paelladas.

on saturday. ohhhh saturday. let me tell you about saturday. it was in the high seventies. i wore a sundress. hair up. sunglasses on. i shaved. all big deals. i was spending the weekend at erins house: finally a place all to ourselves (unfortunately of utmost importance. not out of a distain for our families, but more out of a distain for the jump backwards from once-hand independence). it would have been good enough.  the sun would have been good enough. the shaving. the dress. the cold drinks. the sand. all would have been good enough. 

but then we get invited. we get invited to go make paella at la punta. there is a place in cádiz called "la punta" which is a literal "point" surrounded by water in the old part of the town. it is the only place that is still legal to drink publicly; knock-em-back, spain. the place is usually only populated between the hours of 2am and 6am where it looks something like this: a row of pretty shitty dance-clubs, dirty, crowded, and populated with raging seventeen-year-olds. to be honest, description aside, it is not the greatest place to go (although it will always have a place in my heart). but this description of la punta is solely the after-dark description. we had no idea what we were in for when we were invited to go make paella at la punta in the middle of the day. ha! it. was. incredible. we pack up a grocery back with some tinto de verano (the summer delight that has made its face shine again) and hit up la punta. 

there you have it: a group of about twenty or thirty twenty or thirty somethings, having the time of their life, wearing chef hats, laughing and singing and shananagining. standing around a portable burner and gas tank. and. a. huge. absolutely huge. pan of paella in the works (kira, thought of you and steven and those way-too-large paella pans at his work that we never really knew why anybody would ever use them. i now know.). in go the veggies and the chicken and the stock and the rice and the tender love and care. out comes paella. then a kiddy pool shines his face. in goes the apples and the red wine and the sugar and the alc. out comes sangria. 

astounding. spaniards have a way of standing around in the sun all day and making it feel like the day was completely spent worthwhile. satisfying. with a purpose. well, paella, of course. :) 

 

somehow.

i am officially without any voice. none. well, there is some sort of noise that comes out when i attempt to talk, but its not quite humanly comprehensible. wowza. 

seventy-five and sunny.

uhoh. its warm enough to go to the beach. i got a little sunburnt yesterday when erin and i spent the afternoon in one of the nearby pueblos (one of the "white towns" built on a cliff, stacked with old white buildings and gorgeous views) sipping glasses of wine and beer in the sun. i say this uhoh not as an uhoh of skin protection or my (not-so-silent) love for the layers of winter, but more as an uhoh of the realization that i won't be ready to leave this place in four months. uhoh, indeed. 

golden parties.

it was a day spent in glory. its how birthdays should be, right? especially when you turn six. especially when its your golden birthday. exactly. the day should be spent at grandma's house, in grandma's patio..... with all of your best friends and all of your family and your grandma's exchange student. its exactly how it should be. and yes, it was a day worth writing home about. 

the family all comes over around three. we eat a rushed meal (well, "rushed"... lets be honest nothing moves very quickly here) and begin decorating the patio. balloons galore (ay, no puedo más. voy a morir con la falta de aire!), party favors, more balloons, food, the whole shabang. the whole family is there. aunts and uncles and cousins and grandmas. the kiddies arrive an hour later. the whole load of 'em. the whole neighborhood. the whole city im pretty sure. then. it. begins. five hours of dancing and congos and kids on shoulders and throwing kids in the air and spanish versions of piñatas and presents and cake and more dancing and whistles and running and falling and soccering. all in the patio. then come the balloons and the balloon animals (no, im so sorry sweety, i don't know how to make a crown with seven points and a star on the top, but i would love to make you a sword...), and more dancing and singing and games. the sun sets. the kids trample me over and sit on me. now that is what i call a birthday party. 

carlos (my host brother) comes down the stairs with a glass. "what's this?" i ask. "whiskey," he replies. they've all got stiff drinks. "michelle, drink up." i love this place. 

a weekend in the countryside.

it is march. MARCH. no me lo puedo creer! i sincerely apologize for my lack of blogability. no good at this. maybe it is a good sign, however. maybe it is a demonstration of the way that life has been in this place. right? excuses. but good ones. :) 

i have too much to write about. too many stories to share with you. i hope that i can sum them up with enough hudspah, enough heart, enough truth. i will try. 

