Lagos Means 'Lakes' In Spanish But In Portugal It Means Heaven

I’m so so so so so excited to tell all of you wonderful individuals about this next part of my journey abroad. Because, just saying, this part is the JAM. God blessed America, God blessed Spain, but He sho NUFF blessed Lagos, Portugal!

Our wonderful journey began last Friday bright and early. Because of our impending journey, we had class an hour early, which meant we had to get up even earlier to pack in the daylight because we can’t have the light on at night. Therefore, since we had to do all of this in the morning, naturally, we were late to school. But, all was bien, and we blew through our classes as quickly as possible and before we knew it we were on the bus eating our bocadillos (even though we weren’t supposed to eat on the bus, shhh, don’t tell) and headed to Lagos. About 5 hours later, after we got lost on the windy rounds of Portugal for an extra hour and I thought I was going to vom all over da bus, we made it to destination number 1 – the most ‘occidental’ point in Europe, also known as the Western-most point of Europe. People, it was balling. There were these astounding cliffs with jaw-dropping views of the bright ocean below – something I feel like people should only be able to dream about, not see in real life. The usual photo shoot lasted about 30 minutes even though Diego was trying to be hard and only give us 15 (we showed him – NOT). However, the biggest adventure of our brief stop there was the handmade bathroom? What’s a handmade bathroom, you ask? It’s one you make yourself, wherever you might be. And since there’s not much of a toilet on the rocky western point on Europe, you just gotta get creative. So, just so you know, there are several of us on this trip that are now the proud owners of little portions of land on the Western point of Europe. Be jealous.

After we conquered some beautiful territory, we climbed back aboard the bus and finished the last leg of the journey to Lagos. When we pulled up to our hotel, we were shocked. That junk was SNAZZYYYY. Like cinco estrellas fancy. Our room had a living room, full kitchen, and a banging bedroom, which sweet Whit and I got to share. We felt like royalty. And the darn sheets had to be like 5000 thread count. Cause they were like little pieces of Jesus. We gawked at our abode for the weekend for a few minutes, took a quick power nap, and then got ready to meet the group for dinner at some local restaurant that the directors had picked out for us. Well, when we got there, we were in for a treat. We should have known that it was going to be too good to be true when we got there and saw that there was bottomless water. Which, btdubs, always be SO GRATEFUL for free refills, even just with water. Cause they sho don’t happen over here. So after the endless water and the delicious salad that followed it, we were CRUNK for our main course. And when it came… WOW. The only words we could say were ‘wow’. Not because our mouths were watering or our eyes were popping out of our heads, but because the mouths of our FOOD were watering ooze and their eyes were popping out of THEIR heads. Yep, that’s right. We got some appetizing full bodied sardines. Not talking about the teensy ones you see on pizza and stuff. These suckers were some good sized sardines. We had to learn how to rip them open and dig out the good meat within with out the bones, which was nearly impossible to take a bite out of it and not receive some prickly parcel in it. After about three of these fights to get some moderately sized bites, we gave up and turned the meal into, you guessed it, a photo shoot. What else would you expect our group to do?

After our not-so-filling meal of fish bone scattered with a few slivers of meat, we headed out to take some pictures during sunset, which was, might I add, simply breathtaking. We did our usual photo op for about 15 minutes, with the boys snapping photos left and right like we have trained them so nicely to do here. We were taking them on top of this canal-type thing that the boats float through to get to the ocean, and eventually, I got bored with that landscape and convinced Collin and then Isabel to crawl down with me to the edge of the water in the canal. Neither of them were all too thrilled, but I convinced them that great pictures could be had and that it wouldn’t be dangerous to walk on the moist, moss covered stones. Liessss. They both ate it and tore up their hands trying to catch themselves while I made it through unscathed. Schwoops. But hey, beauty is pain, and our pics sho are beautimous from that excursion.

Later that night, a group of us headed out to explore the beaches around the city. We perused through the streets for a while until we found where we needed to be, and it was definitely a sight to behold. In the dark, we could make out these HUGE rock formations looming out of the water, with the nighttime ocean reflecting it’s patterns on the sides of them it. It was truly magical. Our brains could scarcely even take it in. When you look at such beautiful things in God’s creation, it truly does make you realize how small you are and how BIG and talented He is. He is one creative Papa! After frolicking on the rocks and singing every song from The Little Mermaid that we could recall, we did one of the coolest things that we have done all trip. Hillary, Jack, Belle, and I all stood in one of the cave-like structures between the rocks and sang worship songs to God. It was truly one of the best moments of my life. Standing there under the stars, enveloped by God in His true glory, and praising Him with all of our hearts with people that I dearly, dearly love was astounding. I could have stayed there with Him and them forever. But all good things must come to an end, so we hummed our songs the whole way home and then crashed into our bajillion thread-count sheets and slept like queens the whole night.

Saturday morning began with an insanely delicious breakfast that we had for FREE at the hotel. I don’t know which word in the previous sentence is more important, the FREE or the delicious, so therefore I will combine them to express the true power and might of that breakfast – it was FREELICIOUS. My newfound love, Brie Cheese, ham, the best fruit ever, unlimited fancy coffee, and much more all made an appearance at the freelicious breakfast and my heart was happier than a Spanish futbol player after winning the World Cup. However, that joy was short lived, because when we relocated to the swimming pool to start catching some rays, all we got were bad cases of goosebumps and raindrops falling on our heads. We tried to prevail outside for as long as we could, but after about 30 minutes of wind and rain, we couldn’t take any more and we all fled inside to retreat into the warmth of our fancy pancy hotel. When we got inside, none of us wanted to stop hanging out, so we headed into one room, where about 15 of us all piled onto one bed and had a cuddle-fest and back massage train. People – IT. WAS. AWESOME. We all just blobbed our bodies wherever they decided to sit, legs jumbled up all over the place, and just laughedddd and laughedddd and talked and laugheddddd some more for two hours. It was wonderful and completely took away the thoughts of the lack-luster weather that was outside. I’m telling you people, we have a BALLIN group. The simplest and silliest activities give us SUCH joy. But don’t get me wrong, we do a LOT of fun stuff too, as you will read about very shortly.

