on my life.

• My last day in Madrid—Monday, June 28—was quite special. I first met Pastora Cathy and treated her to her very first clara (that’s Fanta lemonade with a little beer), and we chatted for a good while about CCM, families, upcoming weddings (her son Ben gets married one week before Justin and me), and many other things. She gave us a wedding gift, silver serving spoons with smiley face cut-outs, which will forever remind me of her big smile and warm heart. Later on that afternoon, SK & I were treated to a few drinks by the primary server at one of our favorite bars, El Rincón de Jaen, which is just down the street from my apartment. We took a picture with Salvador and thanked him for the many extra plates of tapas and glasses of wine he brought us over the course of all our visits. Next, we went back to the roof-top pool, as I’ve already discussed.

o SK & I had a proper last night out in Madrid. First, we met up with some familiar faces: Pilar, Victor, Concha, and teachers who were at my school last year. We went to El Tigre, a personal favorite where they give you loads of food when you order a drink. It’s greasy goodness galore. SK & I enjoyed chatting in Spanish for a bit, but then we all parted ways as she and I had our last date. We ate dinner at Bazaar, another favorite, and then went to the rooftop bar of the fancy hotel that towers over the Plaza Santa Ana (something new!). Finally, we owned the dance floor at Sol Y Sombra one last time; needless to say, there was no competition for best dance moves… we had them all. Sarah and I parted in front of her house at 2 AM, but neither one of us slept through the night. She went to the airport soon after and I stayed up to finish shoving as much as I could into my suitcases and carry-on bags.

• I had so many despedidas throughout my final days, and it was special and moving to part with so many great people. From Elly to Patrick, from my kids and my co-workers, from Pastora to my best friend, the goodbyes were flowing more freely than the vino in a Spanish bar! Yet, more often than not, I found myself happy rather than sad when saying my farewells. Each person played a special role in my Madrid experience, and I would not be who I am today without them.

In Spain, people most commonly use “hasta luego” to say goodbye. “Until later” is the choice parting phrase that you use with best friends, acquaintances, and with strangers, like the cashier at the grocery store. And so, that is what I said to my friends in Madrid: hasta luego. See you later, Madrid. Yes, I will see you later.

No More School, No More Books...

2010-06-25T00:15:00.009+02:00

The Final Word from Fernando and Belén
I had my last class with Fernando and Belén on Tuesday the 15th. I asked them to make a list of their favorite things that we have done together in English class over the past two years. They told me that they really enjoyed playing Bananagrams (a game similar to speed-scrabble but without a board) and Madlibs, being pen-pals with Anna Beth & Quinton (two of my good friends from Furman), reading The Secret Garden and making up endings to other stories we read, and listening to songs and filling in the missing lyrics. We had a good run, the three of us, and goodness gracious…I’m going to miss those two! Fortunately, I know I will see them again, because their parents are quite serious about sending them to stay with me and Justin in Orlando for a summer! (Justin, you don’t mind, right?) Their family also gave me a parting gift, Gaudi-inspired tea cups, to say “thank you and happy wedding.” I am so lucky to have had this class, because I will forever see Fer y Belén as my little cousins whom I will always adore.
So You Think You Can Bake!
For my last week of class with Andrea and Andrea on Thursday the 17th, we came up with a script for a mini-movie, which evolved into a wedding cake competition, reality-TV style. I took on the persona of Cat Deely (the tall, blonde, British hostess of SYTYCDance) and got to play the part of presenter. The Andreas formed Team Sugar and they competed against teams consisting of an assortment of stuffed animals and plastic dolls. It was a lot of fun, and it was a great way to end the class because the girls have something to show off their great English abilities and their fashionable attire.

Say “Bye bye!”
I got my last sloppy kisses from Ana, Lucia, and Paloma as I was leaving their third floor apartment on Thursday the 17th. Although I made sure to tell them (in Spanish) that I wasn’t coming back to give them classes, I think they still didn’t quite get the gravity of our parting.
Likewise, the twins, Marcos and Aitor, didn’t really grasp the reality of our last moments together this past Monday afternoon. I spent two hours with them and their mom, Marisa. We got some ice cream and went to the park near their house. Between playing freeze dance after slurping up the melting goodness and chasing Marcos & a dozen of his classmates in the park, I chatted with Marisa in Spanglish. It was a grand afternoon and I can’t wait to see my dear ones again soon.

Marisa and Javier took me out to dinner on Tuesday night. We had an excellent meal: pulpo a la Gallega, alcachofas a la plancha, razor clams (for Javi), and grilled vegetable-monkfish skewers. When we said our goodbyes, Marisa started to tear up… and she is the first person to have made me shed a few tears, too! Yet, mine were tears of joy and gratitude for this family. They have been a family upon whom I have relied mucho, and I can’t praise their wonderfulness enough. I am positive I will see them again in the near future.

¡Se acabó el cole!
Wednesday, the 23rd of June, was the last day of school for the kids and for me! I refuse to hold back my excitement. I am leaving Ciudad de Roma loaded down with drawings, notes, and hugs from my students. I am leaving content with what I have accomplished in my classes and with what I haven’t. I am leaving thankful for this wonderfully enriching experience, for the good and the bad parts of it. I am leaving a little sad when thinking of not seeing first hand my kids grow and learn in the coming years. But I am leaving hopeful, hoping that these kids will rise in the ranks of English speakers in the European community.
My last day at school was actually quite enjoyable. I got the chance to say goodbye to everyone, students and teachers alike. I made a video with a group of 5th graders, interviewing them about their favorite parts of the year. I took loads of pictures of my kiddos and colleagues, too. After classes ended, we had an End-of-the-Year teacher luncheon, which turned out to be another smorgasbord of traditional Spanish cuisine like fried calamares, jamón serrano y queso curado, empanadas, and other tapas foods. Afterward, I went out for a coffee with Pilar, Cristina, Victor, Concha, Joaquín, where we lounged in the cool shade of the outdoor patio and talked of school and of summer plans. Before I knew it, it was past 5:00. My, how those Spaniards know how to take their time eating and drinking…one of the many things I am going to miss.

Actually…I will miss many things about Spain. Me queda poco. I don’t have much time left: 4 days to be exact. It’s going to be a sprint to the finish line, and so far, so good!

Ode to Elaine

2010-06-18T16:37:00.008+02:00

Elaine has only been gone for two weeks, but her absence is definitely noticeable. She’s quite a vociferous young woman, vibrant and goofy, and things were always more interesting and outings were always more fun when she was around. In honor of my former flatmate and missing friend, I’ve decided to share some of my favorite phrases or words that she’d use because she’s Scottish or because she’s just Elaine.

He thought I was chatting him up when really I was just trying to be nice!

Translation: He thought I was flirting with him.

I’m so glad you’re home, because I’ve just been faffing about all afternoon.

Translation: I’ve been wasting time all afternoon, and now that you’re here we can do something!

I don’t feel like going to my sister’s place this weekend, because it always ends up that everyone starts slagging me off.

Translation: Everyone makes fun of me and always gives me crap when I go to my sister’s house.

(In parts of Britain, when you say that someone is taking the piss or taking the Mickey, that also means that someone is being made fun of and the butt of every joke.)

We had a good time at lunch and some hilarious banter.

Translation: We had good conversations at lunch today.

His speech was full of the most ridiculous blether. She blathered on for hours about absolutely nothing!

Translation: He talked a load of nonsense. She blabbed on and on.

(Also, witter and haver can be used in these cases.)

I’m nackered after such a long day.

Translation: I’m exhausted.

I had a wee squiz at the book before the exam. I didn’t revise the material as I should’ve done.

Translation: I glanced at the book before the exam since I didn’t study.

Your house is full of bits and bobs. Get your bits and bobs together.

Translation: You’ve got a lot of stuff in your house. Get your things together.

Those eggs might be a bit manky.

Translation: I think those eggs have gone bad.

I’m feeling a bit peckish.

Translation: I’m a little bit hungry.

Oh, I love sherbert! On second thought, I prefer biscuits.

Translation: Oh, I love fun dip, but I like cookies even more.

I just can’t be bothered.

Translation: I’m just too lazy to worry about it.

Have you got a plaster?

Translation: Do you have band-aid?

We went to the back of beyond yesterday, and I have no idea where we were!

Translation: We were in the middle of nowhere yesterday.

Elaine, I loved having your as roommate these past several months. Thanks for all the great banter and good times. Missing you already, H

Showered

2010-06-18T14:57:00.010+02:00

The strange weather continues here in the plains of Spain. We’ve had an almost unbelievable amount of rain, clouds, and cold temperatures. On one hand, I’m quite grateful for the cool weather, because I can fall asleep at night without lying in a pool of my own sweat as in June of 2009. On the other hand, I’ve missed wearing sundresses and flowy skirts. Wearing leggings, jackets, and boots keeps me so covered up that I have been robbed of a good tan this spring. Yet, I know I’ll get that chance sooner rather than later when I return to the searing heat of the southern USA… so I’ll enjoy the coolness while it lasts!

