Good times never seem so good

Talking to a friend about Spain a few days ago brought everything rushing back. They warned us about culture shock when we arrived, they warned us about reverse culture shock when we returned, but what I didn’t expect (even though they warned us about it too) was how easy it would be for life to sweep in and take over my life until study abroad seemed a distant dream. Looking back on it, it’s incredible how much I did. I’m only twenty years old, and I traveled to Spain, Morocco, France, and England. I visited the lowest point of continental Europe. I swam in the Mediterranean Sea. I rode camels, saw monkeys and took innumerable pictures of stray cats. I had to write an essay for the language scholarship I received, and it's frustrating trying to answer questions about the effects of study abroad with any form of brevity. It’s hard to boil the study abroad experience into just a few sentences. What do I mention first: my wonderful host mother and the rest of my host family? My incredible professors and their challenging, eye-opening courses? The beautiful city of Granada itself? All the trips I took, all the sights I saw? The food? Admittedly I’m prone to waxing eloquent on the food. I miss the food...

This summer, I want to revisit my memories. There are so many little details I didn't write down, so much I forgot to preserve here or in my journal, and I don't want to let it slip away. I have all my photos of Granada to post online, and so many more stories to flesh out and tell. And I have trips to plan. I will go back someday. I have people to visit now in Spain, and concerts to give, and it's now one of my life goals to go back to England. And there are so many countries I have yet to visit, Germany and Austria and Italy and Ireland, to name a few. If my music takes me there, I'll be incredibly lucky.

Pictures I always meant to post:



Tangier, Morocco



On the beach at Cadiz



From the Alhambra, looking out on the Albaicín

Home is where the heart is, so your real home's in your chest...

I have been extremely derelict in my duties as a blogger. Not that I ever meant to make a career of blogging to begin with, or anything, but I have left you high and dry in regards to my travels, which is terribly neglectful of me. So, having just returned from London today, I'll start there and go backwards. And maybe before I leave for the States you'll get to hear about Morocco, which falls smack dab in the middle.

This weekend in London may well have been my favorite travel time yet - I'm not sure if it ties with Tarifa or surpasses it. (Oh dear. I haven't written about Tarifa yet really either, have I? Bother.) Instead of staying in a hostel and navigating about with the help of a guidebook and relatively new friends, I stayed with Julie Tucker, one of my friends from IWU who's studying at Queen Mary University for the semester, and toured the city with her. It was also my first time traveling internationally by myself, apart from flying into Spain for the first time. Everything went successfully, albeit with a few hiccups regarding the taxi to the bus station this morning, but that was just a giant miscommunication with regard to accents and it all ended up okay, so all's well that ends well, right? There is nothing like being with someone you already know, somebody you have a past with, when you're in an unfamiliar city, especially when that someone knows the city (and the Tube) very well. And it was in English! Which was helpful, although interestingly enough I was relieved this afternoon to be back in Spain. I've almost gotten more used to asking directions and questions in the like in Spanish. I suppose I've accepted that I will probably mess up and sound awkward in this language, but since it's not my first it's acceptable. It's almost harder to communicate with people in your own language when the vocabulary is slightly different, enough so that there's a gap between your understanding. Also, I really have difficulty with Indian accents, but then I haven't been around them much before. Anyway...

Day One in London, Friday Dec. 3, was mostly a solo touring day for me. I slept in a bit, having arrived late the night before, and went to Westminster Abbey first thing in the morning. On the way there, I walked past Big Ben, the London Eye, and Parliament. I missed the guided tour by about ten minutes, but I took an audio guide (narrated by Jeremy Irons; there's nothing like having Scar tell you all about the history of the church) and really liked going about at my own pace. It's beautiful. You would think by this point that I would be tired of seeing all the churches, but I'm not. They're all unique, and this one in particular was filled full of tombs and memorials and an absolutely stunning choir loft. Queen Elizabeth I is buried there, as well as Handel, and there's a section called the Poet's Corner which is filled with plaques and graves of various authors. I couldn't take any photos inside, but I did get postcards to be able to remember it. When walking by the cloister (where I did snag a photo), I heard a snippet of the boy's choir rehearsing. It couldn't have been more perfect.



