Ashamed for being awfully lazy and not having posted a blog in the past few days. I'm so sorry! I completely missed updating you in Cordoba which was the city prior to arriving here in Valencia.
I adored Cordoba. It was a quaint historical Roman town with an old part of the city containing the Mezquita, narrow streets, and small shops around every corner, where I stayed in a Hostel room that I was pretty sure was haunted.
Below are some pictures. The Mezquita alone, was well worth the visit. Hands down, it was the grandest church I've ever entered. This former Mosque was converted into a 16th century church (long story, what a pity that such a beautiful mosque had been converted). Cordoba had once been the center of Western Islam and a landmark of the medievil world.
The Mezquita is huge! The arches above me only show one layer in this picture, but they are actually double arches.
I'm currently in Valencia in a particularly nice hostel. Except of course for the co-ed bathrooms - trust me, I was quite shocked when there I was washing my hands and a dude walks behind me to go pee. I remember gasping and running out to check to see if I went into the wrong bathroom. I must be the only female on this floor because I haven't seen any other girls go into bathrooms, only horrified guys who after having seen me at the sink get that deer-in-headlights look on their face and quickly leave to check the sign on the door. But that's the problem! There are NO signs on the door - only a picture of a boy and girl holding hands - like any normal bathroom symbol except it's confusing. It's the only co-ed bathroom I've ever been in. I recall a specific moment when this guy almost tripped as he jerked back to look for a sign on the door. I said, "It's ok, I'm confused to." To which I realized was a terrible thing to say...So I reddenned embarassingly and followed up with, "I mean...not like that."
Anyway, after a 6+ train hour ride, I arrived yesterday afternoon past 5pm to find that the tourist information booth was already closed for the day. I gawked at the closed office, stunned and just a little panicked.
Because I didn't have a map...
All I had were vague directions to the hostel from the train station, directions like; straight ouf the train stay on your left side until you reach a fountain; keep this fountain on your right side; you will reach a 4 fork street - take the left fork (which one? aren't there technically 2?); you will then see a castle-like building up ahead - you will need to pass this building etc...
I was exhausted and refused to spend 4€ on an impossibly hard to read map being sold at the souvenir shop. I bit my lip and trudged forward in the heat to search for my hostel, walking quickly to avoid the uncomfortable stares from the passerby's and the invulnerable feeling I have yet to shake when walking around with my luggage - it's like a neon sign that reads, "I'm a Tourist! I'm not familiar with my surroundings and I am not trying to walk and read a map that's upside down..."
I managed to find the hostel without too much confusion - took the wrong street a coulple times, but if there's anything I can at least do, it's backtracking.
I spent the rest of the evening uploading albums by city/location on Facebook, showing some signs to my parents that I'm still alive somewhere. I miss them. I miss my Mom and her cooking, my fat cat, walking my dog, my bro's and dad (all in that order)...Just Kidding! :D I can't wait to see you all soon!
While I spent the evening creating albums a large group of girls and 3 guys walked into the lobby seating themselves around me. They began talking loudly, only slightly tipsy, and I tried not to cringe everytime they told a disgusting raunchy joke or said something completely racially inappropriate - guess H.R. doesn't leave you...even when you leave it.
There was an 18 year old caucasian female from Chicago (I can't help but be politically correct - so sue me) who said things like "ugly-hot" and brought up stories like the time when a guy said to her, "I'll buy you a drink if you show me a boob." The responses from the crowd that followed were, "Only one boob? " "Did you do it?" and "I like the word boob." I laughed to myself a lot that night.
Especially when the same girl said, "I tried to steal figs the other day."
A German girls shouts, "You know the German word for fig is f*ck?"
Her eyes widen, "I went around and tried to steal some f*cks!" People laugh and I roll my eyes.
The German girl gives her words to hunt their meaning for such as, ax-cel-hag-gen and ol-lip-hien.
They made her repeat the last word over and over again as they tried to correct her pronounciation - parts where it required some strategic hawking and grunting. Chicago girl giggles, "I like German, I should learn it - seems like I got the enthusiasm that's for sure." They all laugh.
It was the older gentleman that creeped me out the most. The girls around us were likely no older than 25 while he on the other hand seemed to be nearing his 40's. He kept trying to interrupt me asking, "Are we too loud for you?", "You're awfully quiet for a California girl" (another one of his irritating habit of placing people in categories). It was late, I was beyond annoyed with Facebook and I was in no mood for stupid conversation. I gave him my best tight lipped response without so much looking at him as I kept my gaze on my laptop. He seemed to get the hint.
They ended up leaving to go bar hopping, politely asking me to come along, although I probably wouldn't have asked me, "How about you California girl? Wanna come show us how wild the Cali girls party?"
Yeah...no...Not even if Mr. Creepy wasn't going.
Today I spent a better part of the day exercising...
My credit card...
Just kidding. I really tried not to. I just window shopped...and occassionally, I let Mr. VISA do his thing - didn't want him to feel left out.
I just finished doing something I haven't done in probably 4 years.
I painted my nails.
Apparently, it's a good way to show your festive side and seeing as I was happy to be due home in a couple days, and home will be festively deco'd out in FALL, I thought I'd be a girl for once and partake in a very useless and girly endeavor. It felt so foreign, as I sat there with the tube between my knees, my hand shaking as I tried to keep the paint ON my nails and not on my jeans, sheets, or my face (don't ask). And success!
Except of course I forgot that you can't do anything as they dry. I remembered then, exactly why I never painted my nails, other than because I was utterly lazy and I enjoy my tomboyishness, it's because I don't know how to do nothing for however ungodly long it takes for painted nails to dry. After 5 minutes I gave in and opened a book.
I now have several lines crossing along my painted nails, and even some where it's been scraped off...Yikes! But it's ok. It was a worthy sacrifice.
Thanks for reading! :)
Look what I bought my last night in Seville when I was so bummed from having caught a pretty nasty cold.