May Puente

Note: Pictures to come when I get around to uploading them from my camera
PICTURES ARE UP!

Now that the gloom has hopefully passed, it's back to writing about fun things (Edit: Nope, it's going to rain forever). May 1st was the last long weekend before the end of the school year in June. We had two days of school (why even bother?) before a five (!!) day weekend. Álvaro also had time off, and he wanted to take advantage and travel.

As I had mentioned here, we had previously purchased a Groupon for a wine tasting in La Rioja. Our holiday travel plans started there. We made our reservation for Saturday afternoon. The trip expanded from there. Since we've got all this time, and we're already up north, why don't we visit a few more places? It began with Bilbao. Then we added Santander to the list. We made our hotel reservations the night before we departed (the incident with my dad had left me in no mood to make travel plans).

In the end, we went to eight cities, spanning about 6 autonomous communities. 

The trip

Thursday, May 2nd: Burgos and Santander

In keeping with the "we planned this trip last-minute" theme, I packed my back the morning-of. We left around noon, because Álvaro isn't one for early starts. We arrived in Burgos around two hours later, and spent a good chunk of time trying to find the tourism office for maps and suggestions. Surprise! It was closed. Thankfully, due to our late arrival, we seemed to have missed the rain that had recently passed through the city. We visited the cathedral, which was originally constructed during 1221 (thanks Wikipedia) and rebuilt to accommodate the growing city's needs. 

Around 6 PM we left the city and drove up north to Santander. The drive was beautiful. Everything was green and hilly, and we passed sheep and horses grazing. We arrived in Santander by nightfall, so we couldn't see much of the city.

Friday, May 3rd: Santander and Bilbao

We spent a few hours in Santander to see the city during the day. The weather was awful. It was grey, humid and cold. There was a perpetual drizzle that made it hard to want to leave the car. The city itself isn't particularly impressive. I'm sure its a fine place to live, but not not so great for tourism. I would rather explore the smaller pueblos we passed in Cantabria. Oh well--next time.

Next: Bilbao. We arrived in the early afternoon, just as the sun was coming out. The weather was mild. Bilbao is a beautiful city, nestled among green hills. We spent most of our time at the Guggenheim museum. This was definitely the highlight of my trip.

Saturday, May 4th: Vitoria-Gasteiz, Logroño, Alfaro, Aldeanueva de Ebro

After quickly grabbing a coffee and saying our farewells to Bilbao, we made our way back south.

Álvaro and his handy-dandy travel guide

We wanted to see a bit more of Pais Vasco (Basque country), so we made a quick stop for lunch in Vitoria and wandered around the city.

Nothing says "old city" like a moving walkway.

Then, another long car ride, with a 15 minute stop in Logroño.

Camino de Santiago

We had to be in Alfaro (an hour south) by six for the wine tasting. We arrived five minutes late. The wine tasting (around which this whole trip was organized) lasted only an hour.

The winery was technically in Navarra, not La Rioja. Oh, the inhumanity.

Coincidentally, Álvaro's coworker was in a neighboring village with his wife, and they invited us to a get-together.

No photos here, sorry.

Sunday, May 5th: Zaragoza and home again
I don't like travelling late on Sundays. I prefer to relax and have time to unwind before returning to work. I would have prefered to go straight home and watch TV, but Álvaro was determined to make the most of this trip (for which I am thankful). So, we made our final detour in Zaragoza.

Honestly, I feel like this post is fairly boring, despite having been to so many places. Going from one city to another in a short time span doesn't exactly lend itself to nuanced experiences. You see an interesting thing, take a picture, and move on to the next interesting thing. One week later and the trip has become a blur of cathedrals and grey skies. Also, I have since returned to Burgos (that'll be my next post) and I am very, very tired. I no good at English no more.

