It is quite hot here, so the beach boys seemed appropriate.
The afternoon of July 28, 2008.
I got to my bus with all my things intact and headed out for Ronda, mercifully, my bus mates relieved themselves prior to the trip or held it until I fell asleep.
I got to Ronda about 7pm and got to my hotel without problem. It was a lovely little spot with my own bathroom (except for staying with friends, I now will only have my own washroom for the rest of the trip, how decadent!) and a honking AC in the room. I spent a little while on the hotel computer which was painfully slow and then wandered out to shop and eat. Ronda has a main pedestrian shopping street that is about 2 km long. I did a lap of it, noting in my head the camera store, to replace my beloved and the prices for the 'menú del día' s along the way. (Fixed price 3 course meals with a drink, the best deals.) I had dinner at a nice place and even though they didn't have natilla (vanilla-custard pudding with a digestive cookie on top) on the menu, when I ordered flan for dessert, they sadly informed me they had natilla instead, I was thrilled.
After dinner I wandered around looking for an internet café with a quicker connection than in my hotel and found one in a teeny little bar close to the gorge. I had an excellent msn conversation with sumantra and researched my stolen camera and replacements.
July 29, 2008.
The next day I got up, stored my stuff at the bus station (the shop stored it for me because apparently their lockers are not the best) and went shopping. Well not at first, first I called the insurance company to make damn sure they were going to reimburse me for the stolen camera before I bought a new one. Then I bought my new best friend, at least while I am here alone that is. I got a new canon IXUS camera in a fun shade of reddy-brown. Jay asked if there was shoes to go with it, I told him to shut up. It is the same model as the one I had, just the newer version, and much smaller, which actually makes it easier to keep track of. I later found out I got a bit ripped off pricewize, compared to Canada that is, but seeing as how now is the time I need a camera, I will get over it.
I had lunch at a restaurant built into the side of Ronda's famous gorge and took a stroll. I made it for my bus and was off on a nauseating, but beautiful trip to Arcos de la Fronterra, a pueblo blanco built perilously on the top of a mass of earth jutting straight up from the ground. It is not a mountain, nor a peninsula, just this huge piece of earth carved out by a river, that somehow has a town built on top of it.
After realizing that the reservation I asked my Spanish friend Lidia to make for me was non-existent, I booked myself a room at the Hotel La Fonda. Again, the room was great, AC and my own bathroom, and as I related to Jay, the highest ceilings I have ever seen in a bedroom anywhere. Want to know what he said? "Makes it tougher for the guests to hang themselves" Sick. I decided to ignore this comment and instead focussed on the beauty of the place.
I made my way up the steep winding streets to the various places of interest Arcos has, all of them closed for visitors. Most interesting are the two huge churches perched up there, which for years battled for supremacy, St. Mary of the Assumption and The Church of Saint Peter. The feud between the two grew so great that at St. Peter's they stopped saying the word 'Mary' in their prayers, and replaced it with 'God' or something else to try to make it fit. Those wacky catholics.
I had dinner and retired to my room to watch several hours of American crime shows dubbed over in Spanish. It was sadly pretty easy to follow even when I couldn't understand the dialogue, I think the 'subtleties' are even less subtle when you miss what is being said, because in every show within 5 minutes in I was sure of who committed the murder.
June 30, 2008.
Today is entitled 'looking for the bus station'. After asking the hotel desk to call me a cab to the bus station, they said, nonsense, you can just walk there, it is just down the street and then make a right and then...... 5 minutes, maybe 10. They even offered to store my luggage for the 4 hours until my bus. I thought, 'Super! I will walk their now, check the schedule, buy my ticket and have loads of time for a nice lunch and to find the internet café!' Not so much. After wandering for 2 hours and asking as many people as I thought necessary without looking like an idiot I found the station.
When I got there it was just after two and so the ticket terminal was closed and all there was posted was a sign of when the buses headed to Seville. This is how the times were written:
Arcos-Seville
Salida Salida Salida
07,00 07,00 07,00
15,00 15,30 16,00
Clear no? Do they have buses at each of these times? Are the departing (Salida) buses the ones on top, on the bottom or both, what do the columns mean? I called the numbers listed below and spoke to a woman who first told me the bus was at 5pm. I said, the sign says 4pm, she checked and said oh, 3pm. I tried to ask if there was another bus at 3:30 or 4, as it was now after 2 and I still needed to eat. She repeated 3pm. I took a cab from the bus station to the hotel, had him wait while I got my stuff and then drive me back down to the bus station, where I had lunch in the cafeteria. It was one of the better gazpachos of the trip.
Two hours later and I was in Seville! I am at the most beautiful hostel yet of the trip and I am having a wonderful time, save the fact that it is time to come home. I am trying to keep busy and keep enjoying this time I worked hard for at the camp, but I am ready to be back with friends, family and Jay, especially since I will be moving so far away in September.
It is dinner time once again, so I will bid you adios, and regale you with stories of Sevilla tomorrow,
Kate
Thursday, July 31, 2008
...Authors, Olives Continued
Let us continue our story...
... After hanging up the phone with Katrina, I set out to see the Albaicín, the Arab quarter of Granada. Sadly, after the grandeur of the Alhambra, the Albaicín was little more than an tangled web of streets to get lost it. Attractive, but not really containing anything overly thrilling. After wandering around confused for over an hour, I decided it was time to get out of this strange place and have a drink.
I managed to work my way down to the base of the penninsula below the Alhambra to a gorgeous string of cafés, all with patios shaded by canvas and vines overhead. I ordered myself a sangria and set out to begin the 'Tales of the Alhambra' by the American writer Washington Irving. This was about the time things started to spiral downward. I have elected to blame Irving for getting me into this mess, and laud the Canadian author Stuart McLean for getting me out of it.
A little bit of backstory. At the turn of the last century, Washington Irving was one the few people inhabiting the Alhambra, living in the Nasrid Palaces. The place had fallen into disrepair and was available to live in for various locals and wandering 'diplomats', like Irving. He wrote a series of fictional tales which took place in the Alhambra, fleecing in a little bit of accurate history as he went. While I was swept up in the glamour and intrigue of the place on my visit, my trusty audioguide whispered in my ear his words describing the place and his experiences living there. At the end of my tour, having finished all my other books and yearning for some further literary excitement, I purchased a copy of his book on sale there.
