Final Post

El Gato

A semester and some time ago I wrote a study abroad essay that was rejected. I was told that it was too narrow in scope and that it did not convey my wishes to study abroad as feasible. During this time I was dumbfounded as I had no idea of what else I could say as I did not know what to expect. What was I supposed to write? I rewrote a new essay from scratch and got accepted. After an experience of a lifetime I am sitting here writing my last post, of which I am put in a similar position. I could take snippets from my super private Madrid journal and take the reader of this essay deeper into my thoughts. As I peruse my various writings and mull over what I learned, I learned more about myself than I did about the Spanish people, culture, and education. It may sound cliché already but my best experiences were not with any of these things. The best times I had were when my commanding curiosity beat out my senses of better judgment. I do not by any means want the reader to take this as rebellious statement, but sometimes one can hurdle barriers to find what is really exquisite. If you don’t understand me, you can listen to the lyrics of “Turn Me Loose” by Lover Boy which ironically is playing on radio as I write this essay. 

As I compare my accepted essay to my rejected essay, I can honestly say that in my accepted essay, I was just more specific with my B.S with sexier metaphors (with a Neil Young lyric smartly added if I do say so myself). My point is that I did not have the slightest idea of why I wanted to go abroad, I did not know how to put my curiosity of another world into words. I want to recount three facets of my experience abroad that are ingrained in my brain that I promise will stick with me for the rest of my life (even if my family genes  stricken me with the inevitable Alzheimers).

The world is full of beautiful people. People are so different than what Brian Williams can tell us on the nightly news. Pitted in a 10 foot by 10 foot hostel room with 6 students, all of different languages and nationalities, I learned exactly this. The room consisted of Two Germans, One Spaniard, students from Japan and France, and me, the lone American. It may sound lazy of me to say this but the feeling was indescribable. I had no semblance of any of their languages, yet they all knew mine. In the beginning I felt exactly like the clichéd ignorant American that I have come to understand, but as time passed, we started having some fascinating 3 A.M banter. Jokes that would be perceived as elementary to an American my age became elongated fits of laughter to these twenty somethings. They all had visited each other’s countries, but strangely did not converse of tourist traps or attractions. They spoke about the beauty of countries as a whole and not of the physical monuments. To help put it in perspective; I half lied and futilely attempted to join in this multicultural conversation by telling Ray, the Japanese student, that I loved Kung Fu. The expression on his face was enough words to say that he knew that I knew nothing about his home country. Continuing, they all had Americanized fashion, Americanized grammar, and spoke fluent English. I chokingly had a lingering feeling that I was the only foreigner in the room…full of foreigners. I had come to learn that night that Kung Fu is in fact a Chinese art and that I have a bunch to learn about the world’s people, to which no online blog nor nightly news reporter could ever teach to us Americans.

During my independent travels throughout Europe, I can honestly say I made many, many friends. Though my time with these people was brief, I appreciated every second I was with them. Johannes Forrester from Leipzig, Germany taught me about the importance of ecological innovations and environmental implications by widening a river in California. Ray talked my ear off about surfing in Tokyo and how the Chinese put too much oil in their dishes. Leila taught me about the importance of family before she left for hers in Cairo, Egypt during the riots. And of course, the American girls from Minnesota, who taught me through their actions that nothing but hard partying is a laughable waste of time in Europe. I met the whole spectrum of of people, and they all had a part on my journey. Each personal glimpse led me to believe that I am just another person looking for something on this 7 billion people planet. If I learn how to end this paragraph I'll let you know.

