We are now going to embark on a review of my four-cities-in-four-nights race through Italy... may divide it into a couple of parts... Florence will need some embellishing...

On the morning of the 27th I caught a ride to Milan with Gian and some of his friends.  A nice little siesta (in the back of Gian's tiny black sports car) later and we arrived in the so-called ¨Fashion Capital¨ of Italy... to me it felt cold and industiral.  I did get an opportunity to see some cute parts of the city, though, thanks to a friend who sent me on a wild goose chase.  He had found a shop online that he wanted me to see and, almost two hours after arriving in the cold and gray city, I arrived at the address, looked up and saw an apartment building. What a weak climax.  Disappointed and confused I hailed a cab and enjoyed a cheesy, veggie calzone while waiting among the twinkling Christmas lights for the train to Florence.

Mom arrived on the 6th of December... and I had arranged everything.  Well almost everything. Ok... I really only decided on the cities that we would visit and booked the hotels.  I did not do any research about the history, or the best shopping zone or which restaurants serve the best food without eyes.  Madrid was her touchdown point but we stopped only long enough for a coffee before escaping from the bitter cold and heading south to Andalucia.  I had only been to Sevilla once and that was in the middle of August 2006. Recap: 130 degrees... Celcius. I didn´t leave the hotel between the hours of 2pm and 10pm if I could help it. So, needless to say, the Sevilla that Mom got to see was dramatically different than the fly-infested-fry-an-egg-on-the-pavement city that I had seen the first time around.  We wandered around after dropping our stuff off at the Moroccan themed hotel... the cathedral, Plaza de España, the river, flamenco... so many things... it was wonderful.  Not cold but far from hot... the perfect temperature to get a bit lost and then flashed by a sicko in the old Barrio Judio.  From there we went to Córdoba which was a bit cooler and has the marvelous Mezquita (mosque)... an architectural wonder that is done no justice by photographs.  There we stayed in a hotel with a delicious restaurant. You may be wondering, ¨What made this restaurant so special... this is the first good thing I have heard her say about the food.¨ Yes, well... my friends this was a Mexican restaurant.  No other words are necessary.

We woke up early on Monday morning and headed to Ciudad Real... I had to teach at 11:30 so really there was not one moment of rest.  That day I also put three of my paintings in an university-wide exhibition... interesting to see the works and influences here.  Also, it was quite interesting discussing my work in Spanish with people who come from a completely different world.  I enjoyed it... and got presents for participating, too! Monday thru Thursday was filled with classes, pastries, tutoring and coffee... Mom kept up and I didn´t make it easy for her... I tend to walk fast and leave with just enough time to arrive where I need to be.  I am a difficult person to be around... I know this and want to take a brief moment to apologize to and thank all of you who put up with me.  Thursday after classes Mom and I headed to Madrid and checked into the ultra modern hotel in the hip and trendy gay area of the city, Chueca.  Shopping, the Royal Palace, churros with chocolate, the Prado Museum, coffee and a Will Smith sighting at the Spanish opening of his new movie ¨Soy Leyenda¨ I don´t know what it is in English... they translate EVERYTHING here.  And mom made a good point... unless the Prince of Bel-Air speaks Spanish, he just went to an opening and sat through the movie that he acted in but with a different person´s voice and probably did not understand a word. hmmm...

Sunday, the 16th, we go to the airport and I send Mom off... tears fell but I knew she was in good company with the Alabamians who were in line in front of her. Good preparation for reentry into the US of A. I was a bit sad so I treated myself to the Dürer exhibit at the Thyssen Museum and then headed home to unpack and start doing laundry.  I have to make sure all of my clothes dry before Friday so that I can pack them up again for my holiday treck through Italy.