So, now a few hours later, I was there at the café, enjoying my sangria and deciding it was time to be swept away once again. This was the last time I saw my camera. Remember the numerous photos I described taking? Gone. I don't know if I left it at that café, or if while reading Irving it was snatched from my bag, or if, after reading, while I gleefully wandered back to my hostel and shopped, it was snatched then. Remember the bulky, heavy present I bought for my father? Add to that Irving's book, a guide of the Alhambra (which thank goodness I purchased or I would have no photos) and other items I picked up while shopping and I was carrying a heck of a lot of heavy stuff. For this reason, I didn't even notice the camera missing until I was back at my hostel, searching through my bag.
When I realized it was gone, I freaked out. I went into that state of panic one is in where they aren't really sure if something important is gone, and they are hoping it has all just been a silly mistake. After taking a full account of everything in that 7x8 room, I hopped in a cab and went back up to the café where the mess began. Damn you Irving! The waiter claimed to have bussed the table and seen no sight of it. I went to every store I had purchased something from, same story. While in the last store, the woman told me there were many thefts in the plaza (square), hearing that and having checked every reasonable place, I was pretty damned upset.
I walked back in the same steps I took an hour previously, when I was so overcome with joy, now overcome with my own idiocy. I got back to my hostel and I cried. It wasn't really necessary, it was just a camera. My passport and wallet were still fully intact, along with my health and well being. It was just one of those moments when you are alone in a place far from home and something goes wrong. You can't really do the normal things to deal with it, and you don't know anyone near you who can help. I checked my insurance policy and discovered, thank goodness, it was covered and then I called my brother. He was supportive.
This is where Stuart McLean comes in. On this trip, I brought with me his most recent book of short stories, the copy I purchased for my grandfather last summer. His stories are funny, touching and most importantly so Canadian, and so Toronto. Any time on this trip I have been having a shitty day, or been feeling lonely or homesick, I have pulled out the Vinyl Café, and suddenly I am at home with friends and laughing. So after reading a few stories, I was back on my feet and headed off to an internet café where I spoke to my mom on Skype. Another supportive, helpful voice.
It was 1am by the time I finished and I still had not yet had dinner. Unfortunately, everything was closed so I went to a convenice store and bought a loaf of bread, a package of chorizo (salami) and some yogurt drinks (both of which tasted like medicines I remember from my childhood). I ate my dinner in my tiny room, and tried to wrap up the remaining chorizo as well as I could, to prevent all of my things from smelling like sausage in the morning.
The next morning I was off, my things we packed and I was in cab destined for the bus station, to store my luggage, while I took care of official business. At first things were proceeding all right, I bought my ticket for Ronda, and found the lockers. I did what everyone does, found some empty lockers and put my stuff in. When it came time to put in the money however, I discovered that there was a machine I had to buy a token from to put into the locker, and of course I had no change. I ran to the pharmacy 5 feet away and tried to buy a pack of gum with a twenty, no dice. The woman told me to try to station cafeteria. Unfortunately, it was 50 feet away from the pharmacy, and thus 55 feet away from the unlocked lockers that currently held all my belongings save the items that never leave my person (passport, wallet, travelguide). I ran to the cafeteria to try to order a coke para llevar and did a dance similar to the one people do when they have to pee but are trapped somewhere. It took FOREVER, and all the while all I could think was, maybe someone is now stealing the rest of my stuff, did I get a close enough look at the various people loitering around the lockers, were they really waiting for a bus? After assuming everything I owned had been stolen, I finally got my coke and ran like a crazy person back to my lockers. Here is the stupid part, instead of checking to make sure my things were inside, I just slipped in the token and locked it... At this point I began to wonder if they were, but I decided the peace of mind was not worth another 3 euros and headed off to the police station.
I walked to the station practicing the sentence in Spanish over and over to that I needed to say to the police officers. ¨Yesterday I lost my camera, I am not sure if I lost it, or if I was stolen, but I need a document for my insurance.¨ Luckily after repeating this phrase to 3 different people I was ushered into an office, ready to make my first police statement ever, in any language. The officers wer really nice. They told me there were a lot of Canadians in Granada, and it was one of my less confusing Spanish conversations actually. After getting what I needed I hopped in a cab to buy some travel necessities (new pants so I would no longer only have spandex to wear) and made it back in time to catch the bus for Ronda. And yes, when I opened the locker, my things were all inside, intact and unharmed.
Later I will recount the tales of Ronda and Arcos De La Fronterra, neither of which had as much excitement as Granada (thank goodness). Today I am in Seville for my 2nd of 4 days and it is time to see the cathedral.
Hasta luego (until later)
Kate
... After hanging up the phone with Katrina, I set out to see the Albaicín, the Arab quarter of Granada. Sadly, after the grandeur of the Alhambra, the Albaicín was little more than an tangled web of streets to get lost it. Attractive, but not really containing anything overly thrilling. After wandering around confused for over an hour, I decided it was time to get out of this strange place and have a drink.
I managed to work my way down to the base of the penninsula below the Alhambra to a gorgeous string of cafés, all with patios shaded by canvas and vines overhead. I ordered myself a sangria and set out to begin the 'Tales of the Alhambra' by the American writer Washington Irving. This was about the time things started to spiral downward. I have elected to blame Irving for getting me into this mess, and laud the Canadian author Stuart McLean for getting me out of it.
A little bit of backstory. At the turn of the last century, Washington Irving was one the few people inhabiting the Alhambra, living in the Nasrid Palaces. The place had fallen into disrepair and was available to live in for various locals and wandering 'diplomats', like Irving. He wrote a series of fictional tales which took place in the Alhambra, fleecing in a little bit of accurate history as he went. While I was swept up in the glamour and intrigue of the place on my visit, my trusty audioguide whispered in my ear his words describing the place and his experiences living there. At the end of my tour, having finished all my other books and yearning for some further literary excitement, I purchased a copy of his book on sale there.
So, now a few hours later, I was there at the café, enjoying my sangria and deciding it was time to be swept away once again. This was the last time I saw my camera. Remember the numerous photos I described taking? Gone. I don't know if I left it at that café, or if while reading Irving it was snatched from my bag, or if, after reading, while I gleefully wandered back to my hostel and shopped, it was snatched then. Remember the bulky, heavy present I bought for my father? Add to that Irving's book, a guide of the Alhambra (which thank goodness I purchased or I would have no photos) and other items I picked up while shopping and I was carrying a heck of a lot of heavy stuff. For this reason, I didn't even notice the camera missing until I was back at my hostel, searching through my bag.
