The June Beach Chronicles - Chapter 3: Sanlúcar de Barrumeda

I've officially exhausted my travel battery. It took a significant amount of effort to drag my ass out of the house on Friday to meet my BlaBlaCar to set off for the town Sanlúcar de Barrumeda in the province of Cádiz. Even having already made a non-refundable hostel reservation, my desire to make another trip was at an epic low - I've gradually sank to super weary status this month - and I was strongly contemplating passing on this round. What ultimately nudged me out the door was the guilt factor of being a no-show after I had requested a seat in our driver's car.

So, indeed, I eventually made it to Sanlúcar. Being a pueblo outside the central city, it isn't nearly as tourist-flooded than some of the major cities in Andalucía. The beach itself was actually quite vacant:

A different sight

For good reason, too, as the wind was in high gear that day:

After a few minutes of having sand tossed in my face non-stop, I called it quits on the beach and spent the day exploring different parts of the town.

Official producers of manzanilla

On the footsteps of a school

Plaza de Cabildo

View of Castillo de Santiago from the hostel terrace

It ended up being literally a 24-hour trip (caught my ride at 1:00 on Friday to, took the 1:00 bus back the next day from) but it turned out to be quite a pleasant experience. The highlight of my short visit had to be the hostel manager, Enrique (if memory serves me right), who invited me to homemade tapas and free alcohol as a welcome gift, and meeting a dutch girl, Meike, whom I shared my room with. Good conversations and much laughter over yummy food, drinks and coffee with people from different parts of the world, the classic recipe for a buen viaje, allows me to deem this mini-adventure a success, un éxito. I do hope, and expect, to return to this charming town one day during Year 2.

With that said, I write the final words of my brief yet (nearly-)historic travel sagas. Three weekends, four destinations and six BlaBlas later, I'm left with the life-affirming result of more international Facebook friends, darker skin and less euros! Thus is the legacy of these Beach Chronicles, edition June 2014.

And now we approach what will be the longest week of private classes EVER in this writer´s lifetime ... ciao.

The June Beach Chronicles - Chapter 2: (Granada and) Almería

With every passing week, I feel like Seattle tugs at me harder and harder. To say I´m ready to go back home would be an understatement. These private classes are turning into dreaded chores. However, I´m sure in, oh, 13 days from now, I´ll be left totally astounded by how fast the last six months have flown by, and surely sometime in the summer, I´ll have these same yearnings for the other side of the Atlantic.

Anyhow, my travel weekends continue. This past weekend I headed eastward in Andalucía with a quick stop in Granada on Friday, then moved further east to the coast of Almería the next day. These past two weekends I´ve made good use of a travel network called BlaBlaCar (my profile: http://www.blablacar.es/usuario/mostrar/s3jfPdVO6u2iQIKHkv9v_A). Basically, it´s a car-sharing system in which the driver offers to take along passengers headed for the same destination at a discounted price. It is definitely the most cost-effective option and, between the five different rides I've picked up thus far, I've met some cool people and have been in on some pretty entertaining conversations (note that some drivers have left reviews for me as a passenger).

One of my BlaBla experiences

I'm going to leave one little anecdote concerning the trip itself before I plaster this post with beach photos: they say that Granada is a magical city but, this being my second visit there, to me it's become a city of improbable coincidences (recall that the first time I had watched the Seahawks' Superbowl victory with my Seattle friend working in the city). This time around, I had gone to see some of my 6th-grade school kids who were on a graduation trip. My bilingual coordinator and I had arranged it so that I would catch them at the science museum that day. Now it just so happened that I found them in an exhibition where there was one other school group ... which turned out to be none other than the school of the kids at my academy. Basically, that moment in Granada captured the gist of my teaching experience in Sevilla (mind you, my school and my academy aren´t anywhere near each other). Small country, clearly.

Houses en El Albazín in Granada

As for Almería, lots of lounging on the beach and taking full advantage of the unlimited use of AIR CONDITIONING in my hotel room. Honestly, these weekend trips serve more as a getaway and a chance to relax than for touristic and culturally-enriching purposes. Although, I have to admit, enduring a four-hour car ride back made me question my decision to go so dang far for less than two full days. I leave you photos of a stroll I took around the city and, of course, the beach:

The Cathedral

One facade of a Moorish fortress

On top of a mirador

The beach with a desert in the backdrop

Chillaxing

The June Beach Chronicles - Chapter 1: Marbella

Well, it turns out I have to keep teaching teaching private classes until the very end of June (up until literally 2 days before I leave), which is keeping me busy enough. I was originally planning on taking my last week in Spain entirely off, but now we can throw that proposition out the window. However, with the unforeseen extra income I'll make by month's end, I'm taking advantage to book it to the beaches for the weekends that remain (not for the least of motives that it's supposed to surpass 100 degrees this week in Sevilla).