This past Saturday (the 12th of June), I was supposed to play in a volleyball tournament in Vallecas, a suburb of Madrid, with a few of my former teammates and a handful of new girls. From Las Otras, only Ana Kung Fu, Ana Belén, Maida and I were representing, and despite a damp morning in Madrid Central, we still met at the sports complex at 3:00. The tournament was still on since the courts seemed untouched by precipitation, so we stretched out and warmed up. Eventually, we found out that they were running two games behind, and so we relocated to sit on the upstairs patio of the cafeteria to wait. As we did, I watched an ominous looking cloud move towards us, and soon enough, the bottom just dropped out. Needless to say, after 30 minutes of unusually heavy rain, the tournament was canceled and we all went home. What a shame!

Luckily, Saturday wasn’t the only time I’ve spent with my volleyball teammates in the past week. On Friday night, I joined María, Sonia, Ana Belén, Ana de Lama, and Ana Kung Fu for a farewell dinner at El Recuerdo. El Recuerdo, a posh but reasonably priced establishment, just so happened to be right next door to Mosaic, the language institute where I took Spanish classes on Friday evenings this past fall. It’s funny because I remember thinking, “Wow: that seems like a great place to take the parents or to go out on a date!” My, my, my... how things come full circle. Our “team date” was really special and loads of fun. What’s more is that the girls surprised me with more gifts: a tapas cookbook and a flamenco CD, two great mementos of Spain to carry with me back to the USA. And as if sharing a great meal with some great girls wasn’t enough, we continued to hang out for a bit and eventually—after much wandering—found ourselves in an almost empty discoteca, La Catedral. There we took loads of silly pictures and I made them all laugh with some silly dance moves of mine. Finally, once others started to arrive, we took that as our cue to mosey on and catch the metro back home. It was a great night out with some Spanish women whom I’ve really enjoyed getting to know this past year. I am very thankful to have had a volleyball team this past year, not only because it has allowed me to play the sport I love so much, but also because I had the chance to make some good friends along the way.

In addition to my volleyball team, there are a few other important Spanish women in my Madrid life. María, Nuria, and Cristina are three mothers of my 4th grade students I tutored this year, and I know them fairly well now. So, when they wanted to go out for a drink and some tapas on Monday (the 14th), I looked forward to the opportunity to spend more time with them without kids running around. We met at María’s house (where I spent 2 hours at her dining room table practically every Monday this year giving classes to Kike, Omar, Javier and Alex), and then we strolled down the street towards the place María had in mind. When we arrived at La Taberna de Buendi, I looked to my left and saw several familiar faces: Victor, Cristina, Pilar, Neme, Sharon, and SK! The moms had organized a surprise engagement-goodbye party for me! I was thrilled and just overwhelmed with emotion by the surprise. Later, another teacher, Concha, and Susana, my Spanish friend who went to Sevilla with us, also came.

Above: Cristina (Andrea M's mom), Neme (the religion teacher), me, Nuria (Andrea R's mom), and Maria (Kike & Javier's mom)
Below: Susana and SK

Once everyone was there, María handed me a very large and heavy box, wrapped in hot pink tissue paper. I opened it and inside there were numerous things also colorfully wrapped. One by one, I unwrapped each item: yarn and sewing needles (“for when married life gets too boring”), a rolling pin (“for multiple purposes”), a makeup bag with rollers and a shower cap (“for my looks”), a pink thong (“for the younger years”) pink granny panties (“for the later years”), an apron with a sexy flamenco dancer’s body printed on it and a tapas cookbook (“for remembering some of the best of Spain”). I’m pretty sure I was blushing throughout the whole time of opening these gag gifts. But their generosity didn’t stop there. Next, María passed me another box, this one more nicely wrapped. When I peeled away the tissue paper lining, I was awed to find a gorgeous, blue-grey Spanish manta, or shawl, folded neatly in the box. I pulled it out and discovered how massive it is, but its craftsmanship and quality were also noticeable. Everyone was telling me that I have to wear this on my wedding day, at least for a few pictures, in order to complete the Spanish theme that my wedding seems to be taking on.

I can’t properly describe how grateful I still am for such a special night in my honor. I was touched by this gathering of wonderful people, and I enjoyed my first engagement party! As an expression of my sincerest thanks, I gave everyone un abrazo americano, an American-style bear hug, which took almost everyone by surprise. Our dinner, by the way, was fabulous, too. We shared 4 different salads and everyone ordered a canapé, two pieces of bread loaded with things like salmon, shrimp, goat cheese, etc. We started eating at 10:00 and didn’t leave the restaurant until after midnight. Upon leaving, Pilar shouted, “We’re going out for drinks. Come on!” I wanted to go home but went along because I felt obligated to stay out if more people were. Pilar, Victor, Nuria, Sharon, and I stopped in a bar, but not long after we got there, Sharon and I decided to head home (it was after 1:00 AM). I told Victor I’d see him in class at 9:00 A.M.… and I did! Crazy Spaniards.
I’ve been blessed with some great relationships here in Madrid. Many times, we have no idea what kind of impact we have on other people. In all honesty, I have often wondered what good I’ve really done here in Madrid, if my kids have learned anything, if I’ve made any true life-long friends, if I’ve made a good influence on those I know. Over the past week, I have been showered with obvious and extravagant love by so many people. I guess that answers some of my wonderings.

The Jet-Setting Finale: Amsterdam & Brussels

2010-06-12T11:46:00.022+02:00

Last weekend, SK and I went on our last weekend adventure outside of Spain in order to visit friends who live in Amsterdam (The Netherlands) and Brussels (Belgium). It was a mighty good weekend, and I was pleasantly surprised by both cities. I’ve got the highlight reel ready to illuminate my favorite memories from my last European weekend trip.

Amsterdam in the Spotlight

Sarah and I stayed with her college friends, Joelle and Eric, who have been living in Amsterdam for a year already. Joelle met us at the airport with a smile and some hugs, and she took us to their chic and modern third-floor apartment loft. They were great hosts, and they showed us the city in two gloriously beautiful days.

Amsterdam is beautiful. Some have called it “The Venice of the North,” because the city center is surrounded by canals that fan out in concentric circles. I’ll admit that I’m not a big fan of Venice, and I can hands down say that visiting Amsterdam was much more enjoyable for me. Last weekend, I fell in love with Dutch Renaissance architecture, characterized by the narrow brick town-houses topped with a decorative “trapgevel” or Dutch gable. As Eric’s friend and co-worker Andrew said, "Amsterdam is just a glorified town,” where the neighborhood shops, bars, and restaurants are about as quaint and as homey as can be, and where a strange feeling of collectivism exists among the large international community.

It seems like there are more bicycles than people in Amsterdam, which isn’t too far from the truth (there are an estimated 470,000 bikes, which is more than half the population). They were everywhere—packed close around on bike racks, tied up to metal gates and fences, filling plazas and lining building walls. Bikes serve as the most popular form of transportation in the city, and you’ve got to have your wits about you while walking or riding around. Otherwise, you might get flattened by someone whizzing by if you stop to admire the architecture for too long. If you decide to ride a bike yourself, staying confident and alert are the keys to an injury-averted voyage.

SK & I hopped on bikes and went on a thrilling adventure as we navigated through the city streets, followed curving canals, rose over arched bridges, and dodged people and vehicles. On Friday, Joelle led us around the center, which was a difficult for beginners; Sarah wore a worried look on her face through most of that trip. On Saturday, Eric took us outside of the city to a large park where the 1928 Olympic Crew events were held. Sarah was able to relax more on that ride. Personally, I enjoyed the thrill of weaving in and out of traffic and pedestrians, but the lush, green scenery in the park was a nice change.

I was so charmed by Amsterdam, by its beauty, by its quirkiness, by its people (Dutch people are beautiful and practically speak fluent English), and by its secrets. Sadly, what is not a secret about Amsterdam and what has made it infamous is that one sector of town that almost everyone has some idea or another about: The Red Light District. And seeing as how it might be awhile before we return to Amsterdam, Sarah & I were curious just enough to merit a visit to the RLD. And so, we followed (on foot) Eric, Joelle, and Andrew to that part of town… and soon enough, I saw the neon lights that signaled legal prostitution. Then, I received a jolting shock when I actually saw them: the scantily-clad women standing behind 4-foot windows, attempting to seduce passersby to “make a purchase.” I was surprised (and frankly appalled) by the numerous images, toys, and trinkets displayed in the dozens of sex-shops that I could not avoid seeing, and I was disgusted by the thought of people going to “Sex Shows.” I was so distressed by the entire scene that I was on the verge of tears and hyperventilating.

Amsterdam is also famous for the vast amount of marijuana that is sold and used here. Cannabis plants and seeds are abundant, and the sickly sweet smell of pot wafts out of “coffee shops,” which sell the psychedelic herb in multiple forms. Holding true to a previously-made promise, SK & I paid 5 Euro for a Space Cake. We split the vanilla muffin with a distinctly herbal flavor… and thankfully I didn’t feel a thing afterward. So, yes, Mom and Dad, I’ve now tried pot (well, in one sense, at least).
A Note on the RLD: I understand that some cases can be made for legalizing prostitution and marijuana. Since my blog is not a forum for discussing controversial issues, I wish to neither condemn nor defend either. I merely recount my experience in the RLD, and although my actions and reactions may indicate one stance or another, I ask that the reader does not hold that against me.

