Part 2

This is still going to be just text, I'll be explaining the next couple days that were spent in my dad Javi's pueblo called Albacete, the "New York" of "La Mancha" (literally, the blanket) of Spain.

The only reason that Albacete is called the New York is because in the flat, nothingness of eastern Spain, the taller buildings in Albacete stand out. It's really a fairly ugly and typical city. They replaced many of the old, historical buildings in the town with modern apartment buildings and businesses, gray and brown monstrosities that dwarf the smaller, charming old buildings next to them. Ana's parents are both from Albacete, and her parents used to live in buildings across the street from one another. That's how they first fell in love- looking through the windows into the other's homes, both prominent families, seeking out the other. At least, that's how the story is told. The reason that the family goes back each year, however, is because of Javi's family, all of his brothers and sisters except one still live in the city with their families. It's a 2 hour drive, so we swept out of the house at about 12:30 in order to get there for La Comida, the most important meal of the day, and how to really celebrate Christmas. I slept for most of the car ride and we walked up the stairs and into my Aunt Marisa's apartment at about 2:30. The apartment was heavily decorated, with a ridiculous amount of pictures on the walls, statues, blankets, throw pillows, all coated with a sort of sweet, dense scent that I'll forever identify with her apartment. It reminded me a lot of my Grandma Roma's house, the kind we've all been in at least once, with mirrored medicine cabinet filled with bottles and boxes from the 50's and 60's that I'm sure would sell on eBay. Powder blue walls, lacey beddings, terrifying sewn "dolls", and knitted, obnoxiously colored blankets are some of the other characteristics of these types of houses. I felt right at home :)

My Tia Marisa lives in the apartment by herself, so having it suddenly filled with 5 other bodies for three days put her a little bit on edge. The rest of the family arrived fairly soon, 2 more sets of aunts and uncles, a distant cousin, and one of our first cousins. All of the cousins are older in the family, the youngest is 24. Jacobo shines at the family gatherings, as he's the youngest and by far the most precious, and I don't think he minds the attention. We ate very well that first day, roasted almonds and fine cheese being two of the highlights. There's no way not to stuff yourself. If you deny more food, they either look at you like you've just run over their dog, or they ignore your request and just pile the next giant turkey leg onto your plate anyways. Immediately after lunch, we watched some TV and then Bea and I went out with Marta (the 24 year old cousin) that night to some of the local bars and generally just walked around. It hasn't stopped raining in Spain for a week, I swear, so I've become accustomed to walking around with an umbrella everywhere I go. We spent the next day exploring Albacete and then had a lunch with all of the cousins at an Italian restaraunt, 8 of us in total in attendance, with two or three in other parts of the world. It was the first dinner with cousins that they've ever had, quite distinct from the other side of the family. They talked for a while about American politics and lifestyle, one of them having lived in Washington D.C. for two years and commenting how the days were far too structured and rigid for him. I can understand that better now having seen the Spanish structure of the day, flexible and relaxed, a little of this a little of that, always with a glass of wine or time for a quick nap. The fast pace of life in the U.S, particularly in D.C, could quite easily overwhelm a Spaniard. We wrapped up the night curled up in the living room, with Jacobo rolling in laughter at Mulan, which he had never seen before, with me laughing like a fool right next to him.

Bea and I awoke the next morning and we all got ready to visit a pueblo right next to Albacete called Chinchilla, which is famous for it's homes in caves. They are literally homes built into the sides of the mountains and terrain, practical and simple, and we walked around on the one sunny day in weeks, admiring the large old buildings and churches, and witnessing how Albacete does stick out significantly on the flat land. We spent the rest of the night back in Albacete hunting for high heels for Bea (she's very specific... they can't be too high of a heel because she's quite tall and can't balance, they have to be a certain color and material) for New Years Eve, and then the immediate family gathered at a local restaurant. It was a hole in the wall, very discreet, and completely packed. There was one little old man behind the counter who you put in all your orders to and then his little old wife in the kitchen cooks everything up. It was tiny, maybe 5 tables and very traditional and Spanish, bull fighters pictures on the wall, everything painted a dull yellow, the traditional dishes being bull's tail, shrimp, or cod (and one plate of square, gray, squishy blocks which my dad called "sangre" which literally means blood and made me incredibly nervous). Jacobo and I played the entire way home, my boots made a clicking noise on the sidewalk and Jacobo designed little rythymns on the pavement, jumping every few steps, Ana smiling at us and both of us laughing and chattering in Spanish. I realized later that night that I'd been speaking in all Spanish the entire weekend and I didn't even notice, it's become so natural.