The first thing I saw after getting out of the Tube



Big Ben, the London Eye, and the corner of Parliament.



Westminster Abbey.



The cloisters at Westminster.


From Westminster Abbey, I walked up the street to Trafalgar Square, which is where the National Gallery and the National Portrait Gallery are located. I passed the Prime Minister's house and several other government buildings on the way, as well as a whole string of the red phone booths. There were even people using them sometimes, not just tourists taking photos. All the museums are free, even the National Gallery and the British Museum, which I think is wonderful (although Westminster Abbey is not, go figure). After wandering through for at least an hour, I headed off to rendezvous with Julie at St. Paul's Cathedral for Evensong, but since I had some time to kill I wandered along the streets. I stumbled upon Covent Garden Market, where I got a miniature mince pie and treacle tart, walked past King's College, found Somerset House with its ice skating rink and meandered through Temple for a bit without having a clue where I was. Eventually I was almost at St. Paul's when I saw a small church down an alleyway, and when I headed over to check it out, I discovered they were holding a carols service that night. I couldn't stay long, but I heard the beginning - they opened with Once in Royal David's City exactly the way we do at our Christmas concert every year, same arrangements and everything. The church choir was stunning. I begin to understand why the King's Singers say they want an English choirboy's education for their members - the control of those singers was amazing, but it rarely felt pressed or held. The sound was warm and rich and filled the room. I miss choir.



Trafalgar Square



Covent Market



Somerset House w/ice skating



Twinings! No, I did not buy any tea. They had tons, though.

Evensong at St. Paul's was equally as incredible, but in a different way. The cathedral is enormous, and the sound echoes and echoes in the chamber, creating a delay in the sound; the overtones of the cantor, too, came out crystal clear. The service itself was very formal, almost ceremonial, and I felt more like I was present for it than involved in it. Hearing the psalms being chanted felt like I was transported back in time. After the service, Julie and I went down Oxford Street, one of the more upscale shopping districts which was all decked out in Christmas lights. I definitely felt more of the "Christmas spirit" in London than I have in Spain so far; it was nice to see all the lights and hear the music everywhere.

Day Two was touring day with me and Julie: the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace, the British Museum, Covent Garden Market, and the London Philharmonic. The changing of the guard was quite the event - we arrived around 10:30 and people were already lined up at the gates, but we had a good view of everything from the monument nearby. The ceremony itself didn't really start until about 11:30, and was quite involved. My personal favorite was the fife & drum corps (which looked like it was comprised of teenagers) and the band, which for some odd reason gave a mini-concert which included some American film music. Don't ask me why. The whole thing was really cool to see.



Buckingham Palace! And all the tourists...



The processional in...



The band!




I don't know the official name for these. Mounted guard, maybe?



The processional out

I should mention at this point that it hardly rained at all when I was in London, only drizzled a bit on Friday night and had some light showers on Saturday night. Sunday morning it absolutely poured on the way to the tube, then was gorgeous for the rest of the day. I was extremely lucky.

After the changing of the guard and the obligatory tourist photos, we grabbed lunch at Pret a Manger, a popular food chain with ready-to-go sandwiches and the like, then headed up towards the British Museum. The Egyptian exhibit was really cool - mummies! Real live mummies! - and I still can't get over that we saw the Rosetta Stone. And these enormous statues and wall carvings from the Phoenicians. It's incredible to me - I'm so used to seeing these things in replications or pictures in textbooks, and to see them in person was unbelievable. Sadly, though, I misplaced my hat in the British Museum; I'd bought it the day before and fallen in love with it, and then at some point it slipped out of my arm and when I went to look for it, it was gone and lost & found hadn't recovered it yet. I'm still slightly bitter.



Big Ben (again) with more of a view of Parliament



Obligatory phone booth shot (Thanks Julie!)



