Córdoba, Seville, Granada and The Granada Girls

Two week before this one, we had the week off of normal classes to travel with our Travel Class. My class went to Andalusia (Southern Spain) and as a class, we were there from Tuesday until Friday.

Córdoba:

We spent the first day in Córdoba and then continued on to Sevilla that night. In Córdoba we saw the Mezquita-Catedral. It was very beautiful, but Helen and I both decided that we would have liked Córdoba much more had we ventured outside of the tiny touristy town that surrounded the Mezquita-Catedral (it was honestly one store after the other with the same postcards, purses and tacky souvenirs all boasting "I ♥ Córdoba! I ♥ Córdoba! I ♥ Córdoba! I ♥ Córdoba!" so I really did not feel comfortable buying these things as I LIKED Córdoba, but I'm not sure it made it to the "♥" echelon)

My Favorite Part:

The inside of the Mezquite-Catedral (because of the beautiful craftsmanship and because I made a new friend - Tyler [seriously one of the best guys you will ever meet. This was actually proved during a particularly uncomfortable conversation on the following day where Tyler alone restored my faith in the male population]) and the cute bull I bought at one of the tacky tourist "tiendas." [okay I caved but it had no ♥ on it and look for yourself... it's very cute]

My Least Favorite Part:

Realizing that my lunch was not big enough (and covered in tomato because that is what our señora packed us) and getting a bag of chips that ended up making me feel gross and sick... because I ate the whole thing in about 7 minutes.

Seville:

We arrived in Seville that night with enough time to get to our rooms, shower and head out for dinner. We were on our own for dinner so I attached myself to a new group of amigos and we went off to explore our new city. One of my nuevo amigos had been to Seville before and remembered loving this particular restaurant. He knew the general direction of the restaurant and warned us that it might be a little bit of a walk to get there. Surprisingly (as the streets in Seville are not only not parallel [one of the reasons it is hard to navigate in Madrid still] but they are often not marked and when standing in the middle of an intersection, all of the streets look exactly alike) we got there with fairly little trouble. Once we got there we sat outside and ordered 5 plates of tapas for four people with the intention that we would sample the tapas and then order larger plates. I am not quite sure if I have mentioned it before, but I am a pescatarian. This means I eat fish. However I do not usually tell people this A. because I would prefer something other than fish usually (they have feelings, families and friends [<--maybe this is a stretch] too) and only eat it if i. my hair is falling out ii. it is the only non-cow/chicken/turkey/rabbit/duck/quail/hamster thing on the menu iii. my mom makes it for me iv. I am in a different country and trying to embrace the culture... and B. because usually when I tell people that I am a pescatarian, they think I am telling them what religion I am ("Oh Pescatarian! What makes you different from all the other Protestant denominations?") Here at this tiny little local restaurant with 6 tables inside and wooden chairs outside I had the best fish I have ever had (other than my mothers salmon and Sam's halibut of course). It was swordfish marinated with oranges and red wine. It did not just melt in my mouth. It made my mouth melt. (I tried to write more about my evening after this but everything seemed so trivial after the swordfish)

The next day we went to Los Reales Alcázares . It was unbelievable. Every building and Cathedral we have seen has been absolutely beautiful in its own way but there is something about gardens….the flowers, the trees, the fountains, the fact that this specific garden was created for the enjoyment of the kings lady lover...they are more beautiful than any building could ever be.

After Los Reales Alcázares, we wet to the Cathedral and it was very beautiful however my favorite part was the “photo shoot” we had before entering the Cathedral and the view of the pink and yellow buildings from the top of the Cathedral. Here are some of the pictures!

