Best Ribs in America...and now the rest of the world.

I went back to America tonight.

Not actually (of course), but Mom is here to visit and she (and I) were getting really frustrated that she couldn't read any of the menus when we went out to eat. On top of that, it's been really hard to find good restaurants to go to. We don't want anything too pricey, but we don't want bad food, either. So, after a bit of bickering, we made a silent agreement that Tony Roma's would be the dining establishment of choice tonight.

You'd think that if you go to an American restaurant in another country, you'd feel right at home, but I really didn't. We walked in and I told the host that we wanted to have dinner and there were two of us and no, we don't smoke. His final question before he took us to a table was "¿Español o inglés?" Yeah, yeah, throw me a menu in English since obviously we don't speak Spanish. I'm feel ashamed walking into an American restaurant in Spain. I felt like I was saying "Hello, I'm a stuck-up American who can't give your culture the time of day," and even though I know that's not true, nobody else knows that.

Mom and I decided to share a rack of baby back ribs, a salad, and some onion rings. Massive mound of onion rings: check. Bottle of ketchup brought to the table without even asking: check. Enormous glass of Coke: check. Salad drenched in fatty salad dressing: ??? It all felt very American right down to the music being played...and then they brought us the oil and vinegar. I guess it probably makes sense since Spaniards tend to eat salad with just some oil, vinegar, and salt, so they would have been wasting money to stock 8 different salad dressings, but everything else was so authentic.

Mom and I figured that Tony Roma's in Valencia is pretty much American, they just do it waaayyyy slower. The two men at the table next had a burger and a chicken sandwich. First of all, they ate it all with a fork and knife, which I also noticed other people doing. Second, they took about 45 minutes to eat it. They're just like my brother except that here, that's normal.

All that being said, we made up for our adventure into little America and had some chocolate con churros for dessert.

Sorry USA, you've been good to me, but I think I might love Europe more.

I don't want to leave.

I love home because I have friends and family there, but I want to stay here. I want more time. I feel like 4 months just is not enough. To anybody thinking about studying abroad... 4 MONTHS IS NOT ENOUGH. I need more time to learn to speak Spanish. And I need more time (and money) to travel. And I just need more.

Plus, the boys are cuter, everybody dresses so fabulously, the bread is delicious and the goat cheese, too. Don't make me leave.

¿Fútbol or football?

The school arranged an event for us to go to a fútbol (soccer) game and meet the team afterwards. I originally had no interest in going, but my friends were going, and since Europeans pretty much breathe and dream fútbol, I figured it was only appropriate to attend in order to have a true Spanish experience. The game was really fun...for the first few minutes, but I'm pretty sure I'm just not cut out for watching sporting events. My attention span is much, much shorter than it would need to be to watch a sporting event in its entirety.

From what I understand, sporting events tend to have different periods. For example, hockey has 3 of them. Sometimes more if there's a tie at the end of the 3rd period. Football has two halves. And when the clock runs out, if one score is higher than the other, the higher score wins. However, in soccer, (maybe this only occurs here) this is not the case. When the clock runs out

at the end, they just add more time. The way I understand it is that its an arbitrary amount of time and they keep adding more until they feel like they're done for the night. And when you're sitting in the "vomitorio" and it's cold and windy, it's not exactly paradise.

Some people went to the game with their intercambios. (An intercambio is basically a friend the school sets you up with who wants to practice English and speaks Spanish, so you hang out and you take turns speaking Spanish and English) After the game, we waited around to meet the team, but it was taking forever, so we opted to goof around outside the stadium. I got to meet people from Spain, Poland, and Italy. ¡Que guay! (How cool!)

Another round of pictures...

"I wonder what the death rate is this week..."

Las fallas has commenced. Look out for the petardos (firecrackers).

Las fallas is a festival in Valencia which spans Monday-Friday. Actually, it goes on all year, but the main events are Monday-Friday. The city is divided into smaller groups and each group spends a ton of money and a

lot of effort to build these gigantic paper-machet sculptures. One of them wins a big prize and at the end of the week, and then they burn them all down. Every day (including the couple weeks prior to Fallas week), there is a mascletá in the Plaza de Ayuntamiento where fireworks are shot off at 2pm. Sounds weird, right? Well, it's not about the lights and the colors. It's all about the noise. And let me tell you, it's loud. I went with a group of friends today to camp out in the plaza to get front row for the mascletá. Granted, we got there a bit late and missed out on front row, but we were still really close. (Even as I'm writing this at 4:50am, there are fireworks going off. The city doesn't sleep.) Your whole body shakes. Its wild. They also have a castillo at night with the most amazing fireworks displays I've ever seen. They far surpass any show I've seen in the US.

There are stands all over the city that sell churros con chocolate (deep-fried goodness that you dip in a cup of melted chocolate). Streets are blocked off everywhere you go. People have tents set up in the streets where they cook paella and play music all night long. I'm not exactly sure when people sleep, though, because they stay up all night playing music and lighting petardos (firecrackers) and then in the morning they set off a bunch of firecrackers, called the despertá. Despertar means to wake up, so you can imagine the amount of noise they make with the fireworks.

There are stores where you can buy little poppers that you throw on the ground and they snap, or you can buy bigger firecrackers. There is a list posted on the wall of the age restrictions on them, but there may as well not be any restrictions because the kids take over the streets and throw sparking firecrackers at each other. There are some that make an insanely loud noise when they explode and it's really popular for kids to throw them down and then run away. You can't escape them. They are everywhere.

