so...lourdes

I wish I had written about Lourdes sooner than this, although it is nice to be forced to look back.
My first impression upon arriving? "I have ended up in Catholic Vegas." When I got there, it was night, and so all of the hotels and restaurants had their neon lights lit up, screaming for attention from the crowds of feast-day tourists. There are two rivers going through Lourdes, and my hotel was on this one. This creates the kind of Catholic resort-town feel, because all you see are rows of blocks of hotels that back up to the sanctuary.

And, of course, there is tack. 100% pure, unrefined, leaves-a-bitter-aftertaste tack. Some tack can be kute or kitschy. Heck, I couldn't get enough of the humorously ugly yet well-intentioned sparkly Our Lady of Guadalupe things in Mexico. But Lourdes takes tackiness to the next level.
Of course, most prominent are the holy water containers, which, mysteriously, are different prices all around town. At first I started to bargain hunt and then my brain melted from all the different numbers. In the end I didn't care whether I was getting 3 for 2 or 1 for 1 or 2 for 4.
And then there is pretty much anything else you could ever not need. What? You didn't need the Our Lady of Lourdes pencil I got you? Figurine? Necklace?

Poncho? Umbrella? Candle? Scarf?

Cuckoo clock?

But as I made my way past the garish displays of opportunistic capitalism, I eventually arrived at the Sanctuary. And it was this that made it all worth it.

Since the apparitions themselves are not that old (1854), neither is the Basilica, which was constructed around the turn of the last century. But it has a timeless feel to it, and is certainly picturesque. At first when I went to the Grotto I was wandering around by myself at night, so there was no one there and I was wondering if I had found the right spot. It was nice, though, to get some solo time here, since later it would be filled to capacity with Italians.

The candlelight procession and Rosary was a very interesting thing to take part in. There was a huge crowd since I was there on Feb. 10th, the eve of the official feast day of Our Lady of Lourdes. It was nice to see all the people, especially the entire families.
The next day I woke up bright and early and had a very pleasant discovery at breakfast: all you can eat croissants + as much as you want café au lait/hot chocolate machine. You can just imagine my face when I saw this. Go ahead, imagine it. I made sure to eat as much as I possibly could. Croissants, baguettes, jam, butter, cheese, ham, yogurt, cereal...mmmmmm....
It was POURING down rain all day on the 11th. Not being the brightest crayon in the box, I had decided that I'd rather not carry around an umbrella all day. Then by the time I stepped outside and got completely soaked I decided that since I was already wet it wasn't really worth it to go back up and get it. So I spent most of the day trying not to get poked in the eye by middle-aged Italian women with heavy-duty umbrellas that were trying to protect their fur coats.
Since it was the feast day, there was a ton of stuff going on. I started at the "International Mass" which was amazing in terms of sheer numbers.

Were there any priests left in the rest of Europe?
There was an official welcoming and many of the pilgrim groups marched in with their own banners.
After the Mass I jetted over to the baths, following my mom's advice to make that the first thing on my list. My not having an umbrella gave me a boost of agility and I managed to get in line just outside the shelter, which soon I would be allowed under. I was next to a French woman who said I sounded Canadian when I spoke French and a lively group of Italian women. Most of the women, in fact, were Italian.