There is a whole lot more to Amsterdam’s cuisine than Space Cakes. Since it’s such an international city and since The Netherlands has been influenced by their world exploration over the centuries, restaurant menus have a hodgepodge selection… and I loved it! From veggie-filled sandwiches to Vietnamese eggrolls, I delighted in it all. We did try some traditional Dutch treats, such as the stroopwafel (hot, gooey caramel sandwiched between 2 thin waffle-biscuits).

We also enjoyed great beer in Amsterdam. On Friday afternoon, we went to a local brewery called Brouwerij Het Ij, one the oldest breweries in the city and uniquely located under a windmill. They brew seven beers regularly, and I liked the Ij Wit (“7% a delicately hopped wheat beer that is dangerously drinkable”) the best. We took a tour of the micro-brewery and then sat outside in the warm sunshine for a couple of hours.

The Rijksmuseum houses the best collection of Dutch art in the world. Since it’s currently under renovation and less than half of the museum is open to visitors, only the best and most important pieces are on display, which actually made for a really nice & concise tour. My favorites were all the Rembrandt pieces (including The Nightwatch), Vermeer’s works, and the giant model of a 16^th-century Dutch ship. While walking through the museum, it dawned upon me that I was witnessing the modern version of a nation that helped shape the fate of Europe and the world.

What else can I say? Amsterdam rocks!

The Beef on Brussels

Sarah and I took an early morning train to Brussels, and we met my friend Julie at the train station. Julie is an American who worked at my school in Madrid last year, and she married Paco, a madrileño himself, last summer. During the course of their engagement, Paco got a job promotion to work in Brussels, and the couple moved after their July wedding. Julie and Paco live in a nice flat in central Brussels, and Julie’s Chihuahua, Lucky, greeted us with loads of barking and pant-leg-biting when we arrived. (I consider him lucky for the fact that I didn’t punt his oversized frame out the window! He was seriously the most annoying dog I have ever met.) We only had one night with J&P in Brussels, but they were great hosts, too. Paco was a superb tour guide and the four of us walked the entire city from noon to eight on Sunday, despite a few rain showers throughout the day.

Brussels is a mish-mash of old European charm and an eclectic, funky style. Parts of the city reveal its former elegance, seen best from standing in the middle of the Grand Place, one of the most beautiful and impressive squares that I’ve ever seen. On the other hand, there is a grittiness to the city that seems a bit harsh, and sometimes a bit warn down, when observing only the exterior. Yet, once you delve a little deeper into the fray, you find all sorts of delights that are tucked away here and there. As a result, I found Brussels quite interesting.

Belgium is famous for a few things that I liked a lot.

Belgian beer—Did you know that beer can be delicious? I was reminded of that and have become a fan of the Belgians Leffe and Kriek.

Belgian chocolate—Only the best for the refined palette. We indulged our taste buds with an edible piece of art and treated our hosts to another.

Belgian waffles—When loaded with strawberries, whipped cream, chocolate sauce and powdered sugar, they’re almost too rich to finish. Almost.

Frites—The Belgians love their French fries, and I enjoyed snacking on some frites with curry ketchup while listening to an outdoor concert next to the Royal Palace.

Brussels has got a number of reasons for being famous and a few other things that I just found interesting.

The capital of the EU and NATO Headquarters—As we walked through the European Community, through the tall, modern business-like buildings, I couldn’t help but think, “What happened to the Euro?! I really hope you guys can change the EU economy pronto… I’d really appreciate that in a few weeks!”

The Manneken Pis—The famous peeing-boy statue has become an icon of the city over the years. He’s dressed in a different outfit everyday and has some 400 different ones to wear. I don’t really know more than that.

Tin Tin—Brussels is the home of comics and Tin Tin can be found chasing bad guys all over the city. We didn’t make it to the Comics Museum, but I’m sure it would have been enlightening.

We strolled through some parks, including the Cinquantenaire Park, where a family-friendly festival of some sort was going on Sunday afternoon.

Because it sits in between the linguistically different regions of Belgium, there is a mix of Dutch and French spoken throughout Brussels. My ears really enjoyed listening to French music playing in the restaurants, and I loved getting a chance to practice my “merci” and “s’il vous plait.”

Sarah and I had a couple of hours Monday morning to revisit central Brussels before we met Paco, who escorted us to the right bus we needed to take to get to the Charleroi Airport. In the end, it was a harrowing day of travel that took much longer than expected due to a busy airport and numerous delays. I couldn’t help but think, “Wow, this is my last Easyjet/Ryanair trip for who knows how long.” And we when finally arrived in Madrid Barajas, I thought, “Whoa, the next time I’m in this airport (that I know oh-so-well) I’m going to have a little more luggage with me… and it’ll be the last time I walk these hallways for a long while.”

And so, with the clock ticking loudly somewhere just behind me, I find myself once again in Madrid, struck with the realization that I have hardly two weeks left here. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Venga… let’s make the most of it!

Roads Less Traveled... in Madrid

2010-06-03T11:36:00.016+02:00

As usual, my blog posts have erred on the side of retelling travel adventures rather than relaying Madrid happenings. I promise that I do still live in Madrid. In fact, so much fun stuff has happened since I returned from Semana Santa (which was way back in April)! With only a few more weeks left in this city, I have taken on a new motto: “Take the road less traveled.” It’s so easy to just fall into the normal swing of things—do the same things, go to the same places, eat at the same restaurants, etc.—but for my last hoorah in this crazy city, I am trying to explore it and do as many new things as possible. There is so much to Madrid, and I know that even if I spent a lifetime here, I would never be able to truly uncover all of its secrets. Yet, I’m doing my best with what little time I do have, and here’s how…

Passing on Retiro and discovering new parks instead:

El Capricho: In 1787, the Duchess of Osuna set out to create the most beautiful gardens and most charming park in all of Europe, in order to compete with other leading ladies of her time (like the Queen of Spain). Although her palace now is unoccupied, the Peasant’s Cottage is no longer used for imitating country-folk-life, and the Beehive House is not busy with small black and yellow insects, El Capricho still holds a glimmer of its past glory and delight. The park does have the oldest iron bridge in Spain (1830), but no gondolas carrying frolicking aristocrats pass underneath it anymore. To be sure, this is one of the most whimsical parks of Madrid… and it is perfectly named thus.
Parque de la Fuente del Berro: This park is actually just a stone's throw from my apartment. I have been aware of its existence for some time now, but it wasn’t until this past weekend stroll through this little park for the first time. It’s a nice getaway from Retiro, which is getting incredibly busier by the day now that the weather is really nice all day long.
Parque Juan Carlos I: Sarah, Elaine, and I discovered the strange glory of the largest park in Spain which opened in 1992. Located on the outskirts of the city, not too far from the Barajas Airport, the Juan Carlos Park is a confounding conglomeration of olive groves, waterways, wide concrete roads, grassy knolls, and modern statues scattered throughout. If you’re special enough, you can kayak… and if you bring your ID, you can borrow a bike for an hour for free! We weren’t special enough to board any watercraft, but we did wait in line long enough to procure a trio of bicycles. Once our bottoms were good and sore, we ditched the bikes to climb the largest net tower on a playground I’ve ever seen. Needless to say, it was a glorious afternoon.

Retiro Park: Although I am trying to go to new places, I can’t completely abandon Retiro. After all, it only takes me 7 minutes to run through the busy shopper-filled streets to get there from my apartment, and it really is a great park. From a gorgeous rose garden in full bloom to a workout park overrun with men in not enough clothing to a river of people perusing the stalls for the Book Fair, Retiro really does have a lot going on all the time, and I will still call it one of my favorite places in Madrid. Plus, I’ve had the chance to hop in a row boat or two this spring, and I’ll never pass up on that opportunity!

Having visitors!

Julika and Isabel: After hosting us in Austria, Julika let Sarah and I show her and her friend, Isabel, around our city over the first weekend in May. We walked around the city center, but I think what most interested these girls was the shopping. We all made several purchases that weekend! The girls stayed at Sarah’s place for 5 nights, and we made sure to hit up all our favorite places, like La Soberbia and Sol y Sombra, while they were here.

The Tilley Family: The Tilley family—Mike & Molly and their three daughters Amy, Sarah, and Mary Kate—are from Orlando and are good friends of Justin’s family. The fam was traveling through Spain and visiting Sarah who lives in Bilbao (and visited me in February). I got to meet Mike, Molly, and Amy for the first time when we rendezvoused in Sol for dinner one Tuesday night in May. (MK dates Justin’s younger brother, so we had already met… and she crashed on my bed a week before when she was in between flying to Spain and bussing to Bilbao.) We feasted at La Soberbia, dug into some gelato, and then toured the Westin Palace Hotel, where Mike and Molly were staying for a couple of nights (an anniversary gift from some friends). The WPH was dripping with bling and covered with fancy carpets and tiling. I was like a kid in a candy store, because I’ve always wanted to visit but I had been worried I’d get kicked out upon entering for not being dressed well enough Unfortunately, my visit was a few hours too late, because the family saw none other than Andy Roddick eating an omelet or two earlier that morning before going off to play in the Madrid Open. Despite missing the Athletic Celeb, I doubt his company would have been better than being with the Tilleys! I am so thankful to know that I will have this stellar family around when I move to Orlando in a few months.

