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.