So, this past Friday and Saturday I headed to Marbella, in the province of Málaga, your Orlando of Spain. Tourists, beaches, beach bars, golf courses - your typical vacation/retirement city, minus the theme parks. I can't really speak to how much local culture it hosts, but I can say that it's the first place in Spain that I've encountered where most everything was translated perfectly into English (this is no small detail; visit anywhere but and you'll see what I mean). If this doesn't scream ultimate tourist summer destination, I don't know what does.

Trees and beach apartments

Beach essentials

Typical chiringuito

Soakin' up some sun

You get the picture. Didn´t do much more than lounge on the beach and work on my tan, which is getting real nice, by the way. That, and my blablacar adventure, but we´ll save those stories for another day.

Coming up next weekend: (back to) Granada, then the beaches of Almería!

Home is Where the Heart Is

Well, if I had stuck to my original flight itinerary I selected in January, I would actually be in Seattle right now. But of course, fate (i.e. whimsical decisions) would have it that I have another month left before I head back home. But, allow me to confess something: I'm actually ready to go home right now, which was clearly not my mindset a couple months ago when I changed my return flight date. It's funny talking to other American auxiliaries who've enjoyed their experience here so much that they've repeatedly shed tears as they've said goodbye to Sevilla this week. I suppose my situation is different because I do expect to come back again come October. But, as much as I've enjoyed this city, my time away from Seattle has taught me my roots are firmly grounded in my hometown. Additionally, the concept of "home" psychologically carries an enormous weight for me.

Obviously, having applied to renew my position and return to Sevilla for another 8 months, I do enjoy la vida here. I think traveling in general is always a worthwhile experience. You grow, you learn, you change (one would hope). But all the traveling in the world wouldn't change where I feel most centered, most at-ease, most right with the universe. Which, in turn, is why I do want to travel: to explore uncharted territories, not only geographically but also mentally, intellectually, and all the other -allys, and become uncomfortable, which, believe me, I've experienced more times than I can count. Thus is the motive for why I feel ready to return to the all-too-familiar sights, sounds, and (English-speaking) people of my beloved Pacific Northwest, if just for a 3-month breather. But alas, the battle is prolonged for 29 more days, due to the fault of none other than myself.

But seriously, life could be way worse. Being "stuck" in Sevilla isn't too shabby at all. But I am restlessly anticipating the day I step foot again in the greatest city in the world :

Not cliche at all

Auxiliar de Conversación: Year 1

This past week was my last contracted week at my school, Hipolíto Lobato, in the town of Coría del Río in the Sevilla province:

Building 1

Building 2 across the street ...

Overall, I did enjoy my experience there, although by no means would I say I loved it. This may sound incredibly negative, but in terms of my overall experience in Spain, this specific "teaching" aspect honestly will probably leave the smallest impact.

Now, let me be clear: I didn't have a bad experience. The kids all treated me like a celebrity, even if half of them couldn't understand a word I was saying, and all the teachers were very kind to me, a couple of them whom I have formed a good relationship with. In fact, on my last day the teachers surprised me with this "goodbye" gift (there's a back story to the wallet and coin purse, which made me appreciate the gesture even more):

Even though I'm most likely returning next term

But if I were to evaluate my "job" in-and-of itself, the English language assistant position in which I served, I won't say it was entirely meaningless ... but close. As a natural cynic and an avid language and linguistics student, I'm probably way more critical about the auxiliary program than most people. It actually really starts with the poor excuse for a "bilingual" education system in Spain (unqualified Spanish teachers teaching English to children, bilingual coordinators who can't speak English, complete lack of language teaching methodology, etc.) So, as you can imagine, the auxiliar program seems like it was haphazardly thrown together by the Spanish educational powers-that-be in a desperate attempt to improve the quality of the children's English education.