 

 

{I have NO idea what this is or why it is hanging outside the Cathedral}

By the time we were done seeing the Cathedral we were all absolutely starving. Not only had it been five hours since we had eaten but it had been five hours spent on our feet. At this point all of my brain/mouth filters had completely left me (they were busying trying to access any reserve energy stored in my outer left ankle) and I was just beginning to complain loudly about how we should stop talking and start eating when they took us to a restaurant. It was actually a very nice restaurant complete with bottled water, “agua con gas” (bubbly water) and wine on the table when we arrived. They did not know that Helen and I were vegetarian (even though I had been called into one of the program directors offices and berated for my dietary needs two weeks before so that they could plan around my strange eating habits) but we were in Spain and “When in Spain!” So we smiled, ate some fish and then went straight to Yogurtlandia. Yep. The Yogurt Land of Spain! And the best part was I NAVIGATED US THERE ALL BY MYSELF!! (Keep in mind that the more navigationally inclined of the roommates is by far Helen and that I always seem to want to go in the exact opposite direction so this was a huge feat for me!) After Yogurtlandia, it was siesta and then the whole dinner production all over again. We again went to this hole-in-the-wall place that was amazing (Patatas Bravas [essentially a very upscale version of In-N-Out’s “animal style fries”] will be my demise).

Oh and I almost forgot! In Seville we saw a flamenco show. [DISCLAIMER: I have thought about how to write this in the most appropriate way as my parents are my two biggest blog followers—love you mom and dad— but I cannot give it the credit it deserves without including some PG-13 language. So if you are at all squeamish in this regard, please just hop on down to the next paragraph.] It was the first time I have ever been in a really “sensual” setting with more than one other person. Watching them dance was like nothing I have ever seen. There were times when I felt like I (sitting in the room) was interrupting something very private (everyone was sweating). And then there were other times that I felt like my presence added to their passion. I am sure that as you read this you are thinking “Kendra probably had a little too much Sangria that night” but no. Ask anyone else who was there (and has half a soul)… it was very emotional (in every good way) for everyone involved. Bottom line: when in Seville, go to a flamenco show. It will energize, inspire, and excite you (again, in every good way).

{Helen and Kendra pretending to Flamenco}

Granada:

The next morning it was off to Granada! The first thing we noticed upon our arrival was a gelateria right next door to our hotel. By “right next door” I mean they were sharing a wall. Gelato is almost as big of a weakness as Patatas Bravas. So of course we went to our rooms put our stuff down and went to taste-test the gelato. We approved. Then it was off to lunch!! The only noteworthy part of the lunch was when Olivia took apart the creatures in the Paella 6th grade dissection style.

{that used to be a creature...}

Then we went to the Alhambra! It was very beautiful, but my favorite part was Generalife. This is the garden part of the Alhambra… and I took 338 pictures of the gardens alone. I am going to try to make another Smilebox Slideshow so keep your eyes pealed.

And now I am getting impatient because I just want to tell you about all of the really fun/funny parts of my trip but (for some reason) I feel obligated to inform you about each day (the main points at least) a little so here is the highlight reel.

That Night: We decided that “No pasa nada” (our favorite phrase here, roughly translated meaning “there is nothing happening/no problem”) should be “Si pasa mucho” (we decided this would be “umm there IS a problem”) when we were dragged around on another tour at ONE IN THE MORNING. Okay I know the Spaniards have a different body schedule but they expected us to be up the next day at 7:30. We did not get back until at least 2. “Si pasa mucho” did not begin to cover the cranky that plagued my next morning.

The next morning we went to la Alcaiceria y Capilla Real. It was beautiful but I was so cranky and tired that sadly, I did not appreciate it as much as I would have liked.

Most Exciting Part: Isabel and Ferdinand are buried here!! There is a supine statue of Isabel on her tomb and her head is resting on a pillow. Her head is making more of a dent in the pillow than her spouses because, to quote our native Spanish-speaking tour guide, “she had a lot in her brain.”

Then our classmates left to go back to Madrid.

Here is the fun part:

Initially, Helen and I had planned on traveling to Valencia, Spain. However, as previously mentioned, Helen is wonderfully resourceful and she has enough wits about her to think ahead and realize that we would be wasting precious hours (and MUCHO dinero) en rout from Granada to Valencia. Oh and she checked the weather and it was supposed to rain.

So Granada it was! In the process of out-loud planning, we rounded up five other girls that would soon become “The Granada Girls” (Girls- throw up your G’s!).