Before we knew it, it was time for lunch, so we lazily picked up our sleepy, cuddly bodies and headed down to the lobby to meet the rest of the group. We had a group lunch planned for us by the great Diego and Manuel at “Linda, The Beach Bar.” (Yes, yes, we all greatly enjoyed the name of this restaurant for some reason.) And oh man, dearest Linda did not fail to provide. We got FRESH salad (which I can count on one hand the number of times that we’ve had that over here), mouthwatering barbeque ribs, French fries, and, to top it all off, ICE CREAM. All for how much, you ask? Oh you know, the low cost of FREE. Unbelievable! Well okay fine, not free since it was included in the cost of the trip but still, I didn’t have to fork out any moolah at the moment! One of the best amenities of our free meal was the incredibly wonderful sparklers that came stuck in our ice cream. Blue, yellow, red, green, silver – you name it, we probably had a sparkler that color. So, what do you do with such beautiful decorations? If you’re me, you for some reason stick them all in your hair and let other people do the same. I looked like a living Christmas tree. But hey, I love Christmas, so it wasn’t a problem in the least. So all in all, one stinking awesome success of a lunch.

After our delicacy at lunch, my sparkly headed self headed out with about 10 other people to explore some of the beaches in Lagos. We were told that they were ‘right around the road’, but after we had been walking uphill for about 40 minutes, we slightly doubted that. Yet when we finally rounded the corner and saw the majestic abyss of the Portuguese ocean awaiting us, the memory of the everlasting hike quickly fleeted our minds. People – it was INSANE. Picture this: the clearest ocean water imaginable, with blue and green tints mixing together, crashing into reddish-orange massive boulders sticking out from the ocean, and we were up above, watching it all happen from our trail on top of one of the cliffs that ran the length of the beach. We hiked for probably about 40 minutes, trekking through the mountainy thing we were on until we found a beach that looked just right for us to spend the day at. We headed down the precarious stairs that led to the shore, and from then on, it was pure magic. The giant rocks rose up around us on all sides, the soft sand blended perfectly into the clear ocean waters – basically, Jesus decided to really bless Portugal. We explored several of the caves in the immediate area, but then, we spied another beach that was around one of the rocks. Very carefully and against the warnings of the locals, we crept around the rock and arrived at the adjacent beach, which was completely secluded and PERFECT. As we explored it, we came across a precious hidden treasure – a rope hung down the side of one of the rocks on the side, almost enticing us to us it to climb up and check out what was on the top. After brave Whitney led the way (literally, the chick has no fear. She just hopped right on up, grabbed the rope, and then headed up for the tippy top like she was simply just walking down the road. Seriously???), I forced myself to swallow my fears and just try it, especially once several of the other girls showed up to give me a boost – both emotionally and physically. After a ton of screaming and dramatic gasps, I finally made it up to the top, and holy cow – breathtaking. Over the edge of the rock was a lower cave type thing that had an opening that led to the ocean. And of course, Whitney had already scurried on down, smiling like a beauty queen waiting for me to do the same. Let’s just go ahead and put it out there that, as most of you know, I am NOT as talented as The Whitney Keith. I tried to come down to her, but I couldn’t make myself repel backwards like she had, so I attempted to scurry down it frontwards. This did NOT work. I was shaking uncontrollably, very similar to a crunchy autumn leaf in the wind barely hanging on to the withering tree. You are welcome for that description. So halfway down the rock, I had to give up and climbed my way back up to the top and then used to rope to go back down to our original secluded beach. However, after seeing the paradise that awaited down in the cave below where Whitney was, I couldn’t not make my way over there somehow. After my dearest Jack also tried and failed to lower himself down to the cave, he and I were desperate for a Plan B. Which was probably not the most intelligent thing, but hey, desperate times call for desperate measures, and getting to that cave was DEFINITELY one of those times. So, back to our plan. We decided that instead of taking the five-minute climb over the rock, we should take the ten-plus minute swim AROUND the rock in the freezing Portuguese waters. We got our bodies used to the water (well, as much as possible), and then took off swimming. People – this was no joke. The water was INSANELY COLD, with big waves, and a hefty boulder protruding menacingly from the ocean to our right. And it was AWESOME. Awesome awesome awesome. So stinkin cool! However, that cool-ness quickly turned into absolutely freezing when we stood up to walk in the shore. The sensation that you always read about in books when people are freezing to death or have hypothermia or some other terrible fate due to coldness was EXACTLY was happened to Jack and I. It legitimately felt like a billion little knives were stabbing into us all over our bodies. I cannot say that this was a comfortable feeling. However, as we looked around and saw the absolute majesty of what was around us in that cave and all of the surrounding grottos, every bit of fatigue and pain was worth it and quickly forgotten. We found hidden grottos (including one that looked like the one that Harry Potter and Dumbledore have to go into in the 6th book, where Dumbledore has to drink the potion) and beauty galore that only God Himself could be talented enough to create. It was truly astounding and really gave us all such a great perspective on life and Who is in charge and why.

After our day in the caves, we headed back to the resort to get ready for dinner, where we celebrated WHITNEY’S AND ROBERTO’S BIRTHDAYYYYS!! WHoo hoooo! Whitney’s finally not a teenager anymore!!!! The group of us went to this precious little pizzeria that was super quaint and delicious in the ‘downtown’-ish area of Lagos, if you can even call it that. On our way home from the restaurant, we ran into Diego, Manuel, and our slightly sketchy Eurotrash-lovin’ bus driver, and from this conversation came our darling Zach Wright’s quote: Don’t Tell Me How to Vivir!!!! When we got back to the Marina, we had other people distract Whitney and Roberto while I decorated our room and other people got their little surprise cakes ready for them to walk into a room and us surprise them. And just so you know, those little chocolate cakes that we got them were the JAMMM. Best darn things ever. So we sang, we took photos, and just chilled out and laughed all night long until we tucked in for bed to get ready for the next day. Basically, our group rocks, and that’s all I have to say about that.

Sunday we got up bright and early once again to take an ocean bout tour of the grottos, those beautiful cave-like-things that we had discovered during our mighty adventure the day before. We paid our money and then entertained ourselves for about 40 minutes while they prepared their bigger boats for our group of about 20 people. We split up into two groups, and my wonderful group got put on the pimp boat, complete with rotating seats, ladders to get in the water, AND even a baño on the boat. Just saying, it was pretty fly. Not to mention our ballin’ boat driver/tour guide extraordinaire, Luige. He was wonderful and funny to boot. In fact, when he drove us by the nudist beach, the only thing he said was “Be careful with the zoom, ladies”. He did a good job of channeling Demetri Martin if anybody knows who that is. So basically, all morning we just gawked at God’s creation (including God’s creation of the human body with all of the naked old men on the nudist beach) and took pictures that more or less looked like something from another planet it was so beautiful. It was AWESOME. And, best of all, Luige stopped the boat and let us go SWIMMING in the PORTUGUESE OCEAN. So. Stinking. Cool. Also, so stinking freezing, but it was a lot warmer than it had been the day before. We all jumped off the sides of the boat into the icy clear water and splashed around like we were living the dream. Luige was legit, Lagos is legit, and God is FO REAL legit.