Pretty much tells the story

I can probably write an essay analyzing all the flaws I see with this program, but I will refrain to just describing my personal experience. In short, I felt (almost) entirely useless. I worked 12  hours a week and my hours were distributed in such a way that I was in 12 different classes for 45-50 minutes a week. Without going into too much detail (again, I could probably write an essay's worth of reflection), such a short weekly investment in each class made my contributions rather minimal. Mind you, 45-minutes was the most instruction time I had if the teacher gave me complete control of the class; in other classes (e.g. English-language class), I did a good amount of bench-warming until the last 10-15 minutes, most of which was spent on the failure-to-comprehend phase. It also did my self-esteem some real good when the English teacher basically told me my activities were too boring, cause for the kids becoming restless and unresponsive. But hell, if they can't understand me, they get bored. It also doesn't help that I only get 20-minutes at most of classroom interaction with them each week. Really, ¿qué puedo hacer yo? What can I do?

Maybe the little time I have with the students does make a small difference, but even if that is case, this is not a teaching job. Not to suggest I don't try to help the kids learn with the opportunities that I have, just as the Spanish teachers try to do their best given the less-than-perfect circumstances, but the bottom-line is this program is a big joke and an opportunity for English-speakers to be on vacation in Spain. I mean, for the little work that I do, I get paid pretty damn well, so I can't really complain, right?

ANYHOW, so why come back for year 2, to this specific school, with this specific program, after all this ranting? Clearly not for the professional experience but rather for the relationships. Just by sitting-in on different conversations amongst (some of) the teachers at my school, I've learned that we share the same values when it comes to education, kids, and, in general, life. Also, my bilingual coordinator and I from day 1 have hit it off seamlessly - de puta madre - and have effortlessly gotten along real well. Oh, by the way, we have the same birthday and live 5 minutes walking-distance from each other; our car rides together to and from school have probably been the highlight of my experience in Coría. Also, I've started a basic friendship with a couple of teachers who don't speak English, so now I really want to improve mi español to deepen our relationship. And, of course, some of those kids are damn cute and really fun.

In conclusion, being an  auxiliar de conversación isn´t actual work, which is why year 2 will absolutely be my last with this program, but it does give me another 8 months to foster intercontinental relationships with fellow educators that I hope will last for a lifetime.

Lazy Days Ahead

"Springtime" in Sevilla typically involves days on end of 90 degrees weather until the summer when, uh, it gets hotter. Needless to say, being from the Pacific Northwest, this just ain't cool:

Low/High

Precipitation

Tonight May 03

Mostly Clear

59°

0 %

Sun May 04

Sunny

88°/59°

0 %

Mon May 05

Sunny

91°/59°

0 %

Tue May 06

Mostly Sunny

92°/63°

0 %

Wed May 07

Partly Cloudy

90°/65°

0 %

Thu May 08

Sunny

92°/65°

0 %

Fri May 09

Sunny

96°/66°

0 %

Sat May 10

Sunny

98°/67°

0 %

Consequently, during the day, the streets tend to be significantly less crowded until it's bearable to step foot outside (i.e. nighttime). That is, after the Feria de Abril (The April Fair) - which ironically takes place next week, in May, this year due to the "obligatory" two-week gap following Semana Santa - an extravagant, week-long, Flamenco party. Men dress sharply in suits, women doll-up and wear classic flamenco dresses, and everyone drinks rebujitos (apple-flavored wine mixed with 7-UP) while dancing Sevillano from midday till dawn the next morning, all the while sweating like (classy) pigs.

 

 

It's also very exclusively Sevillano, meaning you need to know friends who own casetas (tents) because evidently only in Sevilla are they privadas (private). Also, from what I've seen and heard, there's also a ton of pressure to dress up to fit in, and believe me, those flamenco dresses aren't cheap. Throughout the rest of Andalucía, Sevilla's fair has the reputation of being pijo (posh). Regardless, it's still a culturally significant, uniquely Sevillano spectacle, like Semana Santa, which is why I would like to fully partake in the festivities .... next year.

For now, at the risk of being called lame and boring, I'm taking the quiet, non-eventful approach to life, as anti-Spanish as it may seem. In all honesty, I've been on a personal journey for the last month or two, irrespective of this unique opportunity I've been fortunate enough to have to live in Spain. It's just them roots, Seattle-grown for the past twenty-plus years, deep and tangled ones at, have sort of been a pain, ya hear?