When I realized it was gone, I freaked out. I went into that state of panic one is in where they aren't really sure if something important is gone, and they are hoping it has all just been a silly mistake. After taking a full account of everything in that 7x8 room, I hopped in a cab and went back up to the café where the mess began. Damn you Irving! The waiter claimed to have bussed the table and seen no sight of it. I went to every store I had purchased something from, same story. While in the last store, the woman told me there were many thefts in the plaza (square), hearing that and having checked every reasonable place, I was pretty damned upset.
I walked back in the same steps I took an hour previously, when I was so overcome with joy, now overcome with my own idiocy. I got back to my hostel and I cried. It wasn't really necessary, it was just a camera. My passport and wallet were still fully intact, along with my health and well being. It was just one of those moments when you are alone in a place far from home and something goes wrong. You can't really do the normal things to deal with it, and you don't know anyone near you who can help. I checked my insurance policy and discovered, thank goodness, it was covered and then I called my brother. He was supportive.
This is where Stuart McLean comes in. On this trip, I brought with me his most recent book of short stories, the copy I purchased for my grandfather last summer. His stories are funny, touching and most importantly so Canadian, and so Toronto. Any time on this trip I have been having a shitty day, or been feeling lonely or homesick, I have pulled out the Vinyl Café, and suddenly I am at home with friends and laughing. So after reading a few stories, I was back on my feet and headed off to an internet café where I spoke to my mom on Skype. Another supportive, helpful voice.
It was 1am by the time I finished and I still had not yet had dinner. Unfortunately, everything was closed so I went to a convenice store and bought a loaf of bread, a package of chorizo (salami) and some yogurt drinks (both of which tasted like medicines I remember from my childhood). I ate my dinner in my tiny room, and tried to wrap up the remaining chorizo as well as I could, to prevent all of my things from smelling like sausage in the morning.
The next morning I was off, my things we packed and I was in cab destined for the bus station, to store my luggage, while I took care of official business. At first things were proceeding all right, I bought my ticket for Ronda, and found the lockers. I did what everyone does, found some empty lockers and put my stuff in. When it came time to put in the money however, I discovered that there was a machine I had to buy a token from to put into the locker, and of course I had no change. I ran to the pharmacy 5 feet away and tried to buy a pack of gum with a twenty, no dice. The woman told me to try to station cafeteria. Unfortunately, it was 50 feet away from the pharmacy, and thus 55 feet away from the unlocked lockers that currently held all my belongings save the items that never leave my person (passport, wallet, travelguide). I ran to the cafeteria to try to order a coke para llevar and did a dance similar to the one people do when they have to pee but are trapped somewhere. It took FOREVER, and all the while all I could think was, maybe someone is now stealing the rest of my stuff, did I get a close enough look at the various people loitering around the lockers, were they really waiting for a bus? After assuming everything I owned had been stolen, I finally got my coke and ran like a crazy person back to my lockers. Here is the stupid part, instead of checking to make sure my things were inside, I just slipped in the token and locked it... At this point I began to wonder if they were, but I decided the peace of mind was not worth another 3 euros and headed off to the police station.
I walked to the station practicing the sentence in Spanish over and over to that I needed to say to the police officers. ¨Yesterday I lost my camera, I am not sure if I lost it, or if I was stolen, but I need a document for my insurance.¨ Luckily after repeating this phrase to 3 different people I was ushered into an office, ready to make my first police statement ever, in any language. The officers wer really nice. They told me there were a lot of Canadians in Granada, and it was one of my less confusing Spanish conversations actually. After getting what I needed I hopped in a cab to buy some travel necessities (new pants so I would no longer only have spandex to wear) and made it back in time to catch the bus for Ronda. And yes, when I opened the locker, my things were all inside, intact and unharmed.
Later I will recount the tales of Ronda and Arcos De La Fronterra, neither of which had as much excitement as Granada (thank goodness). Today I am in Seville for my 2nd of 4 days and it is time to see the cathedral.
Hasta luego (until later)
Kate
Monday, July 28, 2008
Authors, Olives, Love and Loss in Granada
The blog isn't called Adventures in España for nothing. Buckle your seatbelt for the long and bumpy ride that was Granada...
...It all began Saturday, July 26, 2008. The date of the last post.
After writing that last quick note, I scampered down to the bus, destined for childless days in the warm sun of Granada. Everything was going fine, until 5 minutes into the bus ride, someone elected to take themselves to the washroom to have the biggest poop of their life. Who gets on a bus and immidiately goes to poop? Now, please don't think I am some kind of fecophiliac, the reason I know this was such doozie was because I was dying in my seat from the smell. Was my seat near the toilet? No! It was so bad I had to hide my face in my shirt for the better part of twenty minutes until the stench evaporated. Spanish people are very fond of public transport, but they are also a people fond of cured pork products, and I really think the two do not mix well.
After surviving the stink, I made it to my hostal with ease and entered into my first private room in a month! HOORAY! The room I had at camp was shared with all the female monitors, and as you may have guessed from previous entries, it was not always a happy, or hygenic place. When I arrived at the hostal, David, the desk guy, gave me a full tour of the city via a small map he provided me and sent me on my way. The room was small, (7 feet x 8 feet) but ALL MINE and it had a nice big fan in it. Before my afternoon nap, I headed out for lunch.
First gazpacho in Andalucia! Andalucia is the southernmost province of Spain, and the reason for my return here. It holds so many famous cities which are rife with history of the Moorish empire and the reconquisiton of the Catholics, agriculture (where most of the olives and much of the citrus comes from) and culture in general (the home of flamenco, and unfortunately bullfighting). These cities include, Granada, Seville, Cordoba, Malaga and Marbella. And, since it is so hot down here (check out a map to see how close it is to north Africa), it is the loins from whence arose the cold tomato soup that holds a special place in my heart - GAZPACHO!
To go along with my gazpacho, the waiter brought me the largest olives I have ever seen in my life. They were like the size of a ping pong ball but olive shaped, and the pits were the size of a regular olive. They were easily the best olives I have ever had in my life. I think there was 8 in the bowl, and by the time he brought me the gazpacho (the first course) at least 5 of them were gone. I was too embarassed to accept the request for more when he made it, as to him, these were likely just run of the mill olives, and not something to get excited about. This man just thought I really liked olives. And I do, but in this case, there was more to it.