We now return to our regularly scheduled programming

I've been trying to find a way to explain my last blog entry, while maintaining some privacy. I haven't even really spoken about it to anyone other than family, but here it is splashed on the Internet. Sometimes I forget that this thing is public, and that anyone can read it. Or, more accurately, I just assume that only a small handful of people have weasled their way to this corner of the internet.

Last Sunday (before my previous blog post) I received some bad news. Actually, bad news doesn't begin to describe it. I thought my dad was dying. As you can imagine, I reacted as well as any 24 year old would in the situation. I was overwhelmed. I still have trouble putting into words exactly how I felt. After waiting a year and a half to return to Spain, do I abandon my job and my future with Álvaro? Or do I miss out on what could potentially be the last moments with my dad?

Thankfully, it looks like it may have been a false alarm. The moral of the story: don't self-diagnose, even if you have previous medical experience. I'm just glad my dad isn't about to become the next Walter White.

Exhibit A: "Heisenberg"

Exhibit B: My dad

Provided that all goes well, I should be returning to Spain the following year. Back to normal.

What gets left behind

I have a lot of words my head that when, sitting in front of this computer screen, seem to stall at my fingertips. I'm not sure what to say but I feel like something needs to be said, if only to give some form to my thoughts. Maybe I can stop the buzzing in my skull. I've kept this blog fairly personal, but at this moment I feel some distance is necessary.

Travel blogs (could this even be considered as such, given the lack of travel?) tend to glamourize living abroad. Look at our exciting expat lives! We go to a new country every month! Something something expanded horizons! 

While I think there is some truth behind the glitz, I also tend to downplay the sacrifices I've made to move to a foreign country. Granted, I think my situation is slightly different from your average auxiliar. Most people treat the program as a two year break before "adulthood." They work part-time for a decent wage and travel  during their three-day weekends. In the end, they pack their belongings and go home to their friends and family. Dating a Spaniard complicates things. Where is home now? Is it in the apartment I share with Álvaro in Madrid? Is it my parents' home in California? To be honest, I'm not quite sure. I've always felt torn between the here and there. Something will always be missing, but in the meantime it looks like I've chosen Spain as my residence. I've better luck as an English teacher, and Álvaro has both his job and his studies here.

I knew the consequences of my decision the moment I stepped on the plane back to the USA in May 2011, shortly after our relationship began. A trans-atlantic relationship always means that someone gets left behind. If we have kids, they will be slightly estranged from one set of grandparents. Visiting family will become a thousand-euro affair, with trips spaced months (if not years apart). You can't just head home at a moment's notice. I chose to accept the risk, taking things as they come. I pushed these thoughts aside as something that "future me" will have to contend with.

I'm lucky to have my parents' support. They've always given me the opportunity to experience new things that they never could. Since I was 18 and headed off to university 6 hours away, I've spent the majority of my adulthood away from home. They stood behind my decision to come to Spain, knowing that with my relationship I might not be coming back. I'd like to think that I'm better for it, and I'm grateful for having such self-sacrificing parents.

But in light of recent events, I can't help but feel that I've been behaving selfishly. I can't stop thinking about the whys and what ifs, the should'ves, could'ves and would'ves. Why didn't I go home for Christmas? Why did I want to travel Europe, instead of going home for the summer? I should've Skyped more.

I have a lot of hard choices to make. My time is Spain may be ending.


I'm a long, long way from home.

Dia del Libro

When I went to Barcelona, our walking tour guide briefly mentioned Saint George's Day in Cataluña, where couples exchange roses and books. Although Madrid doesn't partake in this tradition, every 23rd of April Spain celebrates World Book Day, a day commemorating literature. Despite its status as an international holiday, I've never actually heard of it. The teachers arranged an amigo invisible (secret pal) type book exchange, but I was surprised to find that the celebration extended beyond simply buying a book for a co-worker.