Some things that I realized over the course of my week with Mom:
I love food.  Good food... dark chocolate, full fat whipped cream, goat cheese with walnuts and guacamole.  I enjoy seeing my reflection in the buses that pass as I am waiting to cross the street.  I will forever be in debt to Mom for having taught me to read a map.  I hate to try on clothes.  I need to stop walking so fast and start leaving earlier to be able to arrive on time.  The number 2 bus in Ciudad Real takes me from the train station to the front door of my apartment for about one American dollar.  Sevilla is much better at this time of year (9 or 48 degrees) rather than in August (40 or 104 degrees).  People in all countries, in all languages, will ask me what the writing on my paintings says.  Having warm toes can mean the difference between liking or disliking a city.  I need to brush up on my Spanish. No matter who takes the pictures of La Mezquita in Córdobe, they all look the same and do nothing to describe the magnitude of seeing it in person.  I hate the fact that I have to eat; the Spanish time schedule, cuisine and restaurant system is completly bogus.  How to justify eating pastries as big as my head (daily... hourly) and drinking innumerable cups of coffee each day.  Paying to "become a friend of <your local museum here>" is so worth it.  Bodily functions are hilarious.  I need to drink more water.  Spanish children are impecably dressed.  Spanish adults are a lot less uptight around the holidays.  I must attract famous people; I have seen, within an arms length, Prince Felipe of Spain, Cate Blanchett and Will Smith (not that it counts but today someone asked if I was Nicole Kidman! yeah... right). I am proud of my art and that I can now say that I have had pieces in a European exhibit (even though it is only in Ciudad Real).  Mom is right, and always has been: hats are cozy, amazing and warm; these people are crazy for not wearing them.  I like orange trees with twinkle lights in them.  I don't like to get wet (translation: bathe/shower) when I am cold; I would rather be dirty.  I want to live in a cold climate:  boots, sweaters, scarves and jackets suit me (plus warm weather climates mean humidity, fuzzy hair and tan, exposed skin... not quite my cup of tea).  I want to return to Mexico.  A gringa, in Madrid, during the Christmas season will run into someone she knows... so, like Mom said, "Just make sure you are always doing what you are supposed to be doing."  Will Smith looks just the same in person as in the movies.  I need to buy a watch.  When it is cold outside it doesn't matter what you have on because you will just put a big coat on over it.  I am going to look into working for a travel agency... but I will never be a tour guide.

Big love and holiday greetings to all of you.  Think of me when you drink cider, eat gumbo, and light the candles on Christmas Eve.  I will be thinking of you... in Italy... full of spaghetti and hanging out with the mafia.

xoxcr

To those living in, well, anywhere BUT the States, Thanksgiving means nothing more than eating a Turkey and putting on maternity pants like Joey does in that one Friends episode.  The American movies and TV series that they have are the only exposure that they have to our wonderful once-a-year meal of acceptable gluttony.  They don´t understand that, on this day and this day only, even the skinniest of supermodels and most paranoid trophy wife/mother eat too much, complain about it, then return for a third helping.

I spent all week trying to prepare by looking up recipes, doing metric conversions, testing them out in the busted Spanish oven that is ¨brand new¨ and then racking my brain to figure out what I had done to create the smoldering coals that should have been delicious pumpkin muffins.  The muffins... made, by the way, in individual metal dishes because a large muffin tin does not exist here... truly threw me off.  The ones that had been in the back were black; I don´t mean burned, no... I mean they were rock hard and black the coal that evil children receive in their stockings.  The the muffins in the middle: burned-ish but the insides were alright... and the ones in the front appeared perfect.  Appeared.  I was going to just use the front of the oven, therefore quadrupleing the amount of time I would spend baking, in order to provide delicious treats for the guests... but one small bite caused me to ditch that plan completely.  I wanted to try the muffin, still warm from the monster that lives beneath the stove, just to be sure that it would live up to my French roommates standards (for them nothing is as good as the products of France... soccer, pastries, wine, cheese, cider, music... nothing... except for our TV shows).  Well, the outer part of the muffin was the perfect texture but then -mean surprise- I found inside a gooey, creamy, liquid-esque center. Gross.  So basically, the oven is cursed and as a result my perfect Thanksgiving feast was too.  Oh and did I mention that the oven, as varied in temperatures as it is, is about the size of a desktop computer. Right.