They were, on the whole, pretty rowdy. About every 5 minutes someone would accuse someone else of having cut in line, or ask if they could cut since they were sick, yell at someone for having let someone else cut, or yell at someone for not squeezing in as close as they could so that so-and-so didn't have to be in the rain. To pacify them all there was someone constantly saying the rosary and/or singing songs in Italian, but that would only work for about 10 minutes. On the bright side, they were hilarious and I almost completely learned the Hail Mary in Italian. It was much more fun than waiting for a ride at a theme park.
I was a bit nervous for the baths, since I didn't know at all what to expect. In fact, I had been quite skeptical and when I was planning my trip to Lourdes was considering not even doing them. I thought that since I didn't really have any physical infirmities that I should give my spot to someone else.
"What?!?", my mom had exclaimed, "you CAN'T go to Lourdes and not do the BATHS! Promise me that you'll do them!" So, of course, I had to fulfill my promise to my mom.
I'm so glad I did! Yes, it was still a little overwhelming. When I went into the changing room the woman assumed I was Italian and must have thought either I was very stubborn or really stupid since she had to keep repeating directions to me. Not wanting to reveal myself as American, I finally broke down and asked if she spoke Spanish, and then I had to tell her that no, I wasn't actually Spanish...and then we spoke in English.
When you go into the baths you are supposed to have an intention. To their credit, the people running the baths have everything so streamlined that things go fast while still doing their best to remind people that the water is not magical. They hand out little brochures about the symbolism of the water, the history of the baths, and why we shouldn't look to the water at Lourdes as a cure-all elixir. And, if you approach the atmosphere in a spirit of prayer, there is a lot you can get out of it.
I thought that since I was already soaked through to the bone that it wouldn't really be a big deal, but the water was shocking. Not necessarily shockingly cold, but it was indeed frigid. It was even more shocking than a trough of water in the Pyrenees in February should be. It was the kind of shocking that took away all of my abilities to do anything other than be led by the ladies working there. For about 10 seconds, I became an almost-invalid whose body barely responded to the signals to move and speak sent by her brain.
But afterwards I was even dryer than I had been before, and I also felt like my soul had received a jolt of expresso. There was no way I couldn't stop smiling. I wanted to dance on the rooftops, even though my clothes were wet and it was raining. I didn't care! I got a candle to light and then ran into some Americans from the Oblates of Mary Immaculate near St. Louis (Cardinal George's order!) who were filming one of their priests delivering a candle that had been made from lots of little candles people had sent in. One woman interviewed me and another took pictures of the priest giving me a blessing for their newsletter.

And then I scurried around earning my plenary indulgence (ha!). Since it was the feast day, the Jubilee way was open. You could follow a path painted on the sidewalk and go into the places where St. Bernadette had lived. It was fascinating to see what a mid-19th century farming home was like, including some of the tools they used, and then being able to see the placed the whole family lived after losing everything, which had previously been a jail cell. I also saw their parish church and the place where she was baptized.

I also saw the convent where St. Bernadette became a religious. I loved seeing her prayer book, the handkerchief she used to wear with some of her hair which had been cut off. It was just really interesting.
The thing that struck me the most in seeing all of these things was that she had really been just a little girl. There was a sign in the Cachot, the jail-cell house, saying that she said that all of these crazy things happened to her only because she was the most ignorant. And she did have a simple life, but the pictures of her reflect such beauty and innocence.

let's take this back 4 months

So, I realize that I never really wrote about Lourdes, and I never posted pictures of Paris. Allow me to now.
I want to go back to Paris!
So, what was my favorite part? Probably the Sacré Coeur.
Here is the view from there:
Here is Notre Dame:
and this is the inside:
Here is the outside of the Chapel of Miracles where St. Catherine was off-limits:
And here is the real-life version of a poster I always had hanging in my dorm room!
Wow! It is much better-looking in real-life.

the calm before the storm of awesomeness!