Ana, Bea, and I went home the next morning, the 28th, thanking Aunt Marisa and having slept and relaxed enough in the past week for the enitre year. That's what Christmas vacation is for, I guess. Jacobo stayed in Albacete with my dad, they'll return on the 30th. These past two days, I chatted with my family at home on Skype, catching up on the normal antics (particularly those of the beloved Bruce). I miss my family in Nerstrand but I'm falling more and more in love with the family here. I went to my friend Robi's last night for a Spanish horror movie and Italian coffees. Bea and I are celebrating New Years in a "hotel" decked out as a club. We're going to my grandpa's other house in Madrid for a dinner and then out and about until the wee hours of the morning, which is the only appropriate, Spanish way. Pictures will be uploaded very soon, more ridiculously long blogs to come, there's too much to remember and love about these Holiday seasons-- no snow, but cold-- not the normal, but wonderful.

Besitos y Besitos, Sami

Part 1

FELIZ NAVIDAD!

I'm going to document Christmas in a few parts, since they were all pretty distinct for me and the camera with all the photos is in my dad's pueblo in Eastern Spain (that'll be explained later). This entry will be entirely text recounting the past week or so.

The first real event was Christmas Eve, which in some ways is a bigger deal than Christmas day. It's called Nochebuena, and it's traditionally the night where the family gathers to celebrate the religious aspect of the holiday. Since Spain is largely Catholic, the story of Jesus' birth is recounted many times in many different manners, there are Nativity Scenes set up everywhere that you turn and all the little kids have at least one or two plays recounting the story. We all got very dressed up and went to my Grandpa's house in Las Matas which is inbetween Madrid and Majadahonda. My grandpa was a successful architect in his life, so he has space to accomodate the entire family.... 42 of us in total, 23 first cousins alone. When we got there, the normally freezing house was warm with bodies and the heat from the kitchen and just general joy and anticipation. It was, in some ways, similar to a made-for-TV movie with every family member hugging the other and giving the 2 traditional kisses. In the middle of it all, my Grandpa was standing with his normal, thick, knitted dark green and blue sweater, with his hands behind his back, humming pretty loudly, but to himself. I wonder what he could have been feeling or thinking with all those souls, small and large gathered around him enjoying one another, knowing that he had ultimately made it all possible.

Los Reyes Magos (or the Three Kings) bring the gifts to the children here in Spain. Santa Claus exists (Papa Noel) but he is considered more "American" and is celebrated in "modern" households (those were the exact words Bea used to describe it to me... I'm not quite sure what it means). The Three Kings don't bring the gifts until the night of the 6th of January, we wake up on the 7th and find them. However, in this family, they also bring one gift for each child and hide it somewhere in the house. One by one the kids start sniffing around for the presents, they slowly form a sort of parade, streaming in and out of rooms with aunts guiding the little ones and eventually the entire family following behind, searching for the room with the gifts. Eventually, we found the room, each cousin has a wrapped present with their name on it. Bea recieved pajamas, Jacobo a telescope, and I got a small bag and makeup. My grandfather gives each of his grandchildren 50 euros, and I was included in that as well, a great relief for a broke exchange student. All the smaller cousins ducked in and out of their parents legs and escaped aunts reaching for sloppy kisses, posing quickly for pictures and then moving back to their new dolls or lego sets. It was general chaos and extremely hot, with wrapping paper flying in every possible direction and flashes of cameras hitting you when you least expected it.

