Robby's Eurotrip

The Rich Yankee With A Car

2009-07-29T19:47:00.000-04:00

Even though Magdalena told me yesterday that we were going back into Madrid today, plans must have changed, because today we sat around on the computer until six o’ clock and then went into town. Alvaro stayed at the house because he wanted to finish repairing his dirt bike so Carlos and I went together to meet our friends. We met Paula, Kris, Julio, and (a new) Bea. Like usual we didn’t do anything in particular, just walk around from plaza to plaza to sit and talk for a little while and then move on to the next spot. Because Marta and Alvaro (the ones who know English the best) were not there I was all one my own to translate everything, and I did a pretty good job. They talked slow-ish for me and I was able to understand nearly everything they were saying, which felt great! The girls asked me questions about translations and how to pronounce words in English. They had a really hard time understanding what “hang out with your friends” means, and I tried to explain it the best I could. After five minutes of Spanglish they finally understood. When I told them that I missed driving my car everyone looked up and was very impressed. “You have a car? You must have lots of money, then!” my awestruck friends said. In Spain, the only people with cars are adults with a good job. This is because gas here is so expensive and the bus system so cheap and effective. Owning a car for driving around a small town and certainly a teenager owning one is viewed as an extreme luxury here, and I don’t think they believed me when I told them that most American teenagers have their own car.

We then went into a general store and I was able to tell the owner that I only had ninety cents and asked what I ice cream I could buy, and he understood me fine. Today was without a doubt, my best day speaking Spanish. After two hours Alvaro must have finished the dirt bike because he showed up around eight. We went to Miguel’s house to get him after Alvaro got there, but his brother said Miguel was taking a late siesta so he couldn’t come out, but he’d tell him we were looking for him.

We then went down to a local playground where we sat on the swings and chatted a little bit more until ten o’ clock when it got dark and we had to go home. On the way to the bus stop Miguel caught up with us so we were able to talk with him for a few minutes. We the bus arrived, I shook hands with my amigos and kissed my amigas good bye. When we arrived home I played on the computer for a little while and then had dinner at the usual time of eleven. Like usual, we stayed in the salon listening to rock music and playing the computer until three a.m. then retired for the night.

Madrid (I Can't Think Of A Clever Title Today)

2009-07-29T05:55:00.001-04:00

This morning I was woken up by the maid’s crying baby in the room next to me at eleven o’ clock so I decided it was time to get up anyways and went up for breakfast. I followed my usual routine of getting my juice box, milk and cereal, and then turning on some upbeat music from my iPod touch. As I was eating my cereal I decided to find out what kind of milk I have been drinking since I got here (the box was in Spanish) and pulled out my iPod touch to punch in the words in the iTranslate app. I was grossed out when I discovered that it was skim milk and didn’t want to finish my cereal (I guess it makes sense that they drink skim; after eating so much other food during the day). After breakfast I went downstairs to read The Economist online for a while until Magdalena came in and told me and Alvaro to get ready to go into Madrid.

After half an hour of showering and brushing hair and teeth we were ready so Alvaro, Magdalena, and I left the house for Madrid. The car ride was about forty five minutes and the whole way Alvaro bickered with his mother; I couldn’t tell the specifics but I got the impression that he didn’t want to go into Madrid.

The first sight in Madrid I saw was one of the four gates to the city. In Roman times, Madrid was surrounded by walls which had four gates (north, south, east, and west) and this was one of them. Once Madrid grew and the threat from a barbarian diminished, the walls were torn down but the gates were left standing. The one we saw was a replication of the Arc d’ Triumph. We stopped at a large park in Madrid that is popular with the young people because it is so close to University City (the major universities of Madrid are located there). In the park we saw lots of people in their bikinis laying in the grass trying to get a tan (because Madrid is so far from any beaches, everyone tans in the city parks) and an ancient church brought to Madrid from Egypt. After strolling around the park for a few minutes we left for the next stop, The Royal Palace. On the way, Magdalena went into a sandwich shop and got everyone two sandwiches (in the US that would be lunch, but in Spain this was a small appetizer to hold you over until lunch). The beautiful Royal Palace was built of stone and was very large, and had magnificent gardens behind it which are considered the most beautiful place in Madrid (it is also where Pepe and Magdalena took their wedding pictures). After looking at the Royal Palace we went next door to look at the Royal Cathedral. The Royal Cathedral, like almost every other elaborate cathedral in Spain, had beautiful paintings, sculptures, and frescos depicting Jesus and his apostles. The unique thing about this church; however, is that it was completed a mere hundred years ago unlike most of the other grand churches of Europe that are hundreds of years old.

Alvaro was complaining because he was tired and wanted to go back (I think he was annoyed at me because his parents treat me better than they treat him) but brushed of the complaints and took me to some shops so I could buy gifts. After just a few minutes of gift shopping, we got in the car a headed for Pepe’s restaurant. On the way, Magdalena pointed out the congress building, the Real Madrid fountain (they go to this fountain every time they win a game), Franco’s palace, and most famous street in Madrid. She explained that when she was a little girl she used to live in Madrid and this street was known as the nicest and most exclusive. But, about twenty years ago when Spain opened up the border for immigration, all sorts of poor immigrants from Africa (Morocco in particular) and Latin America poured into Spain and this street became a lot of their new homes. That is why now the streets are very dangerous at night and no young woman in her right mind would walk down there alone. For this reason and the fact that they are simply not as used to it as we are, the average Spaniard does not like immigration into their country and separates themselves from the immigrants.

When we arrived in Pepe’s restaurant the waiters immediately greeted us and put us in a nice table. After palm pressing some other Rotarians sitting at a different table, Pepe came to our table and greeted us. He remembered that I told him a few days ago I had never been in a kitchen of a restaurant, so told me to follow him to the back room. I was surprised when I saw that the kitchen was a very cramped little room in the back with three cooks and waiters constantly running in and out. Judging by way the rest of the restaurant looked, I was expecting a state of the art kitchen with stainless steal burners and checkered tiles everywhere, but this was certainly not the case.

I wasn’t that hungry to begin with after eating the two sandwiches Magdalena bought me in Madrid, but after the two appetizers (tappas), two entrées, cider, and two deserts I was all but stuffed. I swear they had to role me out, but damn that food was good.

Food, Sex, and Rock n' Roll

2009-07-25T07:17:00.001-04:00

I’m starting to get tired of the fiestas, I think. After last night of more heavy, head-banging rock at a local rock concert ‘till three, I have made an observation about the Spanish teenager’s life. It is all about food, sex, and rock n’ roll. Yesterday was very uneventful (which was why I didn’t write an entry) as all we did was go down to the park and talk about the big news, which was someone had hung himself off of the bell tower in the church (maybe he wanted to be closer to God when he went out; maybe not). Then today we lounged around the house like we usually do until five thirty and then ran to the bus stop to catch the bus into town. When we got into town, we headed down to Gordo’s house to hang out with him for a little while. We somehow managed to fit Mario, Dario, Jose, Julio, Gordo, Alvaro, Carlos, Miguel, and me in his tiny 16x16 room and watched stupid YouTube videos just like kids in the US do. After an hour of that, we departed for the bus stop to take the next bus to one of the neighboring pueblos where the rock concert they’ve been telling me about is. It was about an hour bus ride, and they entire time they chatted about Real Madrid’s players and the NBA national championships (which I was surprised to learn that they follow). I would drift in and out of the conversation because I was hard to understand what they were saying, but they would bring me back in every few minutes by asking me questions about my favorite sports teams back at home and about “football Americano”.

On the ride over I was hoping that this concert would be lighter rock or something you dance to, which is the kind of music I like. But when the bus dropped us off in front of the park where the concert was going to be, I knew this would not be the case. I had a bad feeling in my stomach when everyone in the park (besides me) was wearing black t-shirts, had either Mohawks or dreadlocks (or both), dog collars around their arms and necks, and the majority of the people wearing black lipstick. On the plus side, though, I quickly learned the lyrics to the hot new song People Equal Shit. “People equal shit! People equal shit! F*** the world!” What talent these musicians have.

The noises started coming from the stage at around eight thirty and went on long after we left at around two thirty. The entire time, Alvaro and most of his buddies were in the front row of the concert, close enough to feel the sweat flying off of the rocker’s dreadlocks as he banged his head up and down to the explosion of sound he produced. What a performance. Every couple songs they would drag me to the front row with them but I would sneak out to the outside of the horde of rockers partly because the music was so loud it gave me a terrible headache, partly because I was afraid of getting punched in the face when a mosh pit formed (for those of you that aren’t rock n’ rollers, a mosh pit is a group of people, usually in the middle of a big crowd, that start shoving each other around for fun because the music gets especially good), and partly because I felt very claustrophobic being packed shoulder to should next to the middle-aged Mohawks.

As I was sitting on the outside of the crowd, two of my friends were walking out of the crowd so I ran to catch up with them. It was Julio and Miguel and they told me they were walking down to the bus stop to check the bus schedule and said I could come if I wanted to. I would do anything to get out of here, so I gladly accepted. On the way we talked about life in America and said they wanted to come visit me next year. As we were taking about America I told them that I had the biggest craving for a cheeseburger so they offered to help me find a fast food place (which do exist in Spain, but are far less frequent than in the US. For example there is only one fast food restaurant in this entire town). “Yankee Man wants a cheeseburger, the Yankee Man gets a cheeseburger!” they proclaimed. Every few blocks they would stop to ask a local where a McDonalds was, but after walking up and down the streets for half an hour we cut our losses and went into a local diner. One of the reasons why I wanted a cheeseburger is because that is all I could afford with the two euros I had. But at the diner I think my friends took piety on me and bought me a whole dinner. When my friends told the owner I was American, he was very pleased to hear that and offered me advice on what was the best to eat and gave me a free drink.

Unfortunately good things never last, and my friends wanted to get back to the concert. So I finished my food, thanked the owner, and left. Back at the concert I was able to hang in the back and watch all the drunks stumble by until we left at two. I was really glad to be getting out of there. Magdalena and Pepe picked us up in the Mercedes and we got home around three thirty and I went strait to bed.

There's Gold In Them Hills

2009-07-23T07:31:00.000-04:00

After breakfast at noon this morning and (trying to look like I was) reading the paper we headed out for lunch almost immediately. After eating breakfast I was in no mood to eat a big lunch two hours later, but didn’t want to act rude so I kindly accepted the mammoth lunch. I had two whole plates of rice and thought I might just explode if I had to eat anything else, but it turns out the rice was just an appetizer and five minutes after finishing my rice and new plate of ham was placed in front of me. How do they eat all of this? I strategically cut the ham into many pieces with fat attached to them and hid other pieces under my salad so it looked as if had eaten ham. That’s what I call American ingenuity. I shocked the entire table when I turned down desert for the first time since I have been in Spain, but there was no way in the world I could fit anything more in my stomach. After lunch (and four hours after everyone woke up) it was siesta time again and everyone headed home for a yet another snooze.