two weekends ago erin and i had a chance to get out of cádiz and visit our friends in sevilla (a town about two hours north of here). we met them last semester-- they are true gems of this country [they're rollerskaters! when they aren't working they spend their time rollerskating on the streets and in the plazas. now this is a crazy and really popular past-time of tons of spaniards...] a few times have had the chance to go visit them again. [not quite vicky, christina, barcelona style--we're much tamer than that. but, maybe along the same sentimental line. quizás.] a normal visit goes like this: meet up, get a drink, see the city, get some more drinks, see more of the city, meet up with friends, and come back to cádiz. its a flash. a quick sensation of the vibe of the city. and it is always great. but this time... well this time it was different. one dear friend, javi, lives out in the country-- about a half hour away from the city. he owns his beautiful country home fit with gardens and a pool and neighbors with chickens. fit with three sweet little dogs (well, two sweet little dogs and one little devil-of-a-thing). fit with a beautiful, strong, chocolate-brown horse. fit with guitars and outdoor seating and hospitality. you see, these friends are amazing. so erin and i had the chance to go visit javi and the gang two weekends ago! this time, instead of feeling the hearty pulse of the city, we got to enrich ourselves in the smooth tranquility of the country. we relaxed by the pool (its in the seventies here? that shit's crazy). we spent the morning riding off-road motorcycles through the country-side (scenery fit with wild horses, rivers, cliffs, and barbecues). we stopped by the river and skipped rocks. [come back in a few weeks and, see that rope over there? we'll jump on in the river!] we played the guitars and sang. we cooked THE MOST INCREDIBLE (pardon my excitement, it is truly sincere) lunch. we napped in the shade and listened to the chickens do their chickiting. we made plans to return, we made plans to be alive, we made plans to certainly spend more days feeling that air. 

let me tell you, that weekend of february fourteenth? better than any. life to date. as much as i love cádiz (and am even more in love with it since my sister and mom came to visit), it always feels good to step into a new environment. to get out of the city for a bit. but even more thanthat, it always feels good to be reminded of what beautiful things you are living for in this life. for such great friends, for such experiences and adventures, for such amazing views and days. the country always does that to me. i'm a sucker for that place. and, oh man, what a great breath of air. 

  

in other news-- i dropped one of my classes. best. decision. ever. maybe javi and the gang enlightened my outlook on school once again. or my momma. whoever is to receive the thanks: thank you. 

we got back from a month-long vacation in january. we had class for a week or so. we went to sevilla. had a few more classes. and ohhhhh myyyyy goooooodnesss that was just tooooo much school. so we had vacation again. :) this past week has been carnaval.

car...na....val.....i just don't know where to begin about carnaval. so i will write about it later. tomorrow. stay tuned. because you are going to want to hear about carnaval. 

with all of my love.

small updates in the life of.

-we had a tornado warning last week. although the news actually never declared such warning; it all stemmed from word of mouth. like most things here. 

-classes have begun. well, half of them have begun. until thursday, these days are still spent vacationing, while here and there i learn how the spanish ended up in america. 

-my host mom's grandson has a fever again. lets hope this time he doesn't give it to me. come on. 

-today it is a rainy day. i would be perfectly content spending every hour of the day at home baking. unfortunately, that will not be happening due to lack of personal kitchen and (funds for) ingredients. así es. 

the girlies! the cameras!

they came! they conquered! their time here was incredible. look at those ladies, how could it not be? the female clan together again. their weekend visit was straight out of a dream-- train rides through the country, surprise first class, anthropologie hotel rooms, orange blossom scents. paseos through the city, walks along the coast, meeting friends and drinking wine. tucked away in our little rooms, laughing like we never parted. those were two faces that i needed to see, voices i needed to hear, a weekend that i needed to have. two worlds collide. it was incredible. and their view of the city? their new perspective? their open eyes and vocal thoughts? their glimpse into the life that thrives here? well, it made me fall in love all over again. what a great, great visit lonnie and loulou. 