Eventually we moved to another part of the house, where we usually eat meals and congregate every Saturday, and formed a circle, each person holding a wrapped present. This was my favorite part of the evening, the Secret Santa gift exchange. The Spanish are known for their fiestas, they're known for their lively and rowdy dispositions. But I've never seen anything like this. One by one they chant a cousin's name, staring with the youngest who is only 3 months old. That person walks (or in Pilar's case, is carried) into the center and your Secret Santa, the other cousin meets you in the middle and hands you the gift. With the entire family hooting and hollering ("It's a book!" "It's a box!" "It's a book in a box!") the cousin opens their gift, poses for a few hasty photos and then is swept out of the center with the next cousin's name being chanted. I was inserted where Javi normally is and my older cousin Begonia gave me a fantastic scarf, one that I genuinely love. It's understood that the parents shop for the gifts of the Secret Santas, so I thanked my aunt as well as Begonia for the gift, being chanted on and whistled at like all the rest. The respective parents then exchange all their gifts, the six adult couples trade within each other and the entire family pitches in for one giant present for the Abuelo. Everyone was laughing and cheering, some of the smaller boys immediately adorning their Batman and Spiderman suits and running wildly ducking and stabbing at invisible enemies, while the older family members teased one another and swept off to the dinner.

Downstairs an enormous table was set with 36 places, a smaller table off to the side for the young cousins who prefer to sit with each other... the "little kids table" in my family at home. We dined on soup and whole shrimp with mayo (I discovered that it's against the law to sell pre-peeled shrimp when they are the larger variety, the peels and eyes and legs all are testament to how fresh the animal is). We ate various kinds of meat, several types of cakes and pies, drank CocaCola and water and ate the finest bread with the finest cheese. The older cousins went back upstairs for a while, to recouperate and escape the noise and just enjoy one another's company for a while. I have a cousin named Joaquin who is convinced that a type of bracelet that he wears helps maintain his balance and equilibrium, so we enjoyed ourselves testing his theories (all of which I failed miserably, surprise surprise).

We went back downstairs eventually to watch the littler kids put on a small rendition of the Christmas Story that Jacobo had written. Jacobo is a very serious 10-year-old and takes his acting in the same regard. He was intent on having a lovely production, and got a little frustrated when the 6-year-old Angel started climbing on top of the stable when he was supposed to be holding guard over it on a chair. The play was all around adorable and hilarious, however, all the parents cheered and whooped, and it was performed a second time, just for extra clarity :) Some Christmas Carols were sung (although in Spanish they're more like party songs, a celebration as opposed to a quiet, solemn reminder that we have in Silent Night and the First Noel). We all made it back home at about 2:30, spoiling my cousins' plans to go out to clubs later that night. I've found that no night is sacred from the Spanish fiesta here, people find any reason at all to party until the sun comes up. Considering that Bea and I had to wake up the next day (Christmas day) to go to my dad's pueblo, we wouldn't have probably gone anyways, but I was still pretty shocked just at the idea. We all left one another with 2 kisses, 2 besos, and sat content on the ride home, discussing nothing at all, I was in total awe at the entire night, knowing then and there that this would be one of those things I'd look back on with a giant smile and a peace and testament to how valuable these years abroad and this cultural adventure really is.

llega la nieve

The picture on the left was taken September 15, 2009

The picture on the right was taken December 21, 2009

Merry Christmas, Madrid :)

I awoke this morning with a complete and utter lack of motivation to get my butt out of bed and go to school. I made myself get up, saying, "Self, you have one real day of school left before a nice, long break. Suck it up."

Who would've guessed it?