After everyone had taken their siesta and watched TV it was around nine o’ clock and time to leave so we said our goodbyes to Pepe’s parents and thanked them very much for everything. On our way out we stopped for gas and snacks and then hit the road. On the way back I noticed that we were driving through open plains which were somewhat of a desert and every few miles we would pass a cluster of solar panels. I asked Pepe why there were so many of these plants in the middle of nowhere and he explained that in addition to the many wind mills I see on top of the mountains, all of these solar power plants make Spain one of the countries to utilize renewable energy the most. The government gives subsidies to people and companies who utilize two of Spain’s most abundant resources, sunlight and wind, and turn them into renewable energy. By doing so, the government has spurred the economy by creating a large industry focused off of clean energy (the largest clean power company in the world is based in Spain) and been able to reduce the dependence of foreign oil with nearly 50% of energy in Spain coming from clean sources. For all of the clean sources the government does promote, they have outlawed all forms of nuclear in Spain because “it is very dangerous.” The fact that the government has so aggressively promoted clean energy but not allowed nuclear energy baffles me. It has been thirty years since the last and only nuclear disaster, and technological safeguards have increased leaps and bounds since then. Also if they are so keen on reducing oil’s stranglehold effectively I am surprised to hear that they wouldn’t even consider nuclear power, especially when their northern neighbor has all but embraced it, with 60% of French power originating from nuclear plants. The fact that any country is moving forward towards renewable energy is great, but I question what cost this is to the balance sheets and the overall economy; I doubt that the wealth from the “industries created” outweighs the drain placed on the economy (which is currently in dire straights as unemployment is at massive scales) from the subsidies. I commend the Spanish for the steps toward energy independence and can tell it is a subject of national pride, but I am not convinced that the “Spanish Way” towards energy is the right way.

Good To Get In The Atlantic Again

2009-07-23T07:30:00.000-04:00

I woke up on my own at ten this morning, which has almost never happened while I have been here in Spain. Alvaro wanted to go back to sleep, so he stayed at the house while Pepe, Magdalena, and I went out exploring. First we stopped at the same coffee shop that Pepe has been going to for sixteen years. They bought me a nice glass of OJ and a pastry while they sipped their coffee and read the paper. After coffee, we headed out on the open road again, this time to more cliffs and a local beach. The cliffs were very pretty and once again we took lots of pictures. This cliff also had a lighthouse which was very pretty too, and we stopped in the bar at the bottom of the lighthouse and got drinks again. The cliffs here are very dramatic and the water is crystal clear at the bottom of them which makes the whole scene very picturesque. Driving back down from the cliffs we stopped at a local beach where Magdalena and I walked on the shore for a bit while Pepe stayed in the car. You could tell Magdalena didn’t grow up around a beach because when I spotted a beautiful piece of sea glass she saw it and wanted to throw it away, thinking it was trash.

Driving back, we talked about America and the differences between her and Spain. They also told me about news of the new push in Afghanistan. The Spanish people (or at least the ones not supporting the current president) support the war efforts in Iraq and Afghanistan and are unhappy with their government for pulling out their troops from Iraq. Because they too were affected by Al Quida during the 2004 bombings in Madrid, they want to go fight in those wars. As we were talking about the wars and America, I felt an overwhelming since of pride for my country and all of the things she has been through. For as great as Europe is, I realized that I miss America very much and that is truly the best country on earth. Cue the Star Spangled Banner and lower the American flag, because at that moment I wanted to stand up with my hand over my heart and belt out, “Oh, say can you see?” But luckily for the rest of the occupants in the car, that urge passed quickly.

When we got home, it was near one o’ clock and Pepe received a call from the Assistant District Governor of Rotary inviting him and his wife out to lunch, so he and Magdalena got dressed up and left. While they went out, Alvaro and I stayed back with his grandparents and had our own lunch. He says that his grandmother “likes fat boys” and now I know why. All throughout lunch his sweet grandmother would keep putting more and more food on our plates and wouldn’t stop until I told her five or six times “No, gracias.” After lunch everyone went into the TV room and watched a rerun of a Manchester United game and then Spanish news. I was able to finish Winning while Alvaro and his grandfather watched some Spanish soap while his grandmother slept.

At around five Alvaro and I walked down to the public beach near our house. The weather here is sunny one day and rainy the next two days so the beach is very crowded on the sunny days like today. Because we are in the North Atlantic, the sea water here is a little colder than we are used to at home, but with the sun it wasn’t that bad so I went swimming and did some laps for a little while. After swimming, I laid in the sun to warm up a bit and made an astute observation about European beaches. There were a few topless women there but they covered themselves with their towels so that aspect wasn’t too different than the American beaches; what was different was the amount of topless and fully naked little girls. In America it is acceptable for babies and toddlers to go on the beach naked but when they become children they need wear a bathing suit. This does not hold true here, as there were a lot of naked little girls and the ones who weren’t fully naked wore bottoms but no top.

After we were tired of the beach we headed home to take showers and get ready for dinner. Pepe and Magdalena came back from lunch at seven o’ clock and all of us watched TV and talked until we left for dinner at nine. We went out to Pepe’s favorite restaurant in Asturias where they stuffed me with rice, soup, cheese, and beef and by the time desert came I barely had room for desert. When I was brushing teeth later that night I noticed that my belly was bigger than before. It makes sense though, they eat way more food than we do per meal and they have more meals a day then we do. I would say my calorie intake has doubled if not tripled since I’ve been here. On top of all the food they eat, they don’t do much – scratch that, any – exercise here, and now it’s very easy to understand why almost all the men have very large waistlines here.

Not Quite A Hamburger

2009-07-23T07:29:00.000-04:00

What time is it? I reached for my watch in the pitch black room to discover that it was one thirty in the afternoon. Wow, I have never slept this late in my life. I guess the Spanish life is a hard one. I walked out of my room, covering the light from my face until my eyes adjusted, and found all the adults. They told me to take a shower and to get ready to go to lunch. I got Alvaro out of bed and then got ready to leave. When we walked outside we were greeted by a barrage of sunlight, a gentle wind, and the sounds of the sea hitting the shore. This is more like it. Our party strolled down the ocean front road to a restaurant that over looked the Atlantic and decided that this was the place.

For lunch I had a type of soup that had full crawfish (shell and all), clam, and other sea critters in it that made it smell (and taste) more like sea water than soup. They ordered a big plate of lamb and Alvaro, his grandfather, and I shared that. The lamb was delicious and the fries on the side tasted great and reminded me of home. And for desert, I had my favorite Spanish desert, natillas (I have got to find them somewhere when I go home; they’re just too good!).

After lunch the grandparents went back and we walked down the boardwalk and saw the main beach. I can’t wait ‘till we go there tomorrow, because I am just itching to get back in the Atlantic. After looking at the beach for a while (sorry, but there was no topless women this time) we walked a little farther down to the town’s main church. The church is right on the water, has palm trees dotting the outside, and is very pretty inside. As pretty as the gold wall paintings of Jesus were, I am ashamed to say that all of these beautiful European churches are starting to look the same.

We walked back to the house, taking pictures of the sea along the way. We got back inside and Pepe declared that it was siesta time so everyone else went back into their bedrooms to sleep. I think I was the only one aware that we woke up just three hours ago and that was four in the afternoon. But no body seemed to care, and the house needed no help getting to sleep. I admittedly, was sleepy too, but I still couldn’t force myself to sleep so I stayed up playing minesweeper in a dark bedroom. These Spanish sure do a lot of hard work. Not. But I think it’s a life easy to get used to.

After the siesta, Pepe came into our room to wake us up and told us to get ready because we were going out. I threw on some jeans and a polo and we were out the door. Pepe drove us to the top of one of the cliffs bordering the sea when he explained that this cliff was one of the few places in Spain that had defenses built for World War II. Sure enough, there was an old bunker at the peak overlooking the water. I have never heard of Spain being involved in WWII and they couldn’t explain it to me very well, so I’m still confused on why that bunker was there. But the bunker was not the reason for going to that cliff, the reason for going was what was behind the bunker. The old bunker overlooked one of the most breathtaking vistas I have ever seen in my life. Next to the bunker was a large monument built for Spain’s soldiers. Behind that the grassy slope extended down at a near 15 degree angle for nearly three hundred yards. When the slope leveled out the bottom was a flat grassy spot where we were able to take pictures of the cliffs in front of us plunging a hundred and fifty feet into the Atlantic Ocean. We spent some time there taking pictures of the dramatic cliffs and then left.

We went back to the next town, which is the second largest in Asturias (Oviedo is the largest) and has well over one hundred thousand people. The part of town where we were was right on the water in a large cove bordered by brightly colored condos so it looked like a mix of South Beach and Rio. We walked up and down the water front road and stopped at a hamburger bar on the way. I was looking forward to the typical American cheeseburger, but this was not the case. A hamburger in Spain literally means a hamburger. My burger had ham, natural beef, and some kind of sauce I was not expecting. Also, hamburgers are expected to be eaten with a hotdog (which is not put on a bun like we are used to, but stuck in long piece bread with only one hole on top for the condiments) but after just finishing the gigantic hamburger I was in no mood to eat an equally large hotdog, and instead gave it to Alvaro, who readily ate it.

After burgers we walked down on the beach for just a brief moment so I could feel the water (which was a little colder than we are used to) and then headed back home. At home we picked up Bully, the bulldog, and headed for our next destination. We went to an old fisherman’s bar right on the sea where Pepe ordered us apple cider and squid. They taught me how to pour the cider into a glass while holding the bottle next to your head (you are supposed to do that because it makes the cider taste better). We had fun talking and I told them stories about Florida. After drinks we walked home and went to bed.

Unexpected House Guests

2009-07-23T07:25:00.000-04:00

This morning was uneventful as all I did was play video games with Carlos, Alvaro, and the other two friends that spent the night. Literally the guys sat in front of the computer and PlayStation and played video games the entire day. I can only do that for so long until I get incredibly bored, so I stopped playing around four o’ clock and decided to read my book, Winning. At around six, Magdalena came in and told me pack my bags because we were leaving for Asturias in an hour. They had told me all about Asturias before, explaining that it was in North Spain on the beach and was very relaxing and Pepe that loved it very much, which was why they bought a house there. So I went into my bedroom and threw a bathing suit and two polos in the little bag they gave me and brought it up by the door to show that I was ready. About half an hour later Alvaro came down stairs and told me “Take out your bag. Ehhh, no Asturias now. Ehhh my father.” Needless to say I was a little confused. So I brought my bag down and set up my laptop again. Everyone kept playing video games until Magdalena came into the room again at eleven and told us that we were leaving after all. The other guys (who had now been at Alvaro’s house for more than 24 hours) saved their games and came upstairs to get a ride into town. Apparently Sergio and Carlos were staying home and the only people going to Asturias was me, Alvaro, Pepe, Magdalena, and the bulldog, Bully. After we dropped off the friends into town we drove to get dinner before we got onto the road. By the time we got to the restaurant it was midnight and I would have rather slept than ate, but like the rest of the family I went to the restaurant. At dinner Pepe was telling me stories all about his parents and making fun of Magdalena’s parents, calling them monsters. We had a fun conversation, laughing about Pepe’s brother who, they freely told me, is always sleeping with all sorts of woman. (I am learning that sex is not such a sensitive topic here as it is in the US) But at the end of the conversation something special happened. We were talking about all the cool places to visit in Spain when Pepe told me we wouldn’t be going to La Costa del Sol this time, but then he told me if I wanted to come back next year I was invited to come stay with them again and we would go visit it then. This is really great, I thought to myself. I was very honored that they asked me to come back, and very happy to have that opportunity.

