Highlights pt. 3 (Final Post!)

As you may have inferred from the title this will be the last time I post in this blog.  It is a sad time but also a joyous time, as I know that my URL address will go on to a better place when I take it behind the interweb GUI interface, delicately put my hand over the delete key, tears in my eyes, and kill it in the face.  I am the creator and the destroyer in this virtual page, but perhaps I will leave the relics here just so others may know what a great rulers have come before them, my kingdom could be a museum.  I have earned the most blogosphere points out of any social networker in existence.  Note* there are no such thing as blogosphere points, I did that because now all the competitive hipsters are scrambling anxiously trying to figure out why they never earned any points for their ironic and non-conformist indie music blog.  I'm not fond of hipsters despite the similarities I share with them, the subtle difference being that I'm actually a sarcastic hippie, not a contentious prick. 

This last post will cover some of the people I met this year, not main characters, like my host family, or friends from school, or the Pamplona group, but rather the third-tier.  Characters that come up only every couple of episodes but brighten one's day nonetheless.  These people are more than acquaintances but just barely, they are going to serve as examples of how the world is always filled  with more people to meet.  And barely any of them are hipsters.  The three people I will mention here are surf lady, ganja man, and pastry woman, which all, incidentally, sound like awesome team of super heroes.  They would all work as a team, to enjoy extreme sports, get the munchies, and then satisfy those munchies.

I met surf shop lady in October and have known her by far the longest out of any of the three.  At the beginning of the year she helped me with choosing out a wet suit for classes, but as time went on I stopped taking classes and she helped me out more.  Once every two weeks or so I would return and rent a new board, trying out different styles and coming back with new and interesting injuries.  Sometimes she would ask me how I got cut up and sometimes I would successfully hide the wounds because everybody knows that men who feel physical pain are just covering up their vagina.  Sometimes I would accidentally scrap my feet on the fins and cut up my toes, other times I would use my gloves to wipe salt water from my face and end up getting abrasions all around my eyelids.  The value in surfing for me was a careful balance of how much time I spent riding waves and how much time I spent limping/bleeding for days afterwards.  Surf shop lady helped me out a lot this year but I now realize that I probably know more about surfing than she does.  At first I would ask her a question expecting an all-knowing sort of answer, now I ask her for advice and we sort of awkwardly stumble through a problem together with guesses and assumptions.  I have found that jobs are just a way for people to earn money, just as a McDonald's employee will probably not be able to help you with recommendations for your gastric track, a surf shop employee might not be an avid surfer.  Weird right?  I don't know if I will see surf shop lady again, but I will miss her smile and concerned eyes every time I came back with a new wound.

Ganja man is different, I have only met him twice.  Marijuana is legal to grow for personal use in Spain, thus there are a large number of seed and smoke shops around town.  For months I passed by this one store on the way to and from school everyday, always trying to peek in and see the magical pot world.  At the start of the year I was afraid to do more than just walk by the shop for fear that my host family or host club member would walk by and get the wrong idea.  But then I decided screw it, what are the chances that a member of my host family will walk by and I'm pretty sure that no one from Rotary even remembers I'm here, much less what I look like.  Health class always taught me that if I ever went near a pot smoker without calling my parents for emergency evacuation much like in a zombie apocalypse I would soon descend into the realm of shelling out sexual favors for hits of crack, that is just how drugs work in health class.  Just like how Health class showed studies that said if  two virgins ever had sex with a condom there was a 50% chance you would both get an STD and she would definitely be pregnant.  But in the end my reasoning was 'Screw it, I'm interested and the rest of the world can think what they want, but I'm going into that store.'  So I did, and nothing happened.  I had a talk about the environment, political and economic influences, and medicine.  I will say that even before going into the store I was well aware of the benefits of hemp and medical marijuana as well as the relative danger of alcohol or tobacco compared to weed.  The man must not get many customers because I made it clear I was not going to buy anything and he was still happy to talk to me for thirty minutes about this and that, mostly cannabis but some other subjects as well.  The times when I talked to this man were in December and January when my Spanish was still developing, and I have to say, that out of all the store owners who tried to speak English with me, Ganja man spoke the best.  Explain that Health Class.

