My Favorite Place(s)

Confession: I’ve spent a lot of time lately on online dating sites. (Blame Match.com for me not blogging more regularly.) But one of my emails with a potential match got me thinking about top travel destinations.

IndianaBoy asked me tonight, “What’s your favorite place you’ve visited?” It sounds like a simple question. It was one he was easily able to answer (his faves are Bath and Stockholm, FYI). But I was stumped. I changed my answer about as many times as I have traveled. In the end, I told him I couldn’t answer with a definite favorite. I love and appreciate places for completely different reasons. So why not list them by reason?

Ambiance / Seville, Spain
Sightseeing / Rome, Italy
Something Different / Sahara, Morocco
Sandstone / Salamanca, Spain
Beach Bumming / Lagos, Portugal
Architecture / Barcelona, Spain
Inviting People / San Lucas Toliman, Guatemala
Modern History / Berlin, Germany
My Second Home / Guadix, Spain

I know, Spain is winning out on several categories. But maybe, after all, I do have a favorite.

Hello, Again

Yeah, I’m in New York. And I’ve been here for about a year and a half. That means two things: 1) I am really bad at staying up-to-date on this blog and 2) There is a lot for me to tell you.

So stay tuned! Because I’m going to be playing catch-up big time!

Ich Liebe Berlin

Berlin was always on my short list of cities to see, but I wasn’t exactly sure why. I thought it had something to do with WWII and that generations upon generation ago, my family came from Germany.

When I arrived, all of my expectations magnified into reality. My imagination could not even comprehend a city so full of culture, history, and amidst pain–enchantments.

I started my visit with a (very cold) walking tour through the city. Snapping pictures of the Brandenburg Gate, the Holocaust Memorial, Checkpoint Charlie, the East Side Gallery, New Synagogue, and Humbolt University, I felt like I was in the center of the world, around which the rest of history rotates.

It was humbling.

A Very Drunken Christmas

If Christmas in Spain were anything like Christmas in America, I probably would have missed it this year.

But — perhaps luckily — Spanish Christmas traditions and celebrations are incredibly different from the American variety. That meant I didn’t have to eat my typical Christmas foods, listen to my typical Christmas carols, and sit around my typical Christmas tree.

I did something else entirely. I partied.

Shooting Up… on the Bus?

Riding the bus through the mountain on my back from my last workday in Granada, I was prepared for many things: obnoxiously loud chatter, an intercom blasting ’90s American music, and (I hoped) a nap in the big, comfy seats.

I wasn’t prepared to see a man sneak into the bus’ exit stairwell, withdraw a syringe, and hold his lighter underneath a tiny bowl constructed of tin foil until it–and the syringe–disappeared.

But that’s exactly what I saw. Who know’s what I’ll see on my next bus ride.

Kids Ask the Darndest Things

Did Santa Clause’s clothes turn red because he drank so much Coca-Cola?

Why don’t the three Magic Kings bring presents to America? Can the camels not cross the ocean?

The questions were plentiful and, at times, puzzling. But if nothing else, I picked up on a Santa myth I had long bought into.

On Christmas Eve, Santa doesn’t visit all of the boys and girls around the world. He skips Spain.

A Love Affair with Barcelona

Everyone has strong opinions on Barcelona. Usually it’s “Love the architecture. Hate the people.”

Having been turned completely off of Paris for the same reason, I was leery about Barcelona. But to my surprise, the people were some of the kindest people I have yet to meet in Spain. And it’s hard to imagine any more beautiful.

So my verdict? “Love it. Love it All.”

Lost in Barcelona… Almost

When I arrived in Barcelona Friday night at midnight,  I was greeted from an email from Leslie, the friend I was there to meet. There were two Hostel Centrics, and we were each at different ones. And, of course, our phones wouldn’t let us call each other.

Thanksgiving (Spanish Style)

Thanksgiving outside of the United States is a strange experience… largely because no one knows what the holiday is. And also because family is far far away.

But if you can find special people to spend the day with, the day might just be the best Thanksgiving ever. For that, I’m thankful…

Paparazzi

I have gradeschool paparazzi.

Sitting in a restaurant eating tapas as usual, two little girls peaked over the backs of their chairs to wave at me.

“Do you teach them?” Brittany asked.

“No,” I said. “I have no idea who they are.”

But they knew who I was.

After about 20 more minutes of peaking and waving, they told my Spanish friend Carolina they heard that my name was Aleisha and I was the American English teacher in Guadix. They asked Carolina to tell me “hi.”