The goodbye blog

I have so many mixed feelings right now.

I am ready to go home for some reasons. I really do miss my friends, family, even my evil cat Chopper. I'm ready to have some variety in the food I eat, and to have my mom do the grocery shopping. I even miss thunderstorms and tornado watches: I like a little excitement in my weather. But, right now, 2 days before I leave Spain for a very long time, I'm getting very depressed at all I'm leaving behind.

I've had a great experience here, minus the wallet-missing incident, multiple eye infections and going through 7 umbrellas in 5 months. I've made good friends from all over the world, not just Spain, not just Europe. I have discovered junk food that no health-conscious person should ever put in their body (one word: croquetas. essentially fried mashed potatoes with ham. SO GOOD.) Walking by a thousand-year-old cathedral every day has become commonplace for me, as is hearing Galician bagpipes on rainy days. I now consider it an early night if I come home at 5 am before the dance clubs open. In short, things are just different here, maybe not better, but definitely different.

I'll be back in Kansas at 9:45 on Tuesday night. I have lots of pictures, don't ask to see them unless you're serious about it. I look forward to seeing everyone and I hope you all enjoyed my semi-infrequent blog posts.

See you in Kansas!

There's always prostitution...

This past week, I got a little taste of home, as my roommate at KU, Kelly, came to visit me in Santiago. Kelly's studying in Ireland, at the university in Cork, and had a month off for "studying" before finals, AKA a month solid of traveling. I was her last stop on the way home. Needless to say, she was a little weary of sight seeing, causing me to constantly remind her "KEL! Camera OUT!" Kelly had the joy of staying at Hotel Allison, my comfy hardwood floor with a sleeping bag.

About halfway into her stay, we were discussing how she was going to get home, as she had not booked that yet. Her roommates at Cork were going to be in Barcelona that weekend, she found a cheap flight out, that combined with her flight from Santiago would equal flying straight there. I had never been to Barcelona, and wasn't going to have a chance to go before leaving for the States. So, before I knew it, I was heading to Barcelona for the weekend, booking my flight 2 days before I left. God bless RyanAir, worst airline in the world, but the cheapest around...

I loved Barcelona. The city was so alive, although there were a few too many American frat boys for my taste. Kelly and I were surrounded one day at the beach by a huge group of loud, high American frat boys. Then, we heard them yelling about KU. And noticed their KU apparel. We fled, literally, before they could realize that we went to KU, and, yes, we ARE in sororities. The world can be too small sometimes.

The weather was amazing, hot enough for the beach in swimsuits. We would sight-see in the mornings, then pack a picnic and go to the beach in the afternoons. I went to see "La Sagrada Familia", a cathedral designed by Gaudi, but still under construction. We also went to a fountain show at the Catalunyan art museum, where they timed their huge fountains to booming classical music, sort of like a fireworks show.

Barcelona is famous for its night life, but what I wasn't warned about was the incredible amount of prostitutes! Kelly, her friends and I were out at a bar one night and were talking to 2 nice English guys. They commented on the scary amount of prostitutes, shuddering about being cornered in a dark alley by a particularly aggressive one who wouldn't take no for an answer. Being girls, we had never been hit up by prostitutes, and therefore had never noticed them. We decided to make them prove this.

We sent out one of the guys, a skinny beanpole of a guy, Darren, as our bait. The rest of the group lagged behind as we walked through the shopping/eating district, abandoning Darren by himself, throwing panicked looks over his shoulder, the scared antelope with the lions closing in. He had been out solo for less than 30 seconds when a woman walked up to him, grabbed his arm and started telling him how much she cost. Darren frantically began gesturing towards us, spluttering out lies, "My girlfriend!! My girlfriend's here!!" We reluctantly sent Kelly to save him, although it was quite a show.

It's nice to know that, although my career is sort of uncertain at the moment for lack of internships, there is one business for women that is booming. I'll just move to Barcelona!