Last but not least is Pastry woman.  I dropped by her store from time to time to try some Spanish desserts and recently I arranged a large order that I will take back to the U.S and give as gifts to family and friends.  After I started showing up more and more often to decide what I was going to buy to take across the ocean with me we got to know one another better.  She helped me with choosing travel safe goods that were still typical to Spain and gave me free samples.  My reaction to samples is usually somewhere around this.
Me: 'Well I've already had some at another store and I really don't need any more, after all I don't even know if I want to buy the gifts here.'
Seller: 'It's free.'
Me:'... You son of a bitch, and I was watching my figure too.'
She greets me with a smile and has started calling me 'maho,' which means sweetie, my name just seems to complicated for the Spanish people.  Her store closed for the summer one day after I bought the gifts for everyone back home, and again, I don't know if I'll ever see her, but it was nice meeting her.

This wraps up my blog from San Sebastian, Spain.  If you've been following and enjoyed it, or maybe just read a couple posts and thought it was funny, write a comment below or send me a message on Facebook.  I'll probably reply but I don't know if I'll write anything special for you, this is just kind of for my ego, after a year of writing I would kind of like compliments from someone other than my mother.  In summation, although this has not been the easiest or greatest year of my life I would recommend a year long exchange to anyone considering it.  The opportunity to learn and grow is fantastic and living with a different family can really make an impression on anyone.  Plus, when you study abroad, you are the person with the sexy foreign accent.  Think about it.

Highlights pt. 2

Next highlight is traveling.  Since I've been here not only have I seen famous sites around Spain but I have also visited France, Italy, and Portugal. Since I'm a nice sort of guy I won't bore you with the details of each cat's name and how old they are and what their favorite toy is and... wait, take those statements, make them relate to cities and traveling and what not, but cat ladies let that be a message to you, we understand, you like cats, if one of them once pulled a child from a burning building tell us about that otherwise shut up before I call the Chinese restaurant (the mortal enemy of cat ladies according to my racial stereotypes).  Just like the lonely women should I will only be providing tid bits of interesting occurrences, no more, and no fucking stories about how god damn intelligent the animal is (not very).  Traveling provides a wealth of experience because there are new adventures to be had every day, and of course my family (The crazy group of people I grew up with who visited me twice during my exchange) is all about new experiences.  Whether it is getting lost in a museum or getting lost at an airport or getting lost in a city and driving for five miles the wrong way up a one way road we love doing it all everything.  I could tell you about all the times my dysfunctional sense of direction messed us up in Spain, like the time my family was split between two cars at an airport waiting for Tony and Leah; six people, two cell phones, two GPSs, food, and water in one car, two miserable bastards in the other.  This was not the best set up as we quickly learned, then spent three hours memorizing it as one car picked up the arrivals and then did loops around the airport searching for the other car which was parked and waiting inside the terminal that no longer contained the people they were searching for.  But there is a better story of getting lost beyond all hope.  After picking up my brother and his girlfriend (who is pretty much a sister by now, which makes what he probably does with her really gross, you hear me Tony? gross) two cars containing a total of eight people traveled to Sevilla.  We arrived in Sevilla during Semana Santa (Ester Week) just a few hours before the processions began (so half the roads were closed) and had to get to our hotel in the center of the city.  Also we were using a four year old map.  This is what news pundits might call a 'perfect storm' mainly because it is considered unprofessional to call it a 'Oh my god, hahahaha, look at these stupid bastards.  Holy crap'  pundit covers face chuckling to self 'Man, they are so fucked.'(What most pundits said off air during the recession).  After driving up and down the same road for an hour studying the map someone had the great idea to ask for help, we would not have survived if we had not.  I had been entrusted with the map because somehow my family does not understand that I'm incompetent, so I got out to try and communicate with the locals and find out how to get into the center of town.  This did not work.  We then tried ignoring road signs and going down taxi only roads and slipping by barriers into closed off areas.  Although this got us more attention it also did not work.  Finally we just called the hotel having no idea how they would actually help but wanted to say that we were on the way and that they should wait for us and not sell our rooms to hobos (as my parents most likely did when I came to Spain).  It turns out the woman at the front desk had dealt with Americans before and told us that one of us should get into a taxi and tell the driver to go to our hotel while the other two cars followed.  This worked beautifully.  At the police barricades the driver just shrugged to the officers and said 'Americans,' but he seemed to be implying, 'You know these people need cork covering all sharp objects, can you help a man out who is trying to do some charity work for these poor, stupid people.'  And the officer let us by, but we could only travel about another half mile until the taxi driver could go no further, he drove away and we parked in a plaza.  After scouting out the hotel on foot we discovered that in order to legally arrive at the hotel we had to actually leave the plaza and go back through the police barricade, or we could drive through streets that aren't technically open that are supposed to only have official traffic on them, also they were one way roads and we were not facing the right direction.  So we turned around and spent another five hours searching for the legally viable way to get to our hotel.  That's what the Kingstons would do right?  Hell no, we drove down those roads and told people to get out of the way like we owned the place, and people listened to us.  Why would people listen to us, a bunch of lunatics in two rented cars, well because Tony made the fantastic discovery of an imitation police vest in the glove compartment of one of the cars.  But impersonating a cop is illegal or something right?  Hell yeah it is!  I wonder what would have happened had I been caught, but I wasn't, instead people moved out of the way most likely wondering what a 19 year-old who has a strange accent is doing directing traffic during their holy week.  We made it to the hotel just in time.  Several hours after the streets became so filled that even moving on foot was impossible.

