Flying home... Slowly

Have you ever heard of AirEuropa? Me either. Until now. I got to sit on their plane for a bit over 7 hours from Madrid to NYC. I think I'm spoiled with my past flying experiences because this flight was yucky. I always look forward to catching up on movies I never paid to watch in the theaters but this was an old school plane that have the central TVs for everybody to watch together. For some reason the sound was terrible and kept cutting out which meant I saw the beginning 10 minutes of The Hunger Games three times all without sound, then I watched Salmon Fishing in the Yemen which is one movie I really wanted to see. With all the stops and starts to get the sound back online it took about three hours to watch a little over half of the movie. I still don't know how it ends but I assume there is fishing involved.

Ther was a high amount of loving couples on my plane. Maybe that is just how the Spanish are but many couples slept in each others arms which look uncomfortable but it looks very endearing. When the kid behind me puked halfway through the flight the cute couple in my row gave me some perfume to put under my nose. The smell was pretty bad for awhile. The puke, not the perfume. One very nice thing about thought was that I had no one directly to my left so I could stretch out my stumpy legs mid flight.

Here is my ever important list of everything I consumed on the flight because I find it interesting. Pasta with meat sauce, a strange carrot salad in vinegar, brownie cake, bread, orange Fanta, tea, tea, a hot croissant/pastry thing with queso y jamon, and more tea. At one point the flight attendant said "You like my tea, yes"? I said "Si".

Also I took Dasha's neck pillow that shaped like a U. One of those pillows I always giggled at. Holy Toledo, it is amazing. I'm buying one ASAP. No weird kinks in your neck when you wake up from a shallow nap.

Then I had an 10 - 11 hour layover at JFK. Ate some salad (I needed greens), drank a beer, called my parents (who better be reading this because they promised they would [HI MOM, HI DAD]). Then it was nap time. I actually got a couple of hours in once I figured out how. The towel in the ground is key. Sufjan Stevens in your ear too, very important. If I was into photography I'd love to do a photo series entitled "The Desperate Sleeper." You start sleeping one way, clutching all your valuables close to your body. But as the sleep becomes elusive you lessen your grip and topple into an odd sleep while you become sloppy on the airport ground. I even had a dream! But it was about flying and transfers and getting sleep.

My next, AND LAST, Delta flight was fairly standard with most people sleeping. I got about 10 minutes in. I'm terrible at catching Z's on a plane. Gimme a car any day and I'll pass out, but planes still have an element of excitement for me still. I bought a snack pack. Crackers, cheese, goldfish, salami, dried cranberries, and mini cookies. Dang it hit the spot. So is this eccentric pop playlist I created for myself to listen to via the planes internal small collection of obscure music.

I cannot wait to stumble to my SuperShuttle and stumble into my bed after saying hello to Ness (my cat). She's gonna freak out that I'm back. I love that excitement when she realizes it's me walking in and not a friend of mine.

My last days in a beautiful location

My last city I visited was San Sebastian and boy am I glad I saved the best for last.

I slept for most of the chaos of trying to find parking near our hostel. Eventually we settled into our rooms which was facing a beautiful cathedral which you could find on the local map by searching

for #1. Our first night we explored, mostly in the old part of town near our room. Things may have been on the expensive side but there is a ton of shopping and eating to be done in San Sebastian.

Let's talk pintxos (pronounced PIN-CHOS). You may remember me talking about tapas earlier and pintxos are sort of like northern Spain's version. Sort of. Tapas you get for free and are typically pretty easily put together and understood. Pintxos you pay for and they are exquisite. Imagine walking into a bar and on the bar top are platters full of various creations, typically bite sized. You load your plate up with whatever you fancy in that moment. Pay the bartender. Eat. The food is fancy and well crafted. It is a lot of seafood but I found many jamon and queso and tortilla based options to fill my belly. If you are someone who loves eel, octopus, roe, crab, lobster, cured meats, and cheese then you will be in heaven. Even though a typical pintxo is 2€ - 3€ you can never have just one.