After we were on our own, with ice cream in hand, we attempted to find our hostel. Somehow I was put in charge of this. AND AGAIN I GOT US THERE!! For the girl that turned onto a freeway off-ramp, this is an amazing accomplishment. As we were walking, we were admiring the beautiful main street and saying how lucky we were to be so close to center of the city when our map told us to go down this small urine-smelling street. This was when we started to become skeptical. This my first hostel experience. I had no idea what to expect. Then we arrived at Oasis. We walked into a beautiful, clean hostel and greeting us was a sign that said “Dinner Party @9 tonight- Paella!!” We were sold. After getting checked in, we found our way to La Rivera, a tapas bar recommended to us by Helen's “Lets Go Spain! On a budget” book. {VERY FUN FACT ABOUT GRANADA: When you buy a drink, the tapas are FREE!!} We made friends with our waiter and rapidly found ourselves with a nice afternoon “warmth” that only a good Sangria (y tapas gratis!!) can bring.

After La Rivera, we went back to Oasis to take a nap. We walked into our room (we had 7 of the 10 beds) and tried to judge the genders of the remaining roommates. On the bottom bunk diagonal from me we saw Time Travelers Wife. “Okay this one is a girl!!” I said excitedly.
Later, when a jovial English man walked in and sat down on the bed, we realized that my initial assumption was very wrong. This was Adam. Adam is a teacher of economics in England (but secretly aspires to be a writer). On the last day we realized that we had read almost all of the same books and we had a very nice (emotional on my part) chat about Time Travelers Wife.

After our nap we went to the Dinner Party and had Paella!!

SMALL WORLD ONE:
At dinner we made friends with this guy that had been “couch surfing” with his buddy for over a year. He was from San Diego.

Then we went out. We followed Molly to her friends favorite bar (she had a friend studying abroad in Granada) and had a blast dancing to music from Grease and laughing about the guy-prowlers that kept creeperishly telling us about their 5-Star hotel rooms… “tengo un NOVIO. NO-VI-O.” At the end of the night Helen and I decided that we preferred Perrier to another mixed drink, so we spent our last few minutes dancing delightfully sober.

SMALL WORLD TWO:
When we got back to our hostel, we met more friends. One of them turned out to be Keely (best friend from home)’s elementary school classmates. WOW.

The next morning we enjoyed our FREE BREAKFAST (courtesy of Oasis!) and then went out to enjoy the day. I realized that I had no more clean clothes (again, I packed less than the boys) so I walked to one of the little stores right next to our hostel, bought a skirt and was good to go!

By lunch time we were hungry again and went to a little Indian place that we found. We enjoyed lentil soup and naan and each others good company.

SMALL WORLD THREE:
We were just finishing our lunch tea when a girl walked into the restaurant. “Brooke?” Helen inquired. “Yes?” Brooke replied. Turns out Brooke and Helen went to senior prom in the same group.

That evening we hung out with our new friends and bar hopped around our hostel. I had 3 servings of Patatas Bravas (one at our first bar, one at the second and the leftovers that no one else wanted) and then got a baked potato. {I have not had any potato since}

SMALL WORLD FOUR:
That evening a group of girls walked into the hostel looking for "Brooke." (This is the same Brooke that is mentioned above) The man at the desk was very confused (it was 1 a.m.) so I went over to tell them that Brooke and left to go out about an hour before. They saw that I spoke English and here is how our conversation went:

Them: Wait, where are you from?!?!
Me: San Diego! Well Pasadena, but I go to school in San Diego!
Specific Girl: Im from san diego!... But I go to school in Davis
Me: oh really!? Are you in a sorority?
Specific Girl: Yes...??
Me: Tri Delt?
Specific Girl: (creeped out now) yes...??????
Me: Do you know Lindsay Van Amringe?!
Specific Girl: YES OH MY GOSH SHE IS THE NICEST PERSON EVER DO YOU KNOW HER!??!

(here was when I busted out the cute pictures of me and Lindsay)

IF YOU GO TO GRANADA YOU MUST:

Go to Los Italianos (another recommendation curtsey of Lets Go!)