Madrid and the surrounding cities (including Majadahonda) recieved about 6 cm of snow today. I'm accustomed to snow, obviously, coming from the barren Midwestern plains covered in feet and feet of the fluffy, white delight. So I slipped on the best shoes I had and braved the 15 minute trek to school. Spain is, to say the least, NOT equipped for snow. Either they don't know to put salt down on the roads and sidewalks, or they're just not equipped to do so before all the hubub of the morning begins. Majadahonda is famous for it's hills, and cars were literally break-sliding all the way down them. I walked calmly along the ice and snow, listening to Elvis Christmas Carols and glad that I had forced myself out of bed. Upon arrival, the entire school was outside, engaged in a giant snow battle. There wasn't one car in the parking lot, no teachers had even bothered. The doors were locked and kids were dodging in and out of one another avoiding giant snowballs (it was the fat flakes that are perfect for packing). I spent half an hour at school, once getting hit in the face and ducking behind various, larger friends to avoid complete destruction. At one point, my American friend Jesse threw a snowball at me, and being clever, I lifted up one foot to try to peg it in midair. Another brilliant plan, Another epic failure. I went bum up in the snow, both boots in the air, landing on my backpack (which fortunately cushioned the fall a bit) and was helped up seconds later by my friend Adrian-- me, him, and the rest of the school that had seen the fall were laughing hysterically. My friend Jesse told me that regardless of what else happened that snowday, I had just made it all worth it for him. At least it served for something :) I have to tell you... Some things have no hope of ever changing :) I've spent the rest of the day contently tucked in with Bea watching TV and eating an ungodly amount. You know, like you do.

Merry Christmas, Madrid

XO Sami

(L) <-- The "text messaging" manner of saying LOVE in Spain :)

Saturday night out on the town with the Americans. The girl on the far left is Emma, she's one of my best friends here in Spain. Next to her is Nikki, then me, then a Spanish friend of ours named David. This was taken at a McDonald's in the Opera area of Madrid. Yes, I still eat at McDonald's, even across the ocean :)

This is one of the streets of Majadahonda. These lights are strung everywhere in the Madrid area, this one is on the street right outside of my house.

My good friend Javi and I at a local Irish Bar on Friday night. We played pool and I shocked myself at my skill level. Apparently, those nights at Grandma and Grandpa's pool table payed off for something

The Virgin Mary at Jacobo's play on Wednesday night. She was a little miss attitude, let me tell you, docile was not the best word to describe her :)

Two of the stable animals singing their Christmas Carol with their Sunday School class

The Nativity Scene. Jacobo is the king with the orange robe and blonde hair

Two of the Three Kings whispering during the service. If you look closely you'll see Jacobo's watch on his left hand... As was written in the Bible, of course :)

One of my favorite little Christmas decorations in the house

The window in my room is covered with stick-on snowflakes... Not quite the real thing, but close enough!

My desk. The snowman was provided by my host family, the Charlie Brown Christmas Tree was sent to me by my family back home

The table set for a Sunday Meal... We had fondue (sp?) that day and discovered that my host family had been placing the fondue pots upside down for 20 years!

felicidades

Since it's become routine to write up a blog once a week at this point, by the next entry Christmas will have come and gone. In Spain, there is a much heavier focus on family than on commericalism, in comparison with the United States. Obviously, there is a whole lot of love in my family at home, there are scores of cousins running in circles around each other and aunts talking over other aunts who are simultaneously directing children and husbands who just wanna watch the football game, but A Christmas Story always inevitably gets put on. Grandma makes way too much food and the basement is always a disaster after the girls have been down there. I walk into peace and calm at Grandma Jan's house, the entire house is warm, the kitchen is full, and Dad has to roll around in a sweater to collect the dog hairs off the floor for various relatives and their allergies. My family at home is utterly irreplacable.

I'm realizing, after being here for some time now, however, that everyone has a family story like this. Everyone has something they hold on to, something that makes their Christmas, their Easter, their whatever, just a little more special to them. The house is decorated, I woke up about a week ago to Jacobo flying around with garland in one hand and the Baby Jesus in the other, huffing and puffing for me to "moooveeee sammiii!!!!" The tree is adorned with "adornos" (go figure) and my host mom made me my own little stocking just like the rest of the family has. There are Nativitiy scenes EVERYWHERE in Spain, because there is also a more prominent religious focus as it is a "Catholic" country. The Nativity scene above is in the entryway of my house, the first thing you see when you open the door. Ana (my host mom) told me that she and her sisters painted the statues themselves. There are little reminders of Christmas all over the apartment, which makes some of the brash, over the top decorations in the U.S. seem excessive and almost distasteful. Christmas is a little more subtle here, but you can definitely feel it wherever you go.