I come home in 3 weeks, which is entirely too surreal. I don't feel like I've been here for a very long amount of time at all, but I am very excited for US food: chicken fingers, burgers that look like there's a good chance they actually came from a cow, Mexican, Chinese take-out, Italian...I HAVE TO STOP.

Until later...

Immigration's going to be watching me

Catholic Spain has come up with a fabulous idea that the United States should seriously consider adopting: no school the week before Easter. I am definitely pro-Semana Santa, as it gave me the opportunity to travel to the Canary Islands, a Spanish territory off the coast of Africa. I traveled with 4 other friends from the group, via budget airlines and with 10 hour layovers in Madrid both ways. The trip was fantastic!

As usual, things did not start smoothly in the airport. Upon arrival to the always helpful Ryanair counter, we learned the baggage limit was only 15 kilo for the bags we prepaid to be able to check. Literally, every single one of us was overweight. I was 2 kilo over, Katie was 7.

Panic ensued.

We were ripping our suitcases apart in the middle of the once calm Santiago airport, frantically estimating how many kilos a hair straightener weighed when combined with a pair of tennis shoes, stuffing our purses to the limit. Luckily, we all got our bags down to the limit, even if my purse still smells slightly of shoes.

We put our 10 hour layover to good use in Madrid, sightseeing in the city and visiting a little museum called the Prado. It was so cool to see so much Spanish artwork I have had to study in past classes up close and in person. However, I have discovered that, YES, yes in fact there is a limit to how much religious artwork one person can see in a matter of hours.

We arrived to the island of Tenerife at 12:45 a.m.

The vacation was a nice break from 4 months of staring at artwork and architecture, we were able to enjoy nature, hike and sit on the beach for hours on end, no thinking involved. Not that we were escaping that hard of a life here in Spain, but, still, I'm not going to ever refuse a chance to lay on a beach.

We hiked down the Masca Gorge, a huge gorge formed by volcanic lava that ends at the ocean. Our guide was our hostel owner, Manfred, a tall friendly Austrian who loves sarcasm. Naturally, we got along great. Manfred had hiked the gorge close to 200 times, so he didn't seem to even take notice as his followers were slipping down gravel behind him, hitting their heads on rock ledges and perilously close to falling as we literally were hugging a rock wall with a 10 ft. drop off behind us, just enough to break something. He almost cheerfully explained the airl

ift process out of the gorge if hikers are injured.

Manfred had no room for sissies.

We, unfortunately, brought a sissy with us. She limped behind the rest of the gr

oup, sliding in her designer tennis shoes with no traction.

The next day we went on a whale watch. After the really big whales I've seen with the family in Maine, these little pilot whales paled in comparison. However, we did get quite a show from a group of dolphins that clearly liked to perform for boats, jumping out of the water, coming close enough to almost

touch. After 3 hours and only 1 whale sighting,

Katie and I were VERY excited for refreshment time, the note of desperation coming through our voices as we screamed, "SI!" in response to if we would like a cerveza, complimentary with the tour.

I am back in Santiago now, the rain is back, pounding on my window. I really, really miss the beach and sun already, but I have practically changed ethnicity by being in the sun for a week. FACT: I am now tanner than my Peruvian roommate. I'm slightly worried about getting back into the States, especially because apparently I have a Mexican accent when I speak Spanish, but I'm sure my waving, very-American looking mother at the gate will help to convince immigration.

Geneva: Where foreigners are FINALLY the majority

This past weekend, I had an extra day off of school for one of the many saints' holidays that we get here in Spain. Gotta love a Catholic country... My friend Courtney and I took advantage of the extra time and took a weekend trip to Switzerland, to the city of Geneva.

What a cool city! So clean, and so beautiful. It seemed like everyone spoke AT LEAST 3 languages, with all of the signs being in French, German and English. Being so close to France, the amount of French people was slightly overwhelming, but I made friends with people from Sweden, South Korea and Australia who were staying in my room at the hostel. The hostel was quite the experience, I spent the majority of the time feeling like I was in a cross between a homeless shelter and a minimum-security women's prison. It was HUGE, all cinderblock and muted blue paint, although very clean, and you had to buzz yourself through every door/locker for security using your room key. Not cozy, but it was the cheapest place in town, and was overall a good place to stay.