They have 1 euro gelato that is the best gelato I have ever had. Ever.

The rest of the weekend we passed blissfully in the sun, in the city of Granada enjoying the culture, the shops and again, most importantly, each others company. There is something about traveling that has the potential to “make or break” friendships. After this weekend, I know that as a member of the Granada Girls, I will always be able to “throw up my G’s” at a fellow GG and smile knowing that we shared something so very special. Thank you :)

Hummus

Helen and I love hummus. If you are even a mildly routine follower, you already know this.

 ...However I dont believe I ever finished The Hummus Saga.

Our Hummus Saga

It started one afternoon when Helen and I agreed that we wanted hummus. We went to Alcampo (the "Costco meets Target" of Spain) looking for hummus. We talked to numerous Spanish speakers trying to make the "H" silent "Tiene UUUmas?" to which they would respond in varying strange looks.

Alcampo did not have UUUmas.

Armed with our craving, we went to Court Ingles (the American department/grocery store on growth hormones). The first building we went into turned out to be Court Ingles: Music. We found this out after going through all SEVEN stories and seeing only electronics. We quickly realized that there was another Court Ingles building. Actually three more Court Ingles Buildings. After finally getting to the correct building, we had to figure out what floor (out of the 8) the "supermercado" was on. It was in the basement. After looking around and asking more Spaniards, it became evident that Court Ingles: Mercado did not have hummus either.

Days later, Kendra is in Spanish class

[Topic of the day: differences between Spain and the US]

Me: Espana no tiene UUUmas! (Spain does not have hummus!)

Professora: Conoces Court Ingles? (Do you know Court Ingles?)

Me: Si! Pero Court Ingles no tiene UUUmas! (Yes! But Court Ingles does not have hummus!)

Professora: Siiiii (Yeeees!)

Me: A Donde? (Where?)

Professora: Circa de la comida de "hewwish" (Near the ______ food)

Me: No comprendo. "Hewwish?" (I dont understand. Hewwish?)

Professora: Hewwwwwwish (Hewwwwwwish)

Me: Ooooh Jewish!! Comprendo! (Oooh Jewish! I understand!)

Then she explained to me that only the larger Court Ingles's had Jewish sections and that we would probably need to go to the one near Nuevos Ministerios (the metro stop where we switch lines).

Court Ingles Experience 2:

We got off the metro (which was confusing enough as there were 6 exits all depositing you on different street courners). We went into the Court Ingles we had passed during our run and realized quickly that we were in the wrong place. This was Court Ingles: Toy Store. They had everything from Life Sized Labradors to a sweet shop. We went up a flight and found ourselves in Court Ingles: Sports Gear and Wear! We tried to ask where the "supermercado" was but no one seemed to know. So we exited the building and tried a different entrance. After going through two tunnels and a restaurant, we found ourselves facing another Court Ingles. We went in. This was Court Ingles: Rock Band. We found green feet to follow on the ground so we did. The feet took us to Court Ingles: Bookstore and Court Ingles: Ladies Wear and then finally to the Supermercado.

Finally inside the market, we began our hunt. "If I were Jewish food I would be... Refrigerated!" So we went to the refrigerated section, but found nothing. On our way past the carrots we saw a sign that said "Kosher." We were close!! We rounded the corner and there it was.... UUUmas. Of course it was 4 euros ($6) for about half of a normal Trader Joes serving but it did not matter!! WE HAD OUR HUMMUS!! We got carrots and beelined for the exit.

Hardly able to control our salivary glands, we sat down right outside of Court Ingles: Mercado and enjoyed our best lunch yet. Carrots and Hummus.

Yesterday night at dinner over Garbanzo Bean Soup.

Kendra: (playing with her food) you know we could probably just make hummus out of the left over beans.

Helen: I actually looked up a recipe online the other day

Kendra: (mashing her beans) See look! Hummus!

Helen: That just looks like chewed garbanzo beans. We could probably just make hummus in our mouths.

Helens Recipe for Hummus

Ingredients:
Garbanzo beans 
Instructions:
But beans into mouth. Chew. Add carrot if desired. 