___________________________________________________________

carnaval festivities have begun here in cádiz! it's the biggest carnaval in europe-- hundreds of thousands of people will make their way to this charming little city in a few weeks for a.....celebration? an excuse? to get dressed up in costumes, to sing in the streets, to drink all the live long day, stay out all night, to remind yourself that you are young and alive? exactly. eso. and the preparations have begun. the city government took down the christmas lights and put up the carnaval lights: clowns and masks and witches lining the streets. it is fabulous. 

and here is where it gets interesting. one of the main reasons for carnaval is the singing. they love them some carnaval music. groups are formed (some are chorus groups, some are more of a theater production, some are serious, most are fun), and music is written pertaining to today (to cádiz, to traditional carnaval, to the crisis--aka the root of all evil, to spanish culture). they dress in costume, elaborate costumes, insane costumes, and -boyohboy- do they take this stuff seriously. so for the entire month of february there is a competition between the most professional singing groups. groups perform every night in front of judges, and at the end of the 'concurso' (at the beginning of carnaval in the streets!) a winner is announced. now these groups sing all over the city, and come from all over the country. during the week of celebration they will sing in the streets, of course they will. but for now. for this month. this is what they do.

they sing in this incredible theater here in cádiz. it is gorgeous, old, historical. a cathedral of a theater. called "el teatro falla." this place is the only real venue here in the city, and normally hosts shows and concerts and acts. but during february? it is carnaval central station. and, again, they take this month very seriously. people waited in line all night for these tickets. to sit in the nosebleed seats? around 40 euros. to sit in a balcony? 80 euros. but that's when you buy them from the ticket office. to sit in a private balcony once the seats are sold out? well, folks. tickets sometimes go for as high as 500 euros. 5. 0. 0. euros. unbelievable. carnaval is serious. 

and two nights ago, erin and i went. to carnaval! to carnaval en el falla! we had no plans of going, never even crossed our minds. we don't have 40 euros. 80 euros. 500 euros. no way. but we do have this friend. he's a journalist, and spends every night at el falla-- every night reporting on the groups that sing, writing up reviews, diving right in. man, he loves this stuff. and somehow, somewhere, in some dream of life here in cádiz, he got us into the newspaper's private balcony. we're talking prime seats. we're talking ground floor, perfect view, best view. we're talking out of the blue. unreal. it was amazing. but it doesn't stop there. he's a journalist, yes? well. with his word of mouth, erin and i soon became the spectacle of the evening. he told all of his journalist and newscaster friends that two american girls were sitting in the balcony. "two american girls watching carnaval in el falla? that is curious. very very curious." before we knew it we had our picture taken. and another. and then a man with a video camera came up to us. and a bright spotlight. and a microphone. oh! live television! and then another microphone. oh! a radio show! and another camera. and another microphone. and there we are. two girls in el falla. sitting in glory. sitting in shock. in the midst of it all. 

we were on tv. we were broadcast on two radio shows. we were published in two newspapers. 

carnaval has begun. 

barack obama. katie marie. karyl marie.

first of all. we have a new president. and finally. sin verguenza. i am american. i am proud. i am delighted. watching this unfold from abroad might be one of the most amazing experiences of a lifetime. it might bring you clarity about this man that is taking office. and confidence. and pride. the whole world is cheering him on. i absolutely mean that. :) the day has never been so great. 

in other news. in the best of news. here comes my sis and my momma! for days! this little chikity has never been so happy. :)

wild.

the hills were alive with wildflowers and i was as wild, even wilder, than they. for at least i could run, they just died in the sun, and i refused to just wither in place.

just a wild mountain rose, needing freedom to grow... so i ran fearing not where i'd go. when a flower grows wild it can always survive, wildflowers don't care where they grow. 

and the flowers i knew in the fields where i grew were content to be lost in the crowd. they were common and close, i had no room for growth, i wanted so much to branch out.

i uprooted myself from home ground and left... took my dreams and i took to the road. when a flower grows wild it can always survive, wildflowers don't care where they grow.

i grew up fast and wild and i never felt right in a garden so different from me. i just never belonged, i just longed to be gone. so the garden, one day, set me free. 

hitched a ride with the wind and, since he was my friend, i just let him decide where we'd go. when a flower grows wild it can always survive, wildflowers don't care where they grow. 

here i am.

"if you could get a tattoo, what would it be of?"

"that's the thing. there's nothing that i'm passionate enough about yet. there's nothing i will cherish forever. there is nothing in my life that i want to have put on my body. i guess that's why i'm traveling......i'm searching for my tattoo." 

-david

"are your feet cold?"

"yes, but look at these boots. see where they're worn? that's spain. i lost that heel in amsterdam. and see that hole there? that's from italy. and that one, from belgium. that tear in the top, i got that one in paris. and that scuff on the side, that's from dublin. there's a whole world under these boots." 

