The End--Part 2

Home is a loosely defined term at best for me the last few years. If home is where the heart is, then I am decidedly divided, because the saying is too simplistic. If home is where your family is and where there are the most people who love you and have that love returned then my home is in New Mexico. Then again, if home is where you sleep the best, which I have come to think of as a barometer for the level of comfort associated with a place and the life you have there, then my home is in Ashland, Ohio; I sleep like the dead there because I crawl into bed exhausted and thoroughly satisfied with each day's work. So, tentatively, I am home. Maybe half home, maybe less.

I will not be able to relate all my thoughts on the Whole Experience here so I hope those of you who have enjoyed this will have questions if/when you see me. So as I take stock of the last three months here is what comes most forcefully to my mind:

• I would not trade the experience for anything. The group of friends I made and the experiences we had together were truly priceless. As is always the case most of the friendships will fade over time, but I truly feel in this case that several of mine will be lasting. I know most of you enjoyed getting to know Eddie vicariously and I find myself thanking God, to have been so blessed with such a roommate. He helped me to let go and try to enjoy myself, which is a part of my personality which needed coaxing out. When I would fret about financial concerns he always said "money is replaceable. The rest of this isn't". He kept saying it right up until we were both borderline or actually broke towards the end. Neither of us regret a dollar we spent, even if some of them went towards nonsense like overpriced drinks in clubs and cab fare for some girls we hardly even knew but who needed a ride home. To have saved or been miserly would have been doing Spain an injustice and I have Eddie to thank for pushing me in the right direction. I have him to thank for many, many other things as well.
• I had forgotten what schlubs Americans are. Within twenty minutes of stepping off the plane in Washington DC my eyes were assaulted by more sweat pants, tank tops, muffin tops and protruding beer bellies poking out of too-small t-shirts than I could comprehend. Say what you will about the Spanish work ethic (and I'd be among the loudest critics have no doubt), but the laziest and most carefree Spaniard would be mortified to have his belly poke out from under a t-shirt. He would never wear a simple t-shirt in public in the first place. Not even the children are so poorly dressed.
• I miss the food terribly. It seems odd because it was so simple. Nothing Reme prepared was exotic or extravagant. In fact, I miss the bread the most. I miss sitting down to a meal with a little basket of several fresh loaves sitting in the middle of the table. I miss the two most important words in Spanish: "A comer!" Reme's call to inform us lunch and dinner were ready. I especially the dislike the sheer excess of food in my own house. The way our society has moved away from preparing fresh food every day and towards pre-cooked, pre-packaged nastiness which Wal-Mart specializes in is a shame. More than that, there is ample evidence it is one of the key factors in our challenge with health and weight. 
• I have had one siesta since I got home several days ago and it was glorious. I lay on the couch trying to fight and keep my eyes open watching sportscenter, and then I thought, "what the hell am I fighting this for? It's 3 in the afternoon, prime siesta time." So I rolled over and passed out. Dad rolled me over at 5 and asked if I was going to sleep the rest of the day away. He meant it jokingly because I could have done just that and nobody could have stopped me, but just the words themselves were so American. What, you're sleeping? In the middle of the day? What's wrong with you?
• Despite the pace I put on I inevitably ran smack into the "Oh christ there's so much I haven't done yet" wall last week. For example, and this is one of the big ones, I never set foot inside Sevilla's cathedral. I walked past it a hundred times, and ran past it dozens. A lot of the time even if I was running I would slow down just to touch it, just to have my hands on a building hundreds of years old. For some reason I never got inside which would have been as difficult as walking downtown with the intention of entering at the right time of day. I clearly recall the Saturday morning the school visit was scheduled for; we were supposed to be there at 11 to meet Judy and go inside, but waking up at 10 after going to bed at 6 was an insurmountable task. And hey, the cathedral would be there. I could always go see it another day. Right? Right..........

I'll be back to Spain sooner or later. There is no doubt in my mind that I must return and commit myself to a complete immersion in Spanish for one, and to visiting the northern coast for two. I may have tired of Sevilla towards the end, grown weary of the lack of novelty and unnecessarily overburdened with my restlessness. Still, a little part of me will now always call Sevilla home. I slept just fine once the temperature dropped. As we were boarding the plane back from Rome only a month ago Eddie said "I'm so glad to be going home to Sevilla." All four of us stopped and thought about it for a second, and realized it fit. Sevilla had become home, if only for a brief time.

The End--Part 1

And so, as with all good things there must be a conclusion. It should not have been like this though. Eddie and Ellie and I spent two days in Granada and had an awesome time. I'll get some pictures up asap. We got back earlier tonight, Friday night, and after dinner Eddie started freaking out on his computer. Turns out his parents had originally booked him a ticket for Saturday the 10th. They were working on getting it all changed while we were in Granada so he could stay another two months; he was going to live with a different family and help teach their kids english, which is a path a lot of American students take. After dinner though his mom informed him they : 1. Never did manage to change the ticket. 2. Couldn't change it now, as it would cost 1000$ extra to move it back one week or eight regardless. 3. He needed to pack up and be ready to be on his 7:30 AM flight from Sevilla to Madrid.