After lunch, I returned to the hostal and fell asleep for the better part of five hours. I woke up with a throbbing headache, for which I could not figure out the pathology. It felt like one of those headaches you get when you sleep too much, but with only 3 hours sleep the night before and maybe 2 hours on the bus, which was scattered, I hadn't slept nearly enough for that. The room was not too hot, so it wasn't a hot room headache, and it wasn't a not enough sleep headache either.... my mother thinks it was from dehydration, she was probably right.
I got up and wandered the city for a while, figuring out my routes for Sunday to the Alhambra and buying my ticket. I returned to the hostel and went back to bed. A nice sleep and a good start for my big day.
Sunday, July 27, 2009.
I know what you are thinking "A poopy smelling bus and olives? What kind of adventure is this?!!" Just relax. I packed enough in between Sunday morning and Monday afternoon to last me the trip as far as excitement goes. Keep reading.
The Alhambra is the jewel of Granada, for the most part it is why people go to Granada and it is well worth it. If you are reading this right now, I urge you to stop what you are doing and think about how you can plan a trip for yourself to Granada because it is that stunning. It is a military fortress with palaces, summer homes for sultan's, gardens, the remains of the town which surrounded it, all atop a penninsula in the Sierra Nevada. It was orginally built by the Moors, making its Islamic decor spectactular, and was then taken over by the Catholics in 1492 when they reconquered Spain. When you by a ticket it is good for half the day and you are assigned a specific time to visit the Nasrid Palaces, the most ornate and incredible part of the entire facility.
I bought a morning ticket. It was a gamble, I am not particulairly good at getting up in the morning, but I thought if I had a ticket I would have to get up and would then get a full day of sightseeing in.
For the most part the plan worked, I got up more or less on time. I took a little bit longer than expected getting ready and headed out in the correct direction. Unfortunately, once I got to the square where one catches the bus up to the Alhambra, I assumed that since all the buses said "Alhambra Bus" on the side, they all went there. This may not have been the case. I got on a bus and off we went, unfortunately not in the direction of the Alhambra, but instead up to the Arabic quarter of the city, when we returned to the square, I got off that bus and got on another, however now I believe that bus was actually now going to the Alhambra and I paid two fares for nothing. I got to the Alhambra at 11 or so, and didn't have to be in line to see the Nasrid palaces until 1. The ticket people were so impressed with my timing and told me I could relax and stroll while they chastized those who were arriving only ten minutes before they had to be in the palace, those fools! I thought I needed to arrive at the Alhambra at 10, so when I showed up an hour later than my planned time and was lauded, I was indeed happy.
In my strolling I entered a gift shop where they were hand making wooden and bone items that were quite spectactular. I wanted to buy one of these items for my father, however, it was kind of large and I still had a lot of sightseeing to go. Unfortunately, it being a Sunday, the shop was closing at 1 (my palace time) and not reopening in the afternoon, I decided to go for in, and bought the item. (My father reads the blog and I don't want to give away the surprise, however the bulkyness of the item is essential to the story).
I saw the Charles V Palace, and the art museum inside, I saw the military parts of the Alhambra and made it in time for the Nasrid Palaces. They were stunning, I took so many photographs and simply couldn't believe it all. So much hand carving and tiling and water fountains. By the end of my tour I was elated just from the beauty of it all and I had lunch in the most beautiful ivy covered patio. Gazpacho again and a salad with smoked salmon, tomatoes, avocado, pineapple, mango, lettuce and olives. It sounds sort of gross but it was unbelievably good. I called Katrina from a pay phone and couldn't believe my luck to wind up in such a place as this...
I will finish the story tomorrow....
...It all began Saturday, July 26, 2008. The date of the last post.
After writing that last quick note, I scampered down to the bus, destined for childless days in the warm sun of Granada. Everything was going fine, until 5 minutes into the bus ride, someone elected to take themselves to the washroom to have the biggest poop of their life. Who gets on a bus and immidiately goes to poop? Now, please don't think I am some kind of fecophiliac, the reason I know this was such doozie was because I was dying in my seat from the smell. Was my seat near the toilet? No! It was so bad I had to hide my face in my shirt for the better part of twenty minutes until the stench evaporated. Spanish people are very fond of public transport, but they are also a people fond of cured pork products, and I really think the two do not mix well.
After surviving the stink, I made it to my hostal with ease and entered into my first private room in a month! HOORAY! The room I had at camp was shared with all the female monitors, and as you may have guessed from previous entries, it was not always a happy, or hygenic place. When I arrived at the hostal, David, the desk guy, gave me a full tour of the city via a small map he provided me and sent me on my way. The room was small, (7 feet x 8 feet) but ALL MINE and it had a nice big fan in it. Before my afternoon nap, I headed out for lunch.
First gazpacho in Andalucia! Andalucia is the southernmost province of Spain, and the reason for my return here. It holds so many famous cities which are rife with history of the Moorish empire and the reconquisiton of the Catholics, agriculture (where most of the olives and much of the citrus comes from) and culture in general (the home of flamenco, and unfortunately bullfighting). These cities include, Granada, Seville, Cordoba, Malaga and Marbella. And, since it is so hot down here (check out a map to see how close it is to north Africa), it is the loins from whence arose the cold tomato soup that holds a special place in my heart - GAZPACHO!
To go along with my gazpacho, the waiter brought me the largest olives I have ever seen in my life. They were like the size of a ping pong ball but olive shaped, and the pits were the size of a regular olive. They were easily the best olives I have ever had in my life. I think there was 8 in the bowl, and by the time he brought me the gazpacho (the first course) at least 5 of them were gone. I was too embarassed to accept the request for more when he made it, as to him, these were likely just run of the mill olives, and not something to get excited about. This man just thought I really liked olives. And I do, but in this case, there was more to it.
After lunch, I returned to the hostal and fell asleep for the better part of five hours. I woke up with a throbbing headache, for which I could not figure out the pathology. It felt like one of those headaches you get when you sleep too much, but with only 3 hours sleep the night before and maybe 2 hours on the bus, which was scattered, I hadn't slept nearly enough for that. The room was not too hot, so it wasn't a hot room headache, and it wasn't a not enough sleep headache either.... my mother thinks it was from dehydration, she was probably right.
I got up and wandered the city for a while, figuring out my routes for Sunday to the Alhambra and buying my ticket. I returned to the hostel and went back to bed. A nice sleep and a good start for my big day.
Sunday, July 27, 2009.
I know what you are thinking "A poopy smelling bus and olives? What kind of adventure is this?!!" Just relax. I packed enough in between Sunday morning and Monday afternoon to last me the trip as far as excitement goes. Keep reading.