There is a lot of shopping to do in San Sebastian and on my last couple of days I did not reference my bank account, I just kept pulling out euros. I bought shoes, a skirt, a dress, perfume oil... all in one store. Lots of souvenirs for people. Lots of food and tinto verronos, which is basically red wine and lemonade. VERY refreshing on a warm afternoon or evening or night. Anytime really. We three drank a lot of them, but don't worry there is not much alcohol in them so I always kept my wits about me.

The beaches were lovely. For more info please see my post about them. I had a lot to chat about when it came to beaches.

It was a nice end to a trip. Good friends in a beautiful place. I'll be going back someday with Future-Mister-Ann-Pattison.

Here is a picture to show off the beauty of San Sebastian... It is our view out of our window!

Driving Don Benz amid signs I could not read

When I picked up Dasha at the airport I also rented a car. Through Avis I got a small sporty Mercedes-Benz we nicknamed Don Benz. At first I was nervous about driving in a different country but thankfully it was mostly the same to driving in the US besides some minor differences. Like I couldn't read the caution signs. Thank goodness for TomTom, our british sounding GPS guide who dealt with our ups-and-downs when we could not count which 'exit' we were passing on the roundabout or who persistently reminded up key tips like KEEP LEFT or TOLL CHARGE. That's another thing, their tolls are high and frequent. Petrol was pricey too. Bitch-and-moan. I should be quiet, I had a fantastic vacation and have the rest of my life to pay off my credit card bills.

It was also very interesting to drive through many different areas of Spain and to see how things change depending what provence you are in. Some places were cleaner while others had frequent helpful signs, and others had none. The basque countryside was near impossible to read any signs. You went by your gut or TomTom's sometimes confusing directions.

Spanish beaches

Some thoughts on Spanish beaches.

The sand is unlike any sand I've touched. It does not want to wash off of you. It sticks to your toes, your heels, your ankles, and no light rinse will get it off. Major scrubbing is in order before you curl up into bed (or else it feels like an nighttime exfoliation scrub on your lower half, and trust me, it is not as nice as it sounds). While walking in the sand it is very soft and sucks you in when you are at shoreline. In San Diego the sand sort of does this if you stand still long enough to let wave after wave suck the sand away from around your feet. But the sand in Spain sucks you in right away making you fight for every moment to not be trapped on that beautiful beach with a beautiful view for forever.

The views are incredible. It is odd to this west coast girl to not see the sun set directly above the water but I will happily settle for a warm breeze sunset as the sun sinks behind lush green mountains. Except that sunsets happen at 9:30pm. That is much too late. I'm typically already in my PJ's!

The bodies on the beach are not southern Californian beach bodies I am accustomed to (I can't speak for northern Californian beach bodies because I haven't seen enough of them to form an opinion). The patrons of the water are all ages and they come from all around the world. There are your standard young women in perfectly fitting swimsuits ("bathers" as Aussies call them or "swim costume" to which I say IT IS NOT A COSTUME, HRUMPF), and toned men in skimpy speedos. But there are also a great deal of older people enjoying their retirement on the water and most of these women lounge about topless. Moms of young children too let it all hang out while their offspring romp naked in that hard to scrub off sand. It was such a relaxing atmosphere of people not caring what they looked like. Some bask in the sun, some do aqua aerobics in the still water, some jog, some get fantastic volleys going with their badminton set. For some time Dasha, Melissa, and myself did as the locals did and tanned parts of our bodies that are not accustomed to having sunblock on. It was refreshing. And nobody cared. And thank goodness I saw no SFDS families in San Sebastian.

The water is cold. Yes the sun is warm but the water is cold. The Atlantic is cold. I'm sure the beaches on the Mediterranean are completely different but the Spanish beaches I encounters did not entice you to linger in the languid current of the ocean. I was blessed to see schools of fish swim past my feet as I got in and out of the water.

The proportion of people on the beach to people in the water makes me giggle. Here in Spain you go to the beach to be on the beach and look out onto the water. You rarely go in.


Someday I will need to return to experience the southern beaches for myself but in the meantime I have very tan forearms and a lightly pink backside to remember my brief affair with Spanish beaches.