I went to Jacobo's Christmas Play at Church on Wednesday. The sanctuary was jam packed with small children and their parents and grandparents, they did a very tiny rendition of the Christmas Story (Jacobo played one of the three kings... SIDE NOTE: In Spain, the Three Kings bring you your gifts (Los Reyes Magos) and they bring them on the night of January 6. Santa also exists here, and in some houses he brings some gifts on December 24, but in most families (including mine) the gift exchanging takes place on the morning of January 7, which also happens to be my birthday, so I scored on that one :). You can see the pictures of Jacobo in the next blog, it'll be all pictures. After the Christmas Story there was a time when all the different Sunday School classes got up and sang their Christmas Carol they had prepared. Some are American Christmas Carols with the lyrics tranlsated into Spanish... We sang Feliz Navidad several times, which was particularly hilarious because, just like our pronunciation is awful in English of the "Feliz Navidad" part, the packed room of little kids couldn't for the life of them sing the English part. "I wanna weeeesh you a merry (with the r's rolled) chreestmaas from duh..bbuhba....arrt.... FELIZ NAVIDAD". I was doing my best to hold back tears in silent laughter.

Friday night was spent out with my friends from school, the same group of pals that I'm with all the time; we're getting to be really close now. We stayed in Majadahonda because none of us was feeling like braving the cold weather for the trip into Madrid, where you often have to stand outside in long lines before you can get in anywhere. We ate together at Domino's and told hilarious jokes ("How do you put a giraffe in the refridgerator?" ... "You open the door and put him in." ... "How do you put an elephant in the refidgerator?" ... "You open the door, take out the giraffe, and put the elephant in.") They mistook my lack of hilarious laughter for not understanding. I understood it all, it was just so unbelievably ridiculous :) Saturday night I went into Madrid and hung around with some of the American exchange students. We've made some really good mutual friends here in Spain, one of them named Jennifer, that always come with us whenever we go out. That's fantastic because 1.) it's one more great friend we've all made here and 2.) it takes away some of the guilt of hanging out with Americans. What I'm learning is that this trip is far too short to spend any of it wrapped up in guilt of any kind. This year is about making it into your own, not Rotary's standards, not the other exchange student's standards or your host family's. This is a time when you can be incredibly selfish and know that it's the right way to be.

The Rotary kids in my hometown of Northfield, Minnesota just found out where they are all assigned for the upcoming year. Out of the 19 applicants! all of them got accepted-- though no one is going to Spain next year, we range the rest of the globe from Taiwan to Norway to Columbia. I specifically remember the ear shattering scream that accompanied my acceptance letter and dancing ridiculously around Amber Woitalla's basement with my cell phone in hand and a deaf mother on the other end. I still have moments like that here in Spain... Life is normal, life is routine, but it's a life in Spain, and it's utterly thrilling

FELIZ NAVIDAD y Besos

Sami

how to save a life

December is typically a difficult month for exchange students. There's the familiarity of family that you miss, the smallest details suddenly seem incredibly important (yet they never mattered to you before), your language is almost there, you can feel it, but those last stutters and verb conjugation confusions still make their way into your daily sentences, which, 3-4 months in, seems unnecessary. So it's easy to let yourself slip into a mentality of "being down" because you know that you're "supposed to"; that it's totally normal to feel bad so you let yourself feel bad. I'm not a big fan of this concept.