Cheap was a word I don't think I ever uttered in Geneva. The prices were astronomically high, causing you to really think twice if you actually needed to eat dinner or not.

My main reason for wanting to go to Geneva was the international aspect of the city, as it is home to the 2nd most important UN building in the world, Palacio des Nations, after the one in New York. It used to be the League of Nations building back when that was around. It now is the main conference meeting place for the UN, with hundreds occuring every year.
I can proudly say that without me, one of those conferences would be missing a member, as I helped a West African diplomat find his way to the UN. We rode the tram together, and he was going to a conference on human rights. Very surreal experience, especially considering directonally-challenged me was giving directions to someone successfully in a foreign city.

I made a Mexican friend, who was overjoyed to find out I spoke Spanish, to my dismay as I was looking forward to NOT speaking Spanish for once, and took this picture of me in the most famous room in the Palacio des Nations. Bill and Hilary Clinton were here just last year for some sort of meeting about some sort of world crisis. Note my huge, bulky backpack, as I was about to sprint off to the airport as soon as the tour ended. Security had a field day searching that before I entered the UN.






Geneva was sort of like the United States, in which it is very difficult to find a typical Swiss food to represent the country. Everything is from other countries, and REALLY good. And expensive, of course. Courtney and I found a gem of a store, called the American Store. To you current residents of the United States, you might call this a grocery store. To us, it was food MECCA.

Boxes upon boxes of macaroni and cheese, chex mix, root beer, peanut butter m&m's; it was life-changing. AND THEY HAD PANCAKE SYRUP!! Pancake syrup has become my roommate and I's personal obsession, it is incredibly hard to find here. Of course, I couldn't buy anything because the prices were so high, and I couldn't bring liquids through the airport security, but it was still exciting.

Mom and Emily, Jane and Catherine come to Santiago in 3 days. The city will never be the same, I feel if I should go ahead, warning the innocent, Spanish-speaking only citizens of their imminent arrival. I'm excited!

Bad at blogging=good at traveling

Okay, okay, I know I've sucked recently at updating. It has been a whirlwind of travel adventures and my time at my computer has been limited to frantically checking facebook and e-mail. So, here's a quick update of my life the last 3 weeks:

*Went to London and Tunbridge Wells to visit my favorite European cousins, Jane and Catherine. I scared Jane a little when she asked what I would like to do while in the great city of London, England. "OH! CAN WE GO ON A CAR RIDE?? AND TO A GROCERY STORE WITH ENGLISH LABELS?? AND WOULD YOU COOK DINNER AND I CAN JUST SIT AND WATCH?!!" I am happy to report I got to do all of those things, and more!

Jane and Catherine got to live out their tourist fantasies, forcing me to pose with an assortment of law enforcement agents, some on horseback. Don't worry, I got one with a phone booth.

We took a day to visit Cambridge, just in time to see Nick at school before he finishes in June. I've always been pretty proud of ol' KU, but unfortunately Cambridge's campus blew poor little KU out of the water. However, they did have an unfair start of a couple hundred years. I kept wandering around the campus, quietly murmuring to myself, "We are the national champions of basketball. We are the national champions of basketball," to console my Kansan heart.

After I got home from that trip, I had 5 days of recovery and class before we shipped off to the south of Spain, Andalucia, to visit Ronda and Sevilla. Many group tours were had, as our professors kept reminding us that we were there for class credit. HA! Any field trip that you have to take 2 buses and a plane to get to does not lend itself to educational improvement. Our toga party in the boys' hotel room proved that point nicely. Both cities were beautiful, Ronda was beautiful for the landscape and nature, whereas Sevilla had breathtaking architecture in the bigger city of the two, especially in the cathedral.

^Ronda, a city built on cliffs to protect it from invaders. Also home to the first and one of the most important bullfighting rings in Spain.

