Adventuresam

It’s Sunday afternoon and 4 chimes just broke loose from all the churches in Sevilla.   I’m in Espana now, with no new stamps in my passport because there’s no boarder control between great-at-speaking english Portugal and bright-lipstick-wearing Spain.

A scene out of Senora’s videos in Spanish class doce years ago

I speak enough Spanish to order food but not enough not to be constantly surprised with what actually comes.

Here was the trip: A spanish guitar shop in Arcos de la Frontera, a white village called Zahara, Ronda, Ronda, wifi at home, I’m going to skip Cartamon, Malaga, Nerja, the tallest Sierra Nevada under the stars, Granada, where a tapa with a drink is the norm, Lonely Ron, Hamilon, Rafa, Claudia <3, the miraculous car key, Osuna, friends with cute police officers, siestas, Paula keeping it together, emails in spanish to procure tickets, the Caminita del Ray, or, the Caminita del stroll, Sevilla, saying “see you soon!” to Paula, and quality time with the gorgeous Colleen.

I’m with one of my best friends 🙂

The most dangerous walk in the world is now completely fenced in.

The bull fighting rink: I learned that they eat the bull in the end.

Leeny and I explored the Jewish quarter, had bad customer service (a theme), drank wine in the morning (also a theme), saw wristy and captivating Flamanco, visited Alcazar, snuck into a maze, exercised daily in Maria Luisa Park (except when it was closed due to wind), felt judgments arise about the lack of information available regarding the Spanish inquisition, loved cooking at home, met a South Korean named Lee, saw a movie that was definitely a movie, tried to be kind and courageous, adored Chelsea Handler, saw saintly depictions of Christopher Columbus, went on a tapas crawl, and heard the word tapita used in context.

I’ve been thinking a little bit about that the age old question of how many angels can dance on the head of a pin? And it might depend on if they’re dancing to Flamanco or Fado.

Portugal and Spain have been very different experiences and tomorrow I leave for Africa for the first time ever!  I’ve gotten more information from people who have been there recently and I am both excited and a healthy dose of nervous.

sending a big, crushing hug,
‘mi

Hola! which is “Ola!” in Portugal. Turns out I speak enough Spanish to be constantly wrong in Portuguese. I came to this country for two weeks, friend-less, and left 6 weeks later with some of the best friends a girl could have possibly met online: Iryna, Claire, Pepe, Magda, Rolands, Telmo, and that good Portugal girl with that Aussie accent, Paula ❤

Traveler Fakes English as Second Language with No Real First Language

It’s the coffee (after every meal). Or all the meat (blood sausage). Or maybe it’s the pastries for breakfast (pastel de nata ).

This cheap, delicious wine reminds me of loosing Dennis, a national dish with salt fish from Norway, and we must pet every single cat.

deep breath of that sexy, European air

This trip I confused left and right, lowered my standards about what is good weather, and explored (back and forth) my 4th 3rd favourite city in the entire world, Portugal.  I landed and headed straight to Fundao (and not just for its reputation)  — that’s where my New Years plans were. Special thanks to Jocko, Bernardo, Mirium, and facebook.  Genius Trivial Pursuit in a foreign language stumped me and a week later I hitchhiked in my five fingers, hold your nose.  Rain, hail, snow, and frozen feet massaged my “good plan” into a €5 a day, insurance-less, car rental plan.  I’ll fast forward through the stress of a cracked windshield, fox scratches, unpaved roads, and a final-day collision because in the end it was a stormy Sunday and the best case scenario prevailed! Exclamation point! Paula joined me for 2 days the entire time.

Portugal, if I’m being totally honest, I hadn’t given you much thought before this trip but now I’m telling everyone I know.

Weeks of sideways rain, gum refusing to extradite itself from the wrapper, and ceramic-tiled, heat-less, drier-less houses meant I wasn’t going to wash my clothes and I stayed dirty.  In Oporto, Slovenia came back onto my radar, I met a Brit who wasn’t terrible and a Chinese student speaking 5 languages, plus we overheard the gem “he who is snoozes looses”.

Why don’t we write them Oporto and Lisboa on the map like they do?? Serious question.

I’ll name drop Barcelos but we started in Regua, excuse me, I have used a regua, Torre de Moncorvo, old castles in Marialva, a star in Almeida, monumental amounts of hard physical labor have gone into this country (and judging from how they scan groceries, they are not speedy), Monsanto, the tallest Serra de Estrela, slippery cobblestone streets in Piodo, Bordeiro, and because you don’t leave cool to find fish, Bordeiro, Schist villages, get-in-my-car Leiria ;), no wave Nazare 😉 ;), tourist-free Obidos, Fundao, Jamaica, all the land from Marvao, a state of Feliz, Elvas, MoMo, Evora, cork trees, orange trees, adventure filled Sintra where I joyfully acquired another Portugueser, listened to JJJ on Australia day, and broke into an abandoned house with a cripple named Filipa, Sines, church, now a gang of Portuguese, airplanes on the beach, Albufeira, Laughter Yoga, Faro, terracotta roofs in Santa Luzia, Carnival, and always, everywhere 10 perfect ukulele songs.

visited the most western point on mainland Europe, this is not it.

Our home.  We planned our trip nightly and changed everything the next day.

From now on, I want a knife with my fork.
Caio, beijos, caio, beijos, caio,   caio,   caio, beijos, caio, beijos, caio, and a kiss for each cheek because I love that,
‘mi