Who doesn't love a top 10?

As my long journey is wrapping up in papers, tests, and projects, I want to take a moment to revel in the things that make Spain so special for me and so different from the States. Here's my list of top 10 things that I will miss when I leave Europe in 16 days.

mmmhmmm

10. Alioli
              It looks like mayo or frosting, but it's something completely different. Alioli (like alley-oh-lee) is made from garlic (ajo) and olive oil (oliva) hence the name. Perfect on some patatas bravas, and absolutely delightful. I will miss you alioli!

Monopoly!

9. Euro currency

           Seriously, how fun does that look! All the pretty colors, the bills all different sizes, and the change! Never have I felt so rich with a pocket full of change as I have since I moved here. The smallest Euro bill is a five, so you could have a handful of coins worth around 7 Euro! (The amount usually in my change pocket.) I have to go back to boring green money that's worth much less. And nothing's under a dollar. Sad. Bye fun money! 

Més que un sandwich

8. Doner Kebab
          Okay, this is a tough one to explain, so bear with me. Kebabs here are what we would call gyros in the States. And they are delicious. Outside of my school, there's a restaurant called Doner Kebab, which my friends and I lovingly refer to as Kebab. For example, "Guys, I don't want to look for food, I'm going to Kebab." It's our Central Perk. We get coffee there in the morning, bikinis at break time, and lunch there all the time. It's our go-to place. Until the delightful owner, Maggie, hurt her knee and left a few weeks ago. Now there's this other guy, and he sucks. He's nice enough...but doesn't know us like Maggie. SO! I'm going to miss A. Maggie B. Our restaurant, meeting place, hangout C. The actual food, and D. The memories from so many lunches on the patio.

Little Messi

7. Barça fans
        Futbol is a big deal here. Like a huge deal. It's an enormous deal. Big. I went to a Barça game my first weekend here, and it was absolutely incredible. I've also gone out to some bars to watch various games during the semester. And there is nothing quite like a Barça fan. They are fans from birth to death, and are loyal 100%. I went to Camp Nou tour yesterday, and the little kids running around screaming "Barça! Barça! BAAAAAAAAAARÇA!"were possibly the cutest sports fans I've ever seen. And although I've been a Bears fan since birth, these kids have me beat in enthusiasm. Bye little Barça fans, it's been real.

Wanted to make it far enough so there wasn't any visible nudity

6. Barceloneta
       Although I haven't actually been down to the Barceloneta since about mid October, it's still one of my favorite places in the city. For those that don't know, it's a beach that was made in the early 90's in preparation for the '92 Olympics to make the city more integrated with the sea. It's a whole lot of beach, and can get really touristy and crowded in certain parts, especially at the height of the tourist season. However, in September and October, it chills out a bit, and you can sunbathe and swim in peace. I loved swimming in the Mediterranean because the salt content is so high. I could float out in the water for ages, and the water even glittered from the sand. Perfect.

Only missing tortilla here

5. Tortilla/Pan con Tomate/Croquettas
       These are some of my favorite things to eat here. I know I've written about them before, but here's a quick refresher course. Tortilla is an egg, potato, and sometimes onion omelette/cake thing. Pan con tomate is toasted bread rubbed with garlic, doused in olive oil with tomato guts smushed over the top. And croquettas are like ham hush puppies. If you don't know what a hush puppy is, you probably aren't from the midwest like me. These have been an integral part of my diet for the past 4 ish months. And they will not be as present in the US. I can make tortilla and pan con tomate, but the croquettas will be completely lost. And this makes me sad. Bon appetite!

4. Barcelona International College
       My super teeny-tiny school has a very big place in my heart. Laura, Rich, Elena, Elizabeth, Sarah, Graham, and all of the interns have made BIC my home for the this semester. I know I'll always have contacts in Barcelona because of this school and how tightly knit it is. Although the projector only works every other day, and the chalkboard tried to kill us the other day, I'm so glad I chose this school. The professors are absolutely fantastic, and I've learned more from Veronica & Lorena in one semester than I have the past few years in Spanish. I'll miss walking with my friends around the school, but I will not miss the people constantly blocking the way (stupid Enforex kids). Love you, BIC!