Yesterday I essentially worked from 9:15 to 10:00, after which I watched the 5th graders perform skits for the other classes. After a half-hour recess, I walked into my classroom and discovered that they would be covering short stories--in Spanish. At 12:30, the teachers ducked into the library for pastries and the book exchange. My amigo invisible--who still unfortunately remains a mystery--gave me a copy of short stories from a well-known Spanish author.

I'm always impressed with how Spaniards manage to make a big deal of even the smallest celebrations. There was so much energy and excitement over the the book exchange, and afterward the teachers went to the local bar for a drink. We're not in Kansas anymore.

In short, I basically did no work, received a brand new book, got to drink a few beers on my lunch break, and left work almost two hours early--all in the name of literature. Go books!

Strawberry Fields Forever

I mentioned earlier that I was eagerly awaiting warmer weather. Well, with the flip of a switch I've traded my wool coat for a pair of sunglasses because SPRING HAS ARRIVED. On Saturday we were graced with the most glorious weather. I hardly knew how to react to being warm, after spending six months bundled under layers. Álvaro and I took advantage of the weather and ate sandwiches in Retiro Park and walked around the city center. Madrid is a different animal when the sun comes out. The streets are suddenly packed with people who, like myself, want to enjoy the brief interim before the summer heat sets in. We finally caved and bought some table and chairs to put out on our terrace, so now we can enjoy a view of the city while we have dinner.

Even Álvaro, who is normally more inclined to spend his weekend at home (to be fair, between work and school the guy doesn't get much downtime), suggested we take a day trip to Aranjuez. Aranjuez is a city at the southernmost tip of the Comunidad de Madrid (Madrid community? Madrid province? State of Madrid?). It is most well-known for its royal palace, sprawling gardens, and strawberries. Two years ago I watched an episode of Made in Spain, where José Andrés takes a train to Aranjuez and eats the tiniest strawberries, which are apparently too delicate to be shipped elsewhere. Since then, I've wanted to go there myself and try some.

Álvaro didn't exactly share my excitement, but he was a good sport while I pouted and said, "No, not those big strawberries. They have to be the little ones." My parents used to call me Veruca Salt. I can't imagine why.

In all seriousness, Aranjuez was a relaxing day trip. It's not as visually stunning as Toledo or Segovia, but the large royal gardens offer the opportunity to spend a day enjoying the sunshine without needing to actually do much. We walked, we ate bocadillos, we took photos.

In front of the palace.

The royal palace

Fresones con nata -- Large strawberries with cream

In the garden

And yes, I did get those strawberries.

Sweet victory. Tastes like wild strawberry.

Anniversary

Celebrating an anniversary is a personal affair between two people, and writing about it on the internet only serves to brag to strangers that your relationship hasn't failed yet. Congratulations, you want a medal or something? That said, it's my blog, and I can do what I want. Nyah nyah.

So today marks Álvaro and my two year anniversary. That's two years longer than I thought we'd have together. I don't mean to sound cynical, but we had met at the tail end of my study abroad adventure. I was leaving Spain on the first of May, and in that time I would be spending a week in Italy. All in all, that left just two weeks of actual physical time together, not including class and work. Although I had already started forming a plan to come back to Spain, I wasn't expecting a relative stranger to wait a year and a half for me. I figured we'd enjoy a brief but pleasant two weeks together and go our separate ways. That didn't stop me from tearing up when my plane landed on American soil. 

The first of many photos

That summer, our Skype conversations became a daily occurance. My parents and friends were, at this point, well aware of my long-distance friend. Eventually, he started dropping hints about visiting the states, and he bought a plane ticket. Thankfully, my parents reacted well (I think) to the news that my friend? would be staying at our house for a month. That trip solidified our relationship status, we spent the next year and a half in a long-distance dance. I flew back to Madrid the following January to meet the parents, and he came to California twice after (once in February, and then again in August).

Álvaro's first time in California

Here we are, two years later, living under the same roof. Hopefully this is only the beginning. Happy anniversary, Álvarito. Te quiero.