When we got back on the road I went out like a light, falling asleep immediately. When I opened my eyes again, what felt like ten minutes really turned out to be five hours, and before I knew it we were pulling into the garage of the apartment. Me and Alvaro got the bags and went upstairs first. It was five in the morning but still very dark, so he fumbled around with the keys for a minute until he could open the door. As I stepped inside, something didn’t feel right. I looked around the dark house and could tell that there was definitely something inside that didn’t add up. There was a hat hanging up by the door, an umbrella leaning against the wall, and papers scattered on the coffee table. The place looked much too lived in for a summer home. Just at that moment, a little old lady emerged from a bedroom door. “Alvaro!” A man dressed in a green bathrobe followed suit, “Alvaro!”

It all makes since now, this isn’t their summer house, its their grandparents’ house. Which would explain the stories at dinner of Pepe’s parents. The once quiet and dark house had become filled with lights and sounds. Alvaro introduced me to his grandmother (who has snow white hair, is as sweet as can be, and walks with a limp so she leans on you when she walks) and then to his grandfather (who is stern, but also very thoughtful). I was surprised when I tried to shake his grandfather’s hand but instead he kissed me on the cheeks. I have still got to get the whole kissing thing down, but I think you are supposed to kiss women and family members on the cheek when greeting them. Even though Alvaro and I had slept in the car most of the way, everyone was pretty tired and we went to bed shortly after. Before I went to bed, I prayed for my friend, Caroline Fields, who is doing the Rotary Exchange for a year in India and today was her first day there and she told me it is really hard adjusting. I can imagine. And the next thing I knew I was staring at the back of my eyelids.

Becoming One of Them

2009-07-19T07:04:00.001-04:00

Good morning, sunshine. It was yet again another sunny day in Madrid. I am usually the first one up in the house, and today was no different, so I am used to going upstairs and eating alone. I am also used to Carlos and Alvaro immerging from their room and Sergio following suit a few minutes later. But my equilibrium was thrown off today when Carlos and Alvaro came out for breakfast and then Sergio came out of his room and went to the breakfast table too – with his girlfriend. I wonder what they did last night. Yesterday Rebecca, who is sixteen, was over for nearly the entire day from noon until (what I thought to be) late last night, and for nearly the entire time Sergio, who is eighteen, and her sat on their respective laptops next to each other and played the online game World of Warcraft for hours on end. What I find is the strangest about the whole situation is that both of their parents were okay with it. At around midnight, Rebecca called her mom and pleaded with her about something (which in retrospect I know she was asking permission to spend the night) and her mother finally agreed. Also Magdalena was in on it; she came down last night to say goodnight to everyone, including Rebecca. It still blows my mind that their parents approved it. In the US if an eighteen year old boy sleeps with a sixteen year old girl then its called statutory rape. I know these type of things happen all over, but not in their own house with the parents’ seal of approval. This reminds me of a conversation I had with a man on the cruise ship a few weeks ago. We met the man at dinner, and he introduced himself and told us he was from Spain after I had mentioned the exchange. A little later on in the conversation, Spain’s politics came up and he raved on about the incompetence of the current president. He also told us that because of the president, there are no child protection laws like we have in the US. Also, girls of any age can get an abortion without their parent’s knowledge. This might explain the rational of letting Rebecca spend the night. I know it would never happen at home.

Like usual I called my mom and dad via Skype and we chatted for a little while. I was very pleased when my mom told me that my AP scores had come in the mail. Now if you don’t mind I am going to toot my own horn for a second. AP tests are scored on a 1 to 5 basis, with 1 being the worst and 5 being the best. It is generally accepted that a 3 on an AP test shows that the student understood the subject well and he or she will obtain college credit for that course. The average test score is a 2 or 3 and it is very rare to see 4s and 5s, I think there was a total of seven kids out of the hundred and fifty kids who took the course last year and scored a 5. This year I am part of that select few who scored a 5 in history. So I am pretty happy.

After doing a little victory dance over the 5, I video chatted my friend Ryan and we worked on drafting a new constitution for our club that we run, The Teenage Republicans. But that can only retain you interest for so long, and luckily I was rescued from boredom when all over our amigos came over at six o’ clock. By this time the sun was still out but the house made the entire pool shady, so it was pretty cool. Two brave souls jumped into the pool and a few more were pushed in, but for the most part everyone just hung out together in the backyard. It was a lot of fun and I think their friends are really starting to like me. Two of the guys spent the night and everyone stayed up until three o’ clock playing PlayStation and guitar. The guys also made me a Twenti, which is the equivalent to a Spanish Facebook. I think this is the most evidence that I am starting to fit in and almost become one of them. I added all of my new friends to my Twenti account and they all accepted me very fast and wrote me messages welcoming me to Twenti.

Next Stop, Central Park

2009-07-18T08:34:00.000-04:00

Every day I am becoming more and more Spanish. Today I woke up at eleven! After listening to my iPod in bed for a little while, I started the daily ritual of trudging up the stairs to the dining room where Carina, the maid, had breakfast prepared for me (it’s really easy to get used to that). Then, the entire house did what I thought before to be a profoundly American thing – nothing. Magdalena and Pepe watched TV and all of the kids retreated downstairs where everyone had their laptops plugged into the internet ports in the wall. The floor was covered with black, blue, and white wires that connected us to nearly every computer in the world but at the same time isolated from each other by putting every person if his own world. I typed this blog and chatted with friends until five thirty when we abruptly had to leave the house and run down the street to catch the bus. I don’t think that the Spanish have learned time management skills yet.

The bus dropped us off in front of the town cathedral, which is right next to Julio’s apartment so we decided to pay him a visit. His grandmother mother let us inside and brought us to his room. The small room was crammed with all sorts of rock and roll things including a few guitars, an amp, and a life size poster of Ozzy Osbourne. Another friend that I had met two nights ago, Gordo (which means “fat” in Spanish), was also there. All five of us sat on the bed and watched TV while Julio played on his guitar. About forty five minutes later Kris and a girl I also met two nights ago, Karol, showed up in the small room. Five people in the room was uncomfortable, but seven was just too much. Everyone was shoulder to shoulder and the room was getting really hot, so we decided to head outside. We walked down to Paula’s house to call her name and waited for her to come outside and join us. Once we met up with her we walked down to the corner store to meet to new people that I had not met yet, and by this time I was beginning to wonder how many more teens are in this small town.

At the store I met a guy named Miguel and a girl named Marta. I am beginning to become known as the “Yankee Man” among our friends, so when I first met Miguel he said, “Yankee Man! Great to meet you, Robby.” Marta told me that her mother is French and her father is Spanish and he translates Spanish to English, so she is fluent in Spanish, French, and English. When I heard this I was really happy that I could have a real conversation again. Woo hoo! By this time we had gathered what was a small heard of teens walking down the street. We went to, as Marta explained it the “Central Park of the town”, where we played cards, hung out in the grass, and took pictures. All of their friends walking by would stop by to say hello and to meet the Yankee Man. My English and attempts at Spanish have been a big hit among the girls, who love to teach me how to say things in Spanish and ask me questions about English. I had a great time being with everyone; I can feel that they are starting to accept me more as a normal friend. Alvaro, Carlos and I left at the usual time of ten o’ clock and took the bus home. On the walk from the bus stop to the house, Carlos and Alvaro were chattering back and forth in Spanish when an almost scary thought hit me. I think I want to do the long term Rotary exchange and live in another country for a whole year. This was scary because I wasn’t thinking this from the comfort of my living room back at home; I was thinking this from across the Atlantic Ocean in Spain. I know that I live a great life and I am thoroughly convinced that Vero Beach is the best place on earth. But after spending nearly a month away from home and living in Spain for two weeks already, I am going to be sad to leave my new friends and wish I could stay longer. I guess I’ll have to see how long these feelings last, and if they’re still strong when I get home consider the year program. But I’m not making any promises. Yet.

No Pictures In The Tomb!

2009-07-17T10:12:00.001-04:00

Today I got up at my usual Spanish wake up time of eleven o’ clock and headed up for breakfast. After breakfast and reading The Economist online for an hour, Magdalena came down stairs and told me and Alvaro to get ready to leave, we were going to look at some of the monuments of Madrid. At 12:30 Pepe, Magdalena, Alvaro, and I left the house in their shinning S class Mercedes and departed for the outskirts of Madrid. Our first stop was Monasterio del Escorial. It is a very large stone structure that has statues and Jesus and The Virgin all over its walls. The top on the ceiling in the courtyard is adorned with a gold leaf picture of The Last Supper. The monastery is the largest of its kind in Madrid and was the work of the king Philippe II.

Philippe II, Pepe explained, was the son of Carlos V. Philippe II was well liked and built many well known structures in Madrid, but the most famous and revered Spanish king was without a doubt his father. Carlos V, The Imperatdoro as he is known here, controlled much of Europe and brought glory to Spain. His parents, the also famous Isabella and Ferdinand, commissioned Columbus to sail the seas for Spain; because of this, by the time Carlos V ruled, Spain controlled nearly all of the New World. Through diplomacy and military action, Carlos was also able to win control of The Kingdom of Sicily, Southern Italy, The Netherlands, and The Holy Roman Empire (which comprised much of modern day Germany). Even though this is not widely known outside of Spain, Pepe says, Carlos V is loved here for his accomplishments and even has a special club in his honor that survives today, The Order of Carlos V, with many famous members such as George Bush.

After learning about Carlos V we left the monastery and traveled on a ten minute to the top of a nearby mountain. This mountain is famous because it has a perfect vantage point of the valley bellow and the monastery in it, so Philippe II would sit here and watch as his monastery was being built. They took me to the top of the mountain where this is the cut in the rocks where Philippe II’s chair was placed. We marveled at the beautiful vista for ten minutes and took pictures of everyone and then were off again.

We drove deeper into the valley until we reached the gates of some type of state park. Pepe paid the admission and we drove on through the wooded valley. It was not until we drove over a bridge and I could see the mountain tops did I know where we were going. I top of the mountain was an enormous cross about sixty feet tall over looking the valley. I remembered Magdalena telling me the first day that the cross marks Francesco Franco’s tomb. As we continued up the mountain and got close to the base of the cross, Pepe turned off the loud radio and everyone started to talk softly. The base of the cross is Franco’s actual tomb in a large church inside of the mountain; that is where the visitors go. On our way up the steps to the main plaza Magdalena explained to me some of Franco’s history.

