Portugal pt.2

Looking back on days past I'm realizing that I was a different person, the drug of Americans changed me, but I think this happened to everyone on the trip.  The first few days I was on my toes, I loved seeing new places, meeting new people, and had good stories and sarcastic comments on tap.  After three or four days I began to leave myself scattered about instead of collecting myself into my head each night as I normally do.  I just let waves of Americans wash over me and enjoyed the ride while others' voices went through my head but my brain was too tired to make a worthwhile idea of its own.  My demeanor returned to what it was in middle school, I was kind and polite but ultimately uninteresting, however experiences in that time will be the source of many stories, far too many to relate in this blog.  I will do my best to return to the cynical and sarcastic self that I have come to know and love.  I will put a ball gag on my false praise, handcuff my superfluous hugs, and bind up any future allusions to the gimp in 'Pulp Fiction,' no one needs to think about that more than necessary, and I have more things to make fun of and a voyage of amazing experiences and sleep deprivation that must be told.
I leave San Sebastian early in the morning and have a seven hour bus ride down to Madrid, upon arrival I have thirty minutes to catch the metro and find the 'Entrance Hall' to Mendez-Alvaro station.  At the designated stop on the underground I go towards the surface expecting to find waiting Rotary faces.  No dice.  I ask a worker if there is maybe another entrance that I had missed, she seems confused so I show her the email from Rotary on my BlackBerry and she shrugs and directs me to another, smaller, entrance hall.  I arrive five minutes late (1:35) and again find nobody.  I frantically ask strangers about some place named Mendez-Alvaro, one man responds, 'Do you mean the metro, the train, or the bus station?' I have no idea.  A double fail, one by me, one by Rotary.  Utilizing the small amount of common sense that I have earned I decide that since we are traveling by bus it would make sense we would meet in the bus station, a long shot but it just might work.  The bus station is a combination of confusing tunnels and outdoor lanes spreading in all directions, but eventually I find the front of the complex.  Turns out the "Entrance Hall" of the bus station is a two story megastructure and I have no idea which of the ten entrances to use.  I wander around some more before finding the Rotary group about fifteen minutes late, I'm fried after traveling for so long and decide to talk to friends instead of telling an adult I had arrived.  Apparently I had used up my daily common sense ration.  For thirty minute Rotary searched for me while I let my mind shut down because who needs to think for themselves in a group.  Eventually Rotary discovers that I've been with them for a while and after a brief round of applaud the idiot (me) everyone takes their seats and we are off on what will become ten of my best days in Spain.
Because I had not been on a bus for enough time that day we decide to head to Granada and check out the Jewish neighborhood before bedtime.  This is where I was first introduced to what my Pamplonian friends (A group of seven or so people that are spending their exchange year in Pamplona) called the 'Black Girl Pose,' or BGP for short.  It may seem inappropriate, but really nothing was meant by it, just stick out your butt and purse your lips, like a Zoolander-Bluesteel-Bootylicious pose.  But that is kind of annoying to say so, BGP.  Whether in front of ancient architecture or modern graffiti BGP is the way to go.  We finished the day with a beautiful view of the city and no idea what to expect for the next morning or the week and a half to come.  We may have known what to expect had we checked the itinerary in each and every one of our email accounts, but what fun is being prepared?
The next day we woke up at around nine for a surprise visit to Alhambra, a palace/walled city that spans five kilometers.  We had less than half a day in a location where one could explore for twenty-four hours straight.  The architecture and nature were blended and designed in such a way as that even though it was extremely elaborate everything seemed natural.  It appeared as if there was no other way the land could have possibly formed except in the shape of this expansive palace, some gardens were trimmed others were slightly more free.  It is one of the most beautiful locations I have ever seen and I think a fair number of other Rotary students would agree with me, which was why we were all pretty frustrated with the guide.  Her motto seemed to be 'Talk slow, walk fast, don't let anyone fall behind,' so despite our best efforts my friends and I were not able to get lost.  The woman would usually stand in a shaded, semi-interesting location, and talk for fifteen minutes before blowing through Atlantis and The Road to El Der ado in five minutes with just enough time to barely point at a battle to the death between Alien, Predator, Optimus Prime, and Gandalf.  All the rushing made sure that we would get to the gift shop with enough time for her to have a smoke while we bought over priced trinkets.  Now, I never argued with or made fun of this woman to her face, which took restraint, but that was only because I knew my future plans.  In April I plan to return with my family.  However, had that been the first and last time I had the opportunity to see Alhambra I might have been inclined to inform the woman that she could stick her microphone in a place where one would not usually put electronic metal sticks. 
Later that day we went to the Mosque of Cordoba.  The huge forest of pillars that surrounds a tiny church is a spectacle that I had never seen before.  And the tour guide did not even force me to think about passive aggressive threats I might have to employ.  In fact, every part of our time in the Mosque was amazing from the relevant history, to the blending of two cultures, with beautiful artwork, and jokes that were actually funny.  Although I wish someday to see a great Mosque in an unmutilated form the structure was still beautiful.  Now form some history.  A long long time ago, probably in the fifties or something, the Mosque was just a Mosque and Christians were all up north.  But the Mosque was reconquered and some people began challenge the Mosque, they wanted the structure turned into a church.  Local officials in the area told the religious architects that there was absolutely no way that they were allowing such an impressive building to be defaced by religious pettiness.  So the church's designers did what any rational adult would do, they ran to the king to get his permission, presumably while describing their opposition as stupid-dodo-faces.  The king granted them full access after getting tired of hearing the fool-proof argument of 'If we DON'T get the Church, we'll throw a TANTRUM right here in your stupid PALACE!'.  So now there is a gigantic Mosque with a church in it, later when the king saw what had happened after his permission was granted he was quoted as saying 'If I had known what they wanted to do I would never have let it be done.'  Bet that one stung.  The Mosque/Church is still pretty amazing so my recommendation would be to check that out.  Anyways, if anyone actually reads this, keep an eye out for part three, it will be along as soon as I un-stick my eyes from the computer.