Fast Times at Suffolk HiGH!

You´re probably wondering (or not)why I have taken to blogging an unusual amount recently and there is a simple and logical explanation: midterms. That wonderful time of the year where people get edgy from caffine libations and showers are scarce or nonexistent. Seeing as the immaculated well dressed professors of Spain only believe in resting the fate of your existence on two exams it is wise to at least open a book. Take off the plastic wrapper at minimum. My solace from the nightmare came in the form of a phi bear named Erika Gates.To no ones surprise she brought the sun with her under some alliance with Mother Nature for the weekend all the way from Barcelona. Upon her midnight arrival and the departure of my roommates for an endless parade of feathers and face paint they call Carnival in Cadiz, Erika and I made it our mission to explore without plan or agenda. Our carpe diem mentality lead to the most memorable weekend to date.

I began by showing her all of the must sees of Madrid: our kitchen, the museum of jam, and the place where a psuedo Chubacca almost attacked me. Naturally she was very grateful for my extensive expertise of the historic city. A postre and about fourteen unfamiliar blocks later fate led us to the Palacio Real ( also known as where the royals used to reside). All of a sudden the White House looked like an apartment. My attraction to the big and gaudy led us to tour the 3000 room crib, a location I kept referring to as my summer home to Erika. I was entirely amused with the siblings in front of us in line who tested our patience by having a face off on who would pay the entrance fee. The posh female´s argument lay in her payment of the taxi and the male´s that if her addiction to Burberry would dissolve there wouldn´t be a problem. Gotta love family. After Sid caved to Nancy in submission we finally made it to what my Aunt Marcia would deem Mecca. Now I have seen ¨The Tudors¨and mastered the tale of Christopher Colombus sailing the ocean blue but you just don´t get it until you have five feet from the royal throne that the hideously wealthy and equally ugly Ferdinand sat so many years ago your head hurts to think about it. Each room was themed something that had to have been picked out of hat: porcelain, silver, gold, wood, tapestry, wallpaper, The Simpsons, and even one dedicated to Cristiano Ronaldo. Okay so I was making up the last two. I acquired a neck strain thanks to whoever decided to put a masterpeice of art work for each ceiling in existance. There also appeared to be more chandelliers than chairs, and lets just say there was no shortage of places to sit. I left feeling about as wealthy as the homeless man that had made a pass at me the day before. We spent most of the rest of the day strolling down streets pretending the backpacks and blonde hair weren´t dead give aways we didn´t fit in. We came across a beautiful church that practically forced you to pay tithe just for looking at it, many parks all named El Jardin that make Memorial Park look like a sandbox, and due to my magnetic pull to that black cup of bliss, ended at a coffee shop.

In Madrid there exists an outdoor (indoor by way of glass enclosure)marketplace called El Mercado San Miguel. If you are a fan of bread, cheese, chocolate, or any form of food it is a must see. If the 45 minute wait for a gourment platter of cheese I could not pronounce is any indication of it popularity, it lives up to the hype. Since you had a better chance of solving world hunger than finding a place to sit, we took cover under a heating lamp that Erika had to later physically remove me from. Naturally I dragged her for my 238573463859474 trip to the Prado after, the likelihood that the security guards will anticipate my arrival during free hours is good. The one that takes the tickets name is Carlos.

Me, Erika and a long lost Alpha Phi named Michella who is a teacher in Madrid had a farewell dinner at Lateral, ones of the few places you can get a recognizable salad in Chueca. Setting a personal record for longest dinner at three and a half hours, we talked about everything from our futures (eeeepppp!) to the theme for Skit this year, don´t worry I wont write it : )It was an ideal end to a quintessential weekend.

On Wednesday upon finishing a poorly constructed midterm, my roommate Julia and I decided we would navagate our way home via walking, an ambitious attempt. A few Zara and Mango pitstops later we were almost home when we discovered a mob scene infront of a theatre showing the musical appropriately named "El Musical". In a moment of sheer genius we decided to buy a ticket to the musical that looked like it was directed by Baz Luhrmann. Half an hour later squeezed into the fire hazard that was the nose bleed section, the three hour entertainment began. It was a collection of popular songs in English and Spanish (renditions of Britney Spears and Celine Dion took place) were put to a soap opera inspired plot line. This is Spain mind you so they were forced to push the risque limits and mixed things up with a DJ and disco ball combo in the lobby at intermission. Best three hours of my life. The audience seemed to be in a karaoke competition with the performers and the audience was winning in terms of volume. This was not a group of middle aged women singing to Abba at Mamma Mia. This was a Guns N Roses concert. An unusual and unforgettable reward for surviving torture week.


El Palacio Real




El Mercado San Miguel


El Formagerie



Walking without purpose


Phis Around the World

BonJOUR Geneve!