The Alhambra is the jewel of Granada, for the most part it is why people go to Granada and it is well worth it. If you are reading this right now, I urge you to stop what you are doing and think about how you can plan a trip for yourself to Granada because it is that stunning. It is a military fortress with palaces, summer homes for sultan's, gardens, the remains of the town which surrounded it, all atop a penninsula in the Sierra Nevada. It was orginally built by the Moors, making its Islamic decor spectactular, and was then taken over by the Catholics in 1492 when they reconquered Spain. When you by a ticket it is good for half the day and you are assigned a specific time to visit the Nasrid Palaces, the most ornate and incredible part of the entire facility.
I bought a morning ticket. It was a gamble, I am not particulairly good at getting up in the morning, but I thought if I had a ticket I would have to get up and would then get a full day of sightseeing in.
For the most part the plan worked, I got up more or less on time. I took a little bit longer than expected getting ready and headed out in the correct direction. Unfortunately, once I got to the square where one catches the bus up to the Alhambra, I assumed that since all the buses said "Alhambra Bus" on the side, they all went there. This may not have been the case. I got on a bus and off we went, unfortunately not in the direction of the Alhambra, but instead up to the Arabic quarter of the city, when we returned to the square, I got off that bus and got on another, however now I believe that bus was actually now going to the Alhambra and I paid two fares for nothing. I got to the Alhambra at 11 or so, and didn't have to be in line to see the Nasrid palaces until 1. The ticket people were so impressed with my timing and told me I could relax and stroll while they chastized those who were arriving only ten minutes before they had to be in the palace, those fools! I thought I needed to arrive at the Alhambra at 10, so when I showed up an hour later than my planned time and was lauded, I was indeed happy.
In my strolling I entered a gift shop where they were hand making wooden and bone items that were quite spectactular. I wanted to buy one of these items for my father, however, it was kind of large and I still had a lot of sightseeing to go. Unfortunately, it being a Sunday, the shop was closing at 1 (my palace time) and not reopening in the afternoon, I decided to go for in, and bought the item. (My father reads the blog and I don't want to give away the surprise, however the bulkyness of the item is essential to the story).
I saw the Charles V Palace, and the art museum inside, I saw the military parts of the Alhambra and made it in time for the Nasrid Palaces. They were stunning, I took so many photographs and simply couldn't believe it all. So much hand carving and tiling and water fountains. By the end of my tour I was elated just from the beauty of it all and I had lunch in the most beautiful ivy covered patio. Gazpacho again and a salad with smoked salmon, tomatoes, avocado, pineapple, mango, lettuce and olives. It sounds sort of gross but it was unbelievably good. I called Katrina from a pay phone and couldn't believe my luck to wind up in such a place as this...
I will finish the story tomorrow....
Saturday, July 26, 2008
AHHHHH!!!! I'm FREE!
Hello Hello Hello! I think this is the largest I have ever been smiling on only 3 hours sleep! I AM FREE! I am currently sitting in an internet café in the bus station in Cartagena and I have 15 minutes until my bus to Granada. I said my goodbyes this morning and got an offer for a place to stay in Madrid on my last night with Inés, the director of the other camp on our floor, a wonderful woman. I am not sure if I shall take her up on the offer, because I have to be at the airport the next day at 9:45am... but I have a definite dinner date!
It took me 3 hours to pack all of my things into my bags last night, but because of careful packing and downsizing I have emptied out entirely my huge beaded purse (see the facebook photo from the park) and still have room in my miniature backpack (that attaches to my huge backpack). Except for the oddly shaped tube present for my mother, that I never did ship home, I am travelling quite comfortably. That is at least until I start shopping. At that point I am sure I will find some other things I don't mind parting with.... which leads me to:
Guess what I threw out this morning? Some of you will be excited! My Loyola Hawks Swimming t-shirt with the giant holes in the armpits. That's correct, I almost cried, except the concept of carrying less was just too much to pass up, plus I am so elated right now I think I could only cry tears of joy at this moment.
Okay, better catch the bus! Updates tomorrow or Monday from Granada!
K-travel
It took me 3 hours to pack all of my things into my bags last night, but because of careful packing and downsizing I have emptied out entirely my huge beaded purse (see the facebook photo from the park) and still have room in my miniature backpack (that attaches to my huge backpack). Except for the oddly shaped tube present for my mother, that I never did ship home, I am travelling quite comfortably. That is at least until I start shopping. At that point I am sure I will find some other things I don't mind parting with.... which leads me to:
Guess what I threw out this morning? Some of you will be excited! My Loyola Hawks Swimming t-shirt with the giant holes in the armpits. That's correct, I almost cried, except the concept of carrying less was just too much to pass up, plus I am so elated right now I think I could only cry tears of joy at this moment.
Okay, better catch the bus! Updates tomorrow or Monday from Granada!
K-travel
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Soooo close!
Hello all!
Well I am extremely excited because I am so close to being finished camp and beginning my adventure again. This Saturday, I will be taking a bus from Cartagena to Grenada to spend the weekend there and then through the whole province of Andalucia. Gazpacho, anyone?
Again, I have a variety of silly topics to tell you about:
'Puche'
This is the first last name of one of the dumbest campers I have ever encountered. I probably yell the word 'Puche' at least 100 times a day, because he is constantly doing something inane. The most recent awesome examples are:
1. Pointing to another camper and saying "I stupid"
2. Finding the Spanish ID card of a woman on the beach (not a bank card) and thinking he can go to the bank and withdraw her money with it, when we informed him he couldn't do that, he thought for a second then said okay, I will open an account AND THEN take all the money out. He then followed this statement up with "Soy muy inteligente" (I am very intelligent)
3. Playing the Game 'Tails'. Every child has a piece of string attached to them as a tail. There are 4 teams, each with their own colour of string. Each team pursues one other colour, and is thus pursued by one other colour (much like cycles). Puche was on the blue team, thus wearing a blue tail. He was supposed to steal purple. He stole pink. When informed this was the wrong team to pursue, he then tried to don the pink tail...
4. Wearing the plain white t-shirt he brought to camp specifically to tie dye, then trying to wash it on the day of, causing him to tie dye a wet t-shirt...
I have begun to assume his second last name is also Puche (meaning his parents are cousins)
"I'm in balls!"
This is what the boys scream if there are in their room changing and you attempt to open the door. It is a very messy translation of a Spanish expression for being naked, but we have come to understand its meaning, especially since one of the monitors caught Puche 'in balls' this morning. Yikes.