It's fundamental to feel the whole, wide range of emotions that come with an exchange year-- they're part of you're experience just as much as a specific, special trip or a daily routine that you walk away remembering. The idea is, that if you can fight through the difficult parts, you come out appreciating all the more the great things about your exchange. But somewhere along that path of just letting the year happen to you, I've realized that you have to take a grip of your year-- You have to learn how to save a life, your own. One of the most important things I was told in the giant whirlwind of preparation for this year was that you have to take care of yourself and assure the success of your exchange, because when it comes down to it you're the key to your own achievements. For me, this has meant appreciating every tiny action or comment... My family gave me an advent calender and made me a little stocking to hang on the tree like the rest of the family, because when it comes down to it, I am part of the family. Jacobo and I are cleaning the fish tank again and I've spent the weekend with some of my best friends here in Spain... Genuine friends, not just the kind you make because "friends are important to every exchange student", I honestly adore these people. I did get incredibly lucky with many aspects of this year in Spain, but I also created my own success in many ways as well. Things are changing, and that's ok.

This week was a lot like any other week. Because we didn't have school Monday or Tuesday, the rest of the school week was pretty relaxed as well. For example, two teachers didn't show up on Wednesday because they were still tired and wanted just that little bit more of a break. Very typical Spanish :) As I was walking to school on Thursday (running late, as always) my friend Adrian joined me on the trek up that last terrible hill before the school building, and teasingly told me I was late. I, of course, pointed out that he was just as late and he corrected me saying, "No, no. Spanish people are never late. We just get there at different times." I'd say that captures the spirit of Spain pretty darn well. Nothing is concrete, don't stress over it.

My exchange student friends and I have shared some hilarious stories over the silly aspects of our years abroad, particularly what triggers us to just lose it and break down, which are often the most ridiculous of things. For example, my friend Devon was telling me how her brother sent her a giant email of pictures and little memories for Christmas, and she made it through the entire thing with a smile on her face and a content, peaceful feeling. In the post script, p.s., he put a picture of the pet cat sitting on the couch, looking ticked off to have it's photo taken and inevitably "j-ing" it's tail (as my dad likes to say), a universal symbol of ticked-off-ness of cats. She said she saw that last picture, after 10-12 of her family and home and friends, she scrolled down to the upset cat and completely lost it, sobbing and crying. Because of the cat. My other friend Emma had a similar experience with the "Charlie Brown Christmas" soundtrack (which I think she was a bit of a fool for putting herself through in the first place... A Charlie Brown Christmas? Come on, guaranteed break down). My encounter with the pangs of homesickness unexpectedly snuck up on me on a walk through Madrid on Saturday night. There was a string street quartet playing Eine Kliene Nachtmusik, a famous orchestral piece that I've played many times back home. So, surrounded by happy Spaniards bustling along with their children in ridiculous reindeer hats and lovey-dovey couples holding gloved hands, surrounded by the joy of christmas in a random street corner in the middle of Madrid, I shed a little tear for Northfield and Nerstrand back home. It was just enough, a private moment between me and myself. I gave the quartet 5 euros.

On the docket for this week is an appointment to work out some more papers for Spanish residency, a funk concert with my friends from school on Friday, and a trip to El Rastro street market on Sunday. Many of my pals went today (including Mackenzie O'Connell, my friend who is on exchange through Rotary to Germany... She came to visit this weekend with her German host family, it was unbelievable to see her. That's one of the major advantages of living in Spain and, more specifically, Madrid. I mean, who doesn't want to come visit Madrid?) but because I was feeling a little sick and didn't wanna risk getting a full blown illness and also because I haven't seen enough of my host family this weekend, I decided to sit this one out. Which is also something that's alright to do. It's part of being comfortable, it's part of embracing your own, individual, specific joy and success. Learning what's right for you. And being content with it.

Love and Love, Sami

it's beginning...