The British Museum

Camden Market was absolutely packed. I knew it was a tourist haven, and given that it'd started to sprinkle at the moment it was even more crowded. There were street musicians, a string quartet who played with choreography and a group of singers singing carols - Once in Royal David's City again and We Wish You a Merry Christmas. Same harmonies! It was really hard for me not to join in on the alto line. Then was the London Philharmonic. Being a music major, I was geeking out. Being a voice major, I caught myself critiquing the soloists (the baritone was fantastic), and then realized that I wasn't even thinking about the orchestra because there was nothing there to critique. They were amazing. It was like a recording; I remember thinking at one point that it was like something I would listen to on NPR at home. And I was there! They performed a Christmas-themed program, a piece by Mendelssohn, Vaughan William's The First Nowell, a Bach motet, and Honegger's Une cantante de Noël, which I'd never heard before and which was really quite striking. The London Philharmonic Choir and the New London Children's Choir performed with the orchestra, which made me very happy. I feel like I'm not describing this right. When Julie told me she had tickets to the concert, I squealed. This is the kind of thing I've always wanted to see, and I still can't believe I got to. I'd had a long two days of touring before this, and so I was somewhat exhausted, but I still had a wonderful time at the concert and I'm so glad I got to go.

Day 3: Oxford! Julie and I braved the torrential rains to catch the bus to Oxford to visit Brandon and see the sights for the afternoon. Brandon was a wonderful tour guide: he showed us all around town, brought us around the colleges (sadly we couldn't really enter because we're not students and the term had just ended) and to see the Thames, and showed us the city sights. We got to see the pub where C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien and their literary circle ate and discussed, the Eagle & Child, and so many, many old and beautiful buildings. I really felt at home in that town, more so than I've felt in a lot of places we visited. I'm a small-town girl at heart, and it helped that it felt more friendly, and definitely very pedestrian (although I guess most of Europe is far more pedestrian than the U.S.). I also loved the feeling of quiet history. It's just there. It doesn't stare you in the face, it's not overly pretentious or ostentatious, it's just there, a normal part of life along with all the tourist shops and the pubs and the parks. And there was a music store, with sheet music, which I haven't seen in ages. Which was absolutely wonderful. And there was grass! And it was green! I've missed green grass. I didn't even realize I did until I saw it again. Spain is lovely and all, but there isn't any grass. Seeing the English countryside on the bus ride over really felt like coming home, too, with the rolling hills and the cows in pasture. I'm not quite as used to seeing sheep as I am cows, but they felt oddly familiar too.



The streets of Oxford, with Julie and Brandon.



One of the many colleges.



More pretty buildings.



Standing in front of the reading room to one of the libraries, where rare books are held.



I love nooks and crannies and little alleyways.



The Eagle and Child



More pretty buildings



If you can't see this too well, the one on the left says "Nothing" and the one on the right is "Next to Nothing."

Speaking of bus rides, I ended up sitting next to an older gentleman on the bus ride there. We struck up a conversation starting with the weather and moving onto the typical topics: where am I from, what do I study (ah! music! how wonderful), where have I been, and he ended up telling me about the Louvre and the Musee d'Orsay which I'd seen before in Paris, and a museum in Oxford which housed drawings and manuscripts of Michelangelo and Rubens. He'd studied at Oxford, and has been back in England for the last ten years but lived in France for twenty years before that. He then told me that he was a portrait artist, but before we could talk much more he got off the bus. He never told me his name. It's not the first random conversation I've had on public transportation in Europe, so I didn't think much of it, but he had also mentioned that a good number of his "drawings," as he called them, were in several of the schools of Oxford. And so today I Googled "Oxford portrait artist" out of curiosity. Guess what I found? His name is Peter Wardle, and he's quite well-known in England; studied in Leicester and Oxford and worked in Toulouse, Oxford and London. He has paintings exhibited in the National Portrait Gallery (which sadly I did not have time to see). I met a minor celebrity of sorts, and I had no idea.

