"Life is far too important a thing to ever talk seriously about"

Not much of anything happened last week. This is my last week of class, so last week I mostly tied myself to a computer to try to get research and such things finished before going to Amsterdam this past weekend.

On Thanksgiving, API put together a dinner for us homesick at the holidays Americans. All day at school and in the residencia us United Statesians just went through the motions and sort of moped around, so at least misery had company. At lunch in the residencia we had a nice long discussion about our different Thanksgiving traditions, and the way we cook the turkey, and things of that nature. I didn't have much hope for the API dinner, especially as the restaurant was called Reina Victoria, obviously a Spanish place. We were all seated at the long and wide table in a separate room for the dinner (at 9pm, by the way) and you could look around and tell that no one was expecting anything Thanksgivingish, and that everyone wanted to go home just for the day. I can't tell you how many times I heard, "If they bring out ham..." They brought out broccoli, then turkey, then gravy, then mashed (sweet?) potatoes, then stuffing, then corn, then more gravy, some more stuffing, more potatoes, more stuffing... They always bring everything out almost as though they're separate courses, so you're expected to be eating from the arrival of the first dish until you're finished. I was full when I finished. I haven't felt such a complete fullness in a long time. You truly can be full of one thing, but have room for another. When they cleared all the plates, I couldn't have eaten anything more... except pumpkin pie. And I did. They brought out pumpkin pie with whipped cream. Our program director, Quique, made it, along with the stuffing and the gravy, amazingly. It was of course not up to par with any of the Thanksgiving food I normally eat, but it far surpassed my expectations and we even went into food comas! Gisella, Ginger, and I decided it was imperative for us to walk home after that.

I had to catch a taxi at 3:30am Friday morning to the airport for my fight at 6am to Amsterdam. Luckily there were about 12 of us going, so I shared with 2 other guys from my residencia. I tried to sleep on the 2 hr flight, but I was most uncomfortable, and managed maybe 45 minutes. We arrived in Amsterdam and, other than feeling like a zombie, I was so excited because the airport was BEDECKED in Christmas decorations! That's what I'm talking about! The day after Thanksgiving begins the Christmas season!!!! (If not sooner.) I was also excited because I fit in (physically, mostly) so much more there than in Madrid. It's ridiculous how un-Spanish I am, truly. Everything was so cute: the crooked little Dutch streets with the leaning Dutch houses, the little old Dutch ladies, the gratuitous amount of Dutch bicycles, the Dutch language, and, let's be serious, a lot of the Dutch guys (far surpassing the amount of guys in Madrid). They all speak English. I think they have to learn it from a really early age, because literally the people working at McDonald's knew it.

Courtney and I weren't able to get a hostel before going, so we booked one at the tourism office at the train/bus/metro station. We dropped our stuff off at the hostel and went back out to meet Katy and Rob. Here's where the drugs come in (I promise I went to Amsterdam for other reasons than legal drug activity). They bought mushrooms, then we all bought individual pizzas. I ate mine with cheese, they ate their's with mushrooms, understood? Rob also bought some weed and rolled a joint in the park next to the Van Gogh museum. I had a few puffs. It's legal, I'm 20, don't judge me. I was a little high so when they started "tripping" it was amusing for a while. Then they got fuller into their trip after 2 or so hours, and my lack of sleep caught up with me. So I bid them goodbye, even though I felt I should maybe be with them to make sure they're okay, and went to nap at the hostel. (The hostel, by the way, was the kind of place where you're skeeved out by everything right down to the sheets and pillowcase on your bed.) All of us had planned to meet at the place called The Grasshopper at 10pm, so when I woke up and it was dark, I sort of panicked and ran out the door. It was only 7pm, so I wandered around Amsterdam by myself for a while. I ate some dinner, did some touristy browsing, heard a lot of Spaniards in the streets and shops (the entire country is full of pot-heads, I swear), and checked my email at an internet cafe. I also got a McDonald's chocolate milkshake, Spanish McDonald's do not have milkshakes. This one was better than American McDonald's chocolate milkshakes because it was a DUTCH McDonald's chocolate milkshake! Mean anything to you? No? Take out the "McDonald's"----> Dutch chocolate milkshake. DELISH. Anyway, I went to the Grasshopper at 9:45... and at 11pm I left rather pissed off. No one came. I waited outside this place (which was just outside the Red Light District) in the freezing drizzly weather for an hour! I checked inside a few times but no one was there. The last time I checked inside, I fell down the half-flight of stairs in front of half the bar. Mortified isn't exactly right because I was so enraged at still being alone. The finger I broke last year started to feel (and still does) like I'd broken it again, and I'm 95% positive I've bruised my tailbone. That was the last straw and I marched my bruised bum right back to the hostel, at that point wanting nothing but my bed at home with my down comforter and my mommy. I survived, though, it was just a bad night.