By the time we got back to the marina, docked the boat, and said goodbye to our new friend Luige, it was time to chow down for our last Portuguese meal. Fran, Sarah Glasgow, Hillary, and Lindsay Moore all came with me to explore the Marina area and find some awesome food. We found this restaurant that was PRECIOUS and had Piña Coladas, so we hit it up for our mid day grub. We made friends with our waiter, who LOVED US. In fact, he loved us so much that he gave us a discount on our meal AND a stinking free dessert. He clearly knew that the fastest way to a woman’s heart is with postres, and he didn’t play no games with our whopping chocolate cake thingy that he presented to us. In fact, he won us over SO MUCH, that between the five of us we left him a 9 Euro tip. He definitely knew what he was doing with that dessert and discount. After we said goodbye to that little man, we headed back to the resort to spend our last Portuguese hours (I really like making things sound cooler by putting ‘Portuguese’ in front of them: Portuguese cats, Portuguese cheese, you name it. Anything’s cooler when it comes from Portugal) by the insanely beautiful pool at our resort. We caught some rays for a quick minute, and then desafortunadamente, we had to leave out, but it wasn’t too sad cause we were going back to the best city in the world – SEVILLLLLLLLA.

K. I know I’m so far behind on this blogging. I’m even on my way home to America right now, but I am going to be diligent and finish up this blog so I can remember EVERY DETAIL OF THIS TRIP!!! Cause it rocked my world. K. Hasta pronto with a not so current update.

Events of the Past Week

To the tune of the Life Alert commercial announcement -

ALL. AMERICAN. CITIZENS. SHOULD. LIVE. ABROAD.

No joke, this trip is the best thing ever. It just keeps getting better and better!!! I feel as if soon my face will simply fall off of my body from all of the amazing things that I have seen and experienced in just this past month. Wow, a month. When did that happen???

So, even though I just got back from Lagos and all I want to talk about is that trip, I will do as promised and back track from last Saturday until now, one week and a day later.

So, last Saturday after our night out on the town, the majority of our group headed out with our fearless leader, Diego, to the small city of Carmona about an hour northeast of Sevilla. All day long, we toured the incredibly old city (parts of which were built by the Arabs thousands upon thousands of years ago) and took about a billion photos, just like we normally do. Seriously, I think our group should look into pursuing professional photography. We sho nuff know how to use a camera. We had lunch overlooking the beautiful rolling countryside, and afterwards had yet another photo shoot before we headed to cool off with some much needed ice cream and slushies. And I had a BALLIN Piña Colada slushie fo reeeeal cheap, so I was a happy woman.

As we were getting ready to head out to catch the bus back to Sevilla, several very interesting things occurred. First, as I went to take a sketchy creeper picture of this dog laying in the doorway of this restaurant, this random Spanish man jumped out and forced me to take a mini photo shoot of him in the doorway with the dog. Random. Yet even more random was after I played photographer, a group of about 12 of us college students stood around a rock and watched an army of aunts carry a dead worm up the rock and into a hole for a precious, precious snacky poo. It sho don’t take much to entertain us. Give us a dead worm and an army of ants and we’re happy for hours. Oh, and to top it all off, the little Spanish not-so-model man came outside and made fun of our infatuation too. Everyone just loves Americans.

While Carmona was beautiful, it didn’t hold a candle, heck, not even a match, to our journey on Sunday. Bright and early Sunday morning, a group of 13 of us met at the bus station and headed out to Jerez, about 2 hours south of Sevilla, to visit the Tio Pepe Bodega – aka, vineyard. Tio Pepe is a very, very famous wine in Spain, whose advertisements I’m quite obsessed with, so I was VERY VERY excited to head to a place that was full of them. And then, of course, I took a photo with every one of their mascots in the bodega, just because I could. My sweet friends, always so willing to help me out and take photos of my random likings.

We weaved our way throughout the streets of Jerez and found our way to the winery and waited with people of about 32 other countries for our tour to start. And people, you’d be proud to know, that we stuck true to our academia and got our tour done in Spanish rather than English when they were both an option. We are dedicated individuals, that’s fo shizzle. We started our tour on foot and looked at all of the rooms where they store the MASSIVE barrels of wine for many, many years before they dish it out to us guzzling people. In these rooms, I felt straight up like Lindsay Lohan in the modern version of The Parent Trap when they are in the dad’s vineyard in California (don’t judge me for this description, I just want all of y’all to grasp the legit-ness of this place!). After a tour of this part of the bodega, we hopped on board the most precious little train/trolley thing and rode throughout the rest of it, stopping to look at the area of the winery where they make the brandy and to watch a mini movie over the history of Tio Pepe. One of the places we stopped was another room full of – you guessed it – barrels, but this one had been signed by all of the important people that had visited in the vineyard, ranging in guests from Chelsea Clinton to Manolete, a famous Spanish bullfighter. Yet best of all were the barrels there signed by 1) Steven Spielberg 2) Winston Churchill and 3) STINKING PICASSO!!! I even got my picture made by that talented little man’s handiwork. So legit. After our tour was over, we got to try two of good ol’ Tio Pepe’s wines, one of which was a dry one and one of which was a sweet one. From this experience, I can tell you what I learned – wine is not my favorite beverage of choice. Phew! It was so strong I think I could have had a gushing wound and it would have cleaned it up so nicely the skin would have healed instantaneously. It was some STROOONG junk.