>The main alter in the Gothic cathedral in Sevilla. Pictures can't do it justice, it was amazingly ornate, as was EVERYTHING in the cathedral. Christopher Columbus is buried here.

So, I've now returned home, back to the daily grind of life in Santiago. For two weeks. Then I have a day off school and a trip to Switzerland! Oh, how I suffer here...

Painted rocks and Catholic mass

When I came to Spain, I expected to see many great works of art. Picasso, Dali, Velazquez were all on my hopes of seeing one of their paintings in a museum. This weekend, on a day trip to a nearby Galician town, I had the honor of seeing another one of Spain's great artist's works: Augustin Ibarrola.
Augustin paints rocks.
Augustin paints trees.
Augustin paints like a 5 year old who was given a giant paintbrush and free reign of a forest.
Our last stop on our Saturday day trip to a small, beautiful town named Allariz was to a "bosque pintado", a painted forest using biodegradable paint. The premise sounded pretty neat, but upon arrival we realized that we had seen similar "art" when babysitting charges had run amuck. There were 28 painted rocks, all using bold colors and simple patterns, located in a beautiful meadow alongside a forest and river. Had we gone to appreciate nature, the group would have been less disappointed, but the artwork itself fell flat. Here's an example:

Yes. It is a giant rock with lines on it.

Try to hold your amazement in.

This was actually one of the more complicated patterns, my favorite being the rock that was entirely painted blue. Solid blue. Nothing but blue paint. If I start to run out of money here, I know that I can at least be succesful in the crafts business.

The trip was not a complete loss, we did have fun frolicking around the "artwork", and I had one of the best pastries of my life at a local bakery. It was also sunny and warm, which is truly a miracle in rainy Galicia. It was nice to spend Valentine's Day with the entire group, starting the evening by watching the KU-KState game and scaring the locals with our beloved Rock Chalk chant.


This morning I went to my first Catholic mass in the famous cathedral of Santiago. When I decide to attend mass, I do it right. The service was completely in Spanish, and it is always exciting to understand something outside of the classroom. The inside of the cathedral is breathtaking, there's always something to look at when the sermon got a little repetitive.




Here's my view of the altar, don't worry, I took this before the service got started, I didn't want to be THAT tourist...

However, I think my favorite part of the whole church experience was after mass, when we wandered around the huge cathedral and saw the tomb where St. James is buried. We came upon a little door, which Katie put her ear up to to see if she could hear anything. She heard chanting and singing, started to think she was having a religious experience, gasped in disbelief, and was quite disappointed when I had to inform her it was just the angry pharmacists outside, protesting for more rights in the cathedral plaza. Poor Katie...

Futbol>Football

This past Sunday, Superbowl Sunday to those of you in the States, I went on a day trip to a nearby city, A Coruna. For lack of a way to watch the Superbowl, we decided to celebrate by going to Spain's favorite pastime, a futbol game!
The trip was very fun, but was doomed to chaos from the beginning, as it was planned by the boys in the group. The plan was such: "OKAY. Let's get drunk and watch futbol! Then, let's drink some more after!" It shouldn't surprise anybody that two Irish boys were behind this brilliant strategy.
As result of rather beer focused planning, the day was off to a rough start. We literally ran to the train station, 40's sloshing in our hands, darting across multiple lanes of traffic to get to the train just in time to have the conductor slam on the breaks, as it was already in motion. We were THAT group of foreigners on the train, yelling from row to row, hiding beer from the attendants. For my mother's sake, I would like to note I did not begin drinking substantially until the game. Manners first, fun second.

The actual game was really fun, if somewhat male dominated. Fortunately, Spanish people are so passionate about their futbol, that nobody noticed the confused, easily targeted American girls complaining about the lack of soap and toilet paper in the primitive bathrooms. I learned many new and interesting curse word combinations, in multiple languages. Irish people are both creative and enthusiastic in their usage of cuss words.

The team my roommate, Juan, told me to root for, won, to the stadium's pleasure. Even if you know nothing about futbol, you can follow the game easily based on the crowd's reactions. It's a caliber of involvement I've never seen in the US, even when Bryan watches close baseball games.