Exciting tales soon,
Kate
Well I am extremely excited because I am so close to being finished camp and beginning my adventure again. This Saturday, I will be taking a bus from Cartagena to Grenada to spend the weekend there and then through the whole province of Andalucia. Gazpacho, anyone?
Again, I have a variety of silly topics to tell you about:
'Puche'
This is the first last name of one of the dumbest campers I have ever encountered. I probably yell the word 'Puche' at least 100 times a day, because he is constantly doing something inane. The most recent awesome examples are:
1. Pointing to another camper and saying "I stupid"
2. Finding the Spanish ID card of a woman on the beach (not a bank card) and thinking he can go to the bank and withdraw her money with it, when we informed him he couldn't do that, he thought for a second then said okay, I will open an account AND THEN take all the money out. He then followed this statement up with "Soy muy inteligente" (I am very intelligent)
3. Playing the Game 'Tails'. Every child has a piece of string attached to them as a tail. There are 4 teams, each with their own colour of string. Each team pursues one other colour, and is thus pursued by one other colour (much like cycles). Puche was on the blue team, thus wearing a blue tail. He was supposed to steal purple. He stole pink. When informed this was the wrong team to pursue, he then tried to don the pink tail...
4. Wearing the plain white t-shirt he brought to camp specifically to tie dye, then trying to wash it on the day of, causing him to tie dye a wet t-shirt...
I have begun to assume his second last name is also Puche (meaning his parents are cousins)
"I'm in balls!"
This is what the boys scream if there are in their room changing and you attempt to open the door. It is a very messy translation of a Spanish expression for being naked, but we have come to understand its meaning, especially since one of the monitors caught Puche 'in balls' this morning. Yikes.
Exciting tales soon,
Kate
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
All Smiles
After a word from my father, I have decided not to complain so much on my blog. So I will be only be mentioning the good, ridiculous, and otherwise interesting and humourous things happening. I am sure you now understand that the camp is poorly run, by stupid people with unsanitary conditions. That can be a good summary. It was my choice to come and my choice to see it through, which I am. There is less than two weeks left until I get to return to adventures in Grenada, Arcos De la Frontera, Ronda, Seville and Cordoba.
There are good times ahead.
K-positive
There are good times ahead.
K-positive
Monday, July 14, 2008
Here Comes the Rain
Today it rained for the first time since I have arrived in Spain. It meant the children couldn't go in the swimming pool, but it was nice for something to break the heat. Luckily it ended in time for them to go to sailing school.
Camp Weekend off and New Campers: Saturday, July 12-Monday, July 14
I have been complaining a lot on these last few posts, so I want to open up with the positives of the weekend, before I move into the negatives.
On Saturday, the first group of kids with their constant complaining left and I took the afternoon to sleep and eat a donair, mmmmm. Later, we spent some time at the beach and then went clubbing and it was great to have a couple child-free meals.
Yesterday the new pack of kids arrived, and though their English is terrible, they do not have the attitude of the last group and are actually excited about the activities we have prepared!! They are a little more excitable however, which makes some things difficult, but there is also only 23 of them, which is a far more manageable number. We have started off very organized and strict with rules (thanks to Ali and myself) which helps immensley.
The final excellent item is that I have bought a mosquito net for my bed, and now I am sleeping and napping much easier. Unfortunately it is bright blue and has feathers on it, which makes it a bit ridiculous looking, but it works very effectively at keeping the breeze in and the bugs out. It is also kind of fun to feel like you are sleeping in a fort, and though it does not offer privacy, in a shared living accomodation, it gives you the sense of having your own room. Kind of.
Okay, the bad.... Well the bad right now is the director... I have discovered she is inept. The first week Ali and I assumed that the problems that were occuring were all the fault of the unnamed company we work for and that we should give her a chance to get her footing and follow her directions, even if we did not agree.
This is no longer the case.
We are into camp session 2. Session 2 is supposed to be a breeze, you have run all the activities once, you know the materials you need, you have made a better list of rules based on the behaviour of the last campers, and most crucially, you have a whole 24 hours at least to rest and prepare for the next group.
This weekend the director took us to the beach, we were all so excited that we could go to the Meditteranean instead of Mar Menor (which is just so salty). Unfortunately she couldn't find it. That's correct, take a look at a map of Mar Menor in Spain and you will see we are PAINFULLY close to the Meditteranean. You'd think that would be the kind of thing one would consult a map for, so after driving around for an hour, we just went to a busier and less nice beach on Mar Menor than the one we are close to.
Next, it turns out, she was hired for this job because... well that is the thing no one can figure out. She was a counsellor for this organization last summer for 4 weeks, and has no other experience with kids, she has no first aid what so ever, has no other camp experience and is not a teacher. This means she doesn't know how to control the children, so they have no respect for her, so whenever she does try to do anything, she gets really frustrated and starts yelling at us to control them, because "that is not [her] job". That wouldn't be such a problem if she did the other parts of her job.
Things like planning the excursions properly (all the sights in Cartagena we were supposed to see were closed and we went shopping during siesta on a Sunday). Writing the rules of the camp for the first day (she didn't do it the first camp, and when it was obvious she wasn't going to do it for the second camp, Ali and I did it).
My time is running out more later
kater
Camp Weekend off and New Campers: Saturday, July 12-Monday, July 14
I have been complaining a lot on these last few posts, so I want to open up with the positives of the weekend, before I move into the negatives.
On Saturday, the first group of kids with their constant complaining left and I took the afternoon to sleep and eat a donair, mmmmm. Later, we spent some time at the beach and then went clubbing and it was great to have a couple child-free meals.
Yesterday the new pack of kids arrived, and though their English is terrible, they do not have the attitude of the last group and are actually excited about the activities we have prepared!! They are a little more excitable however, which makes some things difficult, but there is also only 23 of them, which is a far more manageable number. We have started off very organized and strict with rules (thanks to Ali and myself) which helps immensley.
The final excellent item is that I have bought a mosquito net for my bed, and now I am sleeping and napping much easier. Unfortunately it is bright blue and has feathers on it, which makes it a bit ridiculous looking, but it works very effectively at keeping the breeze in and the bugs out. It is also kind of fun to feel like you are sleeping in a fort, and though it does not offer privacy, in a shared living accomodation, it gives you the sense of having your own room. Kind of.
Okay, the bad.... Well the bad right now is the director... I have discovered she is inept. The first week Ali and I assumed that the problems that were occuring were all the fault of the unnamed company we work for and that we should give her a chance to get her footing and follow her directions, even if we did not agree.