The war which lasted from 1936 to 1939 was a war between the Republicans (communists) and the Nationalists (those of wanted a dictatorship), Francesco Franco was the leader of the Nationalists and would later become dictator after he won the war. The war was very bloody and cost over a million lives, and an especially bloody battle for both sides happened in the valley where we were. Franco’s forces won the battle and captured many POWs. Instead of sending them to prison or killing them, Franco forced all of the POWs to construct the massive cross over to the valley to form as a reminder for those who lost their lives. The US helped the Nationalists defeat the communists by giving Franco money (which is why most people in Spain still like Americans today). Later, Franco and his forces would go on to win the civil war and he would become dictator of Spain. When Franco was dictator he restored some freedoms lost under the communists and brought much prosperity to Spain. Upon his death, Franco appointed a king and queen of Spain and made an elected body, transitioning Spain into a constitutional monarchy. Right after his death the endearing Spanish people built a lavish tomb at the base of the cross he had built years ago, and that’s where we were going.

The entrance to the tomb looks like a smaller St. Peter’s Square. On the side of the mountain, columns form a semicircle around the stone plaza in front of the entrance to the tomb. Fifty feet above the entrance to the tomb is the top of the mountain where the sixty foot cross stands. We walked across the large plaza to enter the tomb and went through security when Magdalena told me she was glad to be able come back here. She said the last time she was here was when Franco died and she came to lay flowers on his tomb, but she was just a little girl then. Once we walked into the long hallway I realized that this was no normal tomb. The tomb, which is built into the side of the mountain, has a two hundred yard long hallway which is adorned with countless statues and tapestries depicting Franco’s guardian angles. At the end of the hallway there is a fifteen foot statue of Jesus nailed to the cross with a tomb of one of Spain’s greatest in front of it. Directly behind the cross is a part of the floor that is roped off from people waling on it and had about twenty flowers sitting on top of it; carved into the marble floor was “Francesco Franco”. Magdalena, Pepe, and Alvaro stopped speaking when they saw the tomb and stopped in front of it for a minute. They waited a minute and then crossed themselves and walked away; I awkwardly followed suit and chased after them. Right as we were about the exit the long hall I pulled my camera out of my pocket and was about to take a picture. Just as I held up the camera to my eyes both Alvaro and Magdalena nearly streaked and told me it was forbidden to take pictures of the tomb. I could this was very important to them so I immediately apologized. It is strange that the Spaniards look up to Franco and revere him so much when in my opinion he was a greedy dictator, in the US I’m sure he would be looked down upon; maybe there’s something I don’t see.

The Ultimate Reading Spot

2009-07-16T17:13:00.000-04:00

Because Carlos spent the night at Julio’s house and Sergio was at work with his mom and dad, Alvaro and me had the house to ourselves. I woke up at ten and Carina, the maid, made me a nice breakfast while we conversed in Spanish. After a shower I went down stairs and played around on the computer and talked with my friend Gardner over Skype. After a few hours of wasting time on the computer I decided that it was finally time to do something productive so I went searching the house for a sunny spot to read my school book; my quest ended when I walked into the back yard. Seeing their back yard for the first time almost took my breath away. Behind the three story house is a small swimming pool surrounded by very green grass. Right behind the swimming pool is a small cliff that drops ten feet down to the end of their property. As far as the eye can see behind the swimming pool there is nothing but open land until the edge of the horizon where four of Madrid’s tallest buildings can be spotted. I claimed this beautiful spot as my reading spot, pulled a chair into the shade, and read for the next hour.

At five thirty Alvaro came running out of the house saying, “A hurry please. We need to go. A hurry please.” So I jogged inside and put down my book and then left the house running to keep up with Alvaro. “The bus. It leaves at five and thirty.” It was five thirty seven then. After waiting at the bus stop for ten minutes, hoping the bus was late too, we cut our losses and went back to the house and asked Magdalena to take us to the park where we would meet more of his friends. When we finally arrived at the park, Bea, Kris, Julio, two more people where waiting for us. I met the other guys who I’d never seen before and talked with them. They were the first people to just start talking with me and being friendly right away. Both of them were really outgoing and told me what was going on in the conversations. Everyone walked down to a small green park in the center of town and we played cards in the grass. Because they live in a small suburb of Madrid, they would constantly see friends walking by and they would come over and join us. Two girls who came introduced themselves and were very friendly. When they noticed that I wasn’t talking much during a game of cards, they asked what was wrong and I told them nothing was wrong, I just wasn’t talking much because I don’t know much Spanish. When I told them I was from Florida, their ears perked up immediately. “Florida? What’s it like there? Why are you in Spain?” Finally someone who cared I was an American! I talked with them for a while, both of us trying out our foreign languages on each other. Three more guys came and as I introduced myself I heard a familiar sound coming from their phones. What’s that? It couldn’t be – rap music? Oh but it was! It was so nice to hear something other than super hard rock for a change. We are definitely inviting these guys more places. By its peak, there was about twenty of us playing cards in the park until ten o’ clock when it gets dark. Pepe picked up Alvaro, Carlos, and me and we went back home where we had dinner and went to sleep. Today was great, and I am starting to feel more and more like an actual Spaniard.

Fun in that Spanish sun

2009-07-15T17:31:00.000-04:00

I woke up around nine (which at home is late, but here really early) and because no one else was up, went on a forty minute jog. By that time the sun was out and it was sweltering hot and running up and down the hilly roads made it very easy for me to be drenched in sweat by the time I got back. When I got back the maid made me breakfast, which is very easy to get used to. I then spent the next three hours catching up on my writings and chatting to my friends and family over Skype.

By one in the afternoon everyone was up and Alvaro told me that we were going over to a Bea’s pool at four-thirty. Around four Carlos and I left the house to go catch the bus. Alvaro stayed behind to finish some homework and was coming at six when Sergio got off work. Carlos and I talked about their friends and filled me in on all the latest gossip. Turns out that Alvaro is supposed to ask Bea out today at her house.

On the bus ride over we met up with Julio (from the Slipknot concert). He sat next to us and Carlos and him chattered back and forth of which I could only understand fragments. Another of their friends happened to be on the bus so I got to meet her too.

At Bea’s house, Bea, Kris, Carlos, Julio, and I went into Bea’s bedroom and chatted as they did the Spanish equivalent of Facebook. Once again, at first I was left out of the conversations and because they talked so fast I didn’t know when the proper time was to interject some of the Spanish I know. We then went swimming in the pool. At first I was shy and didn’t go in because they we wrestling I didn’t know if they knew me well enough to do it with me.

Then Alvaro, Sergio, and Rebecca came and it got a lot more fun. We all played keep the ball away from the girls in the pool and then we got out of the pool we chatted in the sun while Julio was smoothly playing the guitar; it was really relaxing. The girls when in and got everyone drinks and snacks while the guys listened to music. After, they taught me a new card game (that is a lot like “Slaps”) and we played that until we left at ten. The whole day was really fun and I fell like I am getting closer with the group, which feels great. As I’m hanging out with everyone I get two conflicting feelings. One side of me is saying that I can’t wait to be home with my friends hanging out, but the other side of me is begging to stay longer so I can become good friends with everyone and really learn Spanish. I don’t know.

Adios to Galicia

2009-07-15T07:04:00.000-04:00

This morning I had a nice American-ish breakfast with (runny) scrambled eggs, corn brand, (not Indian River) orange juice and a doughnut at the hotel’s complementary breakfast. Me and Alvaro sat with his parents and Paco and everyone I think chatted about yesterday’s boat ride. At the end of breakfast we walked to the elevators and said our goodbyes, or adios’ I should say, to Paco. He told me in Spanish that he enjoyed my company and that I should come back to Spain soon.

On the way out of the small parking garage, another older Rotarian had gotten her big Lexus stuck between to columns. It was just like the scene in Austin Powers when he gets the golf cart stuck in-between the two walls so that he can only move about half an inch forward and then half an inch back. When I connected this with the Austin Powers scene I lost control of myself and couldn’t stop laughing. I would turn around and walk away to try to hide my laughs, but when I would come back and see the tiny lady two feet under the steering wheel going back and forth at least a hundred times I would loose it again. Alvaro and Magdalena noticed me laughing and once they saw me they thought it was funny too. The entire ordeal set us back a little over an hour, but after that we hit the road.

The drive back was very nice and on the way Pepe would point out every monument and explain its significance. He told me about the little houses with crosses on top of them outside of their real houses and that they were used to dry meats and cereals; I also learned about the white wine grapes that can only be found in this small part of the world. We stopped for lunch and then drinks on the way and made it back to Madrid at around six o’ clock.

When we got into town, Pepe dropped me and Alvaro off at his friend’s house. There I met two of his girl friends, Bea and (the beautiful) Kris. We met up with Sergio and his girlfriend Rebecca and went to the park. Like everyone else, Bea and Kris were a little awkward around me and didn’t talk to me for a little while but by the end of the night they were fine. We then went on to their “secret spot”, which is on top of a rocky hill that overlooks our city and Madrid’s lights. It was so beautiful and was the first time I wasn’t homesick at all. (I had been thinking of home when I had down time before now). We left the hill and said goodbye and then took a bus home. A night when the main gate to the neighborhood closes we have to walk a little bit farther; we were home by midnight, ate dinner, read The Economist, and then went to bed. Good Day.

The Goodlife in Galicia

2009-07-14T07:34:00.003-04:00

Alvaro’s alarm on his phone woke us up around nine thirty. We showered and changed into causal clothes. All the rotary big-wigs chartered a yacht for all of us to go out into the bay for the afternoon so we departed for the harbor after breakfast. When we got there I shook hands with the Rotarians again and then we departed for the bay.

The yacht took us to the barges moored in the middle of the bay. These stationary barges, the tour guide explained in Spanish, have ropes hanging off of their sides into the sea. Muscles then attach to these ropes and when they fully mature, the ropes are brought up and the muscles farmed. Because there are hundreds of these flat barges moored in the bay, it is no wonder that Galicia is the second largest muscle farm in the world (China has the first). After the tour guide finished talking, the crew brought out a traditional dish of Galicia which is muscles, white wine, and some other type of wine. We ate them for a while (which was delicious) and then we took the muscles above deck and held them in our hands and had the pidgins eat them. Even though most of the Rotarians don’t speak English all we very eager to help me. I guess I must have been well known because people I never met were coming up to me and demonstrating how to eat the muscles or pointing when to throw them to the seagulls. It was a lot of fun and I really enjoyed the day on the boat.

Northern Spain is much different than southern Spain. Therefore when most people think of Spain they think of the hot and arid Southern Spain; Northern Spain in contrast is cool and very rainy. By the time we got off the boat it had started to drizzle again so everyone retreated to their cars. Our car then went to the somewhat famous Baja Soap and Bath Salts Factory where we toured around the soap factory and then the church across the street made completely of shells. Our party then walked over to a hotel comparable to what the Breakers Hotel is to Palm Beach. In this majestic hotel we all went to the opulent dining room for drinks and everyone chatted while overlooking the breathtaking vista of the cliffs hitting the bay. The people there tried their best to translate the conversation but I didn’t understand most of it; I smiled and nodded anyways.