            They say that variety is the spice of life; the more experiences a person tries the more exciting life can be, and this particular moment in Morocco took the cake. Too excited to be in Africa and sleep, I explored the city of Marrakesh at 2 A.M. An eventful stroll led me to find a group of kids playing soccer in a mosque courtyard. Immediately I was asked to join. Even though I didn't understand his language, his massive cheery smile and wide eyes under bushy eyebrows were all the translation I needed.  The game was Amazing. The kids loved me. Every time someone scored on my team between the two makeshift goals of stolen graveyard rocks my team came up to me and gave me high fives or pad on the back as if I was the play's tactician (I hardly touched the ball). On top of this I would let out Americanized interjections whenever a team scored (booyah, oh yah, woo) of which the kids would emphatically repeat. It’s hard to say why this would be my top experience to someone who wasn’t there, but the stroke of luck by finding these kids at 2AM just by following a map of my own curiosity led me to believe something about myself that I would later piece together on the plane ride home.

Some of the best things in life are the things that you discover yourself. These unexpected moments of meeting a person and the spontaneous moments that surprise you the most all have lasting impacts. The places I visited such as the Madrid stock exchange and Anne Frank house were some of the most interesting places I visited, but were not the truly unique, spur of the moment occasions that I can say I found myself and could call my own. If I could be an advisor to anyone studying abroad, I would tell them to open themselves to these moments, as these instances are fleeting and can only be experienced by the capacity of a person’s curiosity. And then I would tell them to cherish them for life as I will.

Mallorca pt.3

 These are some of the last pictures I got before it down poured for the next two days.

This picture is from the other side of Magalluf where i stayed. Again I think I snuck into some secret private resort area through the palms.

 This was a mountain bike trail that led into the mountains of Mallorca.

 At the end of the trail. Not that high up, but still above the tree line.

The closest beach is Magalluf where I stayed, and the farther beach is Palma Nova where I went hiking where the aquarium was.

Mallorca

This was the same trail I went on last time but this time i went along the beach. The pictures are not in order.

This is a random grocery cart impossibly lodged in the rock.

These are cool pictures I took while climbing on the bluffs. If I went with anyone I would have never found all the cool stuff I did and seen all the neat sights.

Me looking down when it probably would have been smart to be thinking "dont look down".

This is is a nice shot of my zit. I swear it was bigger and brighter before the salt from the water dried it out.

Me conquering the bluff.

Mallorca

For Easter break I got the cheapest ticket I could find to somewhere hot, didnt matter where. The flight to Mallorca was about 27 Euro there and 7 euros back for a total of about 50 dollars. Found a cheap hotel for about 33 euros a night with an all inclusive option for 22 euros a day. Didnt take me long to find out that I could just walk into dining room and eat all the shrimp I wanted without anyone asking if I had a bracelet or not.

Took a bus to Magaluf which is about the southwestern edge of Mallorca. A huge tourist trap as I had rapidly realized with all the surprisingly annoying and obtrusively loud British people. I had scheduled a couple hiking trips in and around my hotel area and the beach area. And when I say "scheduled" I mean I took the liberty on my own accord to hike the coast which seemed to walking in the back yards of some private bungalows.

All the pictures here were of the first trip I took. I actually did this twice on two different days because I had forgotten my camera the first time and saw way to many photo opportunities. Luckily I got the pictures when i wanted them because the first two days were the only decent days the go out, the others days were full of torrential downpour.

This trail was really nice because it went along the whole coast of Mallorca with rock formations on one side and the sea on the other. I have some pictures that I tried to show how I managed to find places of the beaten trail which involved climbing up bluffs and along secret beached in coves.

More-Rockin Morocco pt. 3

Walked back from the Bus Station. I Tried to tell them that I knew where I was going, but of course they had to ask someone right when I figured out exactly where we were (it was still emasculating). Went back to our hostal and got to sleep in separate beds in a room for ourselves.This picture is of the Royal Cous Cous in Essaouira. The Camel meat is somewhere in there.

Half of us took showers like quitters and the other half toughed it out like vikings. That night we went out to walk around the souqs and  haggled, I didnt get much because I needed dirham for dinner but still haggled for fun. Got some good deals that I was sad to walk away from and disrespected others it seemed.