Donde esta la playa

Goodbye Portugal. I'll come back someday for shoes. They have LOTS of shoe stores.

We knew we wanted to go towards the ocean in Spain so we randomly picked a town between Porto and the ocean. We landed in Oviedo which just so happens to have a statue of a character from one of Dasha's favorite books. We just had to get a picture with La Regenta. We also had to find a place for dinner. Dasha did some quick research online and found someplace that had yummy looking desert. We had an address and a desire to find this place. We stopped to ask an older gentleman where this restaurant was and he asked us where our car was. That should have been our first hint we were in for something special. We asked some other girls if we were on the right path, they looked at us like we were crazy. Another older gentleman walked ahead with Dasha trying to locate this restaurant high up on the hillside. We must have walked for an hour on a slow incline. I hobbled most of the way and Melissa talked to the locals. We must of looked ragged when we walked in because when we tried getting a table the waiter pointed us down the stairs to where the toilets are. We explained that we wanted to eat to a staff that spoke no English. We were in over our heads but we ordered dinner anyways. A fancy bottle of wine, jamon, rice with carne, fish in cheese, and just like we were promised, a yummy desert. It set us back a pretty euro but the waiter was nice enough to call us a taxi so we didn't have walk back down the hill. It may not have been what we wanted or what we expected but it was a fun evening out filled with a good story. We even stayed at the restaurant till 11:45pm! We have been working hard to get on this Spanish schedule for eating but it is hard to eat so late in the middle of the night. Vacationing is hard.

After Oviedo it was time to stop at another port city, Santander, for our next hostel which we found on the outskirts of the city. We rang the bell but they never picked up. We improvised. After some quick food we settled down in a chocolateria that had Wi-Fi (pronounced WEE-FEE) and pulled out Rosita. Oh, did I mention that I bought an iPad before my trip. I love it and Rosita got us out of a jam. We could not get a bed for Saturday night in Bilbao because of an awesome sounding concert. Think of it as Outside Lands in Spain. The concert series of three days has an amazing lineup and a good price for all three days meaning every hostel and hotel was sold out. Instead we got a room in a tiny beach city called Naja. It was just what we needed. After a quick walk on a quiet beach we sat at a restaurant overlooking the water, drinking wine and chitchatting with some jamon. The sun went down and things got cooler but it was still wonderfully gorgeous. It felt very nice to be in such a lovely place where it was mostly locals going to the beach. I'm sure there was not many Americanas around. I got some photos on the beach for all of you who miss my face and silly poses.

Spain, part 2

Spain, part 1: My busabout tour.

Spain, part 1.5: Solo in Madrid

Spain, part 2: Traveling with friends!

Yes, I have friends. It all started one morning after a terrible nights sleep in a terrible hostel. I woke up early in a groggy state of mind to ride the Madrid metro at 6am. This is unheard of by a country that parties till 5am and siestas all afternoon. I stood outside the international terminal with a scrap of paper which read OSTROVA. Dasha's flight got in at 7am and she was feeling good despite leaving her new hat on the plane. We rented a car which we later christened Don Benz. Turns out I somehow rented a mini Mercedes instead of a Golf. He is a good drive even though the GPS cannot stick on to any surface besides the sunroof. Hrrm. We drove to Santiago de Compostela to pick up Melissa who had just walked for 15 days on the camino (a pilgrimage walk). I was exhausted but we made it safely. Melissa was staying at a gorgeous hotel but Dasha and I had to stay in a gorgeous hotel across the street. We had a lovely tour of mostly the old part of town and had a yummy dinner. I nearly fell asleep in my jamon but we pushed through.  Vino, octopus, enslada, jamon, queso, and mini fried peppers. Dang it was good. So was that nights sleep.