Another bonus about the winery was the fact that, for once, not everyone was staring at the little Americans as we did all of our various activities. Why is this, you ask? Because this random group of older adults was walking around, dressed in outfits like the one the Tio Pepe mascot wears in all of those advertisements I love so much. Now, when I say a group of older people, I sincerely mean a GROUP. A big ol’ honkin group. Easily over 50 people. All wearing about the same outfit – black pants, white shirt, and a black vest with a red hat. Yeah, it was something else. And they thought they were too. At the wine tasting at the end of our tour, those folks put DOWN some of that wine. They are avid Tio Pepe supporters. Once they had gotten even more ‘loosened’ up, we asked where they were from, expecting some far away city that they admired Tio Pepe from and were just really excited for this trip that they had waited for forever to take. So, when we received our answer, we were quite shocked to find out that they were from JEREZ. For those of you not keeping track, that’s the poopin city we were in! Ridonkulous. How hilarious. A group of older people just chilling at home one day decided to put on ridiculous outfits, walk down the road, and cause a scene at the local winery. Hahaha. How awesome. I admire them greatly.

After our visit to the winery had sadly come to an end, the group headed to get some lunch at a restaurant where we found this ballin deal for bread, a beverage, two courses, and dessert for 10 euro. Folks, that can’t be beat in this country. We enjoyed some Coca Lites, paella, tortilla, and natilla for about 3 hours – meals take quite a while here – and just enjoyed spending time with one another. And the best part of spending time together is that with our group, being together always leads to hysterical laughter. We just rock like that.

Monday snapped us back to reality with class, but at least we got an exciting treat that afternoon with another salsa lesson with our favorite little rolly polly of a body Spanish man. After sweating profusely once again, we headed to Café de Indias, one of our favorite spots in the city to get great food and drinks, WiFi (they see Weee Feee over here, it’s so precious), and best of all, AIR CONDITIONING. We studied for our exams the next day (well, they studied, I uploaded pictures of Carmona and Jerez to Facebook – what else is new, me on Facebook). Since I didn’t exactly use my time wisely in the afternoon, the rest of the night I spent seriously brushing up on all of my Spanish history and pop culture for my weekly tests the next day – how fun.

Tuesday after class, a group of us went to the floating bar, a bar that, you guessed it, floats on the river. It was SO PRETTY. We just sat around, talked, and enjoyed the cool breeze (which is so stinking rare here). After our precious little afternoon out and about, a group of us girls went to get ice cream – a tradition over here these days – and then went into a few little shops in downtown to waste time before dinner. It was a wonderful, chill evening that just made me appreciate my city and my friends so much more! After dinner, Whit and I headed out to meet up with the group and we went out and about throughout the city for quite a few hours. I can’t believe we stayed up as late as we did, but we promised ourselves we would do it at least once. Folks over here don’t sleep, so we thought we’d give it a shot too. It all worked out and was well worth it, because in the end, it turned out to be one of the most fun nights of the whole trip. And that’s saying a LOT. The best part of it was, as Whitney and I were walking home delirious with exhaustion, she sees something blowing in the wind down the road. She takes off after it, catches it, and then squeals – it was a 10 euro bill! We couldn’t believe it! What luck she had! The sweet thing offered to split it with me too. So then, we are continuing to walk down the road, and next thing you know, now I see some moolah flying down the road in the wind. After trying to stomp on it several times unsuccessfully due to my lack of coordination, I finally caught a hold of it, assured it would be another 10 euro. Nope. What do you think it was? …… Ok. Ready for the answer? Hold your chair. IT WAS FIFTY FREAKING EUROS!!! How does that happen? Oh wait, I know, JESUS!!! And His absolute everlasting provision. So, between the two of us, we each got 30 euros just walking home on our night out. Halleluuuuuujer!!! Thank you, Sweet Lord!

Wednesday, yet again, was another great yet chill day. All afternoon Whitney and I worked on our essays until dinner and then after we headed out to meet the group at Cervecería 100 Montaditos, a chain tapas bar type-thing that has a special deal on Wednesday nights where everything they have is only 1 euro. We all know I’m not going to miss out on a bargain! I got a dessert montadito (which means little sandwich) with a chocolate bar melted inside of it and almonds sprinkled on top. Kinda like the Spanish version of a Hershey bar with almonds stuck inside a biscuit, more or less. After we scoured up our comida and received a shout out to the “Americanas” over the intercom in the bar, we headed to another place that our BALLIN professor recommended to us in class. We went to another local bar to try their fruit wines, the flavors of which were strawberry or orange. Both flavors were pretty good, but if you thought about either of them too much, they ended up tasting like cough syrup. But it was still nice, fun, and cultured, made us feel like swanky, swanky Europeans, and made our professor proud. If only it were that simple back in America to make a professor proud.

Thursday afternoon we had our dreaded Sevillana classes, the type of flamenco that is specific to Sevilla. These classes very well could be a lot of fun if our little instructor lady had a bit more of her wits about her, but each lesson is always an adventure. She will teach us a move to one set of counts and then count it differently each time we dance it with the music. Always provides for quite the bit of comic relief. This past lesson, I had the honor of being our teacher’s partner. Want to talk about some pressure? I was feeling the heat. And so was she. Heat from anger. Cause I just am not the natural at Sevillana. Maybe one day, maybe one day. After our joyous class, we went on an excursion with Diego to see this photography show about life in Nicaragua. It was breathtaking. That artist, whoever he was/is, is really gifted. Such beautiful yet sad photos about the way that life has been over there in the past 16 years. We took our time appreciating each photo before we left and then started meandering through the center. During our journey, we came across another art exhibition, but this time it was for jewelry. We perused through the place in a few minutes, and then were back on the street headed to get, you guessed it, ice cream. However, as we were walking in the middle of the road, Diego suddenly stops and just stares off into space. We are all thinking, oh man, he’s finally lost it. Ha. Chistes, D, if you are reading this. But finally he speaks, and he asks us if we want to go see the store where Manuel’s sister works (Manuel is the TA on the trip if you’ve forgotten). I’m pretty sure you are hearing the word ‘store’ and chalking it up as some little chick boutique or something, but no no. It was WAY more intense than that! The store was named Pedro Algaba, named after the precious yet slightly strange man that is the artist and owner. What is he the artist of, you wonder? No big deal. NBD at all. No, he’s simply just the only custom maker of torero – bull fighter – outfits in all of the world that has a shop that is open to the public. People, it was LEGIT. Manuel’s sister is probably one of the coolest and prettiest people ever, and she works in such a BALLIN shop. She’s even so sweet that she let us take pictures with the torero outfits that you aren’t even supposed to touch. She also gave us a first hand look at all of the weapons and capes that the toreros use to fight and kill the bulls during the bull fights. Neatest of all, as we were in the store being shell-shocked Americans, in walk two toreros. They stood in the store for about 20 minutes and picked out the best red capote for each of them to tease the poor precious bulls with. It was so awesome. We stood in the store for over forty minutes, simply enraptured by what Manuel’s sister and good ol Pedro had to tell us about the world of bull-fighting, and both of them have a wealth of knowledge for sure. Such a blessing!