But, bueno, as they say in Spain, tranquila (be calm), poco a poco (little by little). Sevilla as a city I have enjoyed immensely, although taking naps in the sun like this is now a gloriously uncomfortable sweat-fest/sunburn/headache waiting to happen:

....not too long ago

Despite it being a struggle at times, I'm committed to repeating this experience again for another 8 months. In fact, this past week I received official word that my application for renewal had been accepted. Not only am I placed in Sevilla again, but I've been assigned to the same school in Coria del Río, so I can continue to build relationships with the teachers and the kiddos. Additionally, my current flatmate is already inviting me to come back next term, as well as the academy I work at on the side. So, in certain ways, I feel like I'm establishing new roots in Sevilla. I just have to figure out these old ones, because, barring any unforeseen circumstances, Sevilla is happening again this coming fall.

So, in the two months I have left before heading back to Seattle, I'm going to try to survive this heat and enjoy what I have left of (half) year one - calmly. But really, in deadly heat like this, you can't help but wish Sevilla had a beach; lo unico que falta Sevilla es una playa (the only thing Sevilla needs is a beach):

In Cádiz, "the beach of Sevilla"

Travel Post: From Andalucía to Galicia

This past week was Semana Santa, i.e. Holy Week, in Spain, and nowhere else is it celebrated more feverishly than here in Sevilla. Cue the hoards of tourists infiltrating the city. Instead of sticking around and suffering the massive sea of people - not to mention the heat - to witness the processions, which are internationally-renowned spectacles, I took advantage of the week off to book it up north for a little getaway; una escapada. 

General Overview

Advanced editing done with basic paint program

On Monday, I left Sevilla and headed up north to Madrid for a short one-day stop; una parada corta. The following day, from Madrid I traveled further up north, at the same time heading west, to my ultimate destination, Santiago de Compostela (not labeled on the map for whatever reason) in the province of Galicia. Basically, what I want to illustrate here is the shift from the southernmost region of Spain, i.e. Andalucía, to the Great Atlantic Northwest. Continue reading to discover the significance.

Means of Transportation
I confess, I'm not much of a planner. Actually, I thoroughly dislike planning things. So without really thinking through this particular detail, I decided to travel from Sevilla to Santiago by land. This entailed a six-hour bus ride from Sevilla to Madrid (by far the most cost-effective option), followed by another six-hour train ride from Madrid to Santiago (reverse-order for the return trip). A total of 24 hours on my ass in a moving vehicle, not including side trips, within the week. Next time I think I'll just cough up the extra 15 euros and catch a plane...

Quick Stop in Madrid
Madrid is known to be bursting with culture. It hosts a plethora of exhibits, museums, cultural activities and stunning architecture:

El ayuntamiento - The town hall

Some random bank office, I think

Parque de Buen Retiro

It's also huge. Like, gigantic, gigantesco. For this reason, and whatever others, I've honestly never found much appeal to Madrid. This being my third different occasion visiting, Madrid and I never quite got off on the right foot; we've never really embraced each other. Despite having visited many of the historic tourist spots and taken strolls down the streets to admire all the glamorous buildings, I never felt like the vibe to the city was particularly inviting. In fact, quite the contrary: I find it overwhelming, stressful and unsettling.

Madrid ... always moving

I can see why some people would find Madrid exhilarating, but, in short, it's just not a good fit for me personally; no me pega. Too big and too busy. Luckily, I had a chance encounter with my sevillano friend Pablo on Monday, which made the experience much more pleasant. But, in the end, I didn't even bother staying an extra night on Friday after I left Galicia, and instead thought it more preferable to catch the bus and head back to Sevilla four hours after my six-hour train ride ...

Moving on to Greener Pastures
Enter Galicia. Home to:

A nice break from Cruzcampo

Their own regional bank

And of course:

The Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela ... unfortunately under a bit of reconstruction

Galicia is primarily known for the old town of Santiago, and its Cathedral represents the final destination of El Camingo de Santiago, i.e. The Way of St. James. However, I made two day trips to A Coruña, a port city just an hour away by bus from Santiago (indicated on the map). My primary intention was to go soak up the sun at the beach, but as in the Pacific Northwest, the weather was a bit unpredictable, and the day that started like this:

Perfect beach weather

literally half an hour later ended up like this:

The entire city blanketed in heavy fog

No matter, because strollin' alongside the ocean was a breathe of fresh air and incredibly therapeutic. Some of the sights didn't make things too shabby either (albeit, in fog, of course):

Torre de Hercules

El mar

Two short visits, one last year and this most recent, and I've grown very fond of Galicia, in particular A Coruña. For one part, it does remind a bit of Seattle; laid-back attitude, fresh air, mild weather, great sea food, and, of course, the wonderful coast - minus the tourists. A Coruña is actually surrounded by the water on two sides, and literally a five-minute walk across town can take you to the other side (Jason Derulo)! And then there's the matter of the people ...

