I've taken the highs, taken the lows...

…Just, in the opposite order. Now for the good news. Don’t be fooled. Andalucia No Es El Cine. Andalucia Es La Vida. This is seriously the coolest place I’ve ever been in my entire life.

For me, the culture in Spain is like a huge clash of my last two experiences in Mexico and Europe. Obviously the Spanish influence and heritage in Latin America translates back to the motherland, but at the same time parts of it are so much nicer and more vogue because it’s in Europe. The set up of the school is pretty much exactly like ICO. Breakfast is at 8 and then class is from 9:00 – 13:00. Since I’m in the intensive course, I have an extra two hours of class after that, and then I return home for lunch at 15:00. I’m living with Paqui and Jose Manuel Nunez. They were both born and raised in Vejer and have three kids. Paqui bought me apples yesterday because they’re my favorite. How sweet. Last night I watched the evening news with them and we talked about Obama. I much prefer being the only student in the house as opposed to Mexico where there were four or five of us at a time. I didn’t really bond with the family there. The housemaid was the only one there to see me off when I left Oaxaca.

I have two different teachers. Alejandro is my morning profesor. He’s really awesome. Yesterday our topic of conversation was music. GeorgeMy class consists of nine people, and here’s the cool part. They are all from: England, Germany, Switzerland, New Zealand, the Netherlands, or California. In the afternoon, I work with a woman named maria Jose, who turned out to be the niece of my homestay dad. In that class I’m with 4 other people from the Netherlands, Austria, Belgium, or Switzerland. And every one of them speaks English. HAH.

Tuesday evening I went exploring in the city. It’s really not that big of a town. The population is smaller than that of Cookeville, but it’s constrained to this tiny surface area atop a mountain. I think it’s funny because last year I used to stare at the Sierra Madre from my bedroom window and tell my housemate (the one that looked just like Bill Nye the Science Guy) about how much I wanted to go climb up one of those mountains. I never did make it up one of those (but I did survive a terrifying bus ride through them!), but I’ve definitely topped that by living on atop on one now! I tried walking the entire outer edge of town yesterday, at least where there wasn’t a wall or building blocking la vista.

Time for a tangent. Vejer is not outlined on a grid system. I guess the Moors were just like “to hell with that.” For that reason, I can’t just head east with the knowledge that my school is not the east side of town and hope it get there. No, sir. What this map doesn’t show are the physical aspects of Vejer, as in the fact that I climb like 3 mountains to get to school each day. One second you’re ascending the steepest hill ever, and the next you start going down and have to walk funny, toes-first, like you've got a stick up your ass just to avoid face planting on the descent. It’s then that you realize walking down isn’t much of a relief… it just means you’ll be going up again soon.

Anyhow, I tried to conquer as much as I could on my first full day in Vejer. If the pictures (still to come) look like I had to do some serious climbing to get them, it’s because I did. And you’re welcome.

As it was getting close to 8 or 9, I started walking southwest so I could try to get a view of the ocean. I found a pretty awesome path leading out of the city towards some of the new wind turbines and what looked like water in the distance. The path ran parallel to a road. After a while of having the path narrow on me as I listened to all of the rustling going on in the bushes next to me, I started to worry less about stepping in donkey shit and more about getting bitten by a snake. It was worth the risk, considering I got these pictures. On the way BACK UP THE HILL into town, I decided not to try my luck con los serpientes so I walked in the middle of the road like a badass. Or a dumbass. You’re call, really. The point is I lived.

Finally I decided to sit down and navigate my way back home. It was here, seated on the ground, that I took a moment to appreciate the little things in life. Like a chorus of children singing “Feliz Cumpleanos” somewhere in the distance while a donkey brayed and a dalmation sneezed in my general direction. Andalucia es la vida.

When I got home that night, my luggage had arrived. YAY!

Yesterday I bought a bus ticket for Algeciras for this Saturday. I’m going to go check out Gibraltar while I’m down there (technically owned by the UK while still in Spain), but I don’t have enough money to take the ferry over to Africa. I’ll just have to stare at that dark, mysterious continent from across the Strait and hope that next time I’ll be able to venture into it.

There’s a big festival going on tonight. The 90th anniversary of something. I was hoping to catch up on sleep, but it seems to be the Spanish mentality that you can sleep when you’re dead. So anyway, I hope to post another for you on Monday, but this is it for now.

Ciao!