He found this out at approximately 11:30, which meant he had exactly 8 hours to pack and say goodbye to the people he could say goodbye to. The list is woefully small. Ellie and I, as she was still awake. He's heading to meet one of his other really good friends halfway. She was in tears on the phone. I'm tired. There wasn't too much sleep to be had in Granada as we were having entirely too much fun. So maybe it's me being slightly exhausted but this is just too surreal. It was supposed to be me saying goodbye to Eddie a week from now and him staying on for a little longer. The silver lining is he's in Detroit which is a paltry three hour car ride from Ashland so I'll definitely be able to go see him at some point.

I'll be eating lunch alone for a week, for my last week. This can't be right.

Rome

I'll do my best not to gush. Rome was Rome. First of all, it's a devious city. I have never in my life been so lost in a city or in the mountains. We had three maps between us, one person who spoke Italian, and the first day we spent an hour completely turned around and wandering. In the end we were only ten minutes from our hotel and of course felt collectively silly for getting so mixed up. The streets are laid out with no purpose, no rhyme or rhythm, and what's even worse is how they are named. The same street can quite literally take a 15 degree jog to the left after two hundred yards and suddenly its a new street. It took me two full days of watching the sun go down to believe that was west. So in a sense, Rome beat me up. Never had that happen before.

I'll throw this out there and see how I feel about it after some reflection: Rome may be Rome, but I like Sevilla better. I know I have some bias and more experience and therefore more comfort with Sevilla. However the cab drivers at the airport screwed it up from the get go. We got in around 10 PM and the Ciampino airport is about 8 miles outside the city center, or a 15 minute train ride. We had the option of waiting for a 4 Euro bus ride to the city center or taking our chances with a taxi. The lines for the bus looked forever long so we opted for the taxi. It was a stupid decision for many reasons. Lets count the red flags: 

• every single cab driver looked like a murderer. 
• Nobody was taking cabs. Everyone was waiting for the bus
• The girl in our group who spoke Italian had a conversation with the guy and communicated to us that according to him, the area around our hotel was currently closed to car traffic so he would be taking us to a train station.

You get the idea. Our friend thought he meant the Termini station, which would have been 5 minutes from our hotel and not a problem. But no. He took three or four turns and dumped us outside the Ciampino station on the other side of the airport and demanded 20 euros for his services. Normally Eddie and I would have protested being screwed over so hard, especially since we had no idea how to utilize the train to get where we needed to be and it was now almost 11. But, you know, murderer and all. We paid. 

Long story short, it seemed a whole lot worse than it was. The train saved us money in the end, and coming back we had a much better understanding of the train and bus system so it only cost us 3.60 E a person. Public transport over here is just generally better. For example, in Rome one can purchase a train and bus ticket good for an hour. You can get on the tram system then get off and catch a bus then get back on the tram, or vice versa, or whatever you feel like as long as it is within the hour.

So the start of our adventure was a little rough but nothing awful. The hotel location was perfect and we got a great deal because we were staying four nights. The silver lining of the first evening was the little restaurant we found still open at midnight. The pizza was unbelievable. I have quite a few pictures of us with pizza because it was 1. delicious and 2. cheaper than pasta and 3. enough food in one serving. The food was amazing in general. One of the girls' dads we were with told her to take us out for dinner one night and put it on him. Brave of him. We took full advantage to say the least.

We walked for 5-6 hours a day for three days straight so we saw just about all of it. To the pictures.

I don't know who this guy was but the sinister nature of the Catholic Inquisition was palpable.

Fishbowl--handmade Italian pottery

These little water spigots are everywhere in the neighborhoods and side streets. The water is delicious.

This little plaza was tucked away in the warren near one of the street fairs. It looks almost Spanish, or at least very similar to neighborhoods in Granada. Beautiful.

View looking down from our hotel room. That fruit stand stays open until 3 in the morning. Very late by western standards, way too early for those accustomed to Spanish nightlife.

This church was just down the block and the bells going off at 8 AM calling the faithful to mass stopped being quaint after the first time.

Melanie was excited.

This was taken from the top of the Spanish Steps, which are beautiful and all the rest of it but what the hell were these guys doing? At first I thought 'Oh cool they must be actual professional racers doing a promo for something.' But no. Just regular Italian guys all dressed up in their matching outfits. It seems stereotypical but every single Italian guy around my age looked like a greased up peacock. It was ridiculous. They give the Spaniards a run for their money in the pride category.

Crowd around the Trevi fountain.

Pizza! The crust is much much thinner, crispy, flaky. The sauce is obviously better and the toppings more delicious.

Ah, bones. This was creepy and so so cool. I fail to understand who would take the time to sort through thousands of years of bones to collect all the same ones to put together mosaic-like conglomerations, but here we have just that.

The city is especially beautiful around the river as it is in full-on fall mode right now.

And all these are from around the Vatican. We didn't go inside unfortunately. Budgets were tight on the food front, much less museums etc. It's just an excuse to go back.


All in all, it was an amazing Thanksgiving weekend. It ended too quickly and despite our prolific pace we didn't do everything I would have liked to. I will have to go back eventually.