After our little lesson in the world of animal killing (slight chiste), we continued on our journey to get ice cream and then killed time before we met up with some of our group to get tapas at a really well-known restaurant in the center of the city. As we were walking around the heart of Sevilla, very far away from our humble abode with our madre Lina, we look over and spy with our little eyes a MASSIVE and incredibly dark black cloud looming over the sky. A beast that comes in rare form over here in España during the summer. So, caught without an umbrella or anything, Whitney and I dashed from store to store hoping for the rain to pass before we met up with the group, which, thanks be to God, it eventually did and we were able to find our sweet people, each some great tapas of almond-glazed chicken and stuffed eggplant, and then head home for a night to prepare for our impending journey to Lagos!!

People, just wait til you hear about Lagos. It will blow your mind. I would like to go back… umm… RIGHT now. But alas, that will have to wait until at least tomorrow, because I am delirious with sleep exhaustion and I’m not really sure what I’m writing anymore at this point. But slowly and surely I am catching up to current dates of adventures in this little humble blog! Who’s proud!?!?

LAGOS TO COME SOON. Over and out my loves. Sweet dreams, peaches and cream, you’re my queen, sunshine beams.

I'm baaaaaaaaaack!

Oh well hello there all my precious ones.

Yayyyyyyyy for Spain. Yay, yay, yay, yay, YAY for Spain. That’s about as perfect of an introduction as I can have for this precious country. Especially for the precious people that are here on this trip with me and the precious little things that we do all of the time. Gosh, God sure did bless the world when He gave us the people that are on this trip and the beautiful country of Spain! So basically, if you can’t tell, I really stinkin love it here.

This past week has flown by faster than Ricky Bobby in his Wonder Bread Race Car. At the same time though, it feels as if it has been light years since we were in Barcelona, and that was only last weekend. Time is a whole different concept to grasp over here in Spain.

The last time I wrote to you, all of my amazing followers who for some reason love me enough to read my random thoughts and happenings over here across the ocean, I was headed out to go to a bull fight. Well, people, now I can officially say that I have been to an authentic Spanish bull fight. When I will return is the question of the day, however. It was quite the experience to say the least. Just being in the arena was exciting enough, with all of the beautiful yellow and red stucco-y stuff making me feel like a straight up Spaniard. After another one of our many photo shoots, the ceremonies began. First came out a parade of horses, on which were riding the ‘referees’ of the fight I guess you could say, as these were the ones that stabbed the bulls in the back to get them weak so that the humans could win. If you ask me, it’s a bit ridiculous to call it a bull ‘fight’, when it’s obvious who is going to win. If you stabbed anybody in the back mercilessly several times, you’d more than surely take them down. And take them down haaard too. Kinda like the fate these poor bulls experience in a bull fight. After the mean pokey people riding their horses left, out came all of the toreros, or bull fighters. Yet best of all was the torera that was there – yeah, that’s right, a chick bull fighter! And get this – the girl is only 19 years old! Insane in the membrane. No way I could ever handle that. When I was nineteen (granted that was only a year ago and conditions today are no different), I didn’t even know how to cook a meal, much less slaughter a bull in front of thousands of people. So anywho, the chick and the other hombres came out and presented themselves, and then the bloodbath began. There were three toreros for the six bulls, so basically, each torero got 2 bulls each and fought the first one in the first half and the second one, yep you guessed it, in the second half. The first bull was a SHOCK. In some aspects what happened was just like I had guessed it would be, and in others, it was contrary to everything I had pictured. It was crazy to me how much they manipulated and toyed with the bull, and like I said before, you’d have to have some pretty terrible luck to not win the bull fight. First, they drug the bull before they even come out to the arena, then stab them from the horse, then stab them with six banderillas, and finally , after all of this, the torero comes in and finishes the bull off. And he/she stabs them with a big sword and then watches the bull collapse to the ground, go rigid, and then a team of cleaning people would come out, hitch the bull to their carriage, and then drag it out and clean up the sand. Then, the next torero would come out and do it all over again. As sad as this is to say, by the sixth bull, you are quite desensitized to the whole process. The sweat, the blood, and the loss of life just becomes routine and you almost find yourself encouraging it to progress even faster so that you can go home and eat dinner. Which often times might be bull meat. Yummmm. Appetizing. So appetizing, in fact, that over half of our group left when the fight was only halfway over. It was definitely eye-opening, and at least we all agreed on that much!

Monday was a lot calmer than our chaotic weekend. After class, several of us headed to an air-conditioned coffee shop (what a treat over here, especially considering our houses don’t even have air conditioning!!!) where we talked, enjoyed each other’s company, and studied for our exams the next day. Yet an excursion to a coffee shop is not anything exotic for me, as most of you know. So, to throw a curveball into my normal pattern of life, I went and played, for the first time in my whole 20 years of life… FUTBOL (this is soccer for you not-so-European-minded individuals)!!!! I donned my new neon pink Lionel Messi jersey and headed out with most of our group to the Spanish Intramural fields to whoop some athletic tail. However, as most of you can guess, I kicked my own tail seeing as how I am not athletic with anything involving a ball at ALL. I got picked last and had no clue what I was doing, got pulled out after 10 minutes to be substituted, but man oh man, did I have a blast!!! It was so much fun. I wasn’t the only one that struggled either, although I was mighty terrible. Perhaps the two worst highlights from the game where when Whitney kicked herself in the head with the ball and when I missed the ball during the last play of the game FIVE TIMES. Yeah, us roommates are the best at sports, but hey, at least we have a TON of fun! Our directors Diego and Manuel, both of them Spaniards, got so intense into the game and were really legit, so I just left them alone and let them do their thing while I transformed by old football cheers into futbol cheers on the sidelines. Who says I’m good for nothing at sporting events???