Los Gallegos (The Galicians)
Non-hyperbolically speaking, Galicians are the most soft-spoken, mild-mannered, calmest - tranquilísima - people I have ever come across in my 23 years of existence. I'm not talking about one, two or three individuals; I mean as a collective group of people, everyone super tranquila. Now consider the past three months and change I have spent in Sevilla, where the people are always comically animated and full of expression. To fully capture this contrast, I give you this illustration:

Forget the "hot" in the middle. In terms of personality, los gallegos and los andaluces are the total antithesis of one another. If you measured noise level and talking speed on the same scale, Galicians would be on the extreme of super soft and super slow, Andalucians obnoxiously loud and incredibly fast (both in their unique, strange accents). Galicians have a cool and gentle demeanor about them; Andalucians are generally very passionate and wear their emotions on their sleeves. Introverts versus extroverts. In a nutshell, they're polar opposites of each other ... too ironically like their respective positions in the country. So you can imagine why, after every exchange I had with a gallego, I couldn't help but laugh to myself. Over and over again.

Not to mention, everyone in Galicia was super friendly and super approachable, and I really appreciated that they didn't treat me as someone exotic. Of course, people in Sevilla are extremely friendly, too, in their own energetic, fun-loving way. The common characteristic that both regions share is that they're easy-going people with laid-back attitudes. People are sincere and warm. In Sevilla, people love to yell and laugh. In Galicia, people like to smile and have more, eh hem, civil interactions. Of course there are drawbacks to both kinds of people - perhaps at times Sevillanos can be borderline obnoxious and rude, Gallegos borderline dull and boring, depending on your point of view - but you realize that the positives far outweigh the negatives and come to appreciate these (stark) regional differences for what they are.

A bit of humor gallego

Now What of All This?
Spain is a fascinating country with a strong sense of regionalism that I would like to explore more of. It's funny because I had already visited many of these places the year before, but with a mindset of a tourist. There's no shame in that of course, especially because Spain has many remarkable attractions and a ton of intriguing history to boast of. But this time around I'm more interested in learning about the people and their everyday life. In doing so, I find myself always relating things back to my life in Seattle, to my hometown, to my roots. And thus, ladies and gentleman, if you have made it this far, is the life abroad: one giant reflection.

Reflections of the Last Month

Clearly my record-breaking average of two entries per month is going to take a blow, but I decided to sneak one post in before month's end because today marks the one-year anniversary of the day I first stepped on Spanish soil, although I wouldn't really call this entry celebratory (I'm also watching TV as I write this, so I can't claim to be fully focused on a task that really requires full attention).

The great thing about living abroad is that everyday is a reflection. As a deeply introverted, introspective person, I often observe and analyze the happenings of life to a fault. Many times I find myself involuntarily living more inside my own cogitations and musings than in the world that exists outside my mind. All this philosophical-ish rambling to say that Spaniards seem to do the opposite. They live to socialize, to converse, to laugh, and have a good time with other people,  in a way that seems uniquely Spanish to me (or, at least Andalucian). The lighthearted, free-spirited vibe of the city is immediately notable, the daily interactions among the people, always animated and full of expression, I find encouraging, if not entertaining.

In many ways, living in this kind of culture has spurred changes to my natural disposition. I definitely go out more for social outings. I often look forward to grabbing a beer with friends and engaging in discussions about who knows what. Meeting the friends of friends is so common here, it's not uncomfortable for me anymore (whereas in Seattle, we all know this process can be excruciatingly awkward). The incredible weather, in all its glorious sunniness, doesn't hurt either.

By the river in the morning

But what you eventually realize is that, despite moving countries and your environment undergoing a complete makeover, the person you were before leaving your birth country is the person that you have brought with you to your new surroundings. That is, the roots of your being don't significantly change over a five-month experience; you are still the essence of you. This has become more and more apparent as the initial excitement  of starting something novel in a foreign land has gradually faded and the the days have started to feel ordinary, routine.

Not to suggest I don't enjoy the local culture and daily customs of Sevilla; quite the contrary, actually. But, in all honesty, my natural individualistic, often antisocial, inclinations have begun to resurface and now leave me seeking solitude, and my obligatory bouts with anxiety and insecurity at times leave me yearning withdrawal from the world, if only for a short while.