-alessandro, yo

they made it. [sort of.] these traveling boots were steadily with me every day, they carried every story along the way. they carried a world under them. they held all of my secrets and experiences and dreams and pasts. they treated me well. and then, in a ceremony of gratitude and despedida, i bid them farewell on the streets of paris. i bid them farewell for the next person to find them, for the next person to line them with cardboard or fabric, to warm them and worn them. for the next traveler to pick up on their way around the world. they treated me well. and now, let me tell you some of the stories they had in them. goodbye, you traveling shoes. 

we started going from cádiz to milan italy (for a flight layover) and then ended up in amsterdam. we made it to our hostel, a really famous one called "the flying pig." it was beautiful, a nice bar in the basement, really safe, really beautiful. but if that is all the city had to offer, i would stop there. the delight did not stop in the hostel. in fact, amsterdam is the most beautiful city i have seen year-to-date [again. not to say much. lets go farther. life-to-date, in it's own way, i suppose.] absolutely stunning. with old buildings, tall and thin, lining the streets and the canals. the streets full of christmas lights, strewn through canals. it is the quintessential european city, with trams and an iceskating rink and christmas trees and pubs and coffee shops.

 

all of you ever hear of this city is the drugs and the prostitution (both of which are prevalent, both of which exist), but there is so much more than that. there is kindness, there is a culture, there is beauty. there are more bikes than there are humans in the city, and they are rarely locked. 

there is trust. there is happiness. emily and erin and i were walking in the street one day and santa came around the corner. yup. santa. "DO YOU WANT A PICTURE??" of course we want a picture. "THREE OF THEM! WE'LL GIVE YOU THREE! FOR FREE!" and that was it. three polaroid photos, handfuls of little chocolates, and ya está. we hunted down what we wanted to experience, and ya está.

there was a freeing spirit during those days in amsterdam. 

a few days later, on christmas eve, we caught a train to brugges (belgium). the trip there brought christmas phone calls and carols of silent night from the family, an omen of course to how lovely our time would be in brugges. it was magical. 

the city is tiny. a disney-land of sorts, a city that feels like it has not moved [or maybe that it has not stopped moving] since the middle ages. it carries history, pride, and the flemmish language. of course i speak flemmish.

we checked into our christmas-present-hotel on christmas-eve: the die swaene. oh. my. gosh. this hotel was amazing. incredible. we had a room of magic: entirely decorated in rich, lavish red tones, with a small vanity tucked in the corner, with down blankets, with robes and slippers. the key came on a rope fit for queens. for kings. for princesses and, well, travelers.

with a pool that looked like it belonged to the most extravagant spas in the world. we had a balcony that overlooked the dining room and the various brown-toned-brick rooftops of brugges. outside the hotel was a canal, strewn with christmas lights. we hung our long socks by the radiator for stockings, we tucked into our robes, and we laid in bed and watched audrey hepburn movies on television. it was enchanting. 

of course we left the hotel room once or twice for an incredible buffet breakfast in the cave-of-a-dining-room where they used to age the meat and the wine. of course we left the hotel once to go iceskating in the center of the city. of course we left once to eat traditional flemmish meals (rabbit in a belgium beer stew sauce? of course i'll try it. sorry, oreo.) our first days in belgium were slow and delightful. 

we left the day after christmas to move to a hostel. still charming, of course (as are most things in belgium). we stayed in "bauhaus," where there was another happening bar and wonderful traveling scene. it feels different when you are traveling during the holidays-- everybody is searching for that bit of home and that bit of family that they are missing. it was in this city that we met some wonderful australians, mexicans, italians, and fellow americans. lovely folk, simply lovely.  

after throwing stones on frozen canals with new friends, after seeing the huge windmills, 

and drinking hot wine and eating brats and onions and waffles and chocolate, 

after hunting down the "debruyn" bed and breakfast, 

our time in brugges had come to an end. 

we soaked up our time in belgium, and headed off to paris (france). the train tickets were nearly sold out, and so it ended up that we needed to [... ehem... as we like to travel in style...] buy first class train tickets to paris. haha. así es la vida, ¿no? :) we did just that. and with a farewell to brugges, we boarded the train (the lavish train, with bottled water and a meal and wifi and plugs and dimmed lights and coat holders) and were on our way. 