The next day, Courtney and I got breakfast at a restaurant where there were 7 British men drunk (at 11am) watching a soccer game from the '70s. My plan was to go to the Anne Frank house and then to the Van Gogh or Rembrandt museum. Courtney suggested we stop at a coffee shop for a splif. I had maybe 4 or 5 puffs of a joint with her in this coffee shop (where you can't buy coffee, only weed), and let's just say that I didn't get to go to the house or either museum because I absolutely had to take a nap. It was a horrible experience, and I will never smoke weed again. I have to be the only person in the world who becomes MORE anxious, nervous, and paranoid after smoking marijuana. Courtney, being more experienced, was very helpful and patient with me, and I slept it off til 7pm. Then we got up and ate some felafel sandwiches for dinner and walked around. I still felt a little sick from the earlier experience, so I was just trying to think of other things, but when we passed a movie theater we both stopped and said "Hey! Let's see a movie." It was between Borat and Casino Royale, I was a little partial to Casino Royale, but we decided on Borat. We bought our tickets for 11pm, and walked around til then doing a little tourist shopping. We got Ben and Jerry's on a Belgian waffle for dessert. A Belgian waffle in Holland! It was sooooo good.

Borat was in English still, but with Dutch subtitles, and obviously the movie was full of Dutch people, so it was a really interesting experience. In case you live under a rock, it's making fun of American culture. Borat is making a movie for Kazakhstan so he and his partner travel from New York to L.A. and document their experiences. Only, they only travel through the south, from NY to DC to VA to GA to AL to TX and such to L.A. So you can imagine how the whole thing went. Courtney and I were very very embarrassed to be American as we left the theatre, so we spoke in Spanish. Not that the Dutch would hate us, we just didn't want to be associated with the appalling mess we just saw on screen. It's a funny funny movie and everyone should go see it. It also illustrated my point about how the deep south starts where Northern VA ends, no one here ever believes me when I say that. Anyway, you all should see it. In theaters is cool because in whatever culture you're seeing it you can see other people's reactions, but it's not such a great movie that you can't wait to rent it.

Our flight on Sunday was in the morning so we had to get up at 6ish to get to the airport on time. On the flight back I sat in an aisle seat, but the couple next to me was a Spanish woman and a Scottish man. They spoke in English, but he knew Spanish quite well. I didn't talk to them, but they made me happy. In fact I don't think I said one word to them. I think I just didn't know what to say and in which language. I slept, it was nice. When I got back, Sara was out with her visiting English boyfriend, and went to see Gisella who didn't go to Amsterdam and we went for a nice long walk through some parts of Madrid we hadn't seen.

I'm really going to miss Madrid. Yes, the Spaniards can be ridiculously loud, discourteous to those who aren't family or close friends, and incredibly well-dressed such as I will never be able to imitate, but I love them. They love life. Their lives are made up of so many things, work being one of the less time-consuming ones (and I mean that in a good way). I can't explain why I find everything about this culture, including the faults, so endearing, I just do. Maybe it's just such a huge change and I made a decision to like the Spanish culture before I even came. I love that the government doesn't tax alcohol because the people would throw a collective fit if they did. They're always a tiny bit intoxicated, and a tiny bit aggressive; so they never get absolutely wrecked, or incredibly violent. I love that there are about 4 national holidays each month when everything closes down. I don't know how I will deal without comida/siesta time, not that I nap just that I need that designated pervading relaxation time when I know nothing's going on without me. I love being able to walk everywhere, and being able to take the metro when I feel lazy. I even like ham (only jamón serrano, though). I could go on with each individual thing I love, but that's not all there is to this place. Something's in the air, not the pollution or the lack of moisture, but something. I know it's cliché, but I don't really care.