Tuesday was another chill day for us Americanos. After siesta (God bless siestas), we all headed back to the institute where we have class to take sevillano lessons. Sevillano is the type of flamenco unique to the area of Sevilla. They were fun, but they were harddddd. And our little instructor lady probably didn’t make it as fun as it could have been. So yeah, even though now we have a little bit of basic knowledge on Sevillano, I don’t think any of us are looking to further than knowledge in our next class this upcoming week. To treat ourselves right after such an intense class that we forced ourselves to power through, a group of us headed to get ice cream and slushies to refresh not only our bodies but our souls too. My soul was particularly refreshed with my cheap yet legit kiwi slushie – hallelujah for cheap cold things. We all made plans to meet back up later that night, and when we did we just simply went and sat in a plaza beside La Catedral and La Giralda, gazed up at the beautiful buildings and night sky, and got to know each other with great conversation and big hugs. Man, I love it here.

Wednesday was another great day. After lunch, Whitney and I headed out to a park where we sipped pineapple juice and read all afternoon. It was a much needed respite to our incredibly busy schedule over here. We read on these precious benches in a park, and like my typical narcoleptic self, I was soon passed out asleep on the bench with my book on top of me. The best part of the story is how I wake up. The sound that awakens me from my slumber in the great outdoors isn’t the singing of a bird or the rushing of the water in the fountain – no, my noise was the grunts of a homeless man asking if he could have some of my pineapple juice. I was so out of it from just having woken up, I simply said, “Si, zumo (Yes, juice), grabbed my things, and bolted. Oops. Oi vay. That bench I was sleeping on was probably his home. What a terrible person I am. After I left the man and his house alone but with my juice in tow, Whitney and I headed to meet the group and go to the Museo de las Bellas Artes with Diego. It was nice with some mildly interesting things, but the two best things about it were that it was a free activity to see all of the group and that it was air conditioned. Even still, most of us only went to the museum so that we could go to the famous churro stand with Diego afterwards for chocolate con churros. Churros are basically fried sticks of flour similar to a funnel cake but not as good in my opinion. There is no sugar or cinnamon or any other kind of flavoring on the churros, so to make up for their ‘lack’ of calories, the Spanish dump them into cups of warm chocolate syrup. I’m quite the chocolate connoisseur and don’t turn down any kind of sweets, but even I have to say that I don’t think I ‘ll be getting churros again any time soon. I’d rather stick to my ice cream or my kiwi slushie from the other day – cuz it be mo cheapah and mo bettah.

Now Thursday, oh my, Thursday was a GREAT day as well. That morning, Whitney and I got up super early (which was super unfortunate but super worth it in the long run) to meet up with some of the other people in our group and go see Corpus Christi, a religious ceremony that is very famous in España but especially Sevilla. The celebration is a big deal that all of the town shuts down for to celebrate the life of Jesus Christ in the Catholic Church. We got there early, took some photos in front of the model of Jesus that they parade up and down through the streets and then made a pit stop at the best place in the world for my favorite drink. Yes people, we stopped at Starbucks, and I am darn proud of it. I sipped my fancy café as we watched the processional march on. Corpus Christi is basically centered around a parade in which all of the churches of Sevilla participate in and carry their flag to represent them. Spontaneously dispersed throughout it are relics of saints that the people truly equal them in worth and respect. The end of the parade is culminated with the relic of Jesus, but we didn’t get to see him being carried down the road in action because we had to leave early to get to class in time. If you miss a class over here, you are automatically suspended from the program. How much would that suck??? But yeah, Corpus Christi was pretty legit, and we got awesome pics standing in front of a very Middle Eastern Jesus, which made me proud, because being the son of Joseph and Mary would not have made Him Caucasian. Just saying. Rep the real history, Sevilla. Bien hecho.

In the afternoon, we had probably the best activity we’ve had all trip, at least as far as planned ones go. Despite the ridiculous hour of 5 PM in the middle of the hottest hours of the day, we had… SALSA LESSONS at the school! Holy cow people, they were the jam. And I mean fresh jam, without preservatives kind of jam. We tore that junk up! We had a ball and swapped partners constantly so it kept the flow going along right nicely. Our instructor was this tiny little Spanish man that was so teensy and precious, and man, could he move his body! I’ve never seen anybody move the way he could move, and he’s a short male!!! Incredible. And not only is he talented himself, you know he is talented in patience if he can stand to teach uncoordinated Americans how to salsa. After we salsa-ed, we all pretty much thought we were the bomb dot coms so we headed out to get a little snacky snack to reward ourselves for all of our sweat and hard work, to both of which there was a LOT. After our great success at a hot new Spanish dance, we figured hey, why not branch out from our normal snack of ice cream or postres and try something local? So we did. And we tried one of the most local things you can imagine. Caracoles – aka, snails. So, we went in a bar that had them and ordered them, not quite sure what to expect. When they came out, they came hot and fresh, with out 50 snails boiled in their shells in a small bowl with a toothpick to dig them out to eat them. Needless to say, I was a bit apprehensive at first, especially when I saw the HEAD and the ANTENNAE of the darn things still attached. But after a few pre-game photos and a deep breath, I took the bait and chomped down on the little slimy things. And you know what? They weren’t too shabby. With the aid of my dear friend Francesca that I can just about to convince to eat anything, we quickly put down all of our snails before any of the other people finished their food. And, just when you thought that snails were the grossest thing we could have ordered, I tell you this. A guy, Collin, ordered some tapa that was the special of the day even though he had no idea what it was. As a result, once we consumed the funky textured and funky looking delicacy, he went home to check and sure enough, he had eaten a big, warm bowl-ful of cow stomach and intestine. Yummmmmm.

And then, to top off the whole week of wonderfulness, came Friday. Sweet, precious Friday. After a late-night hang out session that our group had had the night before in a random playground in Sevilla, an EPIC siesta was much needed that afternoon before we met up with the group to do a walking tour of the Barrio de Macarena, in the northern border of the city. Let me just say, when they say ‘northern border’, they ain’t playin. It’s across the stinkin world. So we walked and we walked and we walked some more (but what else is new) until we got to where the city formerly ended and saw the Puerta de Macarena and the old wall that contained the city. Then we went inside the museum and saw all of the coronation things for the queen and the random relics and float type things that they use during Corpus Christi and Semana Santa. And boy, they must have to find some men that are HOSSES to carry those things around, cause they are some HUGE chunks of gold! After we took pictures pretending to be queens, we went to yet again do what we do best – get desserts. After some delicious postres, we went to have the most American meal we have had in a month – TEX MEX! By the grace of God, sweet Caroline (bum bum bum) had spotted in small blue neon letters this Tex Mex restaurant near the Cathedral in the center of the city, and it was LEGIT. I got a sketchy Spanish hamburger – pretty stinking awesome. And we had some GREAT juice concoction for only 1 euro. Yes please. Bargain shopper in all areas of my life.