Friday night Jordan, Katie, Luis and a friend of Katie´s from the UK, Sam, arrived.  We, along with Jessica, started to cook because people were going to show up around noon on Saturday to cook, hang out and eat. We knew that we couldn´t prepare everything that morning with the appliances and ingredients that we had at our disposal.  Can I go on the record and say that it does, in fact, taste better to make the pumpkin pie from scratch (no such thing as canned pumpkin pie), but I don´t know if I will attempt that in the future.  I was left with scalded fingertips and splattered with orange pulp. The French blender that Steph has is (a) hand held and (b) has blades the length of a quarter.  Where is my mother´s KitchenAid when I need it and why wasn´t that the first thing that I packed when heading over seas? (That and a Sam´s Club-sized tub of crunchy peanut butter.) 

We made due with what we had, what we lacked and what ¨could do¨ as a replacement: no measuring cups or spoons, a tiny little metric scale, an overambitious oven with poorly labed Celsius temperatures and ingredients that were similar in, at least, appearance.  The pumpkin pie, compliments of Team Jordan/Celia, was yummy but had the consistency of the pecan pie filling mixed with a sponge.  I had made the pumpkin mash beforehand and so he made the filling while I struggled with getting the measurments right for the homemade crust.  We popped them in the oven, at the correct converted-from-Farenheit-to-Celsius temperature and set the timer for 50 minutes.  17.3 minutes later the tops were burnted and the pie was puffy yet soupy.  Seriously, we should have filmed these kitchen catastrophes... a documentary on a bunch of twenty-something American kids trying to put together their first Thanksgiving in Spain. ¨Tragic comedy¨ may be the more appropriate genre.

Saturday morning I got fed up with trying to keep straight who was in line for the oven and stove so I passed my wooden spoon of control to Katie and crowned her the Queen of the Kitchen.   We ended up eating around 5:00 which may have annoyed some of the guests, but we Americans had fun putting it all together.  It truly was an international deal with representatives from America, Spain, France, Bulgaria, Poland, England and Scotland.  I don´t think we did a very good job at explaining the point of the holiday but everyone had fun and took part in the engorging. So, for those who can still stomach the thought of food after your big day, read on to see what graced our plates... after passing the ¨Is it too burned?¨ test... love to all Happy Holiday Madness!

xoxcr

The menu:

Turkey breast a la Katie

Lamb with some kind of French gravy (Steph)

Sweet potatoes with marshmallows

Mashed potatoes (with enough butter to please the Kentucky crew)

Pumpkin Pie

Salad

Bulgarian cheese crepe roll-up things

English rolls with gravy

Chocolate flan

Apple crumble

Wild rice and cornbread stuffing (the one thing that I made with success)

Apple tart

Pineapple upsidedown cake

Apple cider

Spanish tortilla (a big omlette)

English pigs-in-a-blanket (the blanket is ham not bread)

I was pretty much stunned from the moment I stepped off of the high-speed train in Granada last Friday.  I still am trying to figure out if it was shock from the cold or the amazing beauty of the city.  Granada is in Andalucía, the southern most region of Spain, almost touching the African continent.  This gave me the illusion that I would be moving from frigid Ciudad Real to a more brisk, if not mildly warm, area.  Not to mention that the last time I was in Andalucía it was August and I visited Sevilla for a weekend.  It was here, along with the largest cathedral in Spain (third largest in the world - so they claim) and Christopher Columbus´ ashes, where I almost died from the suffocating heat and  was forced by the burning rays of the sun to run from shadow to shadow even while wearing 50+ SPF.

I was mistaken.

I conveniently forgot that the Sierra Nevada is located just next to the city... providing beautiful scenery for pictures of the Alhambra, a skier´s dream resort and a bone-chilling wind that whips through the old alleyways and around the hills.  I felt, despite having put on the majority of my clothes for the rest of the weekend, as if I were traipsing around in a summer dress and flip-flops.  Wrong again, Celia!