Moral of the Story ONE: The next time you are at Trader Joes perusing the 13 different types of hummus (all for under 4 dollars) remember just how lucky you are. 

Moral of the Story TWO: If you are at Helen's dinner party, may I suggest the bree.

Hermanas

Dearest Friends,

I am SO sorry and mortified that I have not written about my Granada Girl Weekend or my parents visit but rest assured that I have a seven page word document about both that I keep adding to when I have a spare moment here and there! It is MIDTERMS week here in Madrid so we have all been varying degrees of stressed and out of our minds, so again, please excuse the delay.

However, I just had to quickly add a little something about Helen.

Our Conversation:

 (itunes Genius just started playing "Singing in the Rain" <-- for those of you who do not know, Singing in the Rain was my favorite movie from years 10-19. It is still in the top three.)

Me: Oh my gosh have you seen Singing in the Rain?

Her: (long dramatic pause that makes me wonder if she actually heard the question) uhhh I was Singing in the Rain for Halloween. 

oh I hope that made you as happy as it made me. or at least smile :) 

Hasta mas pronto!

xxxxooooo

The Rain In Spain

It is raining here in Madrid.
I thought this was fitting...

{click me}
 I hope that where ever you are there is a Soundtrack To Your Life as well!! 

Poco a Poco

The other day I was walking around my new favorite part of Madrid after a lovely vegetarian lunch with my equally lovely vegetarian roommate and saw a sign for kebabs. There was a split second where I looked at the pictures displaying every variety of marinated meat and thought, "Oh, the meat substitutes these people come up with these days! That looks JUST LIKE... oOOh (here is where I remembered that not everyone is a vegetarian)" I recognize that I am probably one of the VERY few people to ever completely forget about the carnivorous population and I recognize that I have just proved to all of you that I may not have completely moved out of my seven year old egocentric stage (where I see things only from my point of view - not to be confused with Only Child Syndrome where you are both egocentric and need attention <-- this is my made up disease for myself. Wow! I am just winning followers here left and right! I am going to have to start giving out numbers).

My Point Is: (Before I get to My Point, another quick digression. I did not fall far from my fathers tree and he and I have very similar "Story ADD" -as my friends kindly put it. For example, on the way home from San Diego, I started telling him a story and did not finish the story until we hit the 210. One hour and 45 minutes later. The story itself was probably only a 12 minute story told by someone not afflicted with this new syndrome. [now I am beginning to think I need to re-title my post "My Invented Syndromes" or "Why You Should Reconsider A Friendship"] My father even has a friend who asks him to tell her the point of his story first (so she can know where the tangents are eventually leading) and then backtrack. So here I am trying to make my point as clear as possible!!

Here Is My Point: Just like it was easy for me to forget something so obvious and obtuse as the meat eaters, it is easy for me to forget that I don't necessarily speak/understand the language of the country that is currently my home.

{Music of the Moment: Suite for Solo Cello no.1 in G Major, Bach (played by Yo-Yo Ma) and Norah Jones, The Nearness of You}

It is a daily task trying to fit in and look like I speak the language when I so clearly don't. For example, tonight at dinner, my señora asked me what I was doing on Thursday and I replied "No, we still have eggs!"

I spend most of my days loving the city and exploring... quietly content in my made up Spain where we all understand one another... and then someone tries to speak to me and I am yanked from my utopia and I feel like this:

"I limited myself to words and phrases that people actually use. From the dog owners I learned "Lie down," "Shut up," and "Who shit on this carpet?" The couple across the road taught me to ask questions correctly, and the grocer taught me to count. Things began to come together and I went from speaking like an evil baby to speaking like a hillbilly. "Is thems the thoughts of cows?" I'd ask the butcher, pointing to the calves brains displayed in the front window." -Me Talk Pretty One Day, David Sedaris

 But, "poco a poco" things are coming along. Tonight (post Thursday/egg experience) I told my señora my very first funny story... IN SPANISH!! I'm sure the details got lost along the way but the punch line was there and she actually LAUGHED!! I am going to call it a successful day. 