It was then time to lose an hour, change languages and drive to Portugal. Porto to be exact. We drove the long way and got lost in some coastal towns with breathtaking vistas. Portugal is instantly different from Spain. Shops are open more often, people work more, and the food isn't that impressive even though they have much more fruits and veg in their supremercados. Our first night in Porto we had a mission from Dasha, to find a Portuguese sandwich called a  Francesinha. Pulling from Wikipedia "a Francesinha (meaning a Little Frenchie or simply Frenchie in Portuguese) is a Portuguese sandwich originally from Porto, made with bread, wet-cured ham,linguica, fresh sausage like chipolata, steak or roast meat and covered with melted cheese and a hot thick tomato and beer sauce served with French fries." Sounds bomb, right? We were at the third most beautiful bookstore in the world and we asked the sweet worker there (whose main job was to say "no photos" in several languages) where to get dinner. We went to there. It was a tourist trap but it was too late. We had a terrible dinner. This place brewed their own beer and it was yucky. Dasha and Melissa got the Portuguese sandwich and they said it was the grossest  thing they had ever eaten. I had pasta with meat sauce and they surprisingly didn't screw it up. We followed dinner with filled churros which fell like a lump in our tummies. We swore we'd have a better night and not give up on Portugal yet. 

On our second day things went better. While Melissa went to the beach Dasha and I went on a walking tour of the city. It is a very hilly city. Sometimes more so than San Francisco. The tour guide was a sweet girl who recommended a place for a Francesinha. There were two accountant boys from SF who recommended a dinner place for us. Things were on the up and up. We even dodged a creeper guy who followed our tour group for much too long. Oh! I need to mention during out first night in Porto, while walking to the goss dinner, I fell on cobblestone and landed on my knee pretty hard. Going up and down the steep hills with a bum knee is a terrible idea. 

After a well executed siesta by Dasha we went to Agrade. She slept for almost three hours. Siesta is supposed to last 23 minutes. Dinner was down an alley then down another alley.  The food was great. I ate rabbit stew. Melissa had stewed meat (uncertain of which animal). Dasha had grilled cod. There was some salad and wine involved. Dessert too. And some homemade green wine which Melissa shot all three "sips." This dinner revived our faith in Portuguese food. We tried the Francesinha again. It is great on paper but isn't as good as you expect. Even after going to a highly recommended place by a trusted local. Plus it is a lump in your stomach for hours. I did not take the below photo but it is most representative of what we consumed.

 

Also, Portuguese is REALLY hard!! We knew one word and we used it for most everything despite it meaning thank you. Obrigada. May I please squeeze by you? Obrigada. Thanks for the check. Obrigada. How much for the fruit? Obrigada. You're cute. Obrigada. Obrigada? Obrigada. Eventually we learned out to say coffee with milk. Galao. Our most common phrase? "Un galao, obrigada". We still don't know how to say yes or no, even after three days in Portugal. 

Fun fact! A lot of the worlds cork for wine corks come from Portugal. /

OBRIGADA.

Bullfight in Madrid

I watched six half ton bulls die right before my eyes.

I am staying at this hostel which is just dreadful. No air con, in fact, little air movement in the rooms whatsoever. After one night of crap sleep I asked the front desk if I could switch rooms if something was available and the nice guy was able to help me out while the other guy just grumped at me. When I got up to my new room there was an older couple having a siesta. I didn't mean to wake them up but I did and boy am i glad I did. We got to talking and they are from Australia, just like everybody else it seems, doing a long three month tour of Europe with Busabout. Lynn and Greg were so sweet to me they invited me out to go see the bullfight that night with them and a couple of others. I was reluctant at first but Lynn talked me into it.

I'm not sure what I expected when I went into the ring but it felt like a modern  day coliseum. The seats were just cement steps with numbers on the edge which was your seat number. The ring was much much smaller than I expected too. We got amazing seats with no one in front of us and all the 'action' took place rig in front of us.

I was briefed on what takes place during a bullfight by another Aussie I met pre-gaming at a near by cervaciaria. She and her husband have seen many bullfights around the world.  Let me try to explain the order of events and I apologize for my lack of technical terms, I'm writing this the next day at a cafe.... also this description may not be fitting for those prone to being grossed out.