Hanging out with good friends, old and new

CCM—I’ve joined the Coffee Crew, who all go out after church in order to spend a few extra minutes chatting over a cup of cafe con leche and a pincho de tortilla. I’ve gotten to know several member of my church much better over these past few months, and it has been so interesting to learn about the lives of people who have been living abroad from 10-30 years. Incredible.
Marisa—Marisa is not just the mother of my little twins, Marcos and Aitor. She has become one of my best friends here in Madrid, even if she’s almost twice my age (almost!). We’ve been going out to lunch regularly, chatting away in Spanish and English, and I have learned more about this family who has become so dear to my heart. Even though they can’t make it to the wedding, they gave Justin and me a wedding present: a modern-Las Meninas teacup set.

Marisa asked me to run in La Carerra de la Mujer with her. On May 2, we jogged alongside thousands of others—mothers with strollers, grandmothers, athletic youth, and several boys wearing skirts and wigs—and did the 6 km circuit around Retiro Park in less than 45 minutes. The event raised 1000s of Euros for cancer research; I enjoyed being a part of something bigger than myself, even if it was only for just one cool Sunday morning.

Spanish guys and gals—On a couple of occasions, I’ve had the pleasure of hanging out with Álvaro and Susana, a young couple who have conversation classes with Sarah. I’ve also joined Sarah in meeting up with her former roommates, Lucia and Beatriz, who are super sweet and really warm to us. Unfortunately, none of these cool people hold the same Dependable Standards as we Americans do, and therefore, I have to wait until spontaneous get-togethers magically happen.
Non-Spanish guys and gals—Patrick, Donna, and Elaine may be Brits, but I wouldn’t trade my time in Madrid with them for ten Spaniards! Sadly, Donna departed several weeks back and Elaine is moving out of my apartment this weekend. We’ve all definitely had some good romping about the city. From hilarious nights out dancing like morons to numerous walks in the park, I’ve loved spending time with my British friends!

Reuniting with my volleyball team

My volleyball team got back together for a game or two this spring. In the one game in which I was able to participate, I totally dominated at the net and we won our match like a good team should, with team work, smart decisions, and good communication. After our victory, we went to La Vaguada, Madrid’s first shopping mall, and we had a 4-hour lunch at Ginos, an Italian chain restaurant. My team surprised me with a goodbye gift: a red t-shirt with our team name and season on the back and with everyone’s names on the front. I was surprised and honored by this sweet gesture. We’re all going to have a Goodbye-Hailey Team Dinner next week, and then a few of us are going to play in the same tournament as last June.

Going to school…quite reluctantly

For the sake of remaining true to my Madrid experience, I have to be honest: the Ugly Truth is that going to school these past two months has been absolutely dreadful for me, meaning I dread going to school. While it’s true that I like my 5^th graders and our classes (most days), I sometimes find it difficult working with Victor. However, my disagreeable or boring moments in Victor’s class are desirable after spending just ten minutes in the classroom with my 3^rd graders. I’m not exaggerating. My 3^rd graders are absolutely atrocious. They are completely disrespectful—to each other and to their teachers—; they still don’t know how to wait for their turn to speak; they constantly get up and wander around the classroom; and they’re English level is not where it could or should be. While this is a bad batch of kids, I think their horrendous behavior has worsened on account of their teacher, Cristina.

For the record, I think Cristina is a wonderfully sweet woman and she loves working with the children. However, the problem is she’s quite scatterbrained and unorganized, and she’s always late to class. I can honestly say that her average arrival to class is 15-20 minutes after the class has begun. After a year of this, the kids have grown accustomed to be able to do whatever they want, whenever they want. They don’t know what it’s like to be in a structured classroom (as was their case last year, too, unfortunately). Back in the fall, I used to have the ability to control them for a little bit, and I used to be able to teach at least part of their science or English lesson. Not so anymore. Now, I have no more power over the little hellions than a flower does over the rainclouds.

As bad as third grade is, I have had some moment of good teaching in my 5^th grade classes. When Victor fell ill earlier this spring, I got to teach English and Science to both 5^th grade classes for almost an entire week. What’s more is that I got to create my own lesson plans for the kiddos… and they loved my games and activities! Getting to have the classroom all to myself for that week was a shining moment of glory, and I really enjoyed the freedom and creativity that came with it. And, of course, my school isn’t always the prison I make it out to be. I genuinely enjoy the company of some of the folks with whom I work. My work and contributions to this school have been acknowledged in the forms of compliments and smiles, and I really appreciate them. I am in love with so many of the kids and there are so many who have an English level good enough to converse freely and joke around with me, and I am often blown away by what these kids can do. I will definitely miss some of them.

Going to the theatre

Alice in Wonderland—This is only the second movie I’ve seen in Spain. The first was in French with Spanish subtitles on a weary Wednesday night and almost doesn’t count as a cinematic experience due to difficulties in focusing, comprehension, and enjoyment. AiW was in a nice cinema, in English with Spanish subtitles, and in 3D!
Babel—On a whim, Pilar and I went to see one of the many performances that are a part of the Festival de Otoño, a month long marathon of concerts and shows spread across the theaters of Madrid. 15 dancers from all around the world moved their bodies in the most spectacular display of modern contemporary dance I’ve ever seen with my own eyes. I think Mia Michaels would have cried with joy at watching these performers, because they were phenomenal.

Trying to predict the weather….

It may be hot now, but that’s something fairly new to us here in Madrid this year. This spring has been simply wack-o…it’s been a roller coaster ride with chilly winds and sporadic clouds popping up at any time. I remember wearing blue jeans and a jacket the first week of May because it was just too cool…I have never done that before in my life. It also rained quite a lot this spring, which did put a damper on many plans to explore the city’s offerings. Currently, we have jumped over spring and landed into smack in the middle of summer. I am quite enjoying the warm-hot temperatures and the ability to not leave the house carrying a jacket or cardigan. What can I say? I’m a Southern gal who’d prefer to wear a sundress and glisten a little bit from the heat of the day instead of remain bundled up on account of cold blustery weather.

Continuing with some traditions

Every Wednesday since January, a few of us have met up for dinner at 100

Montaditos, a chain restaurant that whips up small delectable sandwiches for only 1 Euro each on Wednesday nights. Elaine, SK, Elly, and I make up the usual crew, and on occasion we’re joined by Patrick or Scott from Scotland. Now that the weather is warm and dry, we’re grabbing our mini-sandwiches and having picnics in the park instead! It’s been a great way to meet up with friends in the middle of the week and a great excuse to stuff our faces with good food.

Living it up for one last month!

I’ve got less than one month left in Madrid, which is so strange to think about. Already June is turning out to be the month of despedidas, or goodbyes, and I’m preparing myself to say goodbye to all the people and places that I have grown to love over these past two years. It’s a bittersweet month: I am sad to leave this life that I have made here, but I am also very excited for all the new things to come in my life (like a wedding and a marriage). And so, I will try my hardest to take advantage of everything I can while I’m still here!

Soaking Up the Sun in Asturias

2010-05-26T23:16:00.008+02:00

After flying to and from the USA for Gillian’s wedding, I was glad to have a fairly tranquil week back in Madrid to make the trans-Atlantic fiasco easier. Fortunately, SK & I had already booked train tickets to Gijon in order to visit Ida again. We traversed half of Spain, speeding through Castile-La Mancha and winding throughout the Cantabria Mountain Range of Asturias. Already knowing Gijon, I was hoping that this weekend would simply be one to relax and spend time with friends; my hopes were realized.

Throughout this school year, it has been such a pleasure to spend time with Ida on those special weekends when we have gotten together in one place or another. Since we don’t have her in Madrid, SK and I enjoyed being around her calming presence and sharing in her love of Gijon this past weekend. We also enjoyed meeting and re-meeting a couple of her friends, Jennifer from Brasil and Alex from Canada. We got together with those girls for some beach, some food, and some dancing fun!

We had superb weather during our entire stay! The north of Spain is characterized and infamous for its rainy, dreary weather, whose gusty Atlantic winds wrack the coastline for most of the year. Apparently, SK & I came for the best weekend of 2010 to date with temperatures reaching the lows 70s, clear blue skies, and a cool breeze (well, I thought it was a pretty cold at times). The locals were taking full advantage of the marvelous spring weather and everyone was out on the beaches, sitting in outside terrazas, and wearing shorts and dresses… and we did, too!

We joined the sun-deprived masses and spent a few hours on the beach on Saturday and Sunday afternoons. The water was way too cold for my liking, but I was perfectly content to soak up the soft rays of the Sun (while wearing lots of sunscreen!) and have a seat in the sand to do some serious people watching. Don’t worry… no topless ventures this beach trip. They’re not as loose in the North as they are in the South.