I love traveling for this reason. I love Europe for this reason. You get to see all the grand and classic sights, and they're wonderful, of course, they're famous and grand and classic for a reason, but then you have little things like this that happen that are the stories that stick with you. I may not always remember what the interior of St. Paul's Cathedral looks like, but I'll remember the carols service in that little church, the little treats I bought at the market, the kind cabbie who helped me get safely to Queen Mary on my way into London, and this random conversation on a bus because they're unique and they're mine. It's what makes memories special.

An addendum: After returning from Oxford, we made a special side trip to King's Cross Station just for me. I was kind of disappointed that they've made a separate section for Platform 9 3/4, separate from the actual platforms. I mean, I understand, but still. Anyway, here it is:

Raindrops on roses...

Because I'm terrible at blogging (but we knew this already) and I have a grand total of 5 research papers to be working on right now on top of everything else, here are a great quantity of lists to tide you over until I actually get back to describing, you know, my time here in Spain.

Things I'll miss:
1. The food. Pretty much all of it. Fresh baked bread with every meal, the rich flavors, the fact that the produce is all fresh as well - you can buy frozen, but most people don't, I think. And need I go on about the pastries? Sadly, the gelaterías have finally closed for the winter, but I'll survive.
2. The buildings. Gone are the days when I was intimidated by four- and five-story buildings. I love looking up at the skyline on my way to school every morning and seeing all the elaborate trim and cast-iron balconies with flowerpots hanging over the sides.
3. Being able to walk everywhere. Sure, it takes me about twenty-five minutes to get to school every morning and most of my friends live at least half an hour away from me, but the city is so beautiful I don't mind the walks. Plus the fact that it's so pedestrian-friendly.
4. The roses. Especially in Parque Federico García Lorca.
5. My professors. They're all wonderful, they're all interesting, and they're all absolutely dedicated to helping us learn and grow.
6. My host mom.
7. The Albaicín and the Alhambra.
8. Hearing all the many languages from tourists, especially the occasional British accent. That still thrills me.
9. The siesta. This should become an international institution.
10. The custom of greeting everyone. I love how when I get into elevators, whoever's in there says hello, and the first one to leave always says "hasta luego." As though we knew each other. I also love the fact that men open doors for women. Guess I'm just old-fashioned. :)

Things I miss from home:
1. My Birkenstocks.
2. Not having to walk 25 minutes to class.
3. My friends and family (actually, that's probably number one, but I dreamed about Birkenstocks last night for some reason. Go figure.)
4. Choir.
5. Practice rooms and pianos. Preferably both at the same time, but I'd take either one.
6. Easier access to research materials/libraries.
7. Easier communication without a huge time difference.
8. DRL. And really a Christian community in general. It's very different here.
9. Mustard. No one eats mustard here. They do, however, eat mayonnaise. Out of the two, not the one I'd choose.

Things I won't miss:
1. The pressure to "have fun" or "have the time of your life" or "have an authentic Spanish experience." I feel like study abroad is elevated to this pedestal, and admittedly it's been an unforgettable experience and I'm glad I did it, but that doesn't mean I don't have down days. Or head colds, like now. Or so much homework I feel lost and drowning. My host mom was talking to me today at lunch and mentioned that I haven't really discovered Granada's tapas, and isn't that a shame because Granada is known for its tapas. And there have been a lot of conversations like that, that I don't go out at night, that I stay in, that all the other students... And I'm not all the other students! I like to stay in. I don't like bars and crowds and noise. I'm weird like that. I do like spending time with people, and I'd rather do that in a different context than in a smoky bar.
2. The cigarette smoke everywhere.
3. The hours of stores - opening late in the morning, closed for the siesta, closed on Saturday afternoons (depends on the store), and closed on Sunday. If you have a busy class schedule, it makes running errands really difficult.

Places I've been/will be:
1. Granada!
2. Málaga
3. Ronda
4. Sevilla
5. Cabo de Gata
6. Córdoba
7. Tarifa
8. Morocco - Tangier and Rabat (also Chefchaouen, but that doesn't really count because I was sick)
9. Paris
10. Cádiz
11. Jerez
12. London

I think when I started this whole thing, I was expecting I'd magically turn into a different person when I was here. The kind of person who's outgoing, loves to be out, loves to be social, and has no qualms about going into unfamiliar restaurants with complete strangers and ordering in a foreign language. The kind of person who doesn't stress about schoolwork and is here for the experience first. That's not me. Admittedly, the schoolwork thing is something I need to work on, but it's also a point of pride with me, and I want to do my teachers justice. I think what my host mom sees is that I work hard and I study hard and I do well, but that's most of what I do, and she wants me to break the cycle. And I feel like I should have, but I'm in for the long haul now.