'Sir I know everyone wants to see Jesus but you're so close you just boner-poked me.'

That is not even the worst picture of Semana Santa in Sevilla, it can be impossible to move.  Also if someone is unfamiliar with the tradition they may be a little surprised to see the KKK wandering around the street being celebrated like holy men.  As it turns out they actually are holy men, in an unfortunate coincidence the robes of the two groups look exactly the same, the only difference is that the holy men have a variety of colors.

Next year: Rainbow

Next story comes from Portugal and Mardi Gras.  Walking around with other Rotary students during free time we decided we wanted to explore famous locations.  At the end of the day we saw a church and two famous plazas, but I've seen loads of those, and the ones in Barcelona have discount hookers, so what more could Portugal offer?  There were huge drum bands for the Mardi Gras celebration and a great parade, just like so many others I've seen in my lifetime, this one didn't even have real midgets.  Instead the greatest memory came from the unplanned, inexpensive, day-to-day beautiful mistakes, that tend to happen.  All this miracle of a day needed were three seventy-year-old women, cheap party supplies, funny outfits, and what I determined to be five bottles of wine.  They laughed and threw confetti all over us, really expressing the mood of the day, showing how the best adventures are the surprises.  See, you don't need to spend a lot of money or be in a historical monument, all you really need is cheap liquor, then everyday is a surprise.  Will I puke in the toilet at home? or will it be on this lovely couple I just met?  surprise, it's in my parents bed. 

Madrid and Barcelona are the largest cities in Spain and I have visited each multiple times.  They are fantastic cities for tourists, each has a number of museums, monuments, and beautiful gardens/ports/beaches and what not, there is always something new to do .In the south of Spain there is a huge amount of Islamic influence.  Note* I'm not going to be insulting Islam, last time I tried to help them out with revitalizing their image and getting to the young people with several images of the Mohammad fellow, looking hip and young with a mohawk and piercings (one of which may or may not have been in his special man-region), and what did I get in return?  Weeks of mail containing death threats and dead woodland creatures, and there was barely enough meat on those animals to feed me for two days.  Although surprises and new experiences are great and all sometimes it is nice to become familiar with a location, have a comfortable fall back.  It was not hard to find one of these in Madrid, a restaurant that just seemed comfortable, had everything we really wanted,  a sense of well being and happiness as soon as we were in the door, or as my parents would call it, 'You know, that place that has German beer.'  I have been in Madrid four times and La Cervezaria Alemana five times, almost enough to be comfortable calling the waiters by first names or ordering a plunger for the bathroom.  All in all, traveling this year has been amazing, albeit stressful.  I've had  so many new experiences and have had to adapt myself so often that I think I'm ready to return to the States and fall back into a comfortable routine, at least for a few months.