Okay, so here comes the good information. After dinner, we all headed down to hang out around the river before we went with one of the guys to this one certain bar that he really wanted to go to. What kind of bar? One guess… THAT’S RIGHT! It was a poopin GAY BAR! People, I highly recommend them, at least if you are a straight girl. Cause you can dance and dance and dance some more, and it SHO don’t matter, cause don’t nobody in that room want you! And people over here LOVE American music, so we sang our lungs out to the songs we love and miss oh so dearly. We even got the pleasure of watching a drag show, which was quite the thrill. Two people in our group, Jack and Yatri, got called up TO THE STAGE, and she/him/it/shim - whatever you call the performer at one of those things – gave them a HARD TIME. Please enjoy those videos later on when I post them. You will die. But, it was all worth it when the Drag Queen gave us her awesome rendition of “Halo” by Beyonce. Oh yes. I lost it. It was wonderful. It’s recorded as well. You will be able to hear my delicious singing voice in the background.

Another highlight of the night at the gay bar was the approximately 70-year-old homosexual grandpa that was there. At first, he was dancing around, being his cute little old man self, so we thought, hey, what’s the harm? He only likes boys and we’re a quarter of his age. So, we begin to dance with him, and at first it’s precious. But then he gets a little touchy. And then he grabs my butt. So then I politely SPRINT away and hide on stage behind the boys. Well, maybe that was a bad idea, because then his attention got turned to the boys. And so he grabbed them. Tried his absolute hardest to get them to come to the floor and dance with him. But the poor straight guys of our group were a little weirded out to say the least. Especially Collin, because soon after he denied the poor old man, grandpa got feisty and decided to not take no for an answer and grabbed the poor fella by his neck. Collin got the scare of his life last Friday to say the least. And his joys weren’t over, because from the stage the drag queen called him out about his ‘beauty’. Gotta love gay bars. I know I sure do now.

So yes, more or less, I am a week behind on blogging. Pathetic? Yes yes. I know. But somehow I will catch up soon. So much happens that it’s impossible to document all of these funny moments. They just rock too darn much. My fingers might fall off if I did this more. But I will fill you all in shortly. Because last weekend and this week ROCKED, and this weekend will rock even more, because… WE’RE GOING TO LAGOS, PORTUGAL!!! WHooooo HOOOOOoooo!!!

Last Weekend Blew My Face Off. And That's a Good Thing.

Holy guacamole, Batman. It’s only been a couple of days since I wrote the last time, and already SO MUCH HAS HAPPENED. Which is SUCH a blessing, but also is SUCH curse, because that means this thing will be forever long again. And all of your eyes will hate me for reading such an intense novel. But I promise, life in Spain is just TOO DARN GOOD to not document every detail of it.

Last Thursday was like a Friday to us because we didn’t have class on Friday – hooooorayyyyy. So Thursday night, a group of 11 of us packed our bags for the weekend and headed to the airport to fly to … BARCELONA. From the moment that Whitney and I stepped out of our house, it was an adventure. After first finding our way to the train station, finding the correct bus stop there to get to the airport, and then actually catching the bus to the airport, we felt as if we were on a roll and doing GREAT with our punctuality, because typically, we fail at being on time. However, not only were we punctual at the airport, we were REALLY punctual. Our madre told us it would take an hour to get to the airport, and it really only took like 15 minutes. Therefore, the group of us was FOUR HOURS EARLY for our 10:45 flight to Barcelona. Now, maybe in the Atlanta airport you could entertain yourself for that long, but we’re talking the Sevila airport here. There ain’t much going on there. And, unlike the great ATL, you can’t check in for a flight ahead of time. Instead, you wait until the name of your flight pops up on the screen. So, we sat in the lobby for a few hours and waited for our precious flight. Lo and behold, eventually the name of it does come up, so we go and stand in line for them to collect our passes. We wait and we wait and we wait some more, only to realize once one of us makes it up to the counter, that we’re in the wrong line. And the other line has been open the whole time. With no people in it. Oh, let the games of the Barcelona weekend begin.

So eventually after going through the proper line, the group of us headed through security, which we were able to get through various liquids that faaaaaaar outweighed the 3 oz. rule, one of which included Whitney’s pepper spray. So if by any chance you are ever in the Sevilla airport and don’t feel safe, it’s probably because you’re not. Just a little heads up for ya. Once we snuck our contraband in, we head to our gate for our flight to Gerona. Why Gerona, you ask? Yes, you are correct. We were in fact traveling to Barcelona, but the airline we took (Ryanair) is quite ghetto and doesn’t have an airport in Barcelona that it can fly into. Therefore, we had to take the 2 hour plane ride to Gerona and then from there catch the bus that drives the one hour from Gerona to Barcelona.

So, when we approach our ghetto gate, we read that our flight has been delayed. No big deal, right? Wrong. As we sat there, just chilling and hanging out waiting on the flight, one of the girls in our group, Paige, runs into her hermano, the son of her madre for the summer. He, being the rebellious Ryanair employee that he is, pulls Paige over to the side and whispers sweet-nothings in her ear. What are they of, you ask? Oh you know, he just tells her that the French have gone on STRIKE and that the delay is going to be pretty stinking intense. So intense, in fact, that at 10:45, the time that our flight was supposed to take off from Sevilla, it still hadn’t even left the city it was in before!!! With all of the extra time on our hands, we used our optimistic natures to make the best of the situation. And by best, I mean we all put our nerdy caps on and classified EVERY member of our study abroad group and our directors into the different Harry Potter Houses at Hogwarts. Be proud – yours truly made it into the best house of them all – Gryffindor!! We took this activity so seriously that we all voted on the different character traits of each person to get a majority rules decision on which house they best exemplified. We’re hardcore, our study abroad group. God bless America.

Eventually, at 1 AM, after being in the airport for over 6 hours, our plane arrived and took off for Gerona – hallelujah. When we arrived in Gerona, we made a mad dash to the bus, rode the hour and a half to Barcelona, and then got a sketchy, sketchy cab ride to the middle of nowhere before we asked a precious little Spanish popo how the heck to get to our hotel, which was no where close to where the home-skillet cab driver dropped us off. Imagine. As we walked through a few less than comforting looking streets, we couldn’t help but laugh hysterically. This was the epitome of a European vacation. Carefully thought out but completely against everything we had planned on. We arrived at our sketchy looking hostel (which looked EXACTLY like the one in Just Married – rest in peace, Brittany Murphy) and tucked in for the night. Or should I say morning. Seeing as how it was, oh you know, 5:45 IN THE MORNING before we finally rolled over in our beds and turned out the light. Yah. Que triste.