Dinner that night we got at the center of the main plaza where the chefs fight between themselves to win. We were in the middle of such a fight when ones chefs final price was free bread, olives, water and tea. The other chef could not do better and was defeated. I got calamari and shrimp. Both were fantastic. Walked around the plaza and played some games, listened to some drum circles, saw snake charmers, monkeys, crazy old bearded dudes talking to themselves ... pretty much everything you would see in the first 5 minutes of Aladdin minus the good looking Jezebels.

The guy in the picture was an Apothecary that sold some very interesting tea. This picture is of me sniffing some herb.............it's for snorers and clogged sinuses. It felt like a smoke bomb was set off in my nostril cavity. He also drew on the girls faces for good luck or something. I'm pretty sure he was just messing with stupid tourists.

Some guys came up to us because they liked the girls (this happened many times). One guy wanted to trade his wife for Sam, another guy before would have traded 50 camels for Emily. The camel is the Moroccan Ferrari. That night we hung out on the Rooftop terrace of our hostel but by that time my camera died. It was spectacular.





This is a cool picture to leave off on I think. Me and my boy 'zoga

Meet "Marzoga", Essaouira pt. 2

My response to uncle Fran's christmas card

This was the day I was looking forward to, Camel riding. Got up early and took a 2 and 1/2 hour to the coast. Easily, we met ten times nicer people as well as noticeably fresher air (kids did not try to profit from tourists by selling Kleenex). Valerio found many Italian speakers, one of which got us to our Riad (hostel) inside the labyrinth like Medina (walled city) of Essaouira. The Riad was amazing, the workers were amazingly lax with everything, offered us free coffee, and set up our camel ride for us as well as transportation while we settled ourselves in our room.

Took a jeep to the camel ranch, petted horses, cute puppies and the occasional cat that wasn't an ass while we waited for our camels. They all seemed to take a liking to Emily and not to me, a huge first in the world of animals.

The picture in order is Emily, Vale, and Crazy-Insane Neurotic Ex-girlfriend Sam, and still is to all aunts asking. The camel ride was amazing, we went through the forest, saw some creeks, wild dogs, bulls, and walked along the beach. I rode on the feisty Marzoga of which only I could tame.

If anyone has a chance to go on a camel, take it, its not at all life changing but it will definitely shape your perspective on camels forever. Camels are not at all nice and make the ugliest sound known to man (guessing). Marzoga kept wanting eat Sam ahead of me, probably because she doesn't take showers (fact). For anyone interested, Marzoga likes long walks on the beach as well as drooling and spitting. Special skills involve saving grass and sand in his mouth for later. Very sociable.

Came back to the hostel, free ride again, and finally paid for our nightly stay. Changed into our gear and went to the beach. When in Rome, do as the Romans do so I took the surfboard the hostel offered to customers. We walked to the beach out of the Medina and to the coast. Surfing was really fun, I even got up a couple times and pics to prove it. Of course I am full of excuses like the the waves were not big enough to get a good "shred" in, the board needed more wax, and my right nip was chafing like Andy Bernard's on "The Office" so take what may.

And for my Aunt Colleen and Aunt Nancy, I was getting all the stares from the Moroccan women on the beach. I dont know if they were jealous because they can't go in the water without wearing their burqa's  or that I was looking really Gnarly Awesome surfing... Either way I was awesome.

Left the beach so we could get money for dinner, return surfboard and watch sunset, but of course, I was traveling with women and missed it by at least 2 hours (1 for each). Tried to go back to our hostel a different way but of course made it just in time for primetime shopping in the Medinas main street, and traveling with a huge surfboard in a dense crowd is a perfect way to enrage people as I took out many women and children... Kickin' ass and taking names.

Got dinner at an awesome restaurant where I got 3 dish meal, starting with tomatoes with basil and tuna on top, tastes better than you think. Next was the main course, cous cous, as if i dont get enough already at Grandma Donahue's house. This was probably the first and only time I will ever crave cous cous. Lucky for me, my dish of cous cous came replete with chicken, figs and baby Camel leg we think. Dessert was a dish with a small assortment of bite size cookies, of which 3/4 tasted like they were made with laundry detergent.

