Trece dias mas? Que triste!

I have only thirteen more days here! It is unreal. I can't believe it. I have a similar feeling in my stomach that I did when I was leaving the United States, except it's almost worst because I know when/if I come back here someday, it's not going to be the same. At least everything at home is still exactly the same as I left it (minus a few changes, such as a hopefully finished classroom building at UConn and Carly probably dyed her hair again).  I honestly never expected to feel this kind of attachment to Granada, since I was petrified to come here in the first place.  Despite Spain's strange idiosyncrasies and, to be frank, some of the strangest human beings in the world, I have grown to love this place.

Today I went to buy a new razor, because I left mine in Portugal. When I realized I lost my razor, I immediately panicked since people don't shave here, and I didn't even know if stores sold razors. They do. Praise the lord. Anyways, I was in line to purchase it and some lady cut RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME, handed her item to the cashier, and proceeded on with her day. Are you serious? This, and variations of this, happen every. single. day. Spanish people can't form lines. Apparently, it is not in their culture.

I almost died laughing over the weekend in Portugal when Hannah, her friend Laura (who is my friend now too! She has been in Granada for the year, though), and Lindsey and I discussed Spanish medicine.  We related it to witchcraft, because honestly, I think the people here think herbs and magic spells can cure problems. One time I told my Señora I couldn't sleep, and she handed me a cup with 4 leaves in it.  ...Ok. Hocus Pocus. I fondly recalled the time the doctors at the hospital gave me a nice shot in my butt without warning (still do not know the purpose of that), and Laura told a story about when she cut her head open and was bleeding (obviously, since your head always bleeds a lot when you injure it) and the people at the hospital acted as though they had never seen something like that before.  Of course, Laura was fine (only a few stitches), but the dramatic Spanish reactions to things like that are absolutely hilarious (once you are feeling better, of course. It isn't so funny when you are in pain and you want to strangle all of the doctors for making your blood pressure rise even higher with every one of their fearful yells of, "OH MY GOD THIS IS SO BAD YOUAREGOINGTODIE")

Anyways. I even laugh now at my professors, who I do not think are qualified at all. This is a typical conversation I have with my literature professor after I get back a paper (with no corrections on it, of course):
Me: So, I know this is a good grade, but how can I do better?
Professor: Oh, well this is a good grade!
Me: Yes, I know, but there are people in the class who did better, so I want to know what they did differently.
Professor: This is a good grade!
Me: Yes, I understand. But how can I---
Professor: No, no. Hasta luego.

....Ok, thank you for your help.  I ended up reading my friends' paper, and she wrote at the beginning "In class we discussed so-and-so topic and..." When we compared the paper to her previous papers, we determined this small sentence was possibly maybe (who knows?) why she received a better grade. Of course, my UConn professors would shoot me in the face if I wrote that on a paper (should I try it in the fall? Probably not a good idea), but hey, guess I have to adapt, no matter how much it kills me.

I told my grammar professor I was going to fail the exam tomorrow, and she said I could pay her money for an A. I might do it.

Portugal, on the other hand, was a great time. Despite my efforts to keep this blog PG, I will say there was an unlimited sangria sailboat cruise. By unlimited, I mean that if I finished even half a cup of it, the leaders came around and filled up my cup. The rocking sailboat did not help matters. But we all had a great time, and Hannah and Lindsey were absolutely crazy and jumped into the frigid waters. Noooo thank you.

The hotel, which I figured would be some dinky place comparable to a Motel-6, was actually a 4-star hotel with a kitchen, a huge bathroom, and two big beds.  I'm not complaining. It was rainy-ish and cold the whole weekend, but we got some sun, and I played soccer on the beach! Most importantly, the trip leaders (all men in their 20s, which is suspicious, but again I am not complaining) were muy, muy guapo, and most of all, did not seem Spanish (read: I did not once question any of their sexualities). I missed boys who don't shave their legs (yes, you read that correctly. The number of men I have seen here with bare legs is absurd and actually un poco disturbing. Which brings me to a question: If men here shave their legs, why don't women shave their armpits? ...I don't know why I think about these things).

This is probably not what my father wants to read. Dad, I had a really fun time on my trip and I didn't spend a lot of money and it was all very educational.

There. Okay so moving on, Portugal was beautiful and my favorite part was this place called the end of the world. Apparently, before Columbus came to America (and spread diseases and killed people and was a bad person and took people in as slaves...Sorry. Every time people here exclaim the triumphs of Columbus, I really want to throw that in. But that would be disrespectful, since Columbus is kinda Spain's claim to fame. So I shall write my thoughts about him in my blog instead), people thought this was actually where the world ended. It was too breathtaking for me to capture on my camera, but I tried.  Hannah thought it wasn't that impressive, but what does she know? (She also obsessively stalks my blog...Hi Hannah!)

Zee end of the worrrrld! 

rain clouds in the distance

So...that ends my international travel experiences for the semester. I can't even comprehend where my favorite place was yet, and I don't know if I'll ever be able to answer that question.  Every place was unique and had qualities that I liked and didn't like. I can't choose just one place! I will say though, Rome is not somewhere I want to return. It was dirty and busy and sketchy (I just named all the qualities of NYC, but I love New York, so I don't know what made Rome different...maybe it was the sketchy Egyptian drifter roommate).  I'm glad I went to see the history of it (and to eat the food), but it certainly wasn't a beautiful place, which is what I tend to look for in places. Florence, on the other hand, was the first place I truly loved in Europe.

In other news, I have decided to stop taking the bus in Granada because 1. I need exercise and 2. These people do not wear deodorant. Please, picture being on a very crowded bus without air conditioning on a warm day... Enough said.

These complaints are minimal, however. After I complete and fail my grammar exam in 15 minutes tomorrow, I am off to the beach (about an hour away) for a few days with Lindsey, Chelsie and Karonica. I am hoping for good weather, a tan, and a relaxing time!

I'm sure I will write in here at least one more time, but for now, think of me enjoying my last thirteen days in the magical place of Granada.

America, I hope you are getting ready for me (read: Mom, please remember to stock the fridge).

Lauren :)