A mere four hours later, we woke up to begin our day of intense sightseeing around the city. Conveniently for breakfast, there was a little café that had coffee and other breakfast foods. We bolted inside, and to our immense joy, what did we behold on the menu? STINKING WAFFLES AND PANCAKES. Spain is great, but they SHO ain’t got enough waffles. When there is a lack of all things waffle, including Waffle House, I have a problem. But luckily Bready, the best café ever, solved that problem with their delicious banana-nut-honey-ice cream waffle with clumps of sugar dispersed throughout. Yeah, be jealous. It was pretty much the jam. So after my heavenly food and cup of needed joe, we headed out to explore of all of Gaudi’s architecture throughout the city. Call me ignorant, but prior to this trip, I had had no poopin clue who that man was. But man, was he talented! His buildings literally look like something out of a fairy tale. Our first stop to admire was El Parque Guell, an amazing and immense park designed by him over a century ago. It was beautiful, and of course, with any beautiful place, we took lots of pictures, which will be sure to be uploaded soon. Best of all the park, we encountered a tucked away little gem that we would have NEVER expected to find. Drum roll please… down these stone steps, we found, to our shock and awe, THE LOCATION FOR THE FINAL RUNWAY SHOW FOR AMERICA’S NEXT TOP MODEL: SEASON 7. Please just imagine our elation. We went nuts, absolutely nuts. And, as absolutely appropriate, we had ourselves our own little fashion show and photo shoot Tyra style. Those pictures are AWESOME. Fierce like Tyra baby. After our glamour shots at Parque Guell (and the HOURS we spent exploring it), we headed to La Segrada Familia (which they are STILL building and have been since the 1800s) and afterwards walked back by all of his hotels and gawked at Gaudi’s ingenuity some more. It truly is insane the things that Gaudi thought to create. From looking like sand castles to make-believe palaces, his work is just unreal and truly does take you to another world. And the best part of it was, we didn’t have to spend a single CENTIMO to see any of it. Hallelujah for cheap activities.

Despite how awesome Gaudi was, the joy of the day came later that night. We decided to hit up IceBarcelona, one of the three bars in the world. What is an ice bar, you ask? Oh, no big deal, just a bar that is completely made of ice. And boy, let me tell you, it was straight UP made of nothing but ice! The tables, the cups, the chairs, the decorations, heck, even the bar – ICE. Most of you know I HATE being cold with a passion, but this was so worth it. It was one of the coolest things I’ve ever experienced (get it, coolest??? I know, I know, I = cheesy). When we walked it, the temperature was at negative 13 degrees Celsius, and by the time we left, it was even colder than that. When we arrived, they gave us parkas and massive gloves to keep our poor little Georgian bodies warm. We donned our apparel and headed in and had a BLAST, but after about 30 minutes, our bodies were pre-hypothermic and we HAD to make an escape.

Overnight in our sketchy hostel (owned by one incredibly sweet lady and one grouchy old man), our bodies had time to recuperate for the next day. We got up, put on our comfy shoes, and started our journey – of shoppingggggggg, God’s gift to women. All day long, we meandered through store, after store, after store, and made some pretty darn good and cheap buys along the way. God sho did bless me with the ability to find and appreciate a good sale. All day long we walked, shopped, ate, and walked some more until it was time to go get dinner, for which a group of us girls found a delicious Chinese restaurant with four courses for 8,45 Euros. Now people, especially those of you that have been to the incredibly expensive land of Europe, this is a STEAL. So we loaded up on carbs there, headed to the market and bought local, fresh fruit smoothies for one Euro, and then started the hike to find this fountain that Yatri had been talking about all weekend. We walked and we walked and we walked some more until we finally found it. And boy, was it ever worth the hike – and all of the sketchiness. It was incredible. In fact, it was one of those blow your face off moments. Cause seriously, it was mind boggling. When we walked up, we could hear the rush of water. Better yet, when we rounded the corner, it was other worldly. The most beautiful patterns of changing colors, lights, water pressure, water designs, and music that accompanied all of this. Every so many minutes, there would be another coordinated show with a melody of a certain genre of music to go along with the insane lights and water. And, don’t you fret, because as Spain loves American music so much, there was DEFINITELY an American section, to which we all danced and sang obnoxiously. Such a beautiful moment!

After the Aurora-Borealis-like light show, we walked halfway back to our hostel and killed some time at a café and had coffee and desserts until 1 AM. Why so late, you ask? Oh you, only because we had to stay up ALL NIGHT and not sleep. We had kept our things in the lobby of our hostel, because we couldn’t pay for another night but also couldn’t tote our belongings all over the not-safest-city of Barcelona. We went back to the hostel where we got our stuff and met some wonderful and caring individuals from Georgia Tech (fancy that, NICE people actually going to that school! Only kidding… slightly), and then caught the metro to the bus station. We arrived at the bus station super early and waited there for an hour, but it was much better to be early rather than late and panicked and evil to one another. At 3:45, we got on a BALLING double-decker bus to drive the hour to our airport in Reus (God bless sketchy Ryan Air). I can’t even describe how cool that double-decker bus was. I felt just like Harry Potter riding on the Knight Bus in Book 3. Yep, I went there. I seem to always involve Harry Potter. Maybe that’s a bad thing to you, but in my world, you can never have enough.

At the ridiculous hour of 5:30 AM, we arrived at the Reus airport and waited to board our 6:45 AM flight back to Sevilla. We got back in the city at 8:15 and rode the bus to our house, which we arrived at at 9 AM, and after breakfast and showering (using all of those liquids we didn’t even try to attempt to sneak on the plane to get ourselves clean from our never-ending journey, we finally went to bed at 10 AM. Alas, we didn’t sleep for long, as later on that night, we went to… A BULL FIGHT!!!

But you don’t get to hear about that yet. Cause this thing is already 4 pages on a Word document. I’ll save that for my next one when I recap this week. Which is sad to say, that will be soon, because it’s already Thursday. Ahhh where is this summer going??? Can I please stay here longer?? Please??? Please?????? Oi vay. Me encanta España!