Of course, we ate quite well while over the weekend. In Asturias, the portions are much more generous than in other parts of the country, and we reveled in their gloriousness. We dined on Asturian meats & cheeses and on their fruits of the sea, such as shrimp and pastel de cabracho. We also enjoyed that very singular Asturian beverage called sidra (cider); we either marveled at the servers pouring the fermented fruit juice from above their heads into the culín below their waist or we gave it a shot ourselves. Many good hours were spent either around a ciderhouse table or reclined in a metal chair, feeling the warm sunshine on our faces and taking deeps breaths in the fresh sea air.

We did venture out of the center of Gijon to get a glance at Ida’s school and to reach the top of the University tower, as seen below. The lush green mountains and quaint groups of houses are characteristic of Asturias, which was what Sarah and I saw for much of our train ride back to Madrid on Monday afternoon.
I promise… I DO actually live in Madrid. I made it back on Monday afternoon in time to have a couple of private classes. Work—school and private lessons—continues as normal. My free time in the city has been enjoyable, and I am working on the Mother of All Blogs to relay to you the highlights from my spring months in Madrid. Just you wait…

One Down, Two to Go!

2010-05-19T16:57:00.010+02:00

There may be a cloud of volcanic ash looming over Europe these days, and although it did give me reason to worry, I didn’t let it stop me from flying back to the USA this past weekend in order to be a part of a very important event.

On Saturday, May 15, 2010, one of my bestest friends in the whole wide world, Gillian, got married... and I was there to witness it! Actually, other than the pastor who officiated the ceremony and the groom, I was the closest one to Gillian as she spoke her vows and exchanged rings with Charles (the groom). Since G asked both Erin and me to be her Co-Maids of Honor, there was no way I was going to miss the day she said “I do!”

Thus, I traveled across the Atlantic last Thursday in order to make the big wedding weekend. For the 10^th time and for the last time (or for a while, at least), I flew to Frankfurt, Germany and made my goodbyes to that well-known airport. I even thought it necessary to buy a postcard since I’ve spent so much time there. Then, I flew to ATL where I had arranged to be picked up by my parents and to fly in at the same time as Justin. My joy in greeting the three most important people in my life was delayed by US Customs, whose line I waited in for nearly 2 hours! Ugh, it was quite painful and I was quite antsy to get on with the “Welcome to the USA” process. Finally through customs and security, I was rounding the corner of the security checkpoint when I was caught by surprise. Justin had patiently waited to surprise me there instead of at Baggage Claim. How wonderful it was to see him in person! Not long after, we met my parents with hugs and hellos, grabbed my luggage, and headed off to the Dear Farm.

We spent last Thursday night at my grandparents’ farm, a very special place in my heart, with Dear and Pop-Pop. Also, my Aunt Cary and cousin Elizabeth decided to stay the night too, which was a pleasant surprise. Being at the farm was a great way to rest and relax after my somewhat arduous journey, and I was very happy to be back in the same place where Justin proposed only on a few months ago.

On Friday, we drove to Montgomery, Alabama. Although Gillian is a Dothan girl, she and Charles both went to Huntingdon College in the Alabama capital, and they wanted to get married in the same church they attended and served during those years. I first saw the bride at the hotel, and at first it all seemed just a little surreal. That evening, we went to the church for the rehearsal and dinner. Erin and I gave a little speech after the meal, and I don’t know if anything that came out of my mouth made any sense whatsoever... but I meant ever word I said. Since Gillian isn’t what you’d call “the party type,” her last night as a single woman was pretty tranquil. The bridesmaids just hung out together at the hotel by the pool until the Sand Man showed up and suggested we get some good rest. I didn’t object… I still was a bit jet lagged.

Saturday came bright and early when Erin woke up at 7 and proceeded to bother both G and me (we all slept in an enormous bed together… something we always do when given the chance to have a sleepover). Gillian didn’t give any sign of nerves or over-excitement, but I could tell she was ready to get on with the show. At 9:30, some select ladies met at the Montgomery Country Club to attend the Bridesmaid Luncheon that my mother and Erin’s mother put on for Gillian. We brunched on delicious quiche, fruit with poppy seed dressing, and bread pudding. Of course, I managed to suck down several glasses of the best drink in the world, Southern Sweet Tea (aka Liquid Sugar). Gillian and her mom dashed off to get their hair done for the wedding, and so some of us B’maids wandered around Huntingdon for a time until it was our turn to go get ready at the church and do our own hair. With more than enough time on our hands, we twisted, turned, and curled our hair until it wouldn’t curl any more and then we waited for the bride, who showed up with quite a do! Gillian was gorgeous and even though we had to sew a button back on her dress to keep it together, she looked like an angel.

Following the photographer’s instructions, we gathered around the gorgeous blooming hydrangeas in front of the church sanctuary to take some pictures. G’s Mom put me in charge of making sure all the family was in the right place and in the right picture later. Before we knew it, it was time to get undercover because the guests were beginning to arrive. Calmly, we waited in the salon for our cue to come line up at the back of the church. In the back of the line, Erin and I got a bit silly, but we still enjoyed hearing Leanne Boykin’s beautiful voice fill the sanctuary during the Prelude. Then, the boys went in… and one by one, so did the girls. Gillian and her father made a grand entrance to a trumpeting organ. The service went by in a flash… and we were out of there in less than 25 minutes. And then Gillian and Charles were married! (But I suppose that's how it always goes...)

The reception was in the church’s fellowship hall, and it was beautifully decorated with hydrangeas, white and green roses, and other greenery whose names escape me. The food was tasty, but I’ll admit that I didn’t eat too much because I so badly wanted to talk to some friends of mine that I hadn’t seen in ages. Unfortunately, the church wouldn’t let G&C have any music (I don’t fully understand why), and thus the Happy Couple hardly stayed an hour. And before I could say “lickety split,” it was all over and people were clearing out.

Saturday night and Sunday morning were spent relaxing at the hotel with my parents (which include G’s and Erin’s parents, too), my brother, Erin & Myles, and Justin. Sunday afternoon, my parents drove Justin and I back to the Atlanta-Hartsfield International Airport to catch our respective flights back to our current homes. Pretty soon, though, Justin and I won’t be living in separate homes… because in just 93 days, we’re getting married and thus will be living in a new home together. Yeah, that’s exciting.

Gillian was the first of the Three Musketeers to get married. I’ll be the second and Erin the third (talk about one fun New Year’s Eve). G certainly set the standard by remaining cool, calm, and collected throughout the entire weekend, and I hope I will follow suit when it’s my turn in August.

A Sunny—and Slightly Scandalous—Day in Málaga

2010-05-10T22:24:00.008+02:00

Sevilla is not the only reason that the South of Spain is special. Thanks to one of the stereotypical qualities of Southerners—being that they are so relaxed to the point of laziness—, Sarah and I ended up with an extra day to travel with our Eurorail ticket when the train station staff of Sevilla failed to mark our passes two weeks ago. We decided to make a day of it and go back to the South, but this time to Málaga.

Málaga is on the Andalusian coast, is one of the oldest cities in the world (dating back to 770 BC when it was founded by the Phoenicians), and is currently one of Spain’s most important port cities. Even though its home to over 550,000 people, the city centre of Málaga is fairly compact but nonetheless charismatic. Small plazas tucked between gorgeous building facades are full of people from morning until night. Palm trees fan out from their flowery beds, flirting with their neighbouring fountains as they sway back and forth in the light breeze. The eye-pleasing cathedral, nicknamed La Manquita (The One-Armed Lady), sits nobly in the middle of palm trees and plazas, its bells sounding the hour from its lone completed bell tower. Under her imperious watch, SK & I had a satisfying breakfast of toast with tomato and jamón Serrano, sipped on some coffee, and enjoyed the restful atmosphere.

Later, we followed a mangled brick path up the hill of the Alcazaba, the ancient Moorish fortress that still maintains its dominant position over the city from a large hill just to the side of the city centre. There we passed through Moorish arches and lovely rose gardens, all the while adoring the architecture and admiring the spectacular view.

I’ll be honest; the main reason why we chose to spend the day in Málaga is because we wanted a day at the beach. The weather in Madrid has been absolutely horrendous and we wanted to have just one good day in the sun and the sand. And that is what we got. I’ll continue to be honest; I did something I’ve never done before in my life. After almost two years of living in Spain, I have finally accepted and taken on as my own one of their distinct customs, one that is quite contradictory to their more conservative history. For the first time in my life, I laid out on a beach… top-less. (Gasp! Sigh! How scandalous!) Yes, it’s true. I bared my breast to the sun and my fellow sun-bathers. And you know what? I’m not ashamed to say it. I’ll admit that my actions were anything but modest. However, I am learning how to suspend my judgments of the Spanish people and their crazy ways, and the best way for me to do that is join them in some of their craziness! And hey, I was wearing sunscreen.

With lots of sun soaked into our skin, SK & I spent the last couple of hours enjoying food and drink in cool shaded plazas. It was the perfect ending to our glorious day in Málaga, and I thought it was simply perfect that we happened to choose to sit in the wicker chairs of the Café del Viajero (the Traveler's Café), where we ate crepes and sipped on fruity cocktails. Indeed, what a beautiful Saturday it was!