Hello!
I have been unabashedly joyous these past couple days. In Oviedo we've had a record number of sunny, warm days (the temperature even getting past 70! whooo!) and, even though this is my last week of classes, all of my classes have been cancelled. I rocked an exam last Friday and only have two more academic things to do before finishing up in Oviedo...also, I spontaneously completed 7 pages of my thesis the other day, a burst of productivity I can't quite explain. Pentecost has really renewed my spirit. I've been diligently working out every day and sticking to my diet, although the pink scale I bought at the Chinese store which says "miracle cat mew mew" on it doesn't seem to be too efficient in actual weighing. But my clothes feel good and my friend Carla observed a difference over Skype. If weight loss can be seen over Skype, it must be real.
Right now I'm planning out my travels. There's so much to plan, but some things are coming along quite well. Pham and I will CouchSurf in Cork and we have a couple maybes in Galway. Our plan is to rent a car, go to Blarney Castle, meander along the coast, go see Bunratty Castle where there are reenactors showing scenes from traditional Irish life, and then a medieval banquet! Then we'll continue up to Galway and hopefully catch some traditional music which sounds like is abundant there. Also, I really want to go to one bar in particular famous for its patrons speaking conversational Irish. That would be awesome. Then we'll be off to the Cliffs of Moher and whatever else we find before we drive back to Cork and spend the night there, flying to Dublin the next day, where we will visit the Guinness factory, the Jameson whiskey factory, and hopefully either a Music or "Scenes from Irish Literature" pub crawl. In order to avoid paying for a place to stay which we would in reality only visit for a couple hours, Pham is advocating staying up all night before our early morning flights.
Never in my life have so much sleep deprivation and alcohol consumption actually been planned out.
After that I'm off to Barcelona, but only for a couple days...I'll go back later. Then ROMA!
I was disappointed with the hostels I found online and since I want to stay a week CouchSurfing isn't really an option. When someone you don't know is offering a free place to stay and their company, two to three nights is just about the max. And even though the prospect of staying with nuns sounded kind of cool, I really want a place to do laundry and cook for myself to avoid both outrageous Roman prices AND calories.
So I went to Craig's List and found some great deals...rooms in private apartments which are the same price as a hostel or cheaper. I've found one I really like for 25 euros a night with a 25-year-old female biology student and her terrier, with kitchen, laundry, internet, etc. all included. It is a 15-minute walk from St. John Lateran!!!!!! It looks like it's a little far from the downtown area, but close to two metro stops and, according to her, a 30 minute walk from the Collosseum. I think, though, it might be nice to stay in a quieter area so that I can save all my energy for the marathon of sight-seeing I'll be undertaking. I have a feeling that when I'm out in Rome I'll just keep repeating "I'm in ROME!" to myself and trying to catch my breath because it will be constantly taken away.
The girl, Anna Rita, spent a year in Barcelona so she speaks great Spanish, which is a plus because I would rather speak to someone who speaks good Spanish than crappy English. She has written me a couple very nice emails, which to me is important. I think that the way people write emails reflects something profound about who they are. If you don't bother to even write a Hello, write in complete sentences, or capitalize, and also do not provide me with hardly any information about the apartment and the area it's in, will you be the kind of person I really want to spend a week living with?
So, thank you Craig's List! I'm open to suggestions as to what I HAVE to see.
I haven't planned out the rest of Italy. I have too many places I want to go, and I haven't even looked at a map to see where they are. I would like to spend some time in Florence...also Siena, Assisi, Lanziano, Pietrelcino, Monte Cassino...I think I'll have to scale down my plans and come back to reality. Any other ideas?
Then about 10 days in Barcelona where I'd like to go to Montserrat, Menorca and Tarragona as well.
Then Carla is coming! We are starting off in Santiago de Compostela and then on to Oviedo and we may just go to Italy. I'm leaving it up to her, but I would have no problem going back, even after having just been there. Italy would be a heck of a lot more exciting than Oviedo.
Every once in a while I have to remind myself that this weekend I'm travelling as well...heading south to Andalucía...Málaga, Granada and Sevilla. I am staying with a friend in Málaga, so I'll get to see three friends from grad school there, which will be refreshing. Then I'm staying in hostels in Granada and Sevilla, both of which have rooftop terraces. It's a small detail that I'm excited about. The only things I've planned to do are to see the Alhambra in Granada and the fine arts museum in Sevilla, thanks to my roommate in grad school Heather's suggestions. She said the museum there is the place to go for Baroque, Sevilla-school art (unsurprisingly). Yay.