That night we hung out on top of the terrace with 1983 red wine. I tried to break out some of my dad's b.s. wine lingo,"Assertive yet not too pushy". Like everyone else in our family, they also were not impressed.

 Went to bed after. Sleeping again was quite hard with Vale's open floodgates and had to walk around again downstairs before I could attack the sheep's and the fence again. However it was humorous to see the other strangers in our room unable to sleep. Sam gave him a nice rap upside the head and he finally shut up.

The next morning i woke up early to hang out on the terrace. This is what the view looked like. Stole some leftover mint tea from the guys we met from last night and relaxed. ( see what i mean by Labrynth?)

Before Our bus came we did some more exploring on the other side of Essouira where fishing and such happens. Of course I let my curiosity take over and climbed the stone wall and scaled craggy rocks to get some pictures no one else could. (Sounds cooler than what I actually had to do, and to my dismay i found a 70 year old who was able to do the same thing.)

Took bus ride back after losing 50% of our group a half hour before our bus ride back to Marrakesh. Part three to come soon!

Its Always Sunny in Morocco part 1

This picture was my favorite moment of Morocco among many. Skipping the time-line of many unfortunate events of the first day starting by almost missing my flight b/c of my Senora's awful sandwhich making skills, I would like to start with the next morning, precisely at 2AM. Of course by this time I know not to venture out by myself since the news of the deceased American student in Madrid, but when your room only has one queen size bed and your bunkmate tells you he has a snoring problem... and on top of that the excitement of being in Africa overwhelming you, sleeping would be a step down from futile. Our hostel was a stone throw away from the main square anyway and I hadn't gotten any pictures since arrival (Fna del Jemaa plaza i think it was called).

About half of the once packed fresh squeezed orange juice stands were open, squeezing the last of the days oranges into pitchers probably to be resold in the morning. Ginger tea stands were selling the last of kegs supply. I found out on the last day in Marrakech by a nice woman that this uncomfortably spicy drink is popular because it's an aphrodisiac (on the same topic, apothecaries in the Souks sold Viagra tea as well) The picture above is of one of the ginger tea stands. Walking a little bit more ways, there was the largest mosque, minaret in Marrakesh (Guessing). Around the mosque on both sides were orange orchards. The whole time I was getting feelings that I really wasnt supposed to be here, especially this late. But who cares, and I ended up taking a holy orange from the holy Muslim Orange grove. I still remember the taste, the normal sized orange was so tart that i had to spit it out. The acidic juices got into my ravaged cuticles on my fingers and stung like crazy ...products of the preceding weeks mid terms. Left the grove to walk around the mosque and this is when it gets interesting. I was followed by a man who just came up to me to shake my hand. Begrudgingly I did, but the man just wanted to talk.

Saw kids playing soccer next to what seemed like a graveyard of equally sized rocks right to the left of the towering minaret. Almost immediately one kid asked me to join. Even though I didn't understand his arabic, his massive cheery smile was all the translation I needed. (can you guess which one he was in the picture above?)

 The game was Amazing. The kids loved me. Every time some one scored on my team between the two makeshift goals of stolen graveyard rocks my team came up to me and gave me high fives or pad on the back as if I was the play's tactician (I hardly touched the ball). On top of this I would let out Americanized interjections whenever a team scored (booyah, oh yah, woo, yes, things like this). Each one they would repeat after me and would emphatically repeat it when they scored next. You can imagine that the game was very unofficial as the kids camaraderie would take over and turn into fights and unwarranted fouls. One kid tried to pop the already flat ball and end the game.

All in all it was passionate game of Mosque-yard futbol.  I told myself I would leave when i finally scored cause it was getting late. Of course it was a flagrant handball goal,  to which i exclaimed "IM IRISH". I think one kid got what I meant. Got my Picture above and returned to Valerio, the sleeping beauty minus the beauty, quantity squared.

Tomo is bus tp Essaouira, The only place in the world with four vowels sequenced right next to each other. (Guessing).