I do miss home a whole lot, especially because it's Christmastime, the most wonderful time of the year. I can't wait to come home and see everyone and then to go back to school and start up rugby again. I miss it so very much. It's like there are rubber bands that keep me attached to home and school, and they've been stretched for so long that they're really in need of a break. And the cold winter wind keeps attacking them and making them sway, which in turn pulls at the area in the middle of my chest where they're attached to me. The empty area next to your heart, where the two sides of your ribcage meet in between your lungs. I hate metaphors. But I fooled you!! Because this is a simile. Actually I don't really like them either, but sometimes they're easier to use than actually describing the real thing. Metaphors, so you know, are when you say that something IS something else in a comparison, as in they are the same thing or they are equal. A simile is when you say that something is LIKE or SIMILAR to something else in a comparison, acknowledging that they are different and not completely equal.

Alright I've gone completely off track (which is a dead metaphor), so I'll end this quickly. I turned in my 10 page paper, I'm not happy with my work but I only need a C. I turned in my 3 page paper by recycling an old paper that I edited and added a paragraph to. I did my presentation on art. I have to finish a book and write a 4 page paper and then I just have exams left. Wow. I can't believe how amazingly fast this has all gone.

Oh yeah I almost forgot. Ginger went to Portugal and check out the painting/graffiti she saw on one of the walls.

"Consistency is the last refuge of the unimaginative."

I'm sorry, I'm falling out of the habit of writing consistently. Other than Laura coming to visit, which unfortunately was a little less social than we hoped, nothing much has happened.

Laura came to visit. She arrived Thursday night at 11ish, and we came back and went to RedSprint for her dinner, a dinner of champions. We went to bed once we got in, because Sara was already asleep. Except instead of going to sleep we talked and caught up for a while. The next day we went to school to check email and such as my internet was, surprise surprise, out of commission; and I took her to La Tienda Verde for lunch. Then we took the metro to the Alberto Aguilera Zara and El Corte Inglés, spent a while in Zara and walked around 5 or 6 of the 7 floors of El Corte Inglés. Had to show her Madrid's clothing culture at Zara and the ridiculously expensive convenience of El Corte. We walked down towards Parque del Oeste, which is really not much of a park, past Templo de Debod, which is under restauration, to the Palacio Real. She took some lovely pictures, like she tends to do, and then we snaked through to Sol by way or Calle Mayor, where I did my first real souveneir shopping and ended up with next to nothing. I showed her Km 0, and we walked back north to my residencia, where we sat and caught up some more before eating dinner. Not many people were in town for the weekend, so I didn't really know what to do at night; and those who were home were not really interested in going out. We ended up having a botellón (pre-game), with €1.50 Don Simon Sangria, in Segundo's room in the residencia with some Spaniards and Americans. We hung out there for a long while, until we realized we were kind of tired and people started to leave and, despite pre-gaming there was no game, so Laura and I went to bed.

The next day we got up and went for a tour of Santiago Bernabeu Fútbol Stadium, where Real Madrid plays. It was a drizzly day, we bought the tickets and then waited in line for a good 45 minutes. We saw the stands and the benches where the players sit during the game. We were apparently supposed to see the locker room (to smell the sweat of Sergio Ramos and David Beckham!) but it was closed because it was a game day. We went through the trophy room, which was ridiculously jam-packed with trophies, and to the official store. So many clothes! I wanted to get a Sergio Ramos replica shirt or a long-sleeve blank replica shirt, but there were no price tags. So we had to get in line to get to the register and see how much they were... a slight miscommunication and when I thoguht I bought the cheaper one for €45, I ended up with the more expensive one (the long-sleeve) for a rather exorbitant amount of money that I'd rather not say until I've had the chance to explain to Mother and Father. I may return it still, but I may keep it because that was the one thing I planned of buying before I even came. After that, Laura and I took the metro back and ate at Rodilla, a sandwich shop and then went to the residencia for a rather long siesta. I didn't actually get to the sleeping part, but Laura did. Then we ate some residencia dinner and tried to figure out what to do. Once again, I couldn't get anyone else to come out, despite great efforts, so after a long time we decided on going salsa dancing in Sol. But first, we bought some coke and some red wine and made calimotxo, yum. Then my internet started working and we thought of how fun it would be to call some people back home through Skype. We talked to Kasie and Brianna for about 1.5 to 2 hours (it cost me about $2, how great is that?!) and then went to Sol at midnight. Oh, I will also mention that Brianna was walking with a freshman rookie on the rugby team, as in a new player we haven't met, so we had Brianna put her on the phone and we introduced ourselves. She'd heard great things about us and was honored to meet us... telephonically. This satisfied our egos quite well and we went on our way to salsa. It was fun, like always pretty much. Guys always ready to dance with American girls who they think are easy, so they are pacient and teach you how sort of and then, at the opportune moment, you go to the bathroom and "get lost" for a bit and find a new partner. But we just left after the first partners, we'd been dancing for an hour or so, plus I got us in for free by acting uninterested in a club you had to pay for. We went for churros at 2:30 am, it was packed, they were yummy. We went back to the residencia, Sara was still hanging out with the Spanish guys in the residencia, and we went to bed. Laura had to leave the next morning at 11 to catch her flight back. It was a good weekend.