may

I'm sorry, blog. I'm so neglectful of you.
I wrote up a pretty decent summary of my trip to Venice, but the add photos thing never seems to want to work. And what would that post be without at least a few of the hundreds (yes, hundreds) of pictures that I took there? You're right, it really wouldn't be very exciting.
So, an update of my life. Life here continues slowly, yet somehow I'm able to sit down at my computer and 4 hours later not have accomplished anything. I wake up from a stupor, recognize the time, and blink, wondering just what new knowledge I've acquired within that time. Usually it's not much, but I guess you never know when random facts are going to come in handy.
Since my last post I have successfully navigated the library system here. It may not sound like an accomplishment, but believe me, you feel accomplished after it takes you 3 hours to check out a book. I thought I was being really perceptive by figuring out that you had to fill out little cards for each of the books that I needed. Well, once I had filled those out (complete with name, address, telephone number, book name, etc.) I gave them to the librarian, who squeaked "you don't have the 'signature'!" I was puzzled by this, since I had signed my name. She said, "you know, the 'signature'...the special number each book has...how are we supposed to look for the book otherwise?!?" In my head I thought, "um...you could start with the title and possibly try author if that didn't work out..." So I went back and tried to find this special number. I found A number which looked quite official, but when I turned the cards back in the librarian rolled her eyes at me and told me she'd have to come do it for me. So it turned out that you had to click on a little picture of a book to get to a separate page which had this other number, the first letter of which you had to find on a list of 5 papers taped on the wall above the computers to make sure it was in *this* library. And apart from this, some of the books are available for you to go and grab by yourself (or, rather, they are waiting to be hunted down, since they don't use the Dewey Decimal system here and it's anybody's guess as to where the book will actually be), while others are kept in a special lair beneath the library, which the librarians only descend to once every hour. So too bad if you come at 4:20...they wait until 5:00 and you have to wait until whenever they make their way back upstairs. Oh, and you can only have three books. And for three days.
They really just don't know how much better they could have it.
But I need to make a list of things I like, since I realize I haven't done that yet.
I like the fact that all the dogs here are so well-behaved. I don't get it. They don't need to be on leashes and trot faithfully behind their masters. They even look like they are smiling. Here you really need never be afraid of getting attacked. All the people have to do is whistle and the dogs return joyfully.
I like the fact that the food here is much fresher, more local, and more flavorful. I'll miss it when I go back to the U.S., where tomatoes bought in supermarkets taste like ashes in comparison. I'm a much better cook when I'm in Europe, it turns out. Almost everything I make, even if I just throw random things together, ends up somehow tasting good.
I like fresh-baked bread available a block away WAYYY too much. I'm trying to hold back. I really am. But its...sooo...good....[Homer Simpson sound]
I love Spanish old people. They are so active. Even though they walk with canes they still walk everywhere and manage to cover a considerable amount of terrain. They go out with their friends and even to bars. I pass them on the street and wonder what they could tell me about their lives.
I love my apartment, especially when I'm the only one in it. Today when I was cleaning it I realized that I feel perfectly at home here. It's so close to campus and everywhere else I need to go. (On the flip side, I HATE that our oven still doesn't work, even though our landlord told me in February it was about to be fixed...grrrr...I shake my fist at the Spaniards' conception of 'about to be')
I'm pretty content with the fact that my classes require very minimal effort. It's quite a shock. I really don't feel like I'm in school...more like I'm retired and am taking some classes for general enrichment. I don't understand how they ever learn anything here unless they are very independent learners, but it suits me fine right now. I did a presentation in class which I worked hard on but was still pretty sub-par and would have gotten criticized for in my classes in the States, but here I was congratulated four times, both by the professor and another student. And the two other students that presented said they were following my example by making Powerpoints. Ha! I think that really they were just impressed that a foreign student a) decided to go ahead and do a presentation and b) knows more than they do about St. John of the Cross.
Even though I don't have to work for my classes, I still have a hard time actually forcing myself to do work I need to do. But I think I'm entering a new stage of productivity because in most of June and July I won't be able to.
What else? I like that I can get Spanish tortilla in almost any bar. That I can go to Mass in a church from the 8th century (yes...8th!). That shopkeepers and old ladies randomly call me "vida" (life), which is something that no one else comments on happening to them. That my translation teacher gives painstakingly detailed corrections of translations, however painful for my pride that is (you'd think I'd have a handle on subject-verb agreement after a Master's degree...). I like that there are so many daily Masses here that I can choose where and when I want to go, and that I am a 15-minute walk from Perpetual Adoration. I love little Spanish children, especially when I see them getting swimming lessons at the gym.
Now, there are quite a few things on my do-not-like list: movie dubbing (it's pretty much impossible to see an original-version movie here so every movie sounds like a cartoon to me), the cold and rainy weather (case in point: it's May 16 and still sweater weather), getting harassed by men on the street or in bars, the cavalier attitude towards sex and relationships, the secularism that can actually be quite hostile to other points of view but swears it's "open-minded" or "free" (if you're going to be a bigot save us all time and call yourself one), the fact that no system in this country makes sense, which everyone complains about yet no one will change, the fact that I haven't really made Spanish friends and thus am speaking less Spanish than I did for the past year and a half in the U.S. (that part is particularly disappointing), the focus on outward appearances, the fact that otherwise intelligent people still think it's acceptable to rely on the media for their stereotypes...okay I'll stop right there.
I'm not going to Malta anymore, but I'm not heart-broken about it. The fact that my roommate is really flaky cost me some money but I'm kind of glad. Instead, I'm going to be spending a good three weeks in Italy, which I'm so excited about. I think it'll be much more gratifying, actually to see Italy by myself. All that's left is actually dealing with the logistics. Where to go? What to see? (Besides the list of, oh, fifty or so places I've always dreamed of seeing. And oh, yeah, catching miniscule glimpses of the Pope...)
Also, I'm going to live it up in Ireland, which is now less than a month away! And Barcelona and hopefully Menorca and Montserrat. I definitely am taking advantage of the beautiful beaches when I escape from cold and rainy Asturias. Actually, it will truly be an adventure, as I am set to be traveling for over a month with just a carry-on. Creative dressing!
Did I mention before that I'm doing a Filmmaking program next semester? The more I think about it the more excited I get. Yes, yes...the inevitable question is: "So you're not going to do anything with your Master's?" And the answer is: not anything directly related, but when your Master's is in a language you can kind of relate that to anything. Who knows what will come in handy if I go in a new direction? I don't think going to graduate school was a mistake or a waste of time. I learned a lot and gained a lot of confidence I don't think I would have gotten otherwise. And I do think it's valuable to learn early on what you're *not* cut out for. And I'm finally just facing the fact that you can only ignore a calling for so long before it becomes something you just have to do, no matter what you try to substitute in the meantime. The past couple years have been a process I still don't understand, which will probably be significant for many years to come, and the fact that they are bearing fruit completely different than what I expected from them when I started out does not make them any less necessary.
I'm actually looking forward to being back in Lexington. I think when I left Lexington to go to college I was blind to all that was going on there. But there really is quite a lot. There is actually a lot more live music in Lexington than in Oviedo. And art. By art, the quantity, not necessarily quality (Oviedo actually has some El Grecos and Goyas!). But it is nice to be able to go to more than two or three places to see something. I miss Gallery Hops.
Okay, future posts will include: Venice, Bologna, my mom's visit and Garabandal, and wherever else I go in the future!
Hope everyone is well back home.