This is no longer the case.
We are into camp session 2. Session 2 is supposed to be a breeze, you have run all the activities once, you know the materials you need, you have made a better list of rules based on the behaviour of the last campers, and most crucially, you have a whole 24 hours at least to rest and prepare for the next group.
This weekend the director took us to the beach, we were all so excited that we could go to the Meditteranean instead of Mar Menor (which is just so salty). Unfortunately she couldn't find it. That's correct, take a look at a map of Mar Menor in Spain and you will see we are PAINFULLY close to the Meditteranean. You'd think that would be the kind of thing one would consult a map for, so after driving around for an hour, we just went to a busier and less nice beach on Mar Menor than the one we are close to.
Next, it turns out, she was hired for this job because... well that is the thing no one can figure out. She was a counsellor for this organization last summer for 4 weeks, and has no other experience with kids, she has no first aid what so ever, has no other camp experience and is not a teacher. This means she doesn't know how to control the children, so they have no respect for her, so whenever she does try to do anything, she gets really frustrated and starts yelling at us to control them, because "that is not [her] job". That wouldn't be such a problem if she did the other parts of her job.
Things like planning the excursions properly (all the sights in Cartagena we were supposed to see were closed and we went shopping during siesta on a Sunday). Writing the rules of the camp for the first day (she didn't do it the first camp, and when it was obvious she wasn't going to do it for the second camp, Ali and I did it).
My time is running out more later
kater
Friday, July 11, 2008
Estoy hasta de la polla!!!
Hello hello!
The title of this entry is how one says "I've had it up to here" in Spanish, except that unlike in English, it is a vulgar expression. It is not a literal translation, feel free to look up the word "polla". José taught me this expression, but failed to mention it's vulgarity, and I proceeded to say it in front of the children.... at which point the children were shocked and José was doubled over laughing. Later, he told the director of the camp that I had said it in front of the children, but luckily she just laughed and understood that it was José's idea of a joke. Somehow this lovely expression wasn't present in my university Spanish education, this is the reason one needs to travel, the things you just cannot learn in a classroom.
Okay, onto official business:
Week 2 of Camp July 8 - July 11, 2008.
Yes, I am cognizant that that isn't really a week, but it is going to be the entry for this week of camp. It is going to be a series of anecdotes and not so much a chronological series of events.
Cucarachas
In Spanish, cucarachas means cockroach. They are everywhere, well luckily, not many in our bedroom. The kitchen on the other hand...
...if you flick on the lights at night, suddenly they scurry from wherever they are on the floor under the freezer or cupboard. The kitchen staff has recently barred the counsellors from entering the kitchen at night and I believe it is just to hide this health and safety embarassment. Also, they scurry really fast and have extremely hard shells making them difficult to smoosh, if you are successful though, it is quite a feeling of satisfaction, though disgusting. They are just a primary example of Spanish food hygeine embarassments.
Mosques
Flies. Good god. Everywhere. At night, while eating, while sitting here typing this blog, while explaining things to the children. Some mosquitos, but mostly just standard house flies that land on you, in your eyes, on the part of your lower back between your shirt and pants, your legs, your ears, up your nose. Once again, instead of combating the problem, windows are screenless, hygeine is poor and they continue to annoy. I am going to try to find a mosquito net for my bed (like they have in Africa to prevent malaria) so I can sleep at night because I "estoy hasta de la polla" of these flies.
Camp Bitching and Bullshit
*Appologies to those of you with delicate sensetivies, but I am trying to make this blog feel like a conversation with me, and this is what I have been saying*
This is my new nickname for this series of campers, as most of the time they are either complaining about something (I know, this whole entry that is all I have been doing the same, so maybe it is my fault) or making up some crazy story, lie, or other ridiculous excuse. As I have mentioned to my parents, the child who is the absolute worst for this behaviour is the one Canadian child, who´s mother works for the unnamed organization I work for here. I am DEFINETLY going to be making a mention of this to my palls in the office, because her mother might be interested in the fact that her child made the camp experience far more difficult.
Acceptances
HOORAY HOORAY!!! I have received my final marks for my last two classes and my undergraduate degree is officially over and my acceptance into the University of Ottawa under the supervision of Dr. Frans Leenen is now complete. I will be heading there in September to do a master's in Cellular and Molecular Medicine in the Faculty of Medicine at the Ottawa Heart Institute. I will either be working on hypertension or on myocardial infarction (heart attack) and why some people recover after having one and others don't. Thank you Katrina, Sumantra and Mom for your help with my last two exams.
That's all for now, it is time for swimming with the kids. They leave tomorrow at noon and then there is a blissful 28 hours without children until the next group comes.
Talk to you soon,
K-fly (as in covered in flies, not as in cool)
The title of this entry is how one says "I've had it up to here" in Spanish, except that unlike in English, it is a vulgar expression. It is not a literal translation, feel free to look up the word "polla". José taught me this expression, but failed to mention it's vulgarity, and I proceeded to say it in front of the children.... at which point the children were shocked and José was doubled over laughing. Later, he told the director of the camp that I had said it in front of the children, but luckily she just laughed and understood that it was José's idea of a joke. Somehow this lovely expression wasn't present in my university Spanish education, this is the reason one needs to travel, the things you just cannot learn in a classroom.
Okay, onto official business:
Week 2 of Camp July 8 - July 11, 2008.
Yes, I am cognizant that that isn't really a week, but it is going to be the entry for this week of camp. It is going to be a series of anecdotes and not so much a chronological series of events.
Cucarachas
In Spanish, cucarachas means cockroach. They are everywhere, well luckily, not many in our bedroom. The kitchen on the other hand...
...if you flick on the lights at night, suddenly they scurry from wherever they are on the floor under the freezer or cupboard. The kitchen staff has recently barred the counsellors from entering the kitchen at night and I believe it is just to hide this health and safety embarassment. Also, they scurry really fast and have extremely hard shells making them difficult to smoosh, if you are successful though, it is quite a feeling of satisfaction, though disgusting. They are just a primary example of Spanish food hygeine embarassments.
Mosques
Flies. Good god. Everywhere. At night, while eating, while sitting here typing this blog, while explaining things to the children. Some mosquitos, but mostly just standard house flies that land on you, in your eyes, on the part of your lower back between your shirt and pants, your legs, your ears, up your nose. Once again, instead of combating the problem, windows are screenless, hygeine is poor and they continue to annoy. I am going to try to find a mosquito net for my bed (like they have in Africa to prevent malaria) so I can sleep at night because I "estoy hasta de la polla" of these flies.