First there are trumpets and the small band plays while all the men walk out onto the ring in full garb waving to the crowd and getting pumped up.  Then the first bull is released into the ring.  The bull has already been stabbed in the neck with something small and gunk put in its eyes so it is good and pissed off. There are about six men in the ring with capes to rile up the bull and get it to attack their capes. When the bulls charge these men hide behind a fence in the arena. The bulls are after movement and not color which is why it always goes for the exciting moving cape and not for the mans legs which are dressed in bright pink socks. When the guy hides the bull gets mad even more because he cannot figure out where the hell that exciting movement ran off too. Horns sound again and two men on horseback enter the ring. The horses are heavily padded and need to be for what is about to happen. The men with capes are still in the ring and entice the bill close to one of the guys on horseback who has a long spear with a two inch spike on the end. What the guy on horseback does is plunge the spear in the bulls neck to start to weaken it. The bull is pretty much "WTF??!?!?" and rams into the gut area of the horse. One time the bull hit the horse so hard the rider and horse both fell down. We thought the horse was dead but they pulled the horse back up and it was fine. Meanwhile the bull is gushing blood and the men with capes are running it around the ring. The guy on horseback will take another stab at the bull. Horns again.  A couple of brave guys put down their cape momentarily and pick up a spear about a foot long, brightly decorated, with a barb in the end of it.  Now this is the craziest part for me. The guys with capes center the bull in the ring and while it is standing there dazed for a moment the guy with the mini spears runs up to the bull and jams it into the left side of the bulls neck. Mind you, this guy has no protection, just a brightly colored lyca suit. A second guy repeats the deed with two mini spears on the right side.  Again with a third guy with two center of the neck. Blood is now gushing all over the bull but it's not too badly hurt, but pissed off, bloody, and ready to fight. Horns again. A handsome man enters the ring with a red cape which is held up by a straight sword. This is the matador. He is a big deal. First he screws around with the bull. Tries to get the bull to run in a complete circle around him. Gets real close to the bull and taunts it with shouts, noises, and flicks his red cape at the bull. After a good show the matador will look up in the special box section where I assume is where the president of the ring sits. The matador is asking for permission to kill the bull and more often then not permission is granted especially if both matador and bull have given a good show. The matador swaps out his sword for another one: a slightly thicker sword with a bend in it. The guys with the capes give the matador backup just in case. The matador squares off with the bull. Staring right at him. Perhaps only three feet apart. The matador charges whiles aiming his death sword between the shoulder blades so that the curved part of the blade hits the heart. This is where things don't always go as planned. Our first bull we saw die took a while, the aim was off. Compete agony, for me and the bull. It was still fighting, bucking, trying to run, bleeding everywhere. But finally it fell and several brain stabs were administered to make sure the deed was done. We had some strong bulls to watch. The third bull was mean. Real mean. All muscle. The guys with the mini spears had a hard time getting them to stay in and in the right spot. That matador had a tough time. While he was still on his first sword the bull got the best of him and he wound up on the bulls face then thrown to the ground. The bull knew what it wanted to do and was focused on that matador. The guys with capes swooped in to distract while another scooped up the matador and ran out of the ring with him. I think his leg and side were pretty jacked up.  I pray he's fine. My hands didn't stop sweating the entire time. I'm glad I had beer to drink, I don't know if I could have watched sober. Once a bull is in the ring you cannot leave for any reason. It is super disrespectful to stand up. Once that matador was hurt and carried off a more experienced guy came over to deliver the death blow. Thankfully it was the cleanest kill of the night. Another bull died about 20 feet I front of me and it was the most gruesome death of the evening. Once the bull has been viewed as totally and absolutely dead a team of horses comes in to drag the body away and the blood on the dirt is cleaned up. The meat is said to be used. It does not go to waste. More than once I saw men jumping over the side if the ring to get out of the bulls way. It was intense, I can see why the country of Spain is so divided on the topic.  

I am really glad I went and I most likely will never go again. 

Bus tour day 4, 5, & 6

Bare with me, it was a wacky trip. I'm still trying to catch up on what we did on the bus/coach trip.