My Big Belated Blog (Part 1) Ireland Edition

I am currently in Sevilla, sitting in a surprisingly nice hotel room. It is raining here and the rain is currently suiting my mood. I started to feel a little unsettled (I am going to blame it on the rapid change in environment… we were in Cordoba two hours ago) a few moments ago (my roommate left to go exercise and I don’t necessarily handle being alone too well {theinbetweentimesofkendraosburn.blogspot.com}so I decided to be proactive and write because writing reminds me of who I am and I HAVE NOT BLOGGED IN FOREVER!! My hair is still wet from the extra hot shower I took (it was SO nice to have a piping hot shower after a month of lukewarm ones) and classical music is playing on my computer {To Love Again by Alan Pasqua}. I have my notebook to my right where I have diligently been recording all of my adventures… So here goes. This one is going to be long ☺

I have to take you all the way back to TWO WEDNESDAYS ago (I know I am mortified, loyal followers, forgive me… which, speaking of forgiveness, we learned in World Religions that Buddhism [and other religions of course, we are just currently studying Buddhism] teaches “forgiveness” because “by forgiving we release anger and hurt.” I wrote that down on my To Remember page.). To be completely honest, I don’t remember Wednesday very well. However, Thursday, I left for Dublin, Ireland.

IRELAND 

Thursday:

Thursday I took my second international flight alone. This was a fairly good experience until I could not find the gate for the flight to Dublin and tried in my best Spanish “Que es la puerta para el vuelo a Dublin?” and the man said “cual es.” That was not the answer to my question. Nope, that was him correcting me. I turned a violent shade of “rojo” and repeated “Cual es la puerta para el vuelo a Dublin?”

When I was finally on the plane I was just so exhausted that I fell right asleep in the middle of the book I was planning on putting a dent in {Me Talk Pretty One Day by David Sedaris}. Then I got off the plane and was in IRELAND!! Why Ireland? Besides the fact it is my grandparents favorite country, Ireland is where my best friend JULIE is studying abroad!!

After going through “customs” (it’s odd how other countries just trust people), I hoped into a cab after being shocked for a minute that the wheel was on the “wrong side” (Lesson Of The Day: It is not “wrong,” it is simply different from what I am used to. Lets keep in mind that they think we drive on the “wrong side” as well). The cab driver started chatting me up and by the end of the conversation he was on the phone with Julie laughing and clarifying directions. I tried to explain that the cab drivers in the U.S. were not quite so amicable… even though he spoke English, he did not quite understand.

Upon my arrival, I was greeted with something that looked very similar to the “LOOK, I have ELBOWS” scene in FRIENDS {season one, where Rachael’s old friends come visit her in the coffee shop- a Must See for addicts and non-addicts alike}. After many “I can’t believes” […we’re in a different country! …we’re together! …we’re so grown up] we went inside, cleaned up, ate dinner, chatted for a little bit and fell asleep.

The next morning we were lazy about getting ready until we realized that the breakfast place would be closing in less than 30 minutes. We hustled over and got a lovely egg and yogurt breakfast just in time. Over breakfast we shared friend gossip, two coffees and stories of our first weeks abroad.

After breakfast, we set off for the city. In the city we went shopping!! My boyfriend LOVES it when I tell him about everything I bought (kidding… he does not understand my need to do this at all) and I am sure you would too, but my outfits will soon be up on facebook and I won’t ruin the surprise. When we were done at the “City Center” we decided that it was time for dinner so we headed on over to the marked both craving soy sauce. We had...

Julie & Kendra’s Peek-A-Boo Tofu.

{Recipe: 1 block firm tofu, 1 bag/box microwaveable rice, 1 bag fresh/frozen veggies, soy sauce. Microwave the rice. Put the rice onto a plate and mash the raw tofu into it. Microwave the veggies. Spread the veggies on top. Add soy sauce to taste. Hands on Time: 2 minutes. Total Time: 6 minutes}

Then we went out.

You know the phrase “getting there is half the fun?” This particular night, that cliché was verified tenfold. A. I made new friends B. I learned a lot about myself and confirmed my political/religious/world views.