Look how close we were seated! It was nice to be underneath cover, as it ALWAYS rains in the Galicia, the region where I am living.

I am sad I missed out on Superbowl commercials, but not so disappointed that I didn't have to fake interest in who won. Go Steelers?

This Thursday will be the official month mark for me being out of the country. Weird, but after looking at my calendar, I am realizing just how fast this whole experience is going to disappear. London in 2 weeks!

The Wal-Mart Blues

While my time here in Santiago has been great, and I have yet to experience gut-wrenching homesickness, (don't worry, Mom, I'm sure it will happen soon, and you'll be the first person I call crying) I find myself missing one very large, fairly priced, filled to the brim with the toothless place from Kansas.

Wal-Mart. I miss Wal-Mart.

There were some that thought I would never say this, but, Oh, the convenience and prices!! The selection! The checkers who bag things for you!

I'm in serious Wal-Mart withdrawl.

The best grocery store here is a 15-20 minute walk from my home. I still can't find sugar. As far as I can find out, it is only sold in tiny packets for coffee. The aisles are tiny, aka Katie and I being mauled by half-crazed Spanish housewives on a mission has become normal.

We're on the Santiago diet plan, better known as the "choose your food carefully, because you have to carry it, your school bag, and balance an umbrella: Do you really need those cookies?"plan.

But, we're being very health and money conscious girls and making most of our meals, saving that money for the exorbitant prices of hard alcohol. I think that last part of the sentence may have discredited the first, but whatever. We're getting quite a reputation in our house for being good cooks, after the especially popular chicken fried rice night. Don't worry, we took photographic evidence.

Sadly, we do this for almost every meal we do that is borderline acceptable. I think we're starting to weird out our Spanish roommates, but Juan uses a little soccerball placemat whenever he eats, so I just dare him to comment.

I think we'll be going out to eat tomorrow night, though. We have no classes on Fridays, so we'll be starting the weekend early. We also didn't have class today. As you can tell, the schedule here is really beginning to be overwhelming.

I hope all is well at home, and that you're all remembering not to take Wal-Mart for granted as I did as a young woman. I have indeed learned the errors of my ways. I will return to the States a reformed woman, standing in the flourescent-lit aisles of Wal-Mart, one large tear of joy slowly making its way down my face...

God has it in for me.

These past two days have been bad. By bad, I mean EPIC BAD DAY.

Yesterday, I went shopping. I looked out the window, saw it was raining (like always), considered not going, but thought to myself, "No, Allison. You need to go. You're in Spain. It's always going to rain, you can't spend your time here waiting for weather to clear up. GO!" You know how people say to listen to what your inner conscience is telling you? Well, I smothered mine, duct taped its mouth, and merrily continued on my way.

I had a successful evening of power shopping and stopped at my friend Jen's place to leave my bags before going out to eat. It was then that I noticed my pocket where I keep my wallet felt disconcertingly light. And empty. I began a frantic search of all of my bags, Jen's room, the stairwell, but nothing appeared. My trusty friend Katie Cook headed back outside with me to retrace our steps, going to every store we visited previously.

It's at this time that I would like to mention that apparently a hurricane was forming off the coast. While my city isn't close to the ocean, it's close enough that the weather is severely affected. What this meant to me was during my hour long scouring of the city, gale force winds were thrashing my coat against my legs and neck, roofing tiles were crashing down onto the street around me, and my umbrella, my poor poor umbrella, sucuumbed to the wind in a tangled, tortured mess.

So, now I'm in the middle of a hurricane-like rainstorm, umbrella-less, and have not found my wallet with all of my credit cards and drivers license inside. I am told I need to go to the police station to make a report.

Good 'ol Katie and I valiently stumble off into the darkness again, to find the police station. We arrive, looking the very picture of someone who's just been robbed: eyes frantic, hair plastered haphazardly across my face, gasping out broken Spanish. They tell me I need my passport. I don't have my passport with me. It's warm and dry in my house 15 minutes away. DAMNIT.