After drinks, everyone walked out of the hotel down the tree lined street touching the bay. The houses on the side of the street not touching the water were large multimillion dollar vacation homes, much like those in Palm Beach. Our picturesque walked ended when we reached the country club. If the houses and hotel weren’t enough evidence to prove I was in an extremely wealthy place, the amount of luxury cars was. We went into the country club and had lunch. For four and a half hours! By the end of lunch I was falling asleep again! I guess this is just a normal thing here. After lunch the director of Spanish Rotary (the most important Rotarian in Spain) came up and shook my hand. “Como estas?” I said to him in the best Spanish I could, but was caught off guard when he responded in perfect English, “I’m quite well, thanks. I’m told you came all the way from Florida, eh?” Elated that someone else was fluent in English, I had about a ten minute conversation with him about my home and what to do in Spain. He told me that I would really love to go to a certain museum. After that, we went over to Pepe and shook his hand, and as I understand it, asked him to take me to this museum.

After lunch was over we went back to our hotel and everyone (but me) took a siesta. I went back on the computer again and called mis padres and facebooked. After that we got dressed and went out to dinner. We met up with the new district governor and their other good friend Paco, who doesn’t speak any English but calls me “his amigo, Robby.” I spoke lots at dinner again and dinner was (luckily) over in two hours.

Next Stop, Galicia

2009-07-14T05:25:00.000-04:00

Magdalena woke me up this morning and told me to pack three days worth of clothes because we were going to Galicia in northern Spain for the weekend. I packed my clothes in duffel bag she gave me and headed upstairs for breakfast. On my way to the dining room I saw Pepe putting on tie in the salon (which is their living room) and went in to say hello. “Y tambien?” he asked me. Perplexed, I stared at him for a minute and he repeated himself. Still not knowing what that meant, Magdalena walking into the room and he said something to her in Spanish. She laughed and told me that Pepe says I don’t know anything about Spanish. I told him I don’t know anything yet and he laughed. He then told me that when someone says y tambien he is asking who you are, so you should say “bien, gracias.” I am beginning to discover that I don’t know as much Spanish as I thought I did.

Once everyone had their bags packed and by the door it was time to go. As we walked out the door I expected to find the small compact car that had picked me up from the airport and instead there was a shinning black Mercedes waiting for us. “La otra coche.” Nice. We packed everything in the trunk and began the six hour car ride to Galicia. Sergio and Carlos didn’t want to come, so it was just Pepe, Magdalena, Alvaro, and me. I slept for a portion of the ride, but when I wasn’t sleeping I listened to the music Pepe was playing, some of which was Spanish opera and some easy American rock.

The ride went by relatively fast and we were in Galicia before I knew it. When we first arrived we stopped for lunch. Like always, they ordered me their favorite traditional food. I think I had some kind of pig-ear soup, lamb, and rice pudding for desert. When we arrived at the hotel it was around six o’ clock and I was ready to go out and do something. Instead, they told me (at first I thought they were joking) that it was siesta time and to go up to the hotel room and take a nap. I wasn’t tired and couldn’t go to bed in the middle of the day, so while Alvaro went to sleep I went down stairs to the lobby and used the free internet. It was the first time I really got to check my facebook since I left home and also got to call my mom and dad. Calling them made me feel a little homesick, but I was really glad to talk to them again. After that I went back up to the room and typed on the laptop until Magdalena knocked on the door at nine and told me we needed to get dressed in our formal clothes and meet in the lobby. Alvaro, who was sleeping until then, got up and got dressed with me. We waited in the lobby for the others to arrive. Pepe and Magdalena came downstairs with a group of other Rotarians, and the schmoozing that followed was exactly like what happens at home. A couple will walk up to Pepe and he will make small talk and then introduce me and Alvaro; they will shake our hands say one or two things and then move on. I think that must be the international procedure.

A new district governor, Alejandro, was being inducted and the dinner we were going to tonight was in hour of him. After the palm pressing had ended, the prcession of well dressed Rotarians began the long march from the hotel to the casino where the dinner was. As we slowly walked down the small streets (we must have looked like a funeral march) the new district governor came up to me and talked to me with his very broken English. He seemed to be very nice and thoughtful and (I think) liked me. At the dinner I felt very underdressed as everyone in the room but Alvaro and I (who were wearing jeans and a polo) was wearing a tailored suit. I came to the most important and Rotary event in Spain wearing tennis shoes. Because we didn’t have a table reserved Alvaro and I had to wait until everyone had sat down to find an open seat. When we sat in the two open seats at a different table from Pepe, he came over to introduce us to our table. “Este es mi hijo, Alvaro, y este es mi Americano, Robby” he said. That means “this is my son, Alvaro, and this is my American, Robby.” Pepe is a very funny man – I think.

We were at the finest restaurant in Galicia and the food was the best. I the table was set with four glasses for each person – one glass for each type of wine. The drinking age is eighteen here, but that is not enforced, so the waiters constantly kept my glasses filled. Two of the men at my table spoke English and told me how to eat some of the strange foods. The dinner seemed to go on forever. By two a.m. I was practically falling asleep at the table (part because I was tired, and part because I was extremely board due to the fact I couldn’t understand any of the conversations going on) and Alvaro said we could go. Yes, that’s right. This is the same dinner that started at nine and the one I had to leave early at two in the morning; who knows how long it went on for. I have made an observation since I have been here. The Spanish way of life is all about relaxing and enjoying it. That is the reason why the have five hour dinners and everyone smokes. It couldn’t be more different than home; in the US life is all about getting things done and accomplishing things. This is going to take to getting used to.

So Much For My Siesta

2009-07-14T05:18:00.000-04:00

I was awakened five hours later by a gentle knock on my bedroom door. Alvaro stuck his head in a told me buenas dias and to come up to his room and he’d give me some clothes to wear. Damn airlines. So I walked up the stairs and took and nice long shower and then he handed me some clothes that I did not expect. Unlike my usual attire, these clothes we were black with flames on them. “Slipknot, remember?” Alvaro said to me. Oh that’s right, that Slipknot concert is today. Slipknot is a super hard, scream-o rock band from the US; I don’t listen to them at home and there is a reason why. I hate that kind of music with a passion, but I did not to want turn down the offer because they bought me a ticket and I wanted to be polite.

When I went up stairs for breakfast, Alvaro was at the table eating something and the maid was cooking eggs. When he saw me Alvaro stood up and showed me to a chair. He was very nice and intruded me to the maid. Breakfast was not a typical American breakfast with milk and cereal or bacon and eggs or fruit like I am used to. On the table were different types of crackers, jam, a box of warm milk, corn brand cereal, eggs with barbeque sauce instead of salt and pepper, and juice boxes. The breakfast surprised me a lot (especially the BBQ eggs!) and I was a little disappointed when I asked if they had any OJ and Alvaro nodded and gave me a juice box.

After breakfast me and the three brothers walked down the street to wait for the bus stop. Because the driving age is eighteen here and gas costs so much (its thirty dollars to fill up at home and seventy here) young people here don’t drive. After waiting a while for the bus to come one of his neighbors picked us up and dropped us of at Alvaro’s friend’s house, Julio. We went up stares to the friend’s apartment and greeted him for the first time. Julio had on similar black clothes that said Slipknot, gelled black hair like a Mohawk, and a nose ring. Do all the kids dress like this? Julio doesn’t speak much English so I think he felt a little awkward and ignored me at first, but later on he opened up and we (tired to) talked to each other. We walked down to another bus stop and waited for the bus to Madrid. The bus ride to Madrid was the first time I got to chat with Alvaro and his brothers, and we talked about what every teenage boy on the planet talks about – girls. They were all nice to me and the hour bus ride went by very fast.
After the bus we got onto the metro which took us to Madrid. We walked to the convention center where the concert was and sat down in the shade. It was ten o clock and the concert didn’t start until nine pm so we had a lot of time. We then went to the back of the convention center where the guys wanted to catch a glimpse of the band members going in the door. We sat out in the hot sun for what had to of been at least three hours and I was getting very board, especially because I didn’t care at all about this band. A little later two more of Alvaro’s friends, Alberto and (I can’t remember his name), walked up and introduced themselves. They were also really nice and talked with me a lot. (I can’t remember his name) was really friendly and talked with me the most of everyone. Later on we walked back to the front of the convention center to get in line. I had a lot of fun playing cards with them there; then (I can’t remember his name) hung back in the shade and chatted with me while the others went into the sunny ticket line until the concert started.

The concert started at nice with the equally bad band Machine Head. A mosh pit formed around our group so we got out of the center of the crowd quick. Then music was loud and obnoxious to say the least and I got a massive headache right away. (I can’t remember his name) had a headache too so we both hung back from the center of the crowd. During the break I met one of Sergio’s friends and his girlfriend who was very sweet and we talked about the differences between Spain and “usa”.

By the time Slipknot came on the room was literally filled with cigarette smoke and the music was louder than ever. Guys with tattoos and piercings were banging their heads to the beat and Alvaro was having a great time. I cannot tell why anyone would listen to that “music” much less like it (going through four hours of it is the closest torture I have ever been) been I glad I went because I got to hang out with Alvaro and his friends before the concert. But I wasn’t disappointed when it ended.

Hola, Me llamo Robby.

2009-07-14T05:13:00.000-04:00

Well I am finally in Spain. I flew in two days ago to Madrid airport to start my new (temporary) Spanish life. On the airplane ride over I sat next to a Spanish boy my age who was just returning from an exchange of his own. He went to boarding school in England so he spoke perfect English when we talked about his exchange. He told me all about it and said that he had a blast and knew I would too, and talking to him made me feel a whole lot less nervous. We also discussed Spanish politics so that I would know something going into Spain. He told me that their current president has done a terrible job and nearly everyone in Spain wants to see him gone. He surprised me whenever he would talk about Spain’s past dictator, Francesco Franco, because he told me that he would much rather have him as a leader now than the republican government; he said that with Franco things were good and people had jobs and lots of money, but now the economy is in shambles and Spain is unhappy. I really enjoyed talking with him and was sad we had to part ways. He offered to tell my family in Spanish that my luggage was lost but I thanked him and told him that wasn’t necessary so shook hands and left.