I had texted Lucía to ask about getting a tour at the stadium because Ana works there, and she gave me the info and asked to meet for lunch on Sunday with her sisters. So I met them at El Corte Inglés on Alberto Aguilera and C/ Princesa, and we ate a Gino's. It was fun... I kind of felt like the really quiet, adopted 4th sister almost. They were teasing each other like sisters do when not in the presence of parents. I told them about my Spain's languages/dialects paper, and they told me they'd studied that in Bachillerato (high school) so they brought me back to their piso to borrow some books. I borrowed one from each of them. They're actually really interesting. I went home and that was that. I regret being as quiet as I was. Why am I so awkward?! How come I can write for years, but I never know what to talk about? I'm better at monologues, I guess, singular activity. But I tried to keep the conversations going as much as possible, I know I was too quiet though. I was also out of practice of Spanish. Sara is so used to speaking English to me now, as it is the language she naturally speaks to most of her friends and her sister, and it's hard to get to speak Spanish. And because she doesn't speak Spanish, I'm too insecure to start into it. So I'm working on it.

"Anyone who lives within their means suffers from a lack of imagination."

I know, I know, and I'm sorry. The weekend following my last update was rather uneventful. Sara and I joined some other Americans from API on Thursday for salsa dancing. She and I bonded a little that night so we're comfortable together now I suppose. And it's cool because when we go out she's like my hall pass or something because she's Spanish, so I'm okay by association. It rained all weekend and most of my friends went on trips, so I basically moped around and watched movies and ate with Sara. I had her watch Old School which she loved, "funny american comedies!"

Then I went to classes Monday through Wednesday which is never fun. Suffice it to say that I have a whole bunch of papers/presentations due in the next two weeks and I really should have started a lot of it but I haven't. Thursday I went to Paris on the API trip, so with at least 50 or so other American kids studying in Madrid and Granada. The flight attendants pretty much hated us... I would hate us too: all loud, and some kids were belligerently drunk, no one was quiet for the safety spiel. We arrived in Paris at 9ish, and on the plane flying over the city we could clearly see the Eiffel Tower in the city! I took a picture, we'll have to see how it turns out. We checked into our hotel rooms and a couple of us walked to the Eiffel Tower to see it all lit up. We got some crepes on the way, mine with Nutella, it was okay. I'd rather just have chocolate than chocolate and hazelnut. Well it was all lit up and gorgeous and breathtaking and we took millions of photos.

Friday API organized a bus tour of the city for us. It made 3 stops for us to get out to take some photos, and I got some good pictures of the Eiffel Tower with the sun still low in the morning sky righ behind it. They let us off at Notre-Dame and all my friends wanted to go up it, but I didn't so I split off and walked through the Left Bank through the University area to our hotel. I stopped here and there, it was really nice. I felt like I belonged so much more in Paris than I do in Madrid, maybe because I'm not Spanish at all but I am a little French. Maybe because Madrid's fashions are outrageous and trendy (and expensive), whereas Paris' are classier (and expensive). Maybe because I'm so pale and have relatively light hair and eyes and I'm larger than a size 2, and that actually happens sometimes in Paris but not in Madrid. Whatever it was, I didn't feel like such an outsider until I had to speak. How painful it was not to know the language!! I tried so hard. One semester with a bad professor is not enough French. I understood them okay, but then I stood there mute because I could not think of anything and couldn't decide if it was better to answer is Spanish or French. I ended up switching off, but I never got any bad looks, comments, inconsiderateness from French people. Either they couldn't tell I was American, or unless you act like an asshole (as per some of the males in my program) they don't mind you. I even got asked for directions by French people twice!!! We went to the Louvre and saw the Mona Lisa among other things. Friday nights 6pm-10pm students under 26 get in free! The place is an insane maze. And did you know it used to be the royal palace? Kings just kept building onto it so it's ridiculous. We ate dinner at an Italian restaurant where they were very nice to us, and then we walked around the Latin Quarters. It was kinda cool, but we went back home pretty early. Laura and I watched a German sitcom on TV before bed.