The Alps



Bonjour family and friends!!!! So my reputation has preceded me not to sound too smug and obnoxious but I am now being scolded if I wait longer than a week to update my blog, they like me they really like me. So as most of you know who stalk my facebook, correspond with me through email, or have ever gotten your teeth cleaned by my mother, I recently went to the land of Swiss Army knives, Toblerone, and the Alps. That´s right I went to Portugal. Only kidding, I had the privilege of going with other hard core backpackers like myself Rachael, Alicia, and Christa Lee to Geneve, Switzerland (fact: the details are not for your benefit but for my memory or lack there of). My first flight on a discount air Easy Jet went less than smoothly thanks to my genetically inherited paranoia. I spent the better part of the flight cutting off the circulation in Christa Lee´s hand and probing her with questions like ¨do you think the flight was so cheap because its the pilot´s first time flying?!¨ There wasn´t even turbulance.
Yes my inner nature girl was truely let loose with morning trips to the coffee machine conveniently located on the first floor of my hostel and using the above ground metro system any time the idea of walking was brought up. In my head the word hostel evokes images of PE locker room changing areas and Dodger Stadium bathrooms. I was prepared to sleep cuddling my purse like a safety blanket. If my stereotypical notion of a hostel is indeed accurate then City Hostel Geneva is the Ritz Carlton of the cheap accomodations world. They had flatscreens playing MTV, they had an internet cafe, they had private rooms, they even had heat (something my residence in Madrid cannot boast more times than not)! Granted we were the only guests checked in under the age of 80 making it somewhat of a geriatrics hot spot but my dismay was quickly quieted by the discovery of Switzerland´s greatest creation: museli. It looks like granola but the resemblance ends there, the taste is far superior. The hazelnut flavor was quite literally my life support sustaining me after it was made apparent that something as lower tier and repulsive as a McDonald´s burger costs as much as 12 franks (roughly 12 US dollars).

Spending four days there our trip was virtually a what NOT to do guide of Switzerland. I could make a living being the antithesis of Rick Steves. Somewhere between booking our flight and scanning tourist websites we failed to read that if you come to Switzerland before March or April bring a good read because nothing will be open. April is when tourist season ( thats not just an expression) begins so don´t expect to see the Jet dau fountain, take a tour of the United Nations, take a gondola up the Alps, or go wine tasting. We should know, we tried every one of these without success. But when youre in Switzerland its hard to complain and there is no such thing as an off season for shopping, eating, and frequenting parks. Not even the unfamiliar falling snowflakes could stop us from spending the day about the quiet town. Against our will we were forced to leave on Valentine´s Day, a holiday I discovered was universal when I was flooded with flowers on the street and an offering of two heart shaped chocolates was made to me by the coffee barista at the airport. The simulated hospitality was all very romantic. All in all the food was good but don´t expect to have money to go on living after youre through, the french incomprehensible and most likely tied to the holier than thou attitude of some locals, and the mountains too beautiful to explain without pictures. Until next time I miss and love you all!!!!!

un besito

carmen san diego




Making My Political Mark



Neutral Pride

Manana No Salgo

HOLA friends and family!!!! I know you have been agonizing over my absence from the blog world so youre entertainments back!! Shout out to Lauren who took to rereading the previous posts out of boredom. So we are in our fourth week here which means according to the counselors and staff we should be throwing ourselves off buildings and crying in supermarkets anytime now. Don't worry aside from tearing up at the sight of a much needed morning coffee I'm doing just fine. Your very own Carmen San Diego has been taking in the local sights the Madrileno way: in an overbearingly large firecracker red double decker tourist bus. Which wasn't ALL THAT embarrassing till I fell down the flight of stairs that takes you to the top and snuck out the back exiting a round of applause. Other fanny pack worthy outings I've made include the famous flea market El Rastro or as I've affectionately deemed it: the rat race. You are surrounded on either side by items no one should ever buy from a vender in a Led Zepplin t-shirt. You have no say in the matter of what direction you are going in, the herd moves you as they see fit.

This past Saturday my roommate removed my covers and yelled in my ear enough to drag me to the quaint town of Segovia about an hour and half outside Madrid by bus. Wondering what it looks like? Open up a picture book from Sleeping Beauty and check out the castle, there you go I saved you a trip. I've tossed around the word 'moat' before but never have I actually almost fell down into one. Also home to the first aqueducts which they still use as their water system, sure beats Brita. In the end I thanked my roommate for waking me up and apologized for hitting her.

So since my brain works in an organized choas manner I will proceed to list the youthful knowledge and sage advice I have gained thus far:

1. the phrase "Spanish Internet" is an oxymoron. I have a cellphone that works on higher speed connection. This has also been a determining factor in the frequency of my posts... lo siento
2. the invention of elevators or escalators is lost on the Spanish, I've taken to repeating the mantra "only five more steps" and 9293405729 steps later I'm there
3. dinner time in an all girls boarding house resembles that of the running of the bulls in a place not too far from where I am... it is eat or be eaten, the suggestion of snacks has come up
4. wearing a t-shirt that reads "I LOVE NERDS" is equivalent to asking the locals to mock you.

Ok I was planning on writing more but the Starbucks employee is making eyes that scream I want to go home.

I leave this weekend Geneva Switzerland so until then...

Besos

Chrissy


Roommates at The Rastro


SOL


Retiro Sundays