La historia continua

Recuerdo la primera vez que llegué. El cansancio no era bastante para disminuir las emociones que corrían a través de mi cuerpo. El capítulo nuevo de mi vida fuera al punto del comienzo. Yo sentía el miedo, el dudo y el pienso que, quizás, ¿esto no era la decisión correcto? Pero con la velocidad que estos pensamientos aparecieron,  la curiosidad, la pasión y el hambre insaciable por esta cultura nueva subieron con un veloz igual. 

Recuerdo mi primer pedido en castellano por un «jugo de naranja» y la cara confundida del camarero que me corrigió con: « ¿Un qué? ¿Quieres un zumo?» Y cuando me di cuenta que prácticamente todo el zumo en España era fresco. Yo estaba contenta. Contenta con mi poder recién descubierto. Podía hacer todo lo que quisiera y nadie pudiera decir algo. Vivía por yo misma. Preocuparía por yo misma. Y la libertad…una palabra que yo nunca presté atención, de repente tenía un sentido… Y la historia continúa. Me pregunté,  cuando estaba nadando en el mar Mediterráneo, cuándo pudiere regresar para ver la ciudad que yo quiero tanto… y ahora yo sé. 

I remember the first time I arrived. The fatigue wasn't enough to weaken the feelings that were running through my body. A new chapter was about to begin. I felt the fear, the doubt, and the thought that, maybe, this wasn't the right decision. But with the speed that these thoughts appeared, the curiosity, the passion, and the insatiable hunger for this new culture arose with an equal velocity. 

I remember my first order in Spanish for a jugo de naranja and the confused face of the waiter that corrected me with, "A what? Do you want a zumo?". And when I realized that practically all the juice in Spain was fresh. I was happy. Happy with my newly discovered power. I could do whatever I wanted and no one could say anything about it. I lived for myself. I worried about myself. And freedom... a word I never paid attention to, suddenly had a meaning... And the story continues. I asked myself,  when I was swimming in the Mediterranean ocean, when I would return to see the city I love so much ... and now I know.

Home is where the heart is.
Devuélveme mi corazón, Barcelona.

Regreso a las orillas de Sitges

Paris was amazing, and when I get the feeling like I want to blog about that, I will.

Right now the only thing I can think about is Barcelona. Today while I was in freaking Mediterranean ocean, doing some backstrokes, looking around Sitges, I couldn't help but wonder when I'd ever see it again. I know I should be happy that I even had the opportunity to even see it, but I want more and I don't care how selfish that sounds. The weather was perfect, and why is the sand & ocean here so nice?! Anyway, I'll talk about my day.

Kathryn & I get up bright and early to catch the 10:29 train to Sitges, a city about 45 minutes south of Barcelona. The beach is better and, fortunately, the tourists haven't quite caught on to that. We walked for a while, but finally stopped at a quiet little spot on the shore with a nice view of the ocean & Hotel Terramar (which looked a lot better in its original form). The water was beautiful and we laid out for a few hours before heading to lunch, which was huge. Patatas bravas, pan con tomate y jamón, spaghetti, and bacalao - so much food, but so delicious complete with Estrellas and sandías. 

After lunch, we plopped down on another spot on the shore and took advantage of the ocean. We also took advantage of the fact that going topless is the way to go in Europe. The lack of tan lines on my chest will soon be obsolete once I go back to the Atlantic. Anyways, we headed home after a perfect beach day and now I'm here in my room wondering how I'm going to fit anything into my suitcases.

Oh yeah, the sky looked really ugly one night so I took a picture of it from my balcony.

Huge man with tiniest poodle puppy. Oh, España, como te quiero. =)


Edit: Ahora el cachorro está acurrucado encima de sus rodillas, medio dormido. Y todavía no tengo ninguna página de mi ensayo. Tàpies me hace demasiado pensativa.

 

I don't wanna go back! I want to play here forever.

In the UB library, reading a book on poetry, María Zambrano, hinduism, and nature. This is the life. 

Pomegranate, Spain

Dammit, so Granada happened the third week of March and I have no idea how I'm going to remember anything. Pictures will help. So will bullet points. 

Granada was by far my favorite excursion organized by CIEE. There's something about the influence left by the Arabic dynasties that makes it so charming and rich.

• La Alhambra was beautiful, really a work of art. I wanted to stay there for a lot longer than we could, sit near the fountains, listen to the water, and read Tales of the Alhambra by Washington Irving. It was the last stronghold of the Arabs before they were kicked out by the Catholic Kings. 

• Our tour guide explained that the sultan always had a "favorite" among his women, who he didn't use for sexual purposes but was the most intelligent and his most beloved. I don't really believe that he didn't use her for other things, but I guess I'll go with that. Our tour guide liked me so much I was named the "favorite". A lot of girls felt he was a little too chauvinistic with the females in the group. Whatever, get over it. I hate feminists. He's just Spanish, they're all like that, they all look. Haven't you been in Spain long enough to figure that out. Oh wait, no one probably looks at you anyway.

• El Albaicín is my second favorite part of Granada, complete with narrow, winding streets, las teterías (tea shops), and other small shops. The first night I ended up eating at an awesome tetería with a bunch of people and later smoking hookah at another one. The food and tea were delicious and I went to bed with a happy stomach and a dizzy head. 

 

• The gelato was the bomb. Other than in Rome, I've never had such good gelato. Gah.