Santiago de Compostela

OK, so the week after we went to San Sebastián we went to Santiago de Compostela with a group that organizes trips for international students. This meant that it was both really cheap and that we were on a bus that left at 7 in the morning on a Saturday full of Italians and French students that hadn't ever gone to bed.
As appetizing as spending a day on a tour being herded around with 100 rambunctious Europeans seemed, I managed to escape with a small group. A couple of my Belgian friends had a friend from Belgium studying in Santiago, so we went with them and he took us around to some of his favorite places.
I *loved* Santiago. There was something about the air there. When I breathed, I was breathing in the atmosphere of centuries of faith, dedication, and sacrifice that it took to walk hundreds of miles. It was almost like the vigor of the inner lives of each single pilgrim over the course of centuries had contributed to building up this destination. This was the first place in Spain where I felt like I witnessed something vibrant and alive. The present moment is not ashamed to live off the past there...in fact, it simply cannot avoid or deny it...but at the same time doesn't treat that tradition with a rigidness that cannot permit new growth, which I feel happens in Oviedo and ends up making the faith something dusty that should be in a museum and not something with relevance to daily life.
Many people seem to find reasons to do the Way of St. James today that have nothing to do with faith at all. I have to admit that I don't really understand that, but I still felt inspired when I saw the backpackers arrive at their destination with a look of true appreciation in their eyes and joy on their faces, as they took some time simply to lay in front of the Cathedral and contemplate it. I felt like I shared something with them, even though I didn't know where they were from or why they had made the journey they just came from.
This is the view they were admiring:
This Cathedral is gorgeous. Every picture of it looks like a postcard. The inside was pretty impressive as well.
This is a random side altar I thought was pretty.
This is the famous and painfully politically incorrect St. James the Moor-Slayer.
Of course, the most impressive thing were the remains of St. James the Apostle that rest inside the Cathedral, which I was able to spend a good, long time with since the group I had escaped with were cool. As I was walking into the little room where those remains are, I was struck by the feeling that one day I have to do the Way of St. James, and that I should convince my friends to come with me. (I seem to have gotten my friend Carla on board and we are planning for summer of 2011...anyone else interested?)
Here is a random street that I liked:
After the Cathedral, we went to a park:
Magical? Why yes, it was.
This is the university campus. I was very jealous of the students.
On the whole, on every street corner there seemed to be a beautiful little church.


After Santiago we went to the Tour of Hercules, which according to the Romans was actually built by Hercules himself. I wasn't really all that taken with it. From there we went to A Coruña, which is on the coast but was extremely uninspiring. I only took one picture there and it was the blandest ocean photo I've ever seen, that doesn't even deserve space on the internet. After Santiago, it really just couldn't measure up.

