127 Hours

Sierra Nevada

You'll never truly know how beautiful the world is until you take the time to see it for yourself. There is so much culture, so much history that we can't even begin to understand until we travel and take all of these scenes into our own perspective. Where is the last place that you went to? Did it overwhelm you in the way that is should have? Traveling isn't just about going to the beach and sitting in the sand. That is fun for a while, but the real beauty of traveling is going to a place and leaving a part of yourself behind all while taking a part of it away with you.

Hiking in the Sierra Nevada was a fun experience that took me out of my element, but was something that I knew I didn't want to leave Andalusia without doing. After going on my first hike, I can see why people love it so much. Nothing will ever make you feel so close to nature than being completely submerged in it. I had a nice afternoon in Alpujarra and took a lot of great photos. The thing I loved most about hiking was that everywhere I turned there was a beautiful photo opportunity. The mountains were so picturesque, I felt like Rockwell should have painted them. Maybe he did?

I've never been an outdoorsy type of person. I like the confinements of a large city where you can't turn a corner without seeing a taxi. The urban atmosphere has always been my sort of safe haven, but it was a nice change of pace  to stay in the mountains for awhile and to see nature in its purest form.

The Sierra Nevada looks like paint on a canvas. Every time I glanced at the playback of photos on my camera, I kept thinking to myself that none of this could be real. Never in my life had I seen something so overwhelmingly beautiful and unlike anything I had ever seen. The Smokey Mountains look like babies compared to these massive mounds of history. The view from the top was incredible and worth walking for five hours to see.

We trekked through streams, dirt, concrete, wooded areas, open plains... It was incredible how quickly the terrain would change from place to place and how everyone else seemed to be just as lost as I was. Every time we would pass through tiny pueblos, or towns, someone would ask where we were... and not once did anyone know the answer. We were just backpackers, roaming along the Sierra Nevada Mountains in search of something to marvel at.

Have any of you been hiking before? What was your experience like?

The Mediterranean Sea

After our rendezvous in the mountains, I went to the coveted Mediterranean Sea. You know that feeling you get when you're going to the beach, and then the first glimpse that you get of the ocean just takes your breath away? That's how I felt when I saw the Mediterranean. I saw it as this enormous body of water that separated me from Africa, a sea that I had spent my whole life learning about but never actually seeing in person. So much history happened in those waters and so much history is still happening in those waters.

We stayed in a placed called Nerja, a quiet, little beach town that had some very good paella (that I would later be unable to keep in my stomach, I'll explain in a few paragraphs) My friends and I climbed down a few rocks to get to a private area to ourselves. The water was cool but tolerable, and the sun made the waves sparkle like diamonds. I'm sure most of you are reading this with envy, of which you should be. The Atlantic Ocean and the Gulf of Mexico are nice, but they don't hold a candle to the Mediterranean. 

If beautiful people and beautiful beaches are your weakness, by all means come stick your toes in the water. I promise it will be a moment that you'll thank me for later. Half the fun of traveling is finding something so beautiful that you have to share it with the people you care about. That's how I feel when it comes to Spain. I want all of you to find it within you to book your flight to Madrid, to Barcelona, to Malaga... I want all of you to experience this for yourselves rather than living vicariously through me. 

Now, remember when I said the paella was so good, but not kept in my stomach? What's a little travel without a little sickness? I knew at some point I would find something that would break my solid immune system. After puking my guts out while sitting next to our attractive bus driver, I ended my weekend and returned to Granada in one piece.

Overview

I have lived in Spain for over a month now and I've loved every second of it. There have been a few moments where I've wished I could see my family or hug my brother, but for the most part I am perfectly happy where I am. This experience is good for me. I'm learning about myself and how to become the person I have always wanted to be. It is a slow process, but I'm so happy to have all of you along for the ride.

As most of you already know, my birthday was a week or so ago. I am officially legal to drink alcoholic beverages in the United States. None of it seems real at this point because I'm still waiting for my family to tell me in person. I would have given anything to have had had my mother kiss me on the cheek and hug me, even though I am twenty one years old and living independently in Europe. Sometimes you just need your mother. 

She did find a way to reach me from abroad when she sent me a care package of birthday cards and letters signed by a few people that I love and miss back home. She got as many people as she could to sign a short message to wish me a happy birthday, and that was enough to make me melt to mush. Twenty one is a huge deal in American culture, something that the Spaniards don't quite understand. I did however get a few cheek kisses and partial hugs for my birthday from strangers and new friends while we were out celebrating my aging.

Receiving the letters and cards from my family and friends was the best thing I could have received from home. (and from Poland.. Thanks, Nat!) Knowing that I have people across the pond that love me enough to wish me well is one of the greatest feelings I could have. Thanks again to all that were involved in my birthday, both at home and here in Spain. 

As far as my classes are concerned, I'm enjoying them as much as I can. I've noticed that going to class in Europe is still just as hard as going to class in the United States. It is a universal culture norm to want to skip class... No one wants to wake up at 7 am and walk 30 minutes to school, but my week tends to go by faster here than it did in the states. I am only in class Monday to Thursday, so I'm not used to having such a large weekend. It's a nice difference, one that I'm not going to want to give up once I return to UofL.

A few of you have asked how I like living with a host family. It's a lot easier than I had expected. Isa is a lovely lady, even though I wish she would stop feeding us so much soup. I'm practically drowning in chicken broth. Other than my dire need in macaroni and cheese, I can come and go as I please. I have my own house key. She doesn't care if I stay out late and even comments on how if I come home at 3 am... That's too "early." She washes my laundry and always asks me how my day has been. It's nice compared to what it could have been. I like Isa and Juan Maria. They take good care of me.

I'm also happy to announce that I am a temporary resident of Spain with my own "foreigner number" where I can have a job, buy a house, have a bank account, rent a scooter, pay taxes, etc. It's very interesting to be an immigrant. I don't really feel like one anymore though. I've been here long enough to adjust to being Spanish. I'm speaking more and learning more as the days continue. I'm not as advanced as I would like to be and I still have a long way to go, but it is a slow process that I am embracing. 

In the next few weeks, I'm going to be traveling again. Seville, Córdoba, and Ronda are on the list of Spanish cities... and then I'm going to Rome for a weekend in the middle of November. My friends and I are going to the Vatican, see the Colosseum, and flip a coin in the Trevi fountain. I'm excited and ready to go to the one place I've spent my whole life dreaming of. My mother will finally be happy since I had spent most of my childhood talking about going to Rome. Every time we would pitch in ideas for a family vacation, mine was firmly "Italy." It's time I finally cross that off my bucket list.

Then in December, there is talks of Dublin, Ireland. Keep your fingers crossed for me. 

Hasta luego.