Let me elaborate on A. His name is David and he is from Munich. He is one of Julie’s new friends from the program (they met because they share a kitchen) and he is one of the more interesting characters in my adventure thus far. With longish blond hair, pale skin and a fondness for the phrase “that’s stupid,” initially, David is not the most inviting individual. However after a few chats from the bus station to the kitchen counter, I found out that David meant well but that a lot was lost in translation. For example:

Lost In Translation One:

It became evident during my third day in Ireland that David was struggling trying when having intellectual conversations with other people. He is highly intelligent and very knowledgeable, but, as I mentioned before, he has a liking for the phrase “that’s stupid.” I’m going to bust out my Communication credentials and say that after a few Human Comm. classes it became clear to me that saying “that’s stupid” to another individuals ideas is not usually the best conversation tactic (most likely, this individual probably thinks his/her ideas are not stupid and will be offended). So after this discussion, David and I were able to have a very nice conversation about semi-heated topics.

Lost In Translation Two:

David kept calling one of the other males (Jake) in the program a “faggot” almost like a nickname*. Jake and I tried to explain that in the United States that is not a very kind thing to call someone. David thought we were joking and asked, “you mean someone gay wouldn’t refer to themselves as a faggot?” We said no and he apologized profusely.

Lost In Translation Three:

In addition to using “faggot” and “that’s stupid,” David’s phrases were often littered with “fuck” as well. We tried to explain that while people in other countries might not think that “fuck” was that harsh of a word, used inappropriately, “fuck” could offend someone**. He asked, “Wait, so you’re saying that you couldn’t say “fuck” to your mother?” At this point Jake and I turned to each other and, grinning broadly, said “No. We would never say “fuck” to our mothers.” To which David responded, “I mean I don’t say “fuck” in the afternoon.” ……..? Still trying to work this one out.

My favorite David story is less funny, but it much more redeeming for him. On my last night in Ireland, Julie and I decided to make enchiladas (we are southern California Girls born and raised) and we ended up making extra. As David had spent the last few hours chatting with us in the kitchen and had gracefully gifted me some of his marmite (I have had a huge craving for marmite ever since, culminating in a dream that I had that I went to the store to buy marmite, but bought everything else and realized that I had no marmite as I was driving away. My mother is brining some to Madrid next week) we asked if he wanted an enchilada. He was so thrilled that he went around bragging to the other students. He must have told us 18 times how jealous everyone else was. Through the whole dinner he kept a running commentary of compliments. In the end, it was very clear that David’s heart was in the right place simply trapped by the wrong language.

*If you do happen to live in an area that “faggot” is a kind slang word, please forgive me. I am only speaking from my personal experience.

**If the inappropriate use of “fuck” does not offend you and you think I am rather prudish for bringing this up, I am sorry, I guess we are different. This explanation to David was a response to someone getting offended.

Now for B. I know I keep mentioning politics and saying I will talk about them later but realized that this is maybe not the best blog for political/religious commentary. I will be writing on this, but later, most likely in {theinbetweentimesofkendraosburn.blogspot.com}

Another highlight of my trip to Ireland (other than 62 straight hours of Julie!!) included a visit to the Guinness Factory. Julie and I both agreed that it was one of the best “museums” we had ever been to (and this is NOT because we got a free pint at the end… okay maybe this helped a little) because it involved all of your senses. We touched the barley, saw the hops (and attempted to take a jumping picture in front of it—get it, “hops!!”), heard the water (they had this HUGE waterfall inside), smelled the roasting and tasted the end product!! Jules and I were a teeny bit tipsy at 11 in the morning because of the “taste” portion. It was a great way to end very first “viaje” during my Semester Abroad!!

Julie and I with our Guinness Mustaches. Winning.