San Sebastián

Ahhh...one of the most gorgeous beaches in Spain, according to the Spaniards. Combine this with a castle and a giant statue of Jesus on top of a mountain, as well as the most complicated and delicious little snacks you've ever seen, and you have quite a lovely day trip to San Sebastián, in Spain's Basque country, near the French border.
But before being able to bask in this lovely and relaxing view, I managed to get us lost in quite a hilarious misunderstanding that may take away my "intrepid traveler" status.
In order to get to San Sebastián, we decided to take two night buses so that we wouldn't have to pay for a hostel to spend the night. As a result, we rolled into the Basque country half-asleep at around six in the morning. It was around the time we were supposed to be arriving, and I groggily heard the driver announce something that sounded suspiciously close to "San Sebastián". Not wanting to wake up in France by accident, I hurriedly woke up Danielle, my roommate, and we scrambled off the bus.
This being Spain, we knew nothing would be open for another three hours, so we wandered in the dark in 37 degree weather in search of any place that might have a bathroom. We found a band of drunk adolescent Basques that told us to follow them and ended up at a dance club STILL OPEN at 7 in the morning, but when we tried to use the bathroom we noticed that, while people continuously streamed into that one-seater, no one ever came out. Of course, we could barely perceive this since we were forced to take off our glasses, which had immediately fogged up from the smoke upon entering. Feeling more than a little suspicious, we settled on wandering around and trying to find something, anything, that would correspond with the map in my guidebook. Around daylight we were able to find refuge in a café which, although offering very good croissants, was also apparently the favorite hangout of a thin, drunk man slurring obscenities in a mix of Basque and Spanish at an electronic slot machine. For those who don't know, Basque is completely unrelated to Spanish. In fact, they don't really know where it comes from and remains almost a complete mystery to linguists. So it wasn't all that much fun when this guy decides to yell at us in this mysterious language. The only thing we were able to understand was something about the Japanese and the fact that he was probably asking for money from us. I pretended not to hear him, feigning attention at a news report on what Barack Obama thinks about Kurdistan, while Danielle got quite scared. We fled to the bathroom, and expressed our disappointment at not finding the beautiful beach we had heard about by making the following faces:So after having freshened up, we wandered around for quite a bit longer. We ended up following a little old lady who, being very pale and seeming frightened when we asked her where we could get a taxi, and who later completely disappeared in the distance next to a factory, we decided might be either a ghost or a figment of our tired and overactive imaginations. Next to the factory we ended up running into a Romanian cook who was still drunk but had to be at work soon and didn't know where he was either, but luckily he was able to lead us to a taxi. We jumped in excitedly, asking to be taken to the castle. "Very well", the driver said at first, but when he went to put the car into gear he realized he had no idea what castle we were talking about. I showed him the map in my guidebook.
"Ohhh...you want to go to San Sebastián!" he exclaimed, proud that he had figured out our request.
"Yes!", I shouted enthusiastically. And then Danielle and I exclaimed in unison, "But...where are we now?!?"
It turned out that we were in Eibar, about half an hour from where we wanted to be, and it would have cost more to get to San Sebastián in a taxi than the 5 hour bus trip we had just taken from Oviedo. Luckily there was a bus to San Sebastián and nice people that helped us figure out how to take it. I didn't even take a picture there. It was pretty much the opposite of picturesque.
But once we got to San Sebastián we were able to take in the following views:

After meeting up with a friend from Berea, we decided to saunter over to the mountain/castle. On the way were some beautiful old buildings which I enjoyed taking pictures of.

Also, we walked past the port:

Our final destination, though, was Jesus.
The castle was also pretty cool:

And of course, what trip would be complete without taking some time out to relax on some artillery?
On a side note, heaven only knows why, but the mullet is in its renaissance here in Spain. At the castle I was able to snap a picture of the famed mullet/dreadlock combo, one of the most heinous mullet variations:

yep, still here!

Hello everyone...saludos desde España!
I just wanted to leave a small update. I have been so busy scooting around Europe. Since my last post, I have gotten hopelessly lost in a small town in the Basque country, breathed in the magic of Santiago de Compostela, seen the tombs of St. James, St. Luke, St. Mark, St. Lucia and St. Anthony of Padua, the largest relic of the true cross supposedly in existence (90 centimeters!), leisurely floated down the Grand Canal in Venice, sang "That's Amore!" at the top of my lungs with cheerful Italians while holding a bottle of cheap but delicious Italian wine and strolling down medieval boulevards in Bologna, experienced all-you-can-eat pizza and pasta, ate just about all the gelato I could stand, narrowly escaped an earthquake, deftly navigated country mountain roads in northern Spain where apparently all it takes are three buildings to make up a town and road names don't actually exist the way we would like them to.
I promise I will post pictures very soon!