Home

3. Sants
      From Plaça d'Espanya, to las Arenas, to Montjuïc, and Creu Coberta, I love my neighborhood. I've always felt safe, comfortable, and at home in Sants. I can walk home from my friends' apartment at 4 in the morning and not have a care in the world. Whenever I come in or out of the apartment building my neighbors always say hello with a smile. The bakery next door knows me, as well as the convenience store on the other side of the bakery. I love the little park on the other side of the Hostafrancs stop to sit and read. There's no other place in the city I'd rather live. I mean, I walk past a giant fountain and the gorgeous walk up Montjuïc on my way to class everyday, and around the Bullring. I can see both hills from around the corner! And I live at a metro transfer station, so I have easy access to almost everything. I love it!

Minus Ryan, sorry!

2. "The six of us"
      In no particular order: Olivia, Elena, Gabby, Lynzee, and Ryan. These five people have been my best friends throughout this trip, and in a way like my family. We bicker and fight, but everything always turns out just fine. I seriously cannot imagine my experience in Barcelona without them. So, to my friends: Thank you. Thanks for letting me crash on your couch, for letting me drink your wine, for being there when I need to vent, and for being the fun and wonderful people that I get to spend all of my time with! I love you all so much, and can't imagine what real school is going to feel like without you.

Mamá y Papá

1. The one, the only: Carmen.
     For anyone who's been reading my blog, this comes as no surprise whatsoever. Carmen is my mamá, and I love her like crazy. She never judges me, always takes care of me, and really cares about me. She's been the most phenomenal host mom I could ever have hoped for. Carmen is the best. Whenever I come, she always asks me if I've eaten. We laugh and joke and talk about everything under the sun. She gives wonderful hugs, makes the most delicious food, and the best coffee. When I go back, I know she'll be the first person I miss. I'm going to write letters as much as I possibly can, and skype when David lets her borrow the computer. I love the whole family. Suso is hysterical, Jesús is my best friend, David is the brother I never had, Vanessa is feisty and fearless, María is super funny and always pushing the limits, and Elena is my tall twin and the most gracious girl I've ever met. I've only met Rebecca via Skype, but even she is fantastic. This is my family. We may not be blood, but the love and connection is stronger with them than some people I'm actually related to. I love and adore them, and they will always be a part of my life, and always be in my heart.


I'll miss you Barcelona. You're my home, and like the spark of life in my body. I feel more electricity in this city than anywhere else in the world. Te quiero, la rosa de fuego. 

I Went to Africa

Yeah. I went to Africa. It still doesn't quite feel like I really did it. Maybe I've been studying too much Dalí, but the whole experience feels like some fantastical dream that I can't quite pinpoint. Specific events and activities fit very well in my memories. However, there's all of this road travel, sunsets, buildings, and mountains that just swirl around in my head without finding their own resting compartment in my head. Okay, I really do need to take a break from Dalí...after I finish that paper.

So much blue!

One of the coolest things about traveling to Africa from southern Spain is taking the boat across the Straits of Gibraltar. It was sunny, fairly warm, and Thanksgiving Day. This day did not feel like Thanksgiving even a little bit, other than the fact that I was very very thankful to be warm. (Spain gets cold) It was an incredibly long day of traveling, but it was completely worth it to take the boat over. You get to see how incredibly close these two continents are to each other, yet how they encompass such different cultures, ideals, and lifestyles. Also, who doesn't love pretending to be Kate Winslet on the deck of a boat?