And then I remember the catchphrase from the Voice Care Network workshop this summer: "Don't 'should' on yourself." Because this is who I am. I need sleep to function, and when I've gone out and stayed up late I've had fun, but I can't do it on a regular basis or I'll get sick (like now). I value being with people more than I do places. I like spending time in the quiet. And I love music and singing and choir, which is why I've joined a choir here at the expense of my free time.

I guess I came here thinking I was going to change, and then when I didn't I gave up, and now I'm feeling overwhelmed. I only have four and a half weeks left here, which is crazy to think about, and one of those weekends I'll be in London, and the last week is finals week, and I have two research papers due next week. Have I wasted my time? I don't think so. Has it been the best time of my life? I don't know. But I think that for who I am, I've had a pretty good time here. And I will definitely, definitely tell people to go abroad.

How I'd leave in autumn I never would know...

Three weeks in between entries. And I have a feeling it's not going to get too much better from here. Next time probably won't be any sooner - next week Thursday I leave for Morocco for five days, and then I'm in Paris for Halloween weekend. I'm hopefully going to see La Bohème at the Paris Opéra while I'm there. It all seems so incredible, the amount of traveling I'm doing. I still have to plan my trip to Madrid, though. Really, all I want to do is see the Museo del Prado. Anything else would just be icing on the cake.

Classes are going well thus far. Midterms are this upcoming week, which is somewhat intimidating. I can't believe the time's flown so fast! On the one hand, I feel more settled now. I know how long it takes me to get to school every morning, I know which bus to take to the university, and I know how to budget my money to eat cheaply and still afford gelato on a regular basis. It's a good thing we walk so much here, because between the amount of food my señora makes, the pastelerías, and gelato, it's a wonder I haven't ballooned. I do love the food here, though. Admittedly the concept of cooking everything with olive oil is still a bit odd to me, and sometimes vegetables are salted more than I'm used to. Or maybe it's just that you actually taste the salt. But I love the fresh-baked bread every day. My host mother makes a point of telling me every day what I'm eating and where it's from. We've had paella twice, as well as gazpacho, the Spanish tortilla (like a frittata with potatoes), and the cocido, which is essentially like a stew consumed in steps: first the broth with really fine noodles, then the chickpeas, potatoes and cabbage, then the meat. We eat a lot of fish, especially fried fish, with which they like mayonnaise. We also eat a fair amount of pasta.

I should probably backtrack and explain that this is all the midday meal, or la comida. Traditionally it's served in three courses: the salad (or vegetables, or pasta, or potato salad, or soup), then the meat, then the postre, which is usually fruit and not pastry. Although my señora has made tiramisu, which was incredibly delicious. Needless to say, this is a lot of food, and I take full advantage of the sleepiness it causes with the siesta. Dinner is usually much lighter, though, and traditionally more in the form of tapas, single servings of food you get in bars. In Granada, you get a free tapa with your drink. This applies even to sodas or fruit juice. (Also, Daddy, practically every bar's sign has a Coca-Cola logo on it.) Breakfast is light, too, just coffee and a tostada (toast) or a pastry for the Spanish, although I eat fruit and yogurt as well. I love the food here. Before I came this semester, people would ask what I was looking forward to, and I would answer, "the food." I wasn't kidding.