Lost in Translation

I think I've reached the point of no return. I'm letting go of my inhibitions and saying whatever I can come up with.

I'm tired of living in someone else's home. I miss being able to do weird things and not have to worry about someone else noticing. I don't want to have to worry if I'm using too much paper towel or if I shouldn't be leaving my glass on the counter or if I'm showering for too long or if there is actually some way to keep the floor from getting soaked when I shower and I just don't know about it.

Also, I've been having conversations with people lately where I'm not really sure if I understood them correctly. So rather than just not saying anything, I'm just going to run with it. I'm deciding here and now that this is my point of no return. I'm just going to assume that I understood and respond with whatever response seems appropriate. And if I'm wrong, I guess someone will tell me...or the look on their face will.

Where's Panchi?

So I was walking home from school a couple of weeks ago and ran into my roommate, Megan. We chatted and Megan said to me "Hey, Loles" (our madre) "bought a new fish...and a pet bird." For any normal person, this wouldn't be a big deal. But I hate birds. I'm really rather afraid of them. They're so twitchy and I hate the noise their wings make when they flap them frantically. It makes me very nervous. So really, this was like a nightmare come true for me. I acted excited when I got home and Loles showed me the new pet, although I was sort of grossed out. AND THEN she told me that she wanted him to become accustomed to sitting on her finger and FLYING AROUND THE LIVING ROOM. Basically, my worst nightmare came true.

College has taught me how to deal with my surroundings, so I've just been avoiding the living room for the most part. I occasionally say "Hi Panchi" and that's that. Today, however, I came home and Loles was sitting with the door wide open in the living room. She asked me if I knew where Panchi was. I most certainly did not know where Panchi was. I'm always very careful to keep all the doors to the living room closed so that a tiny green bird doesn't show up under my covers when I pull them back at night. So this nightmare got even worse.

Although, never fear, Panchi has been found! Loles' boyfriend found him sitting in the vines next to his cage. Although I believe the doors to the living room are still open, so Panchi could escape at any moment. Yikes!

Judys in Italy 5 O'clock Meal

What do you do when you're in Italy with your girlfriends and you haven't had lunch, but it's not really dinner time? You have a "Judy's in Italy 5 o'clock meal," of course. I visited Beth in Milan last weekend and so did her sister/my friend, Grace who is studying in London. Lucky for us, Beth has an apartment in Milan and enough space for all of us to sleep there so we saved some money...although I did get totally ripped off on my cab fare...twice. Ahh, well, when in Italy (and you don't speak Italian), suck it up and deal with it.

Beth is really the hostess with the mostest. She made us some fabulous food (brie and crackers with apple, gnocci with herb-cheese-mayo topped bread, tortellini, kiwi, potato soup) and we did what us girls do best. We Skyped with Laura back home, watched the Fashion channel, talked, explored. I arrived late Thursday night, having only slept one hour the previous night, and Gracie was already there. We slept in the next day and when I woke up, I couldn't tell what time of the day it was. Beth had closed the shutters, so I thought it could have been either

very, very early in the morning, or the afternoon, for all I knew. So I checked the time on my iPod. 5:45am. I was pretty sure that was the time in Michigan, but I really wasn't sure. So I checked my cell phone. 11:45am. But I wasn't sure if that was the time in Spain or in Italy (turns out they're the same time zone). As it turned out, we slept all morning and it felt great, if not a little bit like the Twilight Zone. It rained hard all day, so we only ventured out for a trip to the grocery store for sustenance. Basically, it was a perfect and much needed day relaxing with friendly faces.

Saturday we enjoyed the perfect weather by eating gelato (5 in total for the weekend) and walking to Duomo, the Galleria to stomp the bulls balls, and through the big park. Sounds like pretty average, tranquil day, right? Wrong. It happened to be Carnivale so little kids in costumes throwing confetti and silly string had taken over the plaza in front of Duomo. There was confetti EVERYWHERE. Stomping the bulls balls sounds a lot harsher than it is, in reality. Its a tile bull in the floor of the Galleria and people stomp on the bulls balls for good luck. There's a big indent in the ground where everybody stomps. There was a fair going on, too, so Beth bought some cotton candy and we went down the giant slide. I guess I would have expected a fair in Italy to be different than in the

US, but it's really much the same. There are rides, junk food, games, giant stuffed animals to win. I guess the main difference is that people yell "step right up- a winner every time!" in Italian.

When I returned to Valencia, a lot of people asked me if I liked Milan. Well, sure, I liked Milan like I like all cities. Mainly, I really liked my friends who were in the city. I mean, really, Milan is a big city. People don't really speak English, but you can get by pretty well by pointing and nodding. There is much more history in the architecture and such, but it

didn't feel so drastically different and fantastic than any other city I've been to. My I'm just completely desensitized because I've been dealing with cultural difference nonstop for the past however many weeks. There is one more thing I really ought to say about Milan, though, and this is very important, so listen very carefully. Everybody in Milan is FABULOUS.

We did do one very Italian thing. Aperitivo. You go to a bar-type place and order a drink. Yes, I said a drink. Just one because that's really all you need. It was the most massive drink I have EVER seen. Then you get to eat from a buffet of appetizers. It seems like such an American idea to me. Pay a small amount of money, eat from a huge buffet. The Italians, do it with so much class.

More photos...