I've moved to my third flat now because the second one was not a good a fit for me at all, mostly due to the personal issues explained above. But the atmosphere of my current one is significantly more inviting, my flatmates much easier to get along with, not to mention more fun and interesting. I'm just going to have to make it work, despite my problems. Because I really don't want to have to have go through another key-swap again:

Here's to the low-phase of my abroad experience ... but really, life could be worse. The key is not to overreact and continue putting one foot in front of the other, because things always tend to turn out alright in the end.

A Small Tribute to Dad (아빠)

I'm putting this post up solely to keep it documented and stored in a space I can access and look back on.

I just received the most heart-wrenching/sweetest e-mail from my dad. Now, this man epitomizes the traditional values of being a Korean male; in other words, he rarely shows emotion. Tough as steel, hard as nails, completely unsentimental. But throughout my two stints in Spain (León and currently Sevilla), he has definitely shown his soft touch and has written the most beautiful letters I've ever received (with his usual witty sense of humor, and in very good English, too). This most recent one, I have to say, trumps them all (sorry .. the good parts are in Korean, for all non-Koreans, haha):

유라,

 

It was for your birthday. 돈 없잖아? 그 정도는 있으니까 Don't worry. 맛 있는거 사먹어.

By the way, you have not mentioned about your living space. Is it good and safe enough?

 

"항상 기뻐하라

 쉬지 말고 기도하라

 범사에 감사하라 이것이 그리스도 예수 안에서 너희를 향하신 하나님의 뜻 이니라" 

This is the song we sang together at the church when you were 4-5 years old.

 

I miss you very much.

...he's pretty much the most awesome person on the planet.

A Couple Weeks Later ...

I'm broke. Because my wallet was deftly snatched from my purse. I've drawn this conclusion because I can't think of another logical explanation for how my wallet went missing between the two minutes I made my purchase at the supermercado and the moment of realization that my bag felt significantly lighter on the way back home. Hurried back to the store, asked the cashier if she had seen my "no sé cómo se llama en español pero tenía todo mi dinero y tarjetas" (this later I realized was bad, too literally-translated Spanish, but what I was trying to communicate was: "I don't know what it's called in Spanish, but it had all my money and cards")  looked around and nada, nothing. So then, I was left with these coins I had ironically left in my pocket:

Thirty minutes later and I've contacted my credit card companies and banks, asked for a 50 euro loan from the deposit I paid my flatmate and ya, end of story. Although I was contemplating exaggerating a few details and embellishing the storyline to create a more artificially dramatic emotional scene, aside from the 100 euros worth of cash/bus cards I've lost -- and my photographic keepsake of my sister and I at Target, which thinking about tugs at my heart (sort of) -- it shall remain a minor hiccup throughout my experience in Sevilla. I'm approaching the incident from the "blessing in disguise" angle, as no longer having access to my American accounts will force me to live off of the money I earn from my private lessons for the rest of February - un reto nuevo, a new challenge.

What will be worth remembering and regarded as a significant experience, are moments such as these:

Witnessing the Seahawks' Superbowl trouncing in freaking Granada out of all places (with another Seattlelite, too!). Now, this bar (pictured below) will be forever known to me as the Irish sports bar in Granada where I watched Seattle win their first Super Bowl:

Also, the intercambios I've started with a few different Spanish locals, meeting some freaking cool Europeans on a few different occasions and daily stuff like that is how I plan to find meaning during my time here. On my trip to Granada last weekend, I found that I enjoyed myself much more going on aimless strolls in the Albacín and meeting my friend's Spanish flatmates and visiting their favorite tapas spots than going to the big tourist attractions like the Alhambra; basic things that gave me a sense of the local culture and everyday life. I like to keep it real like that, yo (I wonder what the expression for "keeping it real" is in Spanish?).

Granada is definitely a picture-taking-worthy city, though; it is absolutely breathtaking. It's just I've been really lazy and bad at taking pictures. Here's one that I took from a mirador (viewpoint) of (part of) the Alhambra with the Sierra Nevada in the background:

But I understand that visual materials can enhance the emotional impact of written products, so, if only for the sake and popularity of my blog posts, I will start making a greater effort to stow my camera into my bag and whip it out on occasion to snap a few pics. So my devoted readers can get a better picture of my life here. Har har har ...

Here's to lazy Sundays - viva los domingos ociosos.