I’m alive, y’all. Don’t lose it. I’m alive. I made it back from Valencia in one piece.
Friday was a mix of good and bad. Good, because we left for Valencia and spent the night there and it was woooonderful. But also bad, because I got a bomb fatter than the A-bomb in Hiroshima dropped on me that morning and I had to go to a meeting with my professor sobbing. Cool, right? Yeah I know. But that afternoon, Alex and I got pasteles (desserts), packed up all our stuff, and headed to the bus station to go to the train station in Madrid.
To get there, we had to get on the metro. Everyone had told me to be VERY careful of people on the metro, that groups of thieves prey on tourists and are very slight of hand. (I had decided earlier last month that if I was accosted, I would bark at the assailants.) After successfully figuring out how the metros worked, we braved the underground tunnel from Spanish hell and waited for our stops.
Then, suddenly, a man spoke up, talking about how the world is shit, and that our religion has us all twisted, and that the government is full of murderers and stuff like that. I looked at his hands after looking at Alex and laughing, and he had some large metal contraption. As I didn’t really understand what he was saying exactly, I thought he had a bomb. I was really convinced that I was gonna die on that metro. However, he later began crying over how we were all one human race and how we should love each other. I was still scared, even though what he had was an iPod dock…
After safely arriving in Valencia, Alex and I took a cab to our hostel, which was a very nice place with a big bed, and A/C. It’s hotter than a baby in a microwave in Valencia (I hope Wil Underwood reads this at some point) and I was drenched in sweat. After settling in, we set off to find a bar called Sherlock Holmes to eat and drink a little. We got lost like three times, finally found the bar, and it was closed. So we meandered around the city and went to a cute cafe called Cafe de las Horas (The Hours; it was French themed), and had an 8-euro sangria and I had hot black mango tea even though my body temperature was a hundred thousand degrees. I was dehydrated and starving, so the sangria wasn’t a good idea because it was tiny and after it, I was tipsy.
We meandered some more after realizing there was no food at that cafe and went to La Cueva and ordered tapas, which were delicious. I had asparagus for the first time; LOVE. I may or may not have had too much to drink that night (and my roommate definitely did), so we kind of lived up to the stereotype of drunk, loud Americans. We made it back to the hostel, dripping in sweat, and I called my mama and Skyped with Christian and texted everyone in my phone with iMessage (sorry, y’all…).
I woke up the next morning, mostly excited to go to the beach for the first time in my life (!!!!!!!), but feeling really empty inside, both because I was severely dehydrated and because I felt scared to be in Valencia alone and that the only ones I wanted to talk to were many hours away and all I wanted was to hear Nathan’s voice. I toughed it out, ate a free breakfast, navigated the VALENCIA metro like a badass, and made it to the beach.
I’M IN LOVE WITH THE BEACH. CAN I HAVE IT?!
I felt like part of the sea when I floated with the waves. Sand was everywhere, I was soaked in the Mediterranean sea, the sun was hot but the breeze was cool, it was heaven. Also we just so happened to have a spot on the beach next to two hotties, till an old man in a speedo separated us, and I had the pleasure of seeing him get beaten by the waves (he was really the old man and the sea). I can’t wait to go to the beach in Malaga again this weekend.
On our way back from our beautiful trip, we took a different kind of train that runs a little bit more slowly than an AVE, and five minutes out of Valencia…it stopped. Not only did we have plans to stop in Madrid and shop before going home to Segovia, but the train stopped… like, stopped. WHAT? Ten minutes later, it started up again, but it was literally dragging the ground… my roommate, unaware of my thing for Titanic, says, “we’re on titanic and these railroad rocks are icebergs.” You know I died inside.
Anyway, we made it to Madrid safely and this time on the Metro, some man tried selling kleenexes and started playing the recorder beginning for money…?
We went to a few stores before deciding we were dead tired and wanted to go home and made the last bus home to Segovia. For some reason, I started having a homesick panic attack and wanted to go back home worse than I have this whole trip.
So I slept all day, did homework for six hours, and don’t care about my grades here anymore.
I’m ready to come home. I miss everyone too much. By the end, I’m sure I’ll never want to leave, but for now, I need a hug from my mom, harassment from my dad, and a kiss from mom’s dog. I have to start learning how to live without some things, though. This will be good practice.
Hopefully this week goes all right and I get over my homesickness. Till then, I’m in love with this person