So You Think You Can Dance... Sevillanas!

2010-05-03T01:05:00.014+02:00

Sitting in the Häagen-Dazs Theater, I was entranced for the second time by Sara Baras, who this time had captivated my attention in her final show Esencia. As I watched the flamenco dancers twist their arms and stomp their feet to the pulsing rhythm, the soft sound of the Spanish guitar wove a background story for the performers while the singers wailed their point of view in an aching ballad. SK & I spent our first Friday night after our Semana Santa journey (April 9, that is to be exact) diving into what some might consider—and others strongly debate— lo essecial de España, the essence of Spain, flamenco music and dance. Flamenco music and dance is a Spanish tradition that comes from the southern regions of the country, namely Andalucía. For many, Andalucía holds the most widely recognizable Spanish elements: bull fights, tapas, olive trees, heat, and flamenco. While sitting in the glamorous Madrid theatre, I felt myself being pulled away from the busy big-city life and slipping into a world where time moves slowly and fluidly. And two Fridays ago (that would be April 23rd), I was flying down the railways on the AVE, Spain’s high-speed train, to the land where Sara Baras brought her trade.

It was the last weekend of La Feria de Sevilla (The Fair of Seville), and SK & I gathered a small group of women to experience this southern city the way its meant to be experienced. Elly, one of my good friends that I met at church, and Charlotte, an English girl who works with SK, joined us for their first visit to Sevilla. Susana, a Spanish girl and conversation student of SK, also came; and the five of us all took the AVE down Friday night. Ida bravely traversed almost the entire span of the country, taking a 12 hour bus ride from Gijon, in order to see Sevilla for the first time. We met her at our hostel, which was more like a little apartment, late Friday night. Traveling with a group of six was quite different than going with just one other person. It took us longer to get ready, especially with our one little bathroom shower, and it took us longer to get places, because some people walk slower than others (cough, cough). However, I really enjoyed having all these great ladies together, and it was fun to be able to have so many great conversations as we ambled along the river walk or strolled through luscious gardens.

Having already been to Sevilla twice, I wasn’t surprised by the wonderful charms of the city; rather I could just take them in and bask in their glory. As we wandered through the winding alleyways, a blanket of vines stretched across the narrow gaps between the white-washed walls, offer some shaded relief from the bright sunshine. Taking a deep breath, Ida remarked, “the air is delicious,” and she couldn’t have said it more perfectly. The flowers spilled from their green resting places, bursting forth in a brilliant showing of colour. Their sweet scent filled the air, and with the humidity, you could almost drink the air for its wetness and deliciousness. [Of course, we enjoyed the real tastiness of Sevilla by eating at some great food at La Taberna Colonial twice and having Rayas gelato every day.] After passing through the grand Plaza de España (unfortunately under much construction), we moseyed through the gardens of Maria Cristina, which seemed like a subtropical refuge, far away from any city. On another day, we were witness to the way the sun hits the city with its passionate rays from the belfry of the old mosque tower, La Giralda, of the Cathedral of Sevile.

The main attraction of the weekend was the fairgrounds, and it was unlike any fairgrounds I’ve ever set foot on. Well, not all of it was unfamiliar… One half of the grounds were dedicated to good old-fashioned fair fun, complete with Ferris Wheels, watery slides, fatty foods, and impossible challenge games; all of which completely took me back to my hometown fair. The other half of the grounds were nothing close to what you might find in the South of the USA, but it is something the South of Spain takes great pride in. Divided by cobblestone streets, rows of tents varying in size, called casetas, formed cheery lines of plastic and metal. Small tables, chairs and stools were smashed inside the tents, and people were crammed in between them all. Also, when peeking inside the tents, we caught glimpse of people dancing to, clapping with, and playing Sevillanas music, which is more folk version of flamenco. Wrists twisted and heels pounded the floor in a pattern movement and sound as both women and men took over the small dance space within the casetas. During the day, the music from the casetas competed with numerous horses, whose bells jingled and whose hooves clip-clopped as they trotted along the cobblestone streets.

One of the most entertaining parts of the weekend was admiring and ridiculing the crazy Sevillana-flamenco outfits that we encountered all weekend. They came in every colour combination known to Mankind—some I adored, others I detested (who wears green and red at any other time other than Christmas?!). Some were polka dotted; some were laced; some were short; all were tight, tight, tight through the hips and had ruffled bottoms that swayed with movement. When SK studied in Sevilla about 4 years ago, she bought a beautiful red flamenco dress for herself, and of course, she brought it to feria. I borrowed a skirt from a friend, and so I got to dress up Sevillana-style, too! We looked the part, so much so that while we were touring the Alcazar Palace on Sunday, tourists kept taking our picture or asking to take pictures with us! That night, as we waited on the bridge to watch the fireworks, a journalist-cameraman asked me to pose for him while the colourful bursts of light lit up the sky. Thankfully, I didn’t have to look at the camera, but I was quite uncomfortable hearing the click-click-click going off behind my head every time there was a boom-boom-boom in front of me. Of course, all the other girls just snickered and giggled during this impromptu photoshoot. I didn’t like it too much, but I hope that man got a good picture or two out of it.

All in all, it was a lovely little trip down to Sevilla. The south is special… always and everywhere. And I brought back some of Spain’s southern charm to add to the charm of my coming southern wedding... yippee!

The Semana Santa Saga: Part VI

2010-04-23T05:55:00.011+02:00

Where: Innerkrems, Austria
When: Thursday, April 1 (8:20 PM) – Monday, April 5 (7:30 AM)
How: The most harrowing travel experience that we had on our entire journey happened in Vienna. As I mentioned in the first installment of this epic adventure, we misread the Arrival/Departure board at the train station and unknowingly waited for a good 20 minutes on the wrong platform. The train arrived, and when we tried to get on, a man told us it was not the train going to Salzburg; rather it had just come from Salzburg. The following 3.2 minutes were spent in a frantic search for our train, and after asking a couple of people, we jumped onto the correct metal beast just seconds before it huffed and puffed away from the platform. Luckily, our switch in Salzburg was less worrying, especially since we already knew the station, and we caught the next train without a hitch.

A couple of hours later, I looked out the window of our train heading toward Spittal in southern Austria and saw the beginnings of snow flurries that eventually became larger snowflakes. Little by little that countryside was covered by a thin blanket of white snow, which was an exciting contrast to our warm & sunny afternoon at Schönbrunn. At the Spittal train station, Julika, her cousin Nadine, and her mother Marion picked us up and drove us to their small mountain ski village of Innerkrems.

Who: Sarah and I stayed with the Schwarzenbacher family. About three years ago, Julika Schwarzenbacher lived with Sarah’s family in Iowa as an exchange student. Last summer, SK visited Julika and her family in Berlin, and she also spent part of this past Christmas vacation at their Austrian mountain villa in Innerkrems. After having such a lovely time the first go-around and after learning that they spend Easter holiday there too, it was no surprise that Sarah took them up on an invitation to visit again. Luckily for me, they were totally cool with letting me tag along and share a bed with SK!

Julika is a 20 year old university student with plans of becoming a doctor. She has a carefree and rather independent spirit, not really caring about what others think and doing what she likes and not doing what she doesn’t like. Her English is just about perfect, and her slight German drawl is really cute when coupled with her trilling laughter. Although she would seem more on the quiet side of the personality spectrum, she holds within herself a vivaciousness that shines forth from her steel blue eyes. I liked this girl a lot, and we got on quite well from the first moment we met. I’m happy to say that I’ll be seeing her again in a couple of weeks when she visits Madrid (Icelandic volcano notwithstanding…).

Julika’s parents, Marion and Sepp, are an adorable example of how in-tune couples become after being married for years and after having lived a particular routine for equally as long. I watched them cook in almost complete silence, grabbing ingredients from behind each other’s backs, moving pots and dishes at the exact moment as needed, and whisking up a delicious meal with only a handful of words to spread across the counter. Marion’s sweet countenance offered a calming reassurance that life can be tranquil and peaceful if we just take ourselves a little less seriously. Julika’s father was a man of the kitchen, always rooting around for some small delectable or laboriously preparing something special for a meal. His generosity was most evident by his actions, like heaping piles of food on mine and Sarah’s plate or providing everything we needed for our entire stay.

Julika’s older sister, Jana, is finishing up her studies to be a pilot. During her free time in the house, she was usually studying for an exam or talking about boys. Julika told me that her sister prefers to be on their yacht sailing around Croatia’s Diamond Coast rather than skiing in the mountains. And according to Julika, she’s a “pretty skier,” trying to have the best form so that when people watch they’ll see how well she skis. Julika, on the other hand, prefers the mountains over the beach and loves to ski as fast as possible (but she still skis really well).

Nadine is a rather small eleven-year-old, but I’m sure that her picky eating habits contribute to her twig of a figure. Since Nadine is only just learning English, our interactions with her were somewhat limited. Fortunately, you don’t need too many words to play a card game both sides already understand. Nadine loves Phase 10, and so do Sarah and I! Julika, Nadine, SK & I played Phase 10 every afternoon upon returning to the house after several hours of skiing. Being the baby of the household, Nadine got a lot of attention, but she would quietly and sassily respond to the others in German, and Julika would then translate what she said so that Sarah and I could understand. Nadine was Julika’s little shadow, a precious little team that I loved watching interact.