Tarifa, the bottom of Europe
After Lagos we got off of the bus and there was so much wind! We stayed in a tiny town called Tarifa which is the most southern part of Europe and only 14km from AFRICA. The main reason why this little town was chosen was because there was day-trip offered to go into Morocco for an evening. Most everybody on the bus went but a couple of us stayed behind, including myself. Why didn't I go you ask? Well it seemed like a rushed trip and I'd rather go all out and see much more of Morocco. So I stayed back, had a siesta, and went into downtown with my bus mate, Guy, a kiwi, and had one of the best dinners so far. We ordered a simple meal of patatas bravas, chicharrones, and tinto de verronna (which is red wine and lemonade and surprisingly delicious). A group of mariachis played for us and the waitress complimented me on my espanol! We waited for the tour get back from the late ferry which just meant we got to do some sight seeing. We walked out onto a point which had the Mediterranean sea on one side and the Atlantic on the other and so much wind! Everything was warm and chilly at the same time. It was gorgeous. One of my more favorite days from the trip so far.

Ronda, the prettiest place I've seen
We made a quick stop on our way to our next hostel in Ronda. This is a city high on a steep cliff and is connected on both sides by a bridge. Originally this is where a bunch of oppressed people in Spain (Jews, Muslims, gypsies) made their home to get away from it all. It seriously is in the of middle of nowhere and very high up in the Serra Nevadas. But it has a sad past... a jerk king didn't like what they were doing so he had every person in Ronda killed. It makes me sad to hear about the oppressed people all over the world and how much they get screwed just because they do their own thing. I haven't traveled much but in the places I have it's always the same story (Spain, Scotland, Puerto Rico, ...). But back to the beauty of this place. I got the best sandwich here! A guy makes his own chorizo and cheese, puts it on a roll with tomato and olive oil. The homemade cheese was almost too creamy and the chorizo was almost too perfectly flavored. Sheer perfection. I took it to a gazebo which sat on a ledge that gave at least an 180* view. In the center of the gazebo was a guy playing the Spanish guitar. I don't think he was in it for the money or fame, he was just doing something he loved in a beautiful place. I sat near him, no one else was around, the wind was still but warm and it was heavenly. I haven't been in a place of that serenity in a long time.  I want the moment to last forever but I got about five full minutes out of it until the tourists came back and I had to get back on the bus.

Grenada, home of the best idea ever: tapas
Our first night in Grenada we had a tapas crawl.  You made have heard of pub crawls but this takes it up a notch. Traditionally tapas are a little something served to you gratis (free) when you buy a drink. It typically is only a couple of bites and you never know what you're getting but with the a mount of alcohol a person can consume in one evening having a little something in their bellies helps. The most common idea of why this became a tradition was back in the day a king went out for drinks but there was a lot of flies around. So he put a small plate atop his drink so none of those buggers could drown in his drink. But an empty plate atop a glass looked dumb so the cook put a little bit of food on the plate. Since the guy was the king and loved this it caught on and everybody did it. Eventually the plate started to be placed next to the drink but it still free and delicious. A couple tapas I received have been spanish tortilla, prawns, croquets, mini French fries, olives, jamon, fish salad. Wacky and delicious. You rarely need to buy a full dinner meal.  The tapas crawl went all over but I didn't last long because I was still tired from the early morning bus wake up.
The next day was a very busy day. We went to the Alhambra, the most touristed spot in Spain. It was built by the moors a long time ago and is huge and beautiful. Lots of gardens that provide natural air conditioning, large rooms beautifully decorated, and amazing views of Spain. After a great tour there some of us went to an hamman, a Turkish bath house. Got a massage. Enjoyed quiet time. Drank mint tea. Relaxed. It was welcomed. Then after quick siesta (relaxing is hard work), I signed up for a flamenco class and show. An older lady with her hair in a tight bun and a cigarette in hand taught us the basic steps of flamenco. She was hardcore with little/no English so if we didn't do something right we got the death stare and was corrected on the proper step by being dragged to the correct position. After the class we saw a show by professionals who really know what they were doing. The show was put on in a cave on the hillside on the corner of town which is said to be the birthplace of flamenco. The dance was invented by the gypsies, Jews, and Muslims (see a trend forming?) to what I assume is to let out some of their frustration. Lots of stomping. Chanting. Gorgeous outfits. Piles of true passion for their art. It was all very inspiring. Granada was fun.