So we arrived in Tangiers all safe, cuddly, warm, and white. Very white. I have never felt like a minority more than I did that day in Tangiers. There were 14 of us, with cameras, Western clothing, and me with my blonder-than-Marilyn hair. I felt like I had three heads. And although we stuck out like sore thumbs, and certain people were portraying the "American Stereotype" like they were going for the Oscar, I felt so welcomed into that country. From my limited experience, the Moroccan people were genuinely some of the kindest, most hospitable (besides my Carmen, of course), and curious people I've ever met in my life. The waiters and waitresses were incredibly nice wherever we went. (And let me tell you, that is not usually the case in certain parts of Europe.) The family that I stayed with, along with Olivia & Lynzee, were super sweet and accommodating. All the way down to the little kids in the street. Which brings me to the Penis Story. (Don't worry, this is perfectly appropriate, I just have a sense of humor like a 12 year old boy.)

Penis/Pinez

This story starts way back in Barcelona, when my purse got snagged on a doorknob and ripped a little bit. That happened about a month and a half ago. During this time, my purse had slowly been getting worse and worse, to the point where it's really just barely hanging on anymore. So, to avoid my bag ripping any further while I was trekking across Morocco, I was hoping to find a safety pin to fix it. (are the pieces coming together now?) That picture up there, THAT, my friends is a pinez. Pronounced, in Arabic, like penis. Because the world is weird, and people make up languages with funny sounds. So I went around the stores asking the workers if they had a pinez, with my Spanish, English, veeeeery limited French, and about 4 or 5 Arabic words. One of those words being penis. While the first store owner laughed at me, probably because he spoke a little English, and the second store owner just looked really confused, I had the best experience in the third store.

It was this little clothing alteration place with just a woman and her 8 year old daughter working in there. I showed them my purse that was falling apart, and desperately tried to communicate using hand signals and four languages between us. The desk where she was working had a huge jar of very small safety pins. What I expected was that she would give me one or two, and I would give her a few dirham (local currency) in exchange. Instead, the woman asked to see my purse, and set to work with the safety pins. She tried several different times to put the safety pins in to hold it together, but the weight of my purse made it so that they always popped open. From what I gathered, she wanted to sew it up for me, but I had an activity to get to. I left in a hurry and thanked her as much as I possibly could. As I'm leaving the store, her daughter runs after me and asks me to wait. She pantomimes that I can sew it up if I have some thread, and enthusiastically tries to show me how. As much as I tried, I couldn't figure out how to tell her that I didn't bring my sewing kit, so I thanked this tiny, smart girl as much as I could, and left to join my group. Out of my ridiculous journey to find a pinez, I found these incredible Moroccan women that were willing to do whatever they could to help me. It warmed my heart, and I'll never forget the look on that little girl's face as she helped her mother try to fix my bag. 

So much more happened in Morocco. I went to the hamam (the traditional bath house), rode a camel, hiked around the mountains, and ate amazing food. And while I could tell you about all the "neat" things I did, I'd rather tell you about the people. This Arab, Muslim, North African nation of people who live, eat, work, go to church (or not), have families, play, laugh, and enjoy their time just like people in the States. I was able to sit in a room with 4 Muslim men, all with differing views on the religious text, and all with different views on how religion affects their lives. Nothing they said ever offended me, rather it was the words of some of the other students in our group that rubbed me the wrong way. I made friends with a few people while I was there, that I still plan on keeping via Facebook. I learned a little bit of what life is like in rural Morocco, what it's like to be a woman in this society, what it looks like to live a day there. I wouldn't trade this experience for anything. And I don't regret that I didn't see the touristy things, because that's not what traveling is always about. It has so much more weight when you meet the people where they are, and try to see the world through their eyes.

Sorry to get so serious. Well, no, actually, I'm not. Because this trip was really special to me. And someday, I'm going to go back. I'll visit Rabat and see my host family, and watch a sunset from the rooftop terrace in Chefchaouen and think about the amazing memories behind me, and the amazing journey ahead of me.