Going back to classes, my IES program classes are all going fairly well. My professors are wonderful, especially for the Lorca literature class and the Islamic Civilization class. I'm certainly learning a lot about the Spanish culture and how it evolved, as well as Islamic history, which I'd been curious about for a while. Flamenco class is great. We're actually learning choreography, which we'll perform at the end of the semester. It's both easier and more difficult than you'd think. Our teacher is a professional, and every time she demonstrates for us we're all in awe. I still don't have a voice teacher, but I'm practicing again, and I'm managing to integrate music somehow into almost every class. We have a research paper due in every section, anywhere from five to fifteen pages long, and for most of them I'm pulling in a music element: the influence of musical forms in Lorca's poetry, music within Islam, etc. I'm realizing more and more how much music and singing really is a part of my identity. I'd never thought of myself as an "arts" major or realized just how different studying music is, but here I'm clinging to every practice opportunity I get. Which is why I'm glad I have choir. It's challenging singing in a different environment (and sightreading in fixed-do solfege!), but the music is what's important. It doesn't hurt that everyone is there because they want to sing. Pure and simple.

I'm also three weeks into my class at the University of Granada. It's History of Musical Styles, an elective for the department of Art History (Musicology is a possible carrera). There are two professors, one younger and infinitely more monotonous, one older and probably mostly supervising, but far more engaging. I know that the traditional Spanish teaching style is more lecture-based and less interactive, but it gets difficult to pay attention sometimes. Which is a problem when I don't know a lot of the vocabulary. I'm also still trying to work through the Andalucian accent, which means almost all s's are dropped, and so taking notes can be difficult. The good part is that most of the material is a review, which lets me concentrate on identifying vocabulary. Plus I'm finally starting to meet other Spanish students, which was the whole point of a University class. So that's going well.

It's getting late, so I'll leave this for now. Next time: Córdoba, Tarifa, and Africa!

A few preview photos:



La mezquita (the mosque) de Córdoba



Gardens of the Alcázar



Sunset at Tarifa

Chocolate y canciones

I warned you I would be pretty bad about this, didn't I? Even worse, I haven't been keeping up with my journal. Every time I start to think about an entry, the sheer amount of things that I experience every day seems daunting. But, really, if I don't start now I'll never remember half of it! So here goes.

Very quickly, the major highlights from the last three (!) weeks: a day-long hike at Cabo de Gata, full of sand and wind and beautiful views; orientation week, with language classes and walking tours of the city; finding a church the very first free Sunday; IES classes starting, and a two-day trip to Ronda and Sevilla after our first week of classes. Our second week just finished, and University of Granada (UGR) classes start next week. With any luck, I'm taking a class in History of Musical Styles, which should be interesting. And there's a choir! I finally found out where and when it is. I can't wait to start singing again.


Probably my favorite picture from Cabo de Gata



My homestay is about a 25-minute walk away from the IES center, which really isn't bad. I've learned to gauge how far I am, and I'm really used to walking everywhere. It'll be an odd feeling to take the bus to UGR for my night class. Well, technically, it's an afternoon class, because la tarde goes until 9 PM. The Spanish concept of time is so different. I remember learning in elementary school that mediodía was noon. Here, mediodía is the middle of the day, la hora de la comida, which is more like 2 PM. And the siesta really is an institution here. Almost everything is closed (except for the Chinese stores - but that's another story) from 2 or 2:30 until 5 or 6.

In orientation, they told us that the Spanish divide their day up into three parts. 8 hours are for sleeping, 8 are for working, and 8 are for enjoying yourself. They really believe this, too. I'm already happily taken with the siesta, and I'm working on the rest. :) If you know me at all, you know how much of a workaholic I can be, so this is certainly a change for me. But I'm getting there, little by little.

The trip to Ronda and Sevilla was lovely, especially since I'd been before with Co-choir. It let me take fewer pictures and just be there. It let me feel more comfortable. It also let me listen to our tour guide, who was absolutely wonderful and had so much to say about the history and the architecture, especially in Sevilla. I love the Reales Alcazares palace. It makes me feel like I'm in a fantasy story in another world.



Visiting the Sevilla cathedral brought back so many choir tour memories. This time, though, we got to go up the Giralda, the bell tower. The views from there were wonderful.