Holy Toledo Batman!
In Toledo I saw a cathedral and ate some food. Not too exciting.

Windmills in Consuegra
One of our last stops was in Consuegra which is home to the famous windmills made popular in Cervantes' Don Quixote. We had a photo op. I'll miss these crazy kids I've gotten to know the past week.

Bus tour days 1,2, & 3!

So I'm on a bus tour now.

Madrid to Cordoba
Whoa. First awesome place and it was done well. Smack dab in the center of town is the mesquita which is an old mosque from when the Moors were ruling. It's huge! Apparently an old king of Spain wanted to turn it into a cathedral so he ripped put the middle of the mosque and put in his cathedral. Unfortunately June 30th in Spain is some sort of religious holiday so we couldn't go in. I was really looking forward to seeing the Muslim and Christian world living together in harmony but not this time around.
Next a group of us went looking for fancy patios and saw a couple of really great ones. Ate some quick tapas. Not a bad afternoon.

Seville!
We got a walking tour of the city by the guy who showed Rick Steve's around when he was in Spain. He was great but we were tired. My highlight? I saw the old cigarette factory and prison that were made famous by Bizet in the opera Carmen. It's now a university but I could totally picture all of the songs being performed there.
It was a nice evening of tapas and drinks. Made some friends too! A couple of great Americans (one from Fresno the other from Riverside), handfuls of Aussies, and a great couple of kiwis.

Holy cow, I'm in a different country and they speak yet another language: Lagos, Portugal
Ah Lagos. What a fantastic little place right on the water. It was a cute beach town and our group made the most of it. Instead of one big hostel we were split in "nana houses" which were little apartments and homes all over the city owned by grannies. They weren't there so all 10 of my group got a lovely place to stay for two nights to ourselves. A great backyard patio, a swimming pool (which was freezing but we went in anyways), and a plum tree just bursting with fresh plums that were falling off the tree ripe. It was a good group of people in Nana P's house. Our first night there was epic! Several bars had "challenges" and many in our gladly accepted the challenges. The first bar offered a tshirt if you downed 9 different shots as fast as you can (it was free if you eat your home country's top time). The only person to do it solo was Joe-the-Busdriver. A couple others did it in pairs. I somehow talked a couple of Americans guys in Lagos for holiday to buy the full nine shots so all five us Americans could celebrate our nations independence together. I got the shirt too! I ended up with the creamy shots but the two I had tasted pretty good. At the next bar the challenge was to drink 7 jäger bombs as fast as you can (same rules apply for fastest times for your country). Many of the guys on our trip did that one and Joe-the-Busdriver did it too! He's a pretty sturdy Hungarian guy and could handle his liquor easily. Thankfully he wasn't driving the next morning even though he was feeling fine at 9am. There was dancing on pool tables and general silliness at the second bar. A good time was had by all. I even went in the pool back at out nana's house!
The next morning we did sea kayaking to some caves. It was an amazing experience to be in those semi grottos as the ocean swelled us up and down even it meant I was wicked sore the next day. Needless to say after that I needed a siesta. Siesta's are amazing and now I know why they are needed. The Spanish population can't work too much in the "frying pan" of Spain during midday so take a quick nap. Apparently the amount of time a siesta should take is 23 minutes. Lagos was a great experience. I'd love to go back sometime, it was very relaxed and most everyone spoke english which helped because God knows if I could ever wrap my brain around Portuguese.

Meanwhile, in Lagos...

I lost my voice pretty bad. A bit of a cough but that is just because it's so darn dry here. I will NOT get sick this trip. I will NOT get sick this trip. But I did get attacked by something the other night: I have about six bites on my face. So not cool. A couple over my shoulders. I'm praying they are from some jerk mosquitos or a very angry spider and that it's not bed bugs. Ugh. 

Other than my voice, my cough, and my bites I'm doing great!