The next day, Saturday, we went to the Palace of Versailles. After my Western Civilization class freshman year that was taught by a French history obsessed olf man, I was quite excited to see the relic of opulence and royal self-indulgence. It's probably the biggest building I've ever seen. I couldn't believe it. Saturday was Armistice Day, a holiday, so it (along with many other things) was closed. We were allowed to go into the gardens though, which was enough for me. BEAUTIFUL! BELLE! BONITA! HERMOSA! MAGNIFIQUE! SPLENDIDE! It had rained the night before and was cloudy all day, so I can't even imagine how amazing it is on a pretty fall or spring day. I wanted to walk the whole length of the gardens, but there was a tiny matter of hunger, thirst, and lack of toilettes. I took a lot of pictures of course, but they can't possibly express what I felt walking through there. Louis XIV walked through there with Marie Antoinette. So cool. I will return. That night we went again to the Eiffel Tower and it was still pretty. We also talked to a homeless German man with a guinea pig. Actually Courtney talked to him and I sat there a little freaked out with Laura and Gisella. He ended up being rather harmless, and I really think his guinea pig was keeping him alive like a dog does. We were really careful and the police were watching us like hawks, before anyone gets their panties in a bunch. I got a crepe avec chocolat et banane which was ok except the chocolate dripped everywhere. We went back to the hote and Laura and I watched an Italian "Dancing with the Stars" show. Multicultural television.

Sunday we checked out and went to see the Moulin Rouge, took a picture and moved on to Montmartre. Montmartre is a little neighborhood sort of north in Paris. It's also the part of Paris in which the movie Amelie takes place!! There's a big hill at the top of which is Sacré-Coeur, and an amazing view of Paris. I made everyone go to Montmartre and then I made them climb the hill to the top. I think they appreciated my stubbornness. We ate at a restaurant near the hill and then went back to the hotel to take the bus to the airport. I got home last night at 1am. Unpleasant. But all in all, I only ended up spending about €60-70, which is amazing because Paris is so much more expensive than Madrid. However, I only bought food, so it's also a little pathetic because I spent that much money on food in 3 days.

This weekend, Laura is coming to visit. Next weekend, I have tickets booked to Amsterdam. I'm considering cancelling the Amsterdam trip because I have a 10 pg paper, 5 pg paper, and a presentation due the Mon and Tues I come back. We'll see. I put photos up.

"If one scheme of happiness fails human nature turns to another; if the first calculation is wrong we make a second better: we find comfort somewhere"

Tuesday the 24th, I got a roommate again. Amy is from Essex, England just outside London. She was temporary. She only had to stay here for a few days in her journey from Andalucía to Galicia where she was going to do a nature camp for kids. She was really cool, majored in English literature, and was totally free for those few days to do whatever she wanted.