Oh! And I can't forget the flamenco show we saw the first evening in Sevilla. It was absolutely spectacular. I saw a flamenco show in Granada on tour last time, but this blew it completely out of the water. These were artists, doing what they are passionate about. The communication between the guitarrista, the cantaor, and the bailaores was really incredible. (It reminded me a bit of jazz.) And the dancing! I still can't find the right words to describe it. Passionate, emotional, strong yet expressive...

One last quick word before I leave for now. Any city that has free outdoor concerts, free tapas with drinks, and a chocolate festival is the perfect place for me.

Mishaps and marvels

First of all, I'd like to make it clear that I am likely to be a highly sporadic updater. Already there's so much to tell, even though I've only been out of the country for three days (not counting flights), and I'll hardly be able to do it justice here. That being said, here goes!

Flights = not fun. Fortunately there were no major mishaps, but planes and I don't mix too well when sleep is involved. Apart from the 36-hour period without sleep, though, things went well, and I landed in Málaga with luggage completely intact! There were actually quite a few people from the IES program on the flight from Madrid to Málaga, and we all grouped together. That afternoon, we went to the beach for a while, then had a short meeting before taking a walking tour of the city. The highlight for me was an outdoor Roman theater in the midst of all these beautiful buildings. This is why I came back to Europe.

The next day, we had orientation meetings, mostly informational as well as a few get-to-know-you sessions. And the food! I'd forgotten what hotel breakfasts were like. It reminded me of choir tour last May, the cold cuts and the pastries and fruit, and then the lunch was a buffet. All delicious. Always delicious. I'm going to be waxing poetic about the food constantly. I absolutely love it. We boarded buses for Granada in the afternoon, and after a 2-hour ride were met by our señoras. Mine is named Marí Cármen, and she's wonderful. She's been doing this for years, and she's kept in touch with many of her past host students. She made me feel comfortable right away, and she's a wonderful cook. She's already given me so much advice about where to go to shop for clothes, or food, and where the best place for churros is. It's going to take me a while to get settled, certainly, but I already feel safe in my room.

Today was interesting, to say the least. Travel, jet lag, exhaustion, and the heat, among other things, caught up with me this morning in class, and I had to leave. After resting all day, though, I felt much better, and joined back up with the group to walk through the Albaicín. I haven't taken nearly as many pictures as before, but I will, I think. I'd just rather experience it than be so preoccupied with recording it every step of the way. That being said, some things were just too gorgeous to pass up.





Tonight was my first time in a tapas bar, and my first time finding my way home. I'm realizing just how much I'll need to break out of my shell. I'm good at smiling at people, but not at asking for directions or starting up conversations. Here, smiles aren't a habit so much as a particular indication, and people aren't as outgoing. Plus I need to not be on my own quite so much. But I think I'll get there; just give me time.

Making a list, checking it twice

I leave tomorrow. My flight out of Charlotte leaves at 12:30, so I get to wake up bright and early in order to leave the house at 7:30 A.M. I'll be in Málaga for my orientation at 1 P.M. (local time) on Thursday, September 3. And I'm staring at my half-packed suitcases, wondering how on earth this is happening. I have everything. I think I don't have too much, although we'll see about that. And despite the wonderful, lovely nature of packing lists, I keep thinking there's something I'm forgetting, or will forget. I know I should be excited, but at the moment I'm erring more on the side of fretting nervousness.

In the back of my head, though, I know I'm excited. I'm going to Spain! I get to spend a day in Málaga, where I haven't been before, and then I'm living in Granada. For a semester. Mountains and cobblestone streets and narrow, winding alleys past whitewashed buildings with iron railings for balconies. History: the Alhambra, palace to the Moorish kings; the Albaicín, historic district; the catedrál which houses Ferdinand and Isabella. Fresh-baked bread and olive oil and paella and gelato. And music. Flamenco, Spanish guitar, and a beautiful heritage of Renaissance choral music. It's slightly familiar, thanks to choir tour, and yet so different. I'm thrilled.

I'm also terrified.

I'm going, though. I've dreamed about this for years. I'm afraid of the unknown, of all the uncertainties, but I have to trust that everything will fall into place. Who knows how I'll grow?

See you across the Atlantic!