Camp Bitching and Bullshit
*Appologies to those of you with delicate sensetivies, but I am trying to make this blog feel like a conversation with me, and this is what I have been saying*
This is my new nickname for this series of campers, as most of the time they are either complaining about something (I know, this whole entry that is all I have been doing the same, so maybe it is my fault) or making up some crazy story, lie, or other ridiculous excuse. As I have mentioned to my parents, the child who is the absolute worst for this behaviour is the one Canadian child, who´s mother works for the unnamed organization I work for here. I am DEFINETLY going to be making a mention of this to my palls in the office, because her mother might be interested in the fact that her child made the camp experience far more difficult.
Acceptances
HOORAY HOORAY!!! I have received my final marks for my last two classes and my undergraduate degree is officially over and my acceptance into the University of Ottawa under the supervision of Dr. Frans Leenen is now complete. I will be heading there in September to do a master's in Cellular and Molecular Medicine in the Faculty of Medicine at the Ottawa Heart Institute. I will either be working on hypertension or on myocardial infarction (heart attack) and why some people recover after having one and others don't. Thank you Katrina, Sumantra and Mom for your help with my last two exams.
That's all for now, it is time for swimming with the kids. They leave tomorrow at noon and then there is a blissful 28 hours without children until the next group comes.
Talk to you soon,
K-fly (as in covered in flies, not as in cool)
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
One Week of Camp is Over... but not soon enough
Yes, I am still alive and continuing my Spanish adventure, though just barely.
Camp Weeks 1 and some of 2: June 29 - August 8
I think that most reading this know, however I am sure some don´t, that in order to finance some of this trip, I elected to work for the same company I worked for two years ago, as a camp counsellor here in Spain. In the interest of not being sued for libel (though I assure you all my statements are true) I have chosen not to name this company, as I don´t have many glowing things to say about them.
My job is to be the arts and crafts workshop coordinator as well as, an English-speaking monitor to run games for the kids and generally ensure their well being. Sounds like not a bad deal, right? Not so much, it is an incredibly disorganized company that hires inexperienced people, does most things at the last minute and has a very small staff:camper ratio. I know what you are thinking, partially because some of you have already said it to me. "You fool ,if it is so bad, why the hell did you go back?", and my answer is,
"Well for a number of reasons:
1. I am an idiot
2. My last experience, thought difficult, never drove me to tears.
3. I really wanted to come back to Spain and didn´t have any money.
4. I thought that since I knew how it was bad, I could mentally prepared myself for it, and as well make some changes to the way I approached it."
So far it has been rough, though I am especially upset at this moment because the last two days have been even worse. The children are all from wealthy families and don't really listen to anything that is said. They are given their cell phones for half and hour everyday, so if there is anything they don't like about the camp, they tell their parents and their parents call the next day. This policy also vastly increases home sickness, because they are always being reminded of home, and what is happening there.
The thing that really makes this camp more difficult that the last (the two factors mentioned above were also present at my last camp) is that the staff is not as strong. The director is young and inexperienced and doens't command respect from the children or even all the staff, and one of the staff members is a princess-like bitch, who, though I have made efforts not to, I got into a fight with yesterday. I think we will be able to keep our distance from one another, but on top of how stressful and tiring it already is, a fight is not what is needed right now.
It is not all bad though, we are in a beautiful beach town, and go to the beach everday, there are hoards of English tourists here so there are English newspapers and magazines, along with stores that offer exciting amenities like Heinz ketchup (necessary because we eat french fries everyday). Also, though I detest one of the staff members, the rest I really like and will miss when camp ends. Especially José who is leaving this weekend, to return to his actual job outside of Madrid. I could write an entire entry about the joy of knowing this flamboyant spanish character, but I have no time right now, and that seems like it would be a little excessive.
Okay, I will update you again when I can and hopefully I wont complain so much
K-tired-and-sunburnt
P.S. Also good, except for losing my voice from yelling at the kids, I am not sick!!!
Camp Weeks 1 and some of 2: June 29 - August 8
I think that most reading this know, however I am sure some don´t, that in order to finance some of this trip, I elected to work for the same company I worked for two years ago, as a camp counsellor here in Spain. In the interest of not being sued for libel (though I assure you all my statements are true) I have chosen not to name this company, as I don´t have many glowing things to say about them.
My job is to be the arts and crafts workshop coordinator as well as, an English-speaking monitor to run games for the kids and generally ensure their well being. Sounds like not a bad deal, right? Not so much, it is an incredibly disorganized company that hires inexperienced people, does most things at the last minute and has a very small staff:camper ratio. I know what you are thinking, partially because some of you have already said it to me. "You fool ,if it is so bad, why the hell did you go back?", and my answer is,
"Well for a number of reasons:
1. I am an idiot
2. My last experience, thought difficult, never drove me to tears.
3. I really wanted to come back to Spain and didn´t have any money.
4. I thought that since I knew how it was bad, I could mentally prepared myself for it, and as well make some changes to the way I approached it."
So far it has been rough, though I am especially upset at this moment because the last two days have been even worse. The children are all from wealthy families and don't really listen to anything that is said. They are given their cell phones for half and hour everyday, so if there is anything they don't like about the camp, they tell their parents and their parents call the next day. This policy also vastly increases home sickness, because they are always being reminded of home, and what is happening there.
The thing that really makes this camp more difficult that the last (the two factors mentioned above were also present at my last camp) is that the staff is not as strong. The director is young and inexperienced and doens't command respect from the children or even all the staff, and one of the staff members is a princess-like bitch, who, though I have made efforts not to, I got into a fight with yesterday. I think we will be able to keep our distance from one another, but on top of how stressful and tiring it already is, a fight is not what is needed right now.
It is not all bad though, we are in a beautiful beach town, and go to the beach everday, there are hoards of English tourists here so there are English newspapers and magazines, along with stores that offer exciting amenities like Heinz ketchup (necessary because we eat french fries everyday). Also, though I detest one of the staff members, the rest I really like and will miss when camp ends. Especially José who is leaving this weekend, to return to his actual job outside of Madrid. I could write an entire entry about the joy of knowing this flamboyant spanish character, but I have no time right now, and that seems like it would be a little excessive.
Okay, I will update you again when I can and hopefully I wont complain so much
K-tired-and-sunburnt
P.S. Also good, except for losing my voice from yelling at the kids, I am not sick!!!
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