Molly was here from Thursday the 26th to Monday the 30th. I tried to show her all I could and have the best of times, but it was difficult because 2 or 3 of my friends who would help a lot in making it easy to have fun were out of the country. Friday night I had to see a play with my Literature professor, her husband, and 2 of my friends/classmates. It was awkward being out at night with a professor and her husband, but luckily our seats were separate from hers. The play seemed like it was good, but halfway through I lost the capacity to focus hard enough to get what they were saying. The play was mostly composed of monologues within dialogues. After the play, Molly and I wanted to get tapas, so we stopped in my room and told Amy and she said, "Yeah, let's do it! Let's just go to some bar!!" There are tons of bars in Madrid. My residencia has a bar on either side of it. So we went up a little side street off our road, and Molly and I got cerveza con limón ("clara" is how it's called) and tapas. They were yummy, and "con limón" is the only way I will drink beer from now on. Saturday night I tried to get some salsa dancing going, but it was kind of a bust because I am horrible at organizing and no one else was really doing it. We were able to salsa for a little bit before we turned in for the night. Sunday was probably the best day because Molly and I just got up and went to Retiro for the day. For the first half we meandered through the park and people-watched on a bench, guessing nationalities (which we were very good at). The second half we went to the monument near the big lake to watch the drummers. The drummers start to arrive every Sunday around 5pm, they bring dreaded hair, weed, dirty tshirts, converse shoes, forties of Mahou (Spain's beer), bongos of all sizes, cowbells (there was not enough cowbell for me), and their hippie attitudes. I LOVE IT. They don't even all know each other, you can tell, they just sit down and start the beating. It's nothing rehearsed, it's nothing specific, but it grows and grows in numbers. It's so marvelous. We stayed to watch and feel the beat for about an hour and a half, we climbed up on the stone wall behind the benches where they sat to sit and watch. I purposefully wore my converse, jeans, and Jimi Hendrix tshirt to fit in, I do think I was a little too clean though. I even started to think about my hair in dreadlocks... and no, I was not high. Anyway, it was fun and I'm gonna go as much as I can from now on. That night, Molly, Laura (italian from Long Island), and I went for churros con chocolate. Molly and I split an order, it was more than enough. It was a nice way to finish the weekend. She left Monday morning and I went to class.

Oh yes, and I got ANOTHER roommate. But this one is permanent!!!! On Saturday, I had Kacie come over to give Molly a haircut, and Ester (the cute old lady who lives in the residencia and calls everyone "hijo/a" and "niño/a") came in to change the sheets on the other bed, which is odd. She told me a niña came earlier to get a room for the rest of her courses. Sara arrived on Sunday with her suitcases and her little sister, but she said she'd be back Monday because she was going to spend the night with her family in their hotel. Sara is 18, from Alicante in Valencia, she's studying Interior Design at a school that starts class next week, and she's gone to English schools her whole life so she speaks PERFECT English with a London accent. Her first night here, we pretty much just asked each other questions in Spanish because I told her I want to learn. I introduced her to Gisella, and we went back and forth between English and Spanish, it was kind of fun. Every time she speaks English with her British accent, I'm just so jealous. Number 1, she's a Spanish girl and speaks Spanish with the accent I'm trying to pick up here. Number 2, she speaks her second language (English) perfectly and with a pristine accent. Number 3, SHE HAS A BRITISH ACCENT! YOU CAN'T BE BRITISH AND SPANISH AT THE SAME TIME AND LEAVE ME BEING AMERICAN, IT'S NOT FAIR!!!!!! I honestly do not hear a trace of a Spanish accent in her English. Boo. But she is very very nice, and only knows 2 or 3 other girls who live in an apartment a few streets from here, so I'm going to integrate her into my group... umm yeah.

We went out for Halloween last night. And by "we", I mean Gisella and I. Laura met up with us, though. Sara was going to the same area, she thought, but we never met up with her mostly because I forgot to exchange phone numbers with her. Gisella and I sort of dressed up. Enough that they would pass as costumes, but we could adjust a piece to just look super-Madrileña. Have you seen Mean Girls? If not, don't judge me until you have. I was Karen Smith on Halloween from Mean Girls. I bought a long long short sleeve black shirt, black sequiny belt, black tights, a head band, and black ear muffs. I made the ear muffs and head band into mouse ears, straightened my hair, put on rather whorish makeup for me (I still can't get the eyeliner off), and put my headband ears on. "I'm a mouse. DUH," [point to mouse ears]. GET IT?!?!?! Haha, no one really got it, but whatever. I had fun, even without a single piece of candy. All the Spaniards who were dressed up, were dressed up scary. I kind of wanted to walk around and say, "Eww, why are you dressed so scary?" (also a quote from Mean Girls by Karen). Anyway, today is All Saint's Day, so I have no classes and almost everything is closed... so you can imagine how many people were out last night. Bob is in town with his friends from Copenhagen so I'm going to meet up with him later. Goodbye!!