the first few nights in paris we couch surfed (there is a website where you can find somebody's couch to stay on, saving money, getting a local and inside perspective of the city it seems to work out well). it worked out well for us. pierre was a kind gentlemen, gave us a bed to sleep in, and met us for drinks and evening city-tours.  

we spent new years eve with pierre and his friends in the forest. the parisian forest. his friend's mom owns an old theater, where they were hosting a big new years party. it was a "bring a drink or food and get in for free" sort of deal. drinking and dancing and ringing in two thousand and nine in parisian style. it was an interesting way to ring in the new year. and, yes, fun (up until the point that we realized the metro was not, in fact, running all night and we had a three-hour walk ahead of us). oh well, does the boots good. 

after a few nights at pierres we headed to hotel saint sebastian, where we spent the next week. it was a charming little hotel, an attic room with exposed ceiling beams. charming for the strong-of-heart. we [secretly[ enjoyed the dance parties that our middle-eastern neighbors privately hosted in the wee hours of the morning. we [secretly] loved the graffiti carved into the wooden beams and walls. it was from here that we meandered into the real paris: to amelie's cafe and the moulin rouge; to the eiffel tower and the seine river; to versailles and marais and le chat noir and sacre coure and the louvre and many marvelous myriads of neighborhoods. we had no rush. we had days and days to soak in the life that was. 

it was finally in paris that some snow came our way. delightful. thick. white. rich. the kind of sight that this michigander longs for. without snow it never really is a true winter. it was just what we needed to press on. 

the best part of paris. the story beyond stories. the tale that, not unlike hotel saint sebastian, is for the strong of heart, is this. one day we decided to stroll to the plaza where marie antoinette was guillotined. a little history never hurt anyone. and in this case, it only helped us. after exploring the plaza and ghosts and surrounding areas, our stroll begin. famous streets and lit trees and glorious views, it was incredible. we walked and walked and finally stumbled upon a crowd of people. if i learned one thing on this trip [a true lie let me warn you right now], it is that a crowd is always a good sign. always. we were outside of a theater, there was a red carpet, and so we asked around in our inability to speak french. we decided to stick around, weasel our way up to the front, get a good look at what was coming our way. and then it happened. he stepped out of the limo. he walked out onto the red carpet, black tuxedo, so sharp, so handsome, what a stud. he waved and signed autographs and waved and laughed and got close to the crowd. we were in the front, but on the fringe. "he's not coming our way." or so we thought. here he comes here he comes here he comes. i am ashamed to say [again, a complete lie] that erin and i completely lost our cool at this moment. things transformed, we reverted to sixteen year old girls, screaming and gooing and gahing. but it was worth it. what came out of our mouths? "in west philadelphia born and raised on a playground...." he heard us. not only did he hear us, but he joined in. "on a playground is where i spent most of my..." oh. my. god. will smith is singing with us. singing with us! will smith! right here! in front of our faces! singing! i had my camera in my hand, and in the excitement of everything he grabbed my camera, came into my embrace [yes, look closely, both of those brown mittens are mine indeed, i may or may not be hugging the handsome man], and snapped a picture. will. you are a good man. and, as it turns out, you are now my favorite actor. highlight of paris. 

on my birthday, erin and i woke up bright and early to catch our flight to dublin (ireland). it was the last stop on our journey, and a bittersweet farewell to emily and karina and paris and all the places we had been thusfar. four thirty in the morning came far to early, as we took our last walk to the metro in hopes of finding the bus to the airport. 

dublin was charming. a city of green, of guinness [and tours of said factory], of hilarity. it was the perfect place to spend a twentysecond birthday. 

i reunited with an old friend from spu; crossing paths in distant lands. we met some locals, they showed us their favorite places to see, and we ended the night singing "i love you baby" with irishmen in a packed pub. wonderful. a charming ending to the trip of a lifetime. 

a day and a half in ireland. and back to spain. back to home. back to where i belong for now. 

time to ring in what will come next. the next journey. the next place to bring these new traveling shoes. the next story to walk upon and carry with me and put inside of that place within me that holds so many things in this world so dear to my heart. this world makes me a better person. this world makes me stronger, more courageous, gives me strength and passion and hopes and dreams. this world a damn good place. 

they say i'm going to quit these wandering ways some day. i'm not convinced. :)