Several other family members were in and out of the picture during mine and Sarah’s stay. Julika’s aunt Clara, who lives a half hour away, came over in the mornings for breakfast and to ski, typically joining us for dinner, too. Clara has the largest nose I have ever seen on the face of any human being. I had to deliberately tell myself not to stare at it during meals. Seriously, I don’t say that to be rude but it was simply a miracle of life. Her 34 year old daughter, Vera, who has her own section of the 4-part mountain villa, popped in and out of the house throughout the weekend. Vera used to be a professional downhill skier, and she was very sweet, but her nose was normal.

How our days went:

Our days passed in a slow, relaxing manner. By 9:30 every morning, a tempting display of fresh baked bread, jams & jellies, meats & cheeses, juices, coffee and tea was all set out on the 4-by-10 wooden table. Once satisfied, we suited up in our ski gear (they completed outfitted SK & me), clunked down the driveway, crossed the only street in town, snapped into our skis, and slushed down to the ski lifts. Julika, Nadine, SK & I would ski together for a couple of hours, meet some others for lunch at a mountainside restaurant, ski a few more runs afterward, and be back home by 4:00. In the late afternoons, after getting cleaned up, we’d have a coffee-cake break and then while Julika’s parents prepared dinner, we would read, dye and paint Easter eggs, or play Phase 10. Although everyone speaks English, they had an understandable tendency to slip into German at dinner, but I didn’t mind because I really enjoyed watching them interact and trying to figure out their topic of conversation. Eventually, everyone would drift off to bed, with me usually being one of the first to head in that direction. I’d get more than my fair share of sleep, wake up early, and start the next day following more or less the same schedule… what a shame I only had three days of this relaxing bliss! ;-)

Easter morning was really special, aside from the fact that I base my beliefs on that day. After breakfast, us girls—Julika, Jana, Nadine, SK & I—shoved on our boots and went tromping about in the snow, searching for what the Easter Bunny had left for us around the house. Thinking of plastic eggs or candy pac

kets, it took SK & I a few minutes to catch on to what we were looking for. I stumbled upon Jana’s gift bag of goodies behind a woodpile and Nadine’s package stuffed under a car tire long before I found my own small, wrapped package. SK & I were both given a cute pair of earrings, a chocolate bunny, and Salzburg’s famous Mozart chocolates, Mirabell Mozartkugeln. I loved coming back to this simple yet precious tradition, and I’m so glad that the Easter Bunny knew I was in Austria this year! Later that night, after I had eaten the most succulent steak I have put into my mouth in months, us girls walked down the road to watch the bonfire, an Austrian Easter tradition, drink glühwein, and listen to traditional Austrian band music. Breathing in the crisp night air under a twinkling starry sky, I couldn’t believe how fortunate I had been to temporarily become a part of such a wonderful family, but it also made me very excited about returning to my own family soon.

What about skiing?:

I have a confession to make. I have a very strong love-hate relationship with skiing. There, I said it. I absolutely love skiing… when the conditions are to my liking. I love the satisfying sound of snapping into my skis, the easy shredding down the slopes, and being surrounded by a beautiful snowy landscape. On the contrary, I hate when the temperatures drop below “Bitter Cold” on the thermometer and the freezing winds whip across the mountain tops. I hate wearing layers of clothes that make me break out into a slimy sweat. Yet, the only thing I really “hated” during my time in Innerkrems was the fact that my shins were bruised beyond belief due to improper-fitting boots, causing me intense pain with each turn of the ski on my second and third days of skiing. Overall, our skiing days were great, with conditions much to my liking. We had fresh powder the first day and a clear blue sky on the second. Although Sarah did get a bit freaked out and somewhat frustrated by the really strong winds that blew on our last day of skiing, I actually didn’t mind them.

For someone who just learned how to downhill ski back during Christmas break and at age 25, Sarah has learned quickly and she skied quite well. Nevertheless, she’s still a beginner, and Julika, Nadine, and I had to tailor our skiing to hers. We’d normally send Sarah down first, and we’d wait a few minutes before going down after her, ski past her, and then wait for her to catch up to us at the next ridge. I was quite grateful for SK’s slower pace, because it allowed me to zip down quickly and stop before I began working too hard (and thus I could avoid breaking out into a gross sweat).

Sarah skied well and only had a couple of “oops” moments, but I had an “oops” moment of my own. At the top of the most difficult run, I decided to go fast down the steepest and iciest run on the mountain with plans to ease up after passing the tough stuff. However, I gained too much speed quicker than I expected. I ended up going straight down the mountain at top speed, and I couldn’t make any turns to slow down. I flew past one ridge… and flew past the next. When I say flew, I mean that I actually got air and flew. A rough laugh and a coarse “Whoa…” escaped my lips. In my head I was thinking quickly, but rather rationally, “Ok, if I don’t slow down soon and regain control, this could end up badly. At least there’s lots of fresh powder just off the run… it shouldn’t hurt too badly.” What seemed like minutes but what was probably less than one passed, and I mercifully reached a flatter part of the run that helped me just enough to regain control over my skis, make some turns, and come to a snow-plowing stop. My face broke out into a smile of triumph, the kind that only emerges after a disaster has just been averted. I had gone so far so fast that I couldn’t see the other girls for a while; it took them over five minutes to make it down to where I was. I learned my lesson from that little heart-racing experience: the quickest way down is straight down, but if you’re not careful, you could never make it down… (Ok, so I didn’t actually think about that at the time, but it sounds true, right?)

How it all ended:

It was such a fantastic treat to stay with Julika’s family, truly a wonderful way to end our Semana Santa journey. We had spent so much time running around & touring cities beforehand that staying in a home with a family in the quiet, snow-covered mountains was the perfect way to unwind and reflect on all the overwhelming amount of things we saw and did. I am so obliged to the Schwarzenbacher family, and I will be eternally gratefully for their excellent hospitality. I’m really looking forward to hanging out with Julika again when she comes to Madrid next week.

The morning of Monday, April 5 arrived, bringing with it a blizzard and giving me reason to be happy I wasn’t skiing that day. At 7:30 AM, Julika scratched off the ice from the car window with her driver’s license and then the three of us headed off to Salzburg. Sarah and I said “hasta luego” to Julika at the train station platform, and we hopped onto a train that would take us to Stuttgart, Germany. Five hours later, we arrived in Stuttgart, found the right metro line, and got to the airport thirty minutes later. With time to kill, we had a late lunch and a beer before boarding our Germanwings plane. By 9 PM, I was walking down my street in Madrid, feeling content and relieved to have returned “home” after such a long, brain-overloading, and fantastic trip.

Madrid has become my home, and it has been good to be back these past two weeks. But that is another story for another day.

The Semana Santa Saga: Part V

2010-04-18T22:43:00.019+02:00

Where: Vienna, Austria (or Wein in German)
When: Monday, March 29 (10 PM) – Thursday, April 1 (3:30 PM)
Where we stayed: Do Step Inn—We spent two of the three nights having to share a basement room with two smelly boys, one from Spain (go figure) and one from England. It wasn’t the most pleasant hostel experience I’ve ever had, but then again, it certainly wasn’t the worst! At least, we were conveniently located next to the train station and not too far from the city center.
What’s along the Ringstraße:
Vienna is quite a large city, holding almost a quarter of

Austria

’s population within its districts. Yet, the old city center (the Innere Stadt) is surrounded by a large boulevard called the Ringstraße Along the Ringstraße, you will find a number of magnificent and commanding buildings. From the Museumsquartier to seats of government to imperial palaces and centers of performing arts, many national treasures of

Austria

are located on this significant avenue.

The Museum of Natural History of Vienna (Naturhistorisches Museum Wien) and The Museum of Art History (Kunsthistorisches Museum) at Maria-Theresa-Square

The Parliament of Austria (Österreichisches Parlament)—quite impressive
The Rathaus—the town hall of Vienna
The Hofburg Imperial Palace—currently the residence of Austria’s President, this used to be the principle winter home of the illustrious Habsburg dynasty, who ruled almost all of Europe at one point or another in history.