A Digression of Sorts

The Curious Case of The Dog and the Sweatshirt

As I have mentioned many times before Helen and I run at this park near our house called “Parque de Santander.” We usually go in the afternoon/evening between 6-8. We are there for about an hour. Every time we have gone (except the one time we went at 5) we see this man in a red sweatshirt walking his dog. Every day he is in his red sweatshirt and every day he is walking the same dog (not as surprising, but I do wonder if that sweatshirt gets washed). [Some people think he is attractive ← important information.] He walks clockwise while I run counterclockwise so I have a whole lap (3/4 of a mile… the track circles the park) to muse about this man. My first question was “why is he always in the red sweatshirt?” That was easily answered by “he wants to be easily identifiable.” DONE. He has effortlessly earned the epithet “Red Sweatshirt Man.” This is how Helen and I talk about him. My next question “does this guy walk every day?” My Best Guess: YES or almost yes. Because Helen and I don’t go every day but we manage to go about 3 times a week (and this is not like Monday, Wednesday, Friday it is the days we don’t want to “siesta” or “fiesta”) so unless he and Helen and I are all on the same bodily clock (least likely conclusion), he goes more often then we do (more likely). My next question “Why clockwise?” I would guess that about 87% percent of the people all run/walk counterclockwise ergo he and his dog are definitely in the minority. Obvious Answer: To check out the ladies.

Our Notes Thus Far:

 RSM walks every day in his red sweatshirt in hopes of being easily identifiable by the ladies he checks out.

I have also left out the dog until now. This dog is a very cute dog. Not “cute dog” as in the accessory that Paris Hilton carries around or the creature could be the decoration on my mother’s curtains (you can’t deny that some of these creatures look like running tassels). This dog is cute in the sense that it is very clearly a mix breed dog. This dog is the canine incarnation of the Barnum Effect- There is a little something for everyone. It is not too big, it is not too jumpy, it is just right. It is the Baby Bear Porridge of dogs. Every creature-loving person would love this dog. Why is this important? Besides the fact you now know I am crazy about dogs, this is more evidence towards our conclusion. Let me explain. When I was smaller I deduced that, like smokers, dog lovers have their own language, their own social cues, their own intense desire to be loved…. The point is that dog owners have an immediate reason to chat with one another (no award, “Can I buy you a drink?” “Do you have a facebook?”). They have a mutual interest (dogs) and usually stories about their own dog to fill the time they take to pat Poochie. So when I was younger, I swore that if I was single at 27 (before I got an eharmony) I would get a dog.

If at age 12 I recognized this, I am sure that RSM (who is probably 27 or very close to it) has realized this as well. Dogs attract people, and attractive dogs with attractive men attached, attract women (or men!! However I am pretty sure RWM is looking for a woman because I have caught him doing the “up and down” to fellow female runners).

Thus far, our information leads us to believe that RSM is looking for a lady friend of sorts. So my next question “why have I never seen him with anyone else? Why have I never seen any number exchange or any casual conversation?” Possible Conclusion: This just happens between laps (highly unlikely as the conversation would have to be very short and this leaves no room for pet complimenting which is the foreplay of pet-petting). More Likely Conclusion: He has business cards that he keeps handy if some attractive lady talks to him so he can quickly give her his info. My next question “why would he want to quickly give out his information?”

My Big Conclusion:

Red Sweatshirt Man walks his dog because dogs attract people. He wears a sweatshirt so he can be identified as “Red Sweatshirt Man” and classified as “safe” as he is seen so often. He walks at the park clockwise so he can scout out the people he wants to fraternize with and make the appropriate eye contact on Lap 1,2 and 3 so that by lap 4 eye-contactee will approach him and begin to pet compliment. Here he hands out his business card with the excuse that he cant talk right now because his dog is on a mission and gets kind of restless if they stop (this also gives him the “elusive man” characteristic which always seems to hook the unsuspecting female). Because this transaction is so quick, other female runners (other possible “prospects”) do not see him doing this, so they do not think he is taken or interested in another runner. This way RSM can get as many numbers as possible and go on as many dates as possible and have as much sex as possible without offending any one because no one knows. Ergo, hiding behind his dog and dirty sweatshirt, Red Sweatshirt Man is a sex fiend out to seduce all the women runners of Parque de Santander. Thank goodness I routinely wear my "I HEART SAM" v-neck.