We packed up our flat in Ruzafa and headed back to the good ol’ USA for a few months to visit my family and friends and wrap up some things before making the official move to Spain. The past three months has been a complete whirlwind of social events, road trips throughout California, quality time with family, and sad “see you laters”.
The feeling of comfort one receives from family and lifelong friends is indescribable. Continue reading
[vc_row][vc_column width=”1/1″][vc_column_text]Appalled. Disgusted. Sad. In awe. But, mostly? Confused.
How is this possible? That is really allowed? No, but really… are they going to get in trouble? What if the principal or a teacher finds them? There are cops right there… maybe they will stop them. How do they even know how to smoke? How old are they? Is this normal?Continue reading
“Bravas in the Sun” encompasses all things I love about Spain.
To begin. Bravas. Some may believe they are just potatoes. Others may even have the nerve to call them french fries. Patatas Bravas are the holy grail of Spanish tapas. It would be difficult to find a restaurant without these warm, tasty, slightly spicy potatoes on the menu or even on display at the bar. Because of their tastiness and their veganess, I hereby declare it completely appropriate to forgo your typical pub crawl and instead, attempt a bravas crawl to discover your favorite bravas in Valencia.Continue reading
It was the summer of 2004. I held a boarding pass to Athens in my hand and carried a 40-pound pack on my back. Beside me was a childhood best friend and ahead of us was the adventure of a lifetime. As we said our goodbyes to our parents and boarded our flight out of SFO, I had no idea how this summer study program in Greece would forever change my life. Many people say there aren’t many differences between good ol’ ‘Merica and other “westernized” countries. I can say from the first few hours of walking through the streets of Europe, I not only saw the difference, but I felt it. Inside my core. It was as if I had been here before. I belonged here. I found myself here. I felt myself here. The next six weeks were spent discovering new cultures, new ideas, new friends, and new languages as we hostel-hopped through 10 countries across Europe. The love affair with Europe had officially begun.
May 2006. My best friend and I fastened our seat belts and sat giddily as we waited for our Lufthansa flight to take off. A month and half just wasn’t enough. We had saved for a year and planned the trip of a lifetime. Three and a half months, one cruise, 19 countries, and unforgettable memories awaited us. It was official. Europe and I were going steady.
Winter. A time of year when flights and accommodation are more accessible, almost half the price, and American tourists are few and far between. January 2013. An epic five month adventure began. This time, craving the feeling of “living” in Europe. Wanting to feel like “locals”. Coming up on 30, my friends and I were outgrowing hosteling and had recently discovered the beauty of Airbnb. Three months in Spain and two in Croatia. That ought’a do it. I was in love. I may have well sent out the engagement announcements. Europe, will you marry me?
August 2014. November 2014. January 2015. Love? Addiction? Obsession? Home.