What we found in the Innere Stadt in one day (that would be on Tuesday):

An Easter Market—Dozens upon dozens of delicately painted eggs were stacked in the center of the little square, resting cheerily under a light canvas awning. Laughter and cries of joy from the children watching a puppet show floated over the egg crates and into our ears as we perused the elaborate oval shells. After much consideration, SK & I made some tough decisions and made an Easter purchase or two.
After wandering through some side streets, we eventually found the Der Graben (German for “the trench”), which is one of Vienna’s most famous streets located inside the ring. This was the heartbeat of the city, pumping with life as a flow of people constantly moved up and down the trench, popping into trendy modern stores housed in elegant buildings. And there, in the middle of the pedestrian-only street packed with shoppers, the Pestsäule (German for “plague column”) stood as a stunning memorial to Vienna’s encounter with a horrible plague epidemic in the late 1600s.
We ambled along the small perimeter inside St. Peter's Church (Peterskirche) in the afternoon, and later that evening, we took our seats in the old wooden pews and enjoyed the angelic voices of a small yet talented chamber choir as they rose into the air and danced off the baroque statues.
St. Stephen’s Cathedral (Stephansdom) is Vienna’s main church and one of its most recognized landmarks. The multi-colored tiled roof and enormous towers abruptly protrude from the splendid Stephansplatz.
The immense amount of baroque-ness we found inside the Jesuit Church (Jesuitenkirche) echoed the superfluous-ness of the main auditorium of its neighbor, the old University of Vienna, where Mozart gave a concert or two.
After a deliciously filling lunch, we found a spot on a sunny lawn of the Viennese City Park (Wiener Stadtpark) and took a nap. Nearby, the Danube River continued on its perpetual journey, taking no interest in stopping to have a rest under the clear blue sky.

Who we saw in Vienna:

Doris: Doris is a university student from Vienna who was a classmate of my flat-mate Elaine this winter. She moved back home and offered to meet SK & I for dinner one night during our stay in her hometown. She took us to Figmüller, a restaurant claiming to have “the biggest schnitzel.” While we ate our fried veal cutlet and sweet beet salad, we enjoyed catching up and quizzing her on some Austrian words and customs. If you’re interested in the story behind the schnitzel, check out http://www.figlmueller.at/index.php for more... I’ve already had my fair share.
Sharon & Co.: By several incredible strokes of luck, SK & I encountered Sharon, another assistant who works at my school, while we were in Vienna. Sharon was traveling with two other girls during Semana Santa, and it just so happened that we all spent two nights in the same hostel in Vienna. I first saw Sharon in our hall bathroom; she had just come out of the shower as I was getting ready for bed. We were stunned to see one another, and I couldn’t help but laugh hysterically at the coincidence of our rendezvous. The next day, we ran into each other again in a museum bathroom (an apparent trend of ours). Later that night, our travel groups merged, and we all went out for Austrian wine and apple strudel after seeing the ballet at the opera house.

Which cafés we sampled:

Viennese cafés, according to Wikipedia, “have an extremely long and distinguished history that dates back centuries, and the caffeine addictions of some famous historical patrons of the oldest are something of a local legend.” Also, they “claim to have invented the process of filtering coffee from bounty captured after the second Turkish siege in 1683.” Coffees traditionally are served on a small silver metal tray, accompanied by a glass of water and maybe some sugar cubes, too.

Café Diglas: Sitting under chandeliers dripping with tea cups and crystals, we sipped on coffee and nibbled on raspberry-chocolate cake and lemon meringue pie. We entertained ourselves later on by going into the bathroom, where transparent doors only become opaque once you’ve locked it from the inside. It caused quite a stir among the café’s clientele and made this café quite memorable!
Demel: We took a window seat and split some rich chocolate cake at this popular spot in the city center. Of course, we had a coffee to go with it all, which gave us a much needed jolt of energy after a day of wandering around town in the drizzling rain.

What we visited:

Belvedere (http://www.belvedere.at/jart/prj3/belvedere/main.jart?rel=en): Belvedere, an ostentatious and sumptuous display of wealth of the Austrian aristocracy and royalty, is comprised of two palaces, neat gardens, and several small buildings such as the Orangery and the Stables. Upper Belvedere was built in 1721-1722 under the watchful supervision of Prince Eugene of Savoy, a great military commander and important political figure of his time. After being converted into a museum in 1918, it now houses numerous works by famous Austrian artists, including Gustav Klimt.
The Naschmarkt (Nibbles Market): Looking at art can make you pretty hungry and tired, so after a visit to Belvedere, SK & I took the metro back into the city to see what we could find in Vienna’s most popular market. The colorful market stalls stretched over a kilometer down the street, their vendors pleading for passersby to have a taste of their wares. Dried fruits and nuts and packages of spices were piled higgledy-piggledy. Other delicatessens, like stuffed olives or sweet baklava, were lined up under glass counters. I couldn’t resist buying some dried strawberries, and Sarah had her first taste of baklava, Turkish style.

We had lunch in Mr. Lee’s Asian Restaurant, which was oh-so-good! It might not have been traditional Austrian fair, but having good Asian cuisine is a novelty for us, since Spain doesn’t understand that part of the world nor its food very well.

The Vienna State Opera (Wiener Staatsoper):

We saw the Vienna Ballet Company’s adaptation of A Midsummer Night’s Dream (Ein Sommernachtstraum). The ballet was beautifully romantic, from scenery to costumes to music. The choreography was riveting and had a creatively modern touch. The dancers played their roles well, and it was easy to feel for them and their love-entangled lives. All in all, it was a performance that easily drew its spectators into that fairy-tale forest where. Unfortunately, I didn’t get to see all of the ballet…
Never again will I get “standing room only tickets” to see a show. I’d rather pay 40 Euro for a chair with a bad view than pay 4 Euro to have a better view while standing squished between dozens of people packed in like cattle on show at the county fair. In Vienna, I discovered that my horribly annoying tendency to become faint doesn’t only occur on particular plane flights. Oh, no. My frustrating little problem can hit me anytime or anywhere… especially if I’m standing in a place for too long and become uncontrollably hot, which is what happened in Act I. Since I am quite aware of the signs before passing out, I took preventative measures and slouched down against the wall when the first wave of illness struck. Thus, I had to spend the first act watching the performance in intervals, resorting to sitting on the floor amidst a sea of legs often to counter my fainting spell. But just as everything that was once upside in the Shakespeare’s world, my story was set right after I got some air during intermission, took off a few layers of clothing, and regained control of my self in order to watch Act Two in its entirety. Now, I just know that I should avoid buying standing tickets for the theater!

Schönbrunn Palace (http://www.schoenbrunn.at/en/home.html)

Our final day in Vienna was a glorious one. The sun was shining in the clear blue sky, and our spirits were much lifted after suffering through terrible wind & rain the day beforehand.
How can I describe one of the prettiest and most charming palaces I’ve ever visited? You think once you’ve seen one palace, you’ve seen them all. To some degree, that is true, especially for us common folk who can’t tell the difference between a French vase and an Italian porcelain pitcher. Yet, the Hapsburgs’ summer residence had a distinct cheeriness to it, which perhaps was most noted from its bright yellow exterior. This was where Marie Antoinette grew up, learning how to frolic in lavishness. But this is also where her father, Franz Joseph I, worked tirelessly for the betterment of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Furthermore, dozens of other monarchs and royals passed through those halls and extravagant rooms for centuries before them. This was the home to some of the world’s most powerful kings and queens, and thus being steeped in history and soaked with expensive frivolities, it was a joy and wonder to walk in their footsteps.
After our palace tour, we walked around the fantastic gardens, taking pictures and reveling in the good weather. Our ticket gave us entry to the small labyrinth and children’s garden, where we raced through the bushy maze and were amused by simple games.
With only a couple of hours before having to catch a train out of the city, we decided to have lunch in the cute Easter market located in the front square of the palace. Following our meal of cheesy-spinachy toast, cooked veggies and bacon-wrapped cheese, and dessert of chocolate crepes, we worked on conquering the walking stilts…before riding out of Vienna.

The Semana Santa Saga: Part IV

2010-04-16T16:06:00.007+02:00

Where: Salzburg, Austria

When: Monday, March 29 (Noon-7 PM)

How: A delightful train ride from Munich to Salzburg

What Mozart’s Town Is Like:

Julie Andrews couldn’t have been closer to the truth when singing those famous lines, “The hills are alive with the sound of music.” I have now witnessed with my own eyes how right she was. The green hills and bordering mountain peaks sing a beautiful melody that wraps around Salzburg in a harmonious gesture of peace and delight. The antique church bells clang and clatter on the hour, adding their raucous voices to the tune. The river whooshes by in a rush, underlying the song with a steady rhythm. The general mutter of people walking through the streets and milling about in plazas rise into the air like a chorus number repeating the same verses. Thus, Salzburg sings a life song. And it’s no wonder that Mozart became a child prodigy after spending his childhood in this gloriously musical town!
What we did:

Walked along the Salzach River
Stopped in a small wine shop to get our first taste of delectable Austrian wine, which was just down the street from Mozart’s birthplace
Wandered through gorgeous baroque churches, like the Salzburg Cathedral (Salzburger Dom), and quietly passed through the serene St. Peter cemetery
Ate a giant chocolate covered pretzel while sitting on the steps of a fountain in the middle of a lively plaza

Window shopped while strolling through the small, cobble-stone streets

Took a tour of the Great Festival Hall (Großes Festspielhaus), which is home to one of the largest stages in the world and the very stage that the Von Trapp Family Singers gave their farewell address in The Sound of Music

Hiked up a rather large hill to get a view of the city, old and new, from the ramparts of Hohensalzburg Castle

Shared a table with six other people while eating dinner (I can’t exactly remember what we ate, but I do remember liking it!)

Caught an evening train to Vienna… but only after falling in love with Salzburg