... not really to look like Christmas, per se... at least not the midwest christmas that I'm accustomed to. But that's certainly not a bad thing, it's just different. The lights are all strung up in Madrid, it's absolutely gorgeous, similar to NYC right around Christmastime. Yesterday and today (the 7th and 8th of December) we don't have school because today is a national holiday of some sort, don't ask me which, I swear they invent saints just to stick their name on the calender and call it an occassion. It seems a little silly to go to school on Monday if Tuesday is off so we didn't have classes yesterday either. Having said that, I had a successful trip to the post office this morning to pick up a package from the fam and buy $10 worth of stamps (they're 78 euro cents here for international postage... I wonder what the word for "outrageous" is in Spanish) and dropped some postcards in the mail. It's the small trips, like the one to the post office, that really highlight how much of a different country you're in. The most unimportant details can be the biggest challenges with language barriers and cultural misunderstandings. I think the post office runs, the trips to pick up public transportation at the local tobacco shop (called Bonobus here in Madrid... 12 euros gets me 10 rides anywhere in the Madrid area... quite the steal), and the meanderings down back streets, stopping to ask for directions are what an exchange student gets that the normal tourist doesn't... An honest sense of community and a definite confirmation of personal growth.




The first trimester of school is officially over, having been given our report cards (which still need to be signed by a parent/guardian and sent back to the school, even at the highest level of education). Spain is not as technologically advanced as the U.S. by any means. The big, fancy projecter that we have in one room of our school, the library, I had in every room back in Northfield. Grades are not offered electronically and, though the school has a website, it is not maintained or kept up to date. I like this in one sense, it's a more simplistic way of doing things, staying true to Spain's relaxed and easygoing environment. However, there seems to be little effort at technological development or progression, and that can be frustrating when papers get lost, messages get miscommunicated, and the exchange student has to try to scramble and pick up the pieces. For example, we have a computer in our house but no printer. So anytime it would be convenient (or necessary) to print off directions, an entrance to a concert, a document from college, etc, it has to go through my mom or my sister at work or university... I do miss that convenience about the United States. I'm learning the difference between missing things and mourning over things, for lack of a better word. You can miss something and have it in your mind without obsessing over it and having those sinking, depressing feelings. Missing doesn't have to be a bad thing.




On Wednesdays here in Madrid (and maybe in all of Spain?) everything at a local restaurant called 100 Montaditos is 1 euro. 100 Montaditos is famous for it's bocadillos, little sandwiches made on amazing bread, usually toasted, and with whatever your heart desires in the center. I typically order an array of chicken, cheese, tomato, and Spanish chorizo (similar to salami) sandwiches. They come with potato chips and all drinks are also 1 euro, so I always accompany my order with a Kas Limon, similar to Fanta Limon. It's sort of silly NOT to take advantage of Wednesdays at 100 montaditos so I always find someone to go with, be it friends from my class, other exchange kids, my host sister, or anyone else that I can drag along. This past Wednesday I went into Madrid to celebrate with one of my good friends here, Emma, for her 18th birthday, which was this past Friday. She brought two of her good friends from school, Paula and Luis, and my other American friend Devon came and brought her friend Marta from school. We talked in an exhilarating mixture of Spanish and English, Spanglish at it's very best. We all got along right away, we all had a lot of things in common... Funny how that can happen when you're born oceans apart. Who knew?

Other than that, Christmas is fast approaching and I'm doing some hunting for the host family and family back home. The best place for all gifts is at El Rastro, the street market that takes place every Sunday in Madrid, because you can find good quality, one of a kind goodies for little to nothing.... and in a pricey european culture, that's much appreciated. My friend Grayce who was living here (across the street... crazy coincidence, remember her?) is going home this Wednesday. It's yet another reminder of how flexible and concrete time is. It bends into how we want it to be percieved, but sneakily keeps marching along all the while. I went to Luna Nueva (New Moon) with my host sister Bea because she really wanted to see it and I'll take any chance either one of us can get to hang out together. Expectedly, I really didn't enjoy the movie at all, but it was nice getting some time to talk to her again. We genuinely do get along fantastically, if we can squeeze in the seconds to hang out. We also went shopping with my host mom on Saturday after being at my grandpa's for a few hours and on Friday I was out all night with some exchange student friends celebrating some birthdays. My friend Adrian at school told me I must sing "happy birthday" better than anyone because I'm always attending birthday parties. What can I say? :)

Life is Gorgeous, Una Vida Preciosa

Besos, Sami