We go home, order pizza, collapse.

The next day, I wake up sweaty and aching. SURPRISE!! I have a fever, possibly from wandering for hours in a rainstorm! But, I still have to go to the stupid ass police station.

Katie drags my lifeless corpse to the station, where I have the pleasure of filing a police report completely in Spanish. This would be scary in English. Also, sidenote, apparently all of the good looking young men of Santiago work for the police force. In addition, there's not a lot of crime, so they had nothing better to do than lurk around, listening to the feverish american girl spluttering in Spanish about her little red wallet. How fun for me.

That was my last two days. I'm exhausted now. Going to go back to bed. But, for the record, despite being robbed, running around in a hurricane, losing my umbrella and my mind, catching a fever, and having a police record in Spain, I'm still glad I came!

I thought I would take a brief moment this post to elaborate on the actual history of Santiago de Compostela. Santiago is the ending for the famous Camino del Santiago, a pilgrimmage that many people still complete today. The famous Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela is the site where the pilgrims finish, and I have the joy of walking past it every day on my way to class.



Here's a picture of it at night:











Located behind the cathedral is a nunnery, often times you'll see little old nuns in their robes wandering the streets. In front of that is a plaza where our professor tells us hundreds of dead Roman soldiers are buried. Naturally, we sensed a photo op...










In a completely unrelated note, I have internet in my apartment now! If anyone wants to send me an e-mail, send it to alubarsky88@gmail.com, I would love to hear from everyone.

Hasta la proxima vez que escribo....

I'm practically a local.

As my assimilation into Spanish society continues, I have learned several ways to avoid being labeled a tourist.

#1- NEVER EVER SMILE IN PASSING. This is for you, Emily, lover of being friendly to complete strangers.
#2- Limit your wearing of color. Think black. Maybe gray on a sunny day.
#3-Use the absolute minimum of words to get by in situations. The more you talk, the more people catch on that there's something slightly...off.
#4- Nod when you are completely lost in a conversation. Spanish people love to talk, they'll steamroll through your lack of speech with gusto until you find a point that you understand what's happening.
#5- NO MAP. Wander with a purpose, even if you're completely, totally lost. Maps=bright, flashing sign that says, "I don't belong! Please take advantage!!"

By following these rules, I've become pretty comfortable so far in Santiago. Minus the fact that right now I'm in a cafe and have no idea how I got here, or how I'll get home. I'll think about that later.

Anyways, here are some pictures of my awesome piso (apartment) that I share with 11 other people from the United States, Colombia, Spain, Germany and even Kazakhstan. We have individual rooms, but share a kitchen, bathrooms and living area.

My room. Soooooooooo cold. While that window is beautiful, it lets in cold air and allows me to hear literally everything on the street below as I go to sleep. For example: A leaf blowing across the street. I'm not exaggerating, that happened last night.

The view from my room. I live in the Old Zone, which is much more picturesque and quaint than the the busier New Zone.

WE HAVE ARRIVED!!

After fighting through the absolute hell that was the Madrid Barajas airport, I have arrived in Spain. Arrived without luggage and clean clothes and deodorant, but arrived nonetheless!

My group and I had the great fortune of making history in the Madrid airport, taking part in the ONLY TIME IN HISTORY that the airport had to completely shut down, thanks to a freak blizzard. Trust me, it was less cool than it sounds. We spent 24 hours waiting in line, sleeping on linoleum and generally traveling like a nomadic tribe, forming group circles on the floor as we traveled from terminal to terminal.

Here's a picture of our tribe, hunkered down for winter:

Also, there's a good chance we are now famous, as we were interviewed and filmed by multiple crews. Apparently large groups of Americans sleeping on the floor of an international airport is strange...

But, I'm in Santiago now, and it's absolutely beautiful and charming. The whole "24 hours in an airport, 4 days without clean clothes" really bonded the group together. We have luggage now, so tonight will be the first time we see each other in different clothes and makeup. Honestly, I hope I still recognize people...