As I walked outside of the secure area in the airport I didn’t know what to expect. I didn’t know if I would recognize them and really hoped that I wouldn’t do something stupid when we first met. When I went through the doors to the reception area there was about ten people standing in front of me. After studying all of there faces for a minute I recognized the father’s face but no one else’s. I walked over to the boy standing next to the father and somewhat timidly said, “Alvaro?” And all at once the dad and the three people next to him responded, “Are you Robby?” I shook my head yes and immediately smiles lit up on everyone’s face. The boy who I thought was Alvaro turned out to be his little brother, Carlos. He shook my hand and then the real Alvaro came forward to shake my hand and take the bag in my hand. Magdalena, his mother, then came up to me and greeted me in the traditional Spanish way by kissing both of my cheeks. Much to my surprise, she started speaking to me in English and asked how the flight was, I then told her about Air France loosing my luggage and after the third time she understood. Before we waked over to the Air France desk Pepe, the dad, stopped all of us and said to me in broken English, “I do not speak English, and do you, do you speak any Spanish?” I held up fingers to indicate small and said, “Un poco.” He smiled and then laughed and said “Ay ay ay!”
Magdalena was very sweet and took me over to the Air France desk where we discovered that my luggage and still not arrived, but would be in tomorrow; she said she was sorry and asked if I wanted to call my “mommy” now. I told her I would when we got out of the airport and she said ok and then we left. Magdalena was asking me in English how the flight was when Alvaro who was trying to understand said, “tu hablas mas rapido” and then it donned on me. Now I am the foreigner, and now I speak the foreign language in someone else’s country. It is going to be a lot different for me now. On the way out of the airport Pepe stopped in his tracks and pointed to a cigar store and then gave me a big thumbs up. Alvaro said that his dad is the typical Spanish man who loves to spoke and to eat and then as proof pointed to Pepe’s large stomach; Pepe nodded in agreement and we all laughed. It was a great way to break the ice. In the car ride home Pepe smoked a cigar he bought. Because this was their first impression of me, I didn’t want to say anything even though I hate the smell of smoke. On the way we picked up the oldest brother, Sergio, and his girlfriend Rebecca. With all of us crammed in the back of the little car, I shook Sergio’s hand and then stuck my hand out to Rebecca. When I did she looked away immediately and pretended that I hadn’t. Alvaro quickly told me that only men shake hands in Spain and the women kiss you on the cheek. I think Rebecca could tell that I was very embarrassed and she forgave me immediately, laughing it off. I looked around the car to take in the moment. Sergio is tall enough for his head to tough the roof and the car and has long brown hair. He was holding hands with Rebecca who has very straight, long, black hair. Pepe was smoking his Cuban cigar while driving, but all I could see of him was the top of graying hair. The youngest, Carlos, was sitting the next to his dad and playing with the radio. Magdalena was in the passenger seat speaking in Spanish to someone else in the car (I couldn’t tell who over all of the noise); she was wearing big white Tattoo sunglasses and (just like all of the European women) high healed shoes. Sitting to the right of me was Alvaro. He has a similar haircut as me (which explains why I didn’t recognize him – the only photo I had of him was with hair past his shoulders) and was wearing a black T-shirt and really baggy pants. And then there was me, the blonde haired, blue eyed forgeinor sitting on the left side of the car, ready to start his adventure.

Pepe kept telling me that we were going out to dinner in a nearby town and I would like it very much. When we arrived it was dark at I was pleasantly surprised that even though Madrid I boiling hot during the day, at night there is a cool breeze that makes it very comfortable. The town we ate dinner in, Pepe explained, was built in medieval times and had a beautiful cathedral, which we would see after dinner. By now it was past midnight, but no one seemed to think anything of it so all six of us went into the restaurant and sat down at a large table. Like in the US, there was bread on the table but unlike in the US, everyone took a piece of bread and ripped their piece tablecloth, getting crumbs everywhere. Pepe asked me if I wanted a glass of wine but I said no when I discovered no one else was. Alvaro ordered his favorite meal for me and if was very good, even though I have no idea what it was. The dinner was massive and by the time desert rolled around I was completely stuffed, but did not turn down desert (which was also delicious). Afterwords we walked to the cathedral in the center of the small town, Magdalena explained it was gothic style and was built around 1100, then I after marveling at the architecture I asked Magdalena if they were Catholic (which I now regret doing), she looked at me with a surprised look on her face and answered, “Of course. Are you?” Not knowing what to say I fumbled with my words for a second and then told her that I am not Catholic but I respect the Catholic Church very much. She nodded her head and smiled and we walked on to the car.

When we got home it was around two in the morning. Alvaro showed me around the house, which I could tell is very big, and then showed me to my bedroom. Because my room is right next to the maid’s bedroom (they have a maid that lives with them!) we share a bathroom, so I have to shower in Alvaro’s shower. I sent my mom and dad a quick email that I had made it safely and then immediately went to bed around three in the morning. It had been a long day and I was ready for some sleep. My mind was racing for a few minutes, comprehending everything that had happened. I really like my family and I knew one thing was for certain, I am never going to forget this experience.

One Night In Paris...

2009-07-14T05:11:00.002-04:00

Well it’s finally happened. This morning I woke up at seven thirty and walked around Paris for a little while with my mom and then eventually got my sister and grandma and walked them to the metro station and said goodbye; for the first time in my life I am on my own. I very nervous, scared, excited, and cold (Paris is freezing!). I have the day to myself to explore, eat and shop. Where to start? I guess I still haven’t figured out that I am all alone and I can do whatever I want, whenever I want. I still feel like in a few minutes I should go and find my mom and ask her what we’re doing today. It’s so weird! Because the airline lost my luggage for the night I can spend up to 100 euros to buy necessary clothes to get me through the day. Yeah right! I’m going out on a shopping spree, Paris style! I saw a cool Quicksilver shirt (what’s a surf company doing in Paris anyways?) so I think I’ll buy one of those, and the rest I’ll probably spend on polos. Since my hotel room is literally right across the street from the Louve, after shopping I think I will go and spend my day looking at the art there, and of course the Mona Lisa.

Getting into Paris was quite the ordeal. Because of the way the prices worked out, the original plan was for me to take a flight to Paris from Rome alone and then my mom, sister, and grandma would take a flight there an hour later and we would meet up in the airport. Because the cruise ship took so long in getting us off the ship (an hour in line) and the train to the airport was late (forty-five minutes late), I completely missed my flight. When we tired to book this flight over the computer three weeks ago it showed that all other flights were completely full, which meant that I was all but screwed. On the train ride to the airport my mother nervously handed me a more euros and quickly spat out instructions on what to do in nearly every possible situation. “See if you can get on any other flight out. If that doesn’t work book the next one open tomorrow morning. If you have to spend the night here in Rome, find a hotel near the airport; you’ve got the credit card. Actually you might want to stay in a Hostel. Actually, never mind what I just said; take one of the overnight trains from Rome to Paris. Do you have the credit card? Because none of our cell phones work here I don’t know how we’ll contact each other, but we’ll find a way. Actually, call dad when you can and I’ll call your dad when I can and we’ll relay messages through him.” My poor mom was freaking out and I sat there not knowing what to do. I wanted an experience. Needless to say, I was super nervous about what might happen. When we got of the train we ran into the airport, our luggage sporadically following. My mo when up to the ticket counter at Air France and explained to the man our situation and asked if there was anything he could do. The man nodded his head to show that he understood and thought about it for a minute, then he picked up the telephone and talked to it in French for about five minutes. He then smiled at us and said, “You are in luck. I talked to my supervisor and told him your problem. He gave me permission to put your son on your flight. You’re very welcome, Madam.” Disaster narrowly avoided, I love Air France!

We all flew over on the same flight to Paris together which was great. When we arrived I discovered that my luggage hadn’t made it from Paris (almost certinally because of the last minute boarding), but wasn’t too heartbroken when they informed me that I had 100 euros to spend until they got it back to me. I love Air France! Last night we ate dinner at a French café, went to the top of the Eiffel Tower (or Tour Eiffel as the French say), walked to Notre Dame (which is amazing!), and drove next to the Arc d’ Triumph. I’d say it was a pretty good night. And now I’m sitting in my hotel room, writing this. Later on today I fly to Madrid to meet my new family, but that’s later. For now I think I’m going spend that 100 euro and explore the Louve. Au reviour!

A True Roman Ghost Town

2009-07-14T05:11:00.001-04:00

Today is our finial day of the cruise! Our last stop is here in Naples, and then I pack to go to Paris. We actually didn’t see much of the actual city of Naples, just the part of it that was by the port. The city was the dirtiest I have been in so far and smelled disgusting. In Naples’s defense, though, we didn’t go to the nicest parts and never saw the whole of it. Instead, we got on a train and went the Pompeii and spent the day there. Even though I didn’t think much of Naples, I loved Pompeii so much that I would say it was one of my favorite attractions. For those of you that don’t know, Pompeii is the largest site of Roman ruins in the world. Around 100 a.d. Pompeii was the largest and most fashionable vacation home for rich and affluent Romans. Pompeii was a fully functioning Roman city, complete with baths, a forum, and market places. Unbeknown to Pompeii’s citizens, Pompeii was situated at the bottom of an active volcano, which eventually erupted on it. Because the eruption happened so suddenly, the Romans had no where to run, and nearly the entire town died. Because the eruption happened so quickly and ashes, not lava, covered the town, it was preserved in the moment of time right before the eruption. Nearly every building in the town still stands, and lots of them still have the beautiful mosaics and walls painted of their ancient Roman scenes. We explored Pompeii for more than three hours and then headed back to the ship. I would definitely say this was one of my favorite attractions.

The Masterpiece in the Middle of Nowhere

2009-07-14T05:10:00.001-04:00

Going into Palermo I was told that there wasn’t much to do there and that it would be a boring stop. That might prove true for the uneducated traveler; fortunately us, we did a little research. My mom read on a travel website that in a small town adjacent to Palermo there was a stunning church over nine hundred years old. So off we were through Palermo, on another adventure to find this mystery church. The bus stop that would take us to this small town, Montreat, was on the completely opposite side of town so and we walked there, so stopped and shopped on the way and got to enjoy what Palermo had to offer. After waiting for the (late) bus we departed on for the forty minute bus ride to Montreat. Montreat is in the mountains above Palermo so the ride up graced us with beautiful views of the Sicilian city. When we arrived at the church, the outside was nothing spectacular. It was about fifty feet tall, built of stone, and had a small statue of Jesus outside, much like every other church in Europe. When we walked through the entrance there was no one selling any admission tickets. Every spectacular church we had visited so far cost money; the lack of an admission price prepared us for an average church. But when we walked inside our expectations we utterly blown away. The church had ceilings fifty feet high with overbearing frescos of Mary, Jesus, and the apostles. Majestic mosaics that depicted biblical scenes went from the floor to the ceilings were on every wall. A massive gold altar with intricate carvings of saints and crosses was near the far side of the room, and on the wall behind it was the piece de resistance. The wall behind it extended to the highest part of the church, so much so that it created the impression of going into the heavens, and painted on it was the heads of all the apostles looking up to a gigantic painting of Jesus with his arms outstretched. It was truly breathtaking. It is even more impressive to realize that this church was in pristine condition, even though it was over nine hundred years old. In really enjoyed my day at this church and liked it more than every other church I have seen, including the Vatican. This breathtaking church in a tiny, almost unheard of town in Sicily is a grand reminder that anything can be accomplished, especially if God is on your side.

On a Camel Named Ali Babba

2009-07-14T05:09:00.000-04:00

I am getting closer and closer to becoming a world traveler. Today was a very exciting day as I spend it in Tunis, Tunisia. Not only was this my first time in a Muslim country but also my first time visiting Africa, so there was a little bit of a culture shock. The first observation I made was that it is nothing like I pictured it would be. Instead of men walking around dressed in white gowns and turbans and women being fully covered, I saw men dressed in polos and jeans and the women dressed in tank tops. Also, the city was very clean and I never felt threatened by anyone; in fact, there was a smiling police officer on nearly every corner. The people there were very friendly and even though few of them spoke English, whenever we asked them for directions they would put a great deal of effort into trying to answer our question. Once again, not what I expected. Just to be safe, whenever we were asked where we were from we told them Canada (nobody hates Canada, and they couldn’t tell our accent) but now I’m sure that wasn’t necessary. We only had one bad incident when a cab driver there drove us to the wrong spot and was rude, but bad cabbies can be found in any city.

The first thing I spied when we got into the city was six camels sitting lazily on the side of the road. So of course I was instantly drawn to them and before I knew it their owner was offering me a camel ride for ten euro. Who wouldn’t do a camel ride for ten euro? I picked the camel named Ali Babba and took him for a spin. Just like a pony ride back at home, Ali Babba had on a collar and was lead down the street with me on his back by a little boy named Assiam. The ride was enjoyably smooth and very amusing. I still can’t believe I rode a camel! After, I said my last goodbyes to Ali Babba. Even though he acted like he didn’t care that I was leaving, I know he’ll miss me.

After Ali Babba, my mom, my grandma, Aly, and I started walking to some of the ancient ruins of Carthage. You have to remember that even though Tunis is right on the Mediterranean it is also still in the desert. I think the temperature was over 100 degrees with what must have been zero humidity, so we were hot. After walking around for about 45 minutes we still hadn’t found our destination, which was the ruins of Carthage, so we were hot and exhausted. Eventually we took a right off of the main road, and as if by divine intervention (on behalf of Allah, of course), we spotted the ocean which was colored the bluest of blue and looked the most inviting as any body of water could. My grandma and Aly were really tired and didn’t want to walk all the way down to the water, so they stayed at the corner and waited for me and my mom to return. At the water’s edge there were little boys and girls playing in the shallow water, men and teenage girls swimming in the deeper parts, and mothers and grandmothers fully covered waiting on shore. Because this is a Muslim country the women have to show modesty, and the certainly means no bikinis for the women. The water there was so relaxing; the temperature was about eighty degrees at my guess. After our trip to the oasis was over we resumed our quest for Carthage. As you can imagine, there are not many blonde haired people in Carthage, so nearly everyone on the streets glanced up to see the spectacle of three blondes.

We did eventually find the ancient ruins of Carthage, and they were really cool. We saw the ancient baths that the Romans built when they conquered the area and the bits of the actual ancient city of Carthage. I am really glad we found the ruins because I especially got a kick out of them (as many of you know, I’m a major Roman history buff). When it was time to return to the ship and leave Tunis I was very satisfied with my day. On the taxi ride back I marveled at the extensive mosques, camels J, occasional church (I was really surprised that churches were in this Muslim country), roadside bazaars, and the massive portraits of their new president (which sounds to me like a dictator). This was one of the most different places I have ever been in and I certainly enjoyed it.

Spanish in Spain - Finally!

2009-07-14T05:08:00.000-04:00

“Hola de Palma, amigos.” Finally some Spanish people that speak real Spanish! The Spanish island of Palma is east of the cost of Spain in the Mediterranean and, unlike every other European city I’ve been in (excluding Monte Carlo), is very relaxing. Even though you can still hear the sounds of car horns and the buzz of Vespas, it is far less frequent. In Palma they aren’t any designated “sites” that are well known; to experience the island itself is the attraction. My mom and I took a bus to the city center where we found nice local shops selling good clothes at relatively inexpensive prices. We also found our first internet café! J For the first time in two weeks I was able to check my email and get on facebook. I still wonder how I was able to survive that long without it. Unfortunately it was around seven o’clock in Vero when I was on the internet so I didn’t get to talk to any of my friends, but it was great testing out Skype for the first time to hear from my dad.

Because there weren’t as many people touring the island, the cruise ship moved up the departing time an hour. In the mist of extensive shops and touring the beautiful Gothic Cathedral La Seu By The Water, another amazing church, my mom and I lost track of time and before we knew it we had to be on the ship in less than an hour while we were on the other side of town. After a few minutes of nervously walking through the streets to the ship we realized that we were not going to make it, so the nervous walk became a frantic run down the streets as I was carrying the fifteen pound laptop. After consulting with my watch we discovered that even if we ran we still weren’t going to make it back to the ship in time, so we decided that it was time to get a cab. Once we left the small streets and reached a main one (we were still running) we hailed the first cab we saw and jumped in. Our lady cab driver didn’t speak any English so it was up to me to pass on the right information. With vivid hand motions we tried to explain to her that we needed to get to the cruise ship until I finally remembered the word “crusero”. Thankfully she understood and got us to the ship on time. The whole time I was talking to her in Spanish, albeit broken Spanish, but Spanish none the less. I was able to make small talk and ask her where we were, which made me feel full of pride. This was my first real conversation in Spanish and for the most part I could understand what she was saying, which was a major victory for me. Bring it on, Madrid!

International Catastrophe Barely Avoided in Barcelona

2009-07-14T05:05:00.001-04:00

Well if Barcelona is just like Madrid then I think I’m screwed, but luckily that is not the case. Today we spent the day in Barcelona, which was also my first day in Spain. Unlike Nice and France, Barcelona is just plain hot! When we got off the ship we took a shuttle to the city center, which is a massive monument to Columbus (he was born here), and then asked the bus driver for directions to “Les Tres Crosses”. As the name suggests, it is three crosses built on one of the highest hills in the city and is one of Barcelona’s most respected monuments. Our bus driver told us in fairly good English that the best way to get there was to take the metro; so off we went into the streets of Barcelona. By the time we reached Tres Crosses it was 11:30 and hot as hell. One thing that the reader has to know is that Barcelona is not a flat city, quite the opposite. There are hills – no, small mountains – all over the city and if you want to go anywhere on foot you better bring be wearing tennis shoes. The sidewalks have little groves in them to keep you from loosing your balance when climbing it, and in some spots where the road is so steep they have escalators instead of sidewalks for the pedestrians. So when we reached Tres Crosses we were not only freakin hot, but exhausted. After drinking from what seemed like the only free water fountain in Barcelona, we started our decent down the hill to get back to the metro. There were no more water fountains in this part of town but fortunately the metros were air conditioned so we weren’t that hot. No one on our metro car spoken any English, so when we asked for instructions on how to get our next destination, The Sacrade Familia, we just received blank stares. Alright Robby, time to us some of that Espanol you’ve been practicing. “Donde esta la Sacrade Familia? No? You don’t understand. Que Hablas?” Something was not right. The lady I asked responded with a very strange language that almost sounded like Spanish, but with words I’d never heard of. Then it hit me. They weren’t speaking Spanish at all, they were speaking Catalan. Catalan is the language spoken in this region; which also explains why it seems like everyone here talks with a lisp, it’s just their language. The lady who we still could understand was very nice and motioned that she wanted us to follow her. She took us to the next metro station where we had to go, smiled and said good bye (in Catalan). With her help we were able to reach the beautiful Sacrade Familia cathedral. The massive church had intricate cravings of Jesus and the nativity seen on its façade which had taken over two hundred years to do; in fact, the church is still under construction today is it has been for the past three hundred years.

It was getting near seven, which was to time we left port, so we hurried back, and all went well except for one incident. On our last metro ride back, the train was packed full of people. My grandma was tired from all of the walking we were doing so we tired to find her an open chair. After the first stop a chair across the train had opened up once someone had gotten off, so my sister, Aly, raced across the car and sat in the seat, saving it for my grandma. As my grandma walked over to the chair Aly was saving, Aly jokingly said that she wanted the chair and didn’t want to give it up to my grandma. So my grandma, not wanting to make my sister get up, spotted what she thought to be another empty seat and tried to sit in it. I knew what my grandma was looking at; at first I thought it was empty too; but, unfortunately for my grandma, and the little girl sitting close to her mother in that seat, it was not. As my grandma backed up and prepared to sit down in the chair, the little girl, with a terrified look on her face, got even closer to her mom and braced for impact. But as luck would have it, right before my grandma completed the process, she realized that there was in fact a little Spanish girl underneath her bum, and aborted immediately. And that was the highlight of my Barcelona trip.

Lifestyles of the Rich and the Richer. Monaco

2009-07-14T05:04:00.000-04:00

Never in my life have I been surrounded by so much wealth at once. And living in Vero Beach, that is really saying something. This beautiful little country (technically a principality) began about seven hundred years ago as an outpost set up by monks and has grown immensely since then. Due to the wealth generated by its world-renowned casino, the county has no taxes which attracts billionaires and multimillionaires from all over Europe. On the French Riviera, it has become known as a summer playground for the beautiful people; photos of celiberities in this place are always appearing in People Magazine. Even though it is the second smallest county in the world (its land area is about half the size of Central Park in New York), it has the highest population density with condos packed in between the Mediterranean Sea and the mountains where the country ends. Some of this country’s claims to fame are The Tour de France starts there, the Grand Prix goes though its streets, and the famous American actress Grace Kelly married its prince and became Princess Grace. Do you know where I am yet? And the answer is…… Monaco.
We spent the day in the Monte Carlo district which is the most famous. This place is unbelievable. We walked pass two Ferrari dealerships, beautiful gardens, have seen more Lamborghinis, Ferraris and Maseratis than Toyotas, and the train station we went in was made of marble and was nicer then most buildings I have ever been in. All the people here are beautiful and look so carefree as they walk around the streets with their poodles. And the Yachats! There are at least thirty boats in the small harbor that are over sixty feet and worth at least fifty million dollars. There is no graffiti in the entire county and the streets are so clean that you begin to think that you are in Disney World, but then you remember that not even Disney is perfect. This place is. Besides the cruise ship tourists, everyone here speaks the national language of French and knows at least one other language. After today I have decided that I am going marry a French girl, they are still the prettiest girls I have seen so far, and move to Monaco. Now the only thing left to do is learn French.
I still can’t find an internet connection, but I’ve got a good feeling about Barcelona. Hopefully I’ll find one soon; I hope you guys haven’t forgotten about me! As they say in Monte Carlo, “Au Revoir!”

In Pisa But Nearly Slept Through It

2009-07-14T05:02:00.000-04:00

Even though I have flown as far as Hawaii before, I have never had jetlag. That was until today. Today (our first onboard the cruise ship) my mom woke me up at around eight and told me I needed to get dressed because in an hour we were going to look around Pisa. As I took a shower I was a little more groggy than usual, but other than that everything was normal. As I got dressed and sat down to put on socks it hit me. I was instantly exhausted to the point where I couldn’t even stand. My mom asked me if I was alright and after saying I was fine she suggested that we go eat breakfast, but body would let me move. She said I should get a little more sleep so I gladly took the suggestion. I slept for 12 hours! That is much more than I have ever slept in my life! Luckily when I woke up we were still in Pisa, so we had the chance to go see the famous Leaning Tower of Pisa (which is crazy to look at!), but just barely.

Something else terrible happened to me today. I discovered that two of my favorite people in the world are dead: Michael Jackson and Billy Mayes. What is this world coming to? Listening to infomercials won’t be the same anymore and I wonder if I can ever listen to Thriller again without shedding a tear. But I guess that is one of the sacrifices I’ll have to make for this trip. (Just kidding)

Well its past midnight and I don’t want another jetlag incident so I’m off to bed. Sorry for the erratic blog posts, but it’s really had to find internet around here; (I beginning to wonder if Europe’s even discovered it yet) I’ll try to do better.
As they say in Pisa, “Ciao!”

A Pleasant Suprise In Rome

2009-07-14T04:59:00.000-04:00

Rome is probably the most unique city I have ever been in. Nearly all of the buildings were built centuries ago and the city is practically littered with architectural masterpieces, so much so that there is a few on nearly every corner. There are so many beautiful structures that you simply have to walk right past them to get to the things you really want to see; if you didn’t ignore them and were to stop at every masterpiece to marvel at its beauty you would get as far as two blocks a day. Maybe.

First I saw the magnificent Trevi fountain, arguably Rome’s greatest fountain which is in a beautiful piazza stuffed with fellow tourists and the occasional beggar. Then we walked to the nearby Pantheon, which was about two blocks away. One of Rome’s oldest structures, the Pantheon has an interesting history that few people know of. During the pinnacle of Rome’s power and wealth, the Emperor built a massive temple dedicated to all of the Roman gods with special reverence to Venus. Then, when Christianity surpassed pagan worship as the dominate religion in the empire, the temple was renamed Basilica di Santa Maria and rededicated to Christ and remains the oldest Christian church still in operation.

Speaking of churches, our next stop was the most famous church of all, Basilica di San Pietro, or Saint Peter’s Basilica in The Vatican. The first thing you see of Vatican City is the gigantic St. Peter’s Square. The massive piazza is built to accommodate tens of thousands of people wishing to hear the pope speak and is very impressive. The piazza is surrounded by hundreds of columns with life-size (everything in Rome is either life-size or bigger) statues of saints looking down at you, which gives you a very spiritual feeling. On the way into the massive church my mom was pulled aside by one of the Swiss Guard and was told that she was not allowed to enter the church because she was wearing a skirt that was above her knees, which would capture attention that would otherwise be devoted to God. And only after my grandma went into the gift shop and bought my mom a scarf that could be wrapped around her legs was she admitted into the church. The inside of the church was absolutely stunning: it had beautiful frescos, statues, and paintings all over; it is safe to say it is the most beautiful building that I have ever been in. All of us were awestruck by the countless number of masterpieces there. After two hours of touring the church we said a Hail Mary in one of the chapels and left. The Sistine Chapel is unfortunately in a different part of the tiny county and we did not have time to see that too, which was a shame because The Creation of David, one of my most favorite works of art, is there. L. Walking out of The Vatican towards the metro I broke nearly all odds; I ran into one of my good friends. As we were walking away from The Vatican, someone from the across the street shouted “Robby!” I turned around and discovered that it was my friend, Katie, from the last cruise I went on. Because she lives in North Carolina I thought I would never get to see her again, so seeing her in Rome definitely made up for missing out on the Sistine Chapel!

On our last day in Rome I saw the Fountain of Four Rivers, the Italian President’s home, and The Coliseum (which gets its name from the word “colossus” which was the name a statue right next to the Coliseum in ancient times). The Coliseum was yet another amazing structure in Rome. That such a massive structure was constructed thousands of years ago without tools and still stands today is a tribute to the ingenuity of man and truth we really can do anything. One perplexing part of The Coliseum was a large bronze cross erected in the center and the many other crosses chiseled into The Coliseum’s stones. The fact that crosses would be present in one of the most un-christian structures mystifies me. My only guess is that they are “Christian graffiti” put up by the popes to remind the people that days of the Coliseum are over and Christianity prevails, but this is only a guess.

My First Day In Rome

2009-07-14T04:57:00.000-04:00

Nothing ever works out perfectly, but this is especially true in international travel. Due to travel plans, from Paris all of my family but me would fly to Rome on an Air France flight and I would leave Paris on an Alitalia flight an hour later. They would be waiting for me at the gate in Rome and we would just leave to our hotel from there. This did not happen. In a prime example of European efficiency, my Alitalia flight was two hours late. The entire two hours in Paris the flight attendants never told the crowd waiting to board the plane that it was going to be two hours late. The French and Italian speaking people were very confused. I, the sole English-only boy there, had no idea whatsoever what was going on. With a big smile and vivid hand movements, I had to approach person after person until I knew for sure that I did not miss my flight and it was just late, and by judging from their expressions that happens often. Finally when I was able to board the plane two hours later I fell right asleep. When I did arrive in Paris by myself (three hours after the rest of my party) no one was their waiting for me, as the original plan was. I waited by my gate for ten minutes, and still no one was there. My phone doesn’t work in Europe, so using that wouldn’t work. I hunted down some nearby pay phones to try to call my mom (who had called her cell phone company earlier and had service in Europe, or so she thought), but all of the payphones were in Italian. After pacing back and forth several times, I asked a local Italian to translate the payphone instructions, but she didn’t speak English, but she was able to change the language to English so I could read it. Using my dad’s credit card, I made several international calls to my mom’s cell, but her phone apparently didn’t have international service like we first thought it did. Thanks AT&T. I called my dad and he hadn’t heard from my mom either, but gave me advice on what to do. I told a flight attendant that I was lost and didn’t know where to look for my family, and she told me that they would probably be in Terminal B, which is on the direct opposite side of the airport. I don’t know where she based her decision to send me to Terminal B from, but they were certainly not there. I had been in Rome for an hour by this time so I thought I had better go to the police. I told them my situation and they said they could do nothing. “Go to baggage claim.” My first lesion I learned in Rome is that the police are not helpful, they seem to live by the “not my problem” philosophy. The only thing left to do was to go to baggage claim. Of course if my family was still waiting for me somewhere in the main airport and not in baggage claim I couldn’t get back into the secure area but instead be stuck in Rome. After walking around baggage claim for ten minutes I could find my bag or my family. The situation was getting worse; I was a teenager who had a few hundred euros and two credit cards in my pockets. In essence I was a pickpocket’s dream, so my next plan was to call the US embassy. But luckily as I was headed to the payphone, for the six time, I saw my mom from across the room. I let out a sign as relief. Disaster avoided. They had already grabbed my bag for me, so we left the airport and went straight onto the train.

The first thing that I noticed is that like Rome itself, life to the Romans is all about beauty. Every woman on the street, no matter what social class, will be wearing the latest and most expensive high heals and dress she can afford. It seems like all of them put the extra time they get from their siesta and lazy workweek into making themselves look better than the next person.

It seems to me that Italian is very similar to Spanish. The Italians talk very fast and use similar sounding words to Spanish, but the difference is Italians put “i” at the end of almost every word. (Ex. Trani and Vaticani instead of the Spanish Tren and Vaticano) In the times when we got lost, which was almost all of the time because NONE of the streets have signs, and could not find someone who speaks English I would ask them the question in broken Spanish and they would (for the most part) understand. Talking in these Latin languages is so much fun and fairly easy. Unlike in English, everything in the Latin languages makes sense. Maybe that is the reason why nearly everyone here is bilingual. Europe is a truly amazing place. I am defiantly coming back when I grow older and by that time I will hopefully know another language by then.

The Flight Over

2009-06-25T04:52:00.000-04:00

“Hello, Bonjour. Welcome aboard to Air France” was the term I heard all morning. Needless to say, my family flew the eight hour flight on Air France, which just landed in Charles DeGaulle Airport in Paris. Within two hours of leaving Miami I could tell a difference between the American airlines and European ones, which I think can be explained by the different cultures’ way of thinking. In America, the philophsy is to look after yourself and to make the most money for yourself; in Europe, as evidence of the numerous welfare states, it is important to look after fellow citizens even if that means a small loss of profit for yourself. The term “Greed is good” does not apply here. As I walked aboard the plane I was greeted by the very polite, bilingual flight attendants on Air France. Every passenger has their own TV monitor and can choose what show or movie they would like to watch and can even play a trivia game. Then a large dinner is provided with the choice of beef or fish with a chocolate cake and pudding as desert and all meals come with, of course, French bread. Another indicator that you were on a European airline was wine was given to every passenger, even in third class. Did I mention all of this was free? I am definitely flying Air France again. My grandma and I sat next to a very nice French woman who chatted with us about Paris and Rome and gave us travel tips about both places. I have always heard that the French are very rude and don’t like Americans, but so far I haven’t found that to be the case with everyone, as most of the people I have met so far were very nice and polite, just like the French woman who sat next to me on the plane.

One stereotype has proven true so far. The French women are beautiful!
Listening to all of the French conversations around me has left me in complete wonderment. I have decided that French is the most beautiful language and someday,
after I learn Spanish, I would like to learn it.

48 And Counting 'till The Adventure of a Lifetime

2009-06-24T07:24:00.006-04:00

Alright Europe, you've got until Thursday.

On Thursday I end the stereotypical Huck Finn summer that so many of America's youth has become accustomed to, and begin what promises to be an adventure of a lifetime. I am, of course, talking about my grad trip across Europe. By the time it is all over, I will have spent a little more than five weeks in Europe, and about four weeks more than I have ever spent without my family before. On top of all this, on my way back from Europe I'll take home my new Spanish brother Alvaro, (who I won't meet until I start my stay in their house on the eight of July) and have him live with me for three weeks. So much for the traditional summer.

The usual response I get when I tell people about my whole trip is, "Wow." Most of my friends have never been to Europe, and some have never left the county. I like to think of myself as a modern day Magellan going out and exploring the unknown; the difference is I probably won't get a body of water named after me. But who knows.

Because I'll be gone for so long, I decided that I should pack five weeks of fun that I would miss with my friends into one long and crazy night. So yesterday I did just that by throwing a little party at my house (for the second night in a row might I add). Now before I go into more details, I need to issue a disclaimer. If you are one of my friends and were not invited to this don't worry, I'm not trying to shun you! The "invitations" were sent out very haphazardly via text message. If you're reading this blog, then there's a good chance I wanted you there. OK moving on. The party was so much fun and really made me feel good to see all of my friends before I left. All of them are really great.

I really don't know what to expect of the next five weeks. My emotions are a little mixed right now. Since I signed up to do the Rotary Exchange until just today I knew that I really wanted to do this and I had no problem with going away to live with another family; not a single qualm. Now, the day before I leave, I'm a little scared about leaving my friends and family and I really hope my new brother and I get along well. But one thing is for sure: I want to do this to matter what, and I have just got to "charge" it.

Wish me luck! I'll post my next blog in a few days from Rome and hopefully have pictures.

As they say in Vero Beach, "Later!"

Learning the art of blogging

2009-03-29T21:47:00.000-04:00

Hello world! This is the first time that I have ever blogged, so I ask that you cut me some slack. I know that writing messages is a very daunting task, and I'm not quite sure what I will be telling you, but rest assured that I will do my very best to entertain you. I am writing this letter as a test run, so it might seem a little dry - I promise the next blog I write will be a little better. Hopefully I will be able to master the mysterious art of blogging and be able to retain your interest. I'm not sure where this will take me, but I remain optimistic.
Thank you for putting up with test-run ramblings!