Oh, and Miguel didn´t have any gas to heat the water in the apartment... SO I didn´t bathe all weekend.  I guess that part isn´t out of the norm, gross, I know.  But I usually try to think of others around me when I am staying with them. 

I met Miguel about two years ago in Guanajuato, Mexico and - I may have already told this story - he is now working in Granada.  Randomly, about a month ago, my friend Jordan (met the first day of Master Plan at WKU) was wandering around the city all by his lonesome and met Miguel.  They were talking about their lives, where they were from, following the small-talk rules when I came up (Mexico--->Guanajuato--->Gringa--->Celia).  What a small world.  Jordan and I used this connection, and free place to stay, as an excuse to visit the wonderful world of Granada.

And what a wonderful place indeed: the most delicious falafel-kebap-burritoesque-wraps, major Morrocan influence, yummy tea, colorful people and the Alhambra just to name a few perks.

I got cornered by a gypsy woman as I was walking past the cathedral.  She shoved a sprig of rosemary in my right hand and grabbed my left; both of my eyes remained on my bag.  She began, in a stream of jumbled Spanglish, to tell me how it was a regalo and that money is bad luck and from the diablo (okay...) Then she began telling my fortune with bonita, preciosa and ¨so pretty¨ thrown in every now and then.  Her grip was firm and her insistance of my happy future was unshakeable... until I told her that I didn´t have any money.  She then said, ¨The rosemary is free but your future is not,¨ (right...) and held out her hand.  I gave her one euro... ONE WHOLE EURO... that is one fifth of my normal daily spending allowance.  She shook her head and said, ¨No, no, coins are from the devil, paper... paper is from God.¨ (uh-huh...) I told her I didn´t have more than that... which was kind of true as it was my last coin and I had yet to take money out of the ATM.  Not to mention that the smallest paper euro is the big fiver.  She then pulls out a little -empty- change purse while saying something about her being able to change my big bills for smaller ones and I had to turn my pockets inside out to get her to let go of me.  I got cursed and then stripped of my rosemary.  I guess my two niños are now doomed.

Later that afternoon, Jordan and I went to the Alhambra, I had bought tickets online before hand so we got to skip line and head straight to the good stuff.  And oh how good it was! I couldn´t stop gasping and ooo-ing and aaahhh-ing.  The woodwork and intricate designs in the stone are very impressive. Can´t really put it into words because the photos that I had seen before, and those that I took while there, don´t even do the job even though their worth is greater by 1000.

A quick tapas tour later that evening was hindered a bit by the fact that we still had our bags with us... but was convenient when I needed another layer of clothing to keep out the bitter gusts of wind that wanted to claim my outer extremeties. When we finally got home that night I had the chance to thaw out... Miguel, Jordan and I had to share the bed and because cooties evolve and become contagious to other boys with puberty I got the cozy place in the middle. 

Saturday we had an extravagant lunch of to-go döner kebap in Plaza Nueva with a bagpiping street performer and the changing leaves giving the afternoon a golden, mystical feeling.  Walking around in awe was pretty much the name of the game.  The tea salons were cozy; they had the atmosphere of something out of a fairytale... and I finally found an equivalent to the chai tea with milk that I have been jonesing for.  Miguel´s roommate and some of his friends cooked dinner and after I stayed home while those wild and crazies went out on the town.  My bones are old, my joints ache and I can´t feel my feet when it is in the 50´s so my setting foot outside of the apartment was completely laughable.  Plus I got a good 4 hours of sleep without having to share the blanket.

We met a cute little Argentinian chica named Luli who was staying in the hostal where Miguel works.  Friendly, artistic and without the Spanish accent... her best characteristic.  We spent most of the weekend with her getting lost in the labyrinth of the streets and happening upon the miradores (viewpoints) around the city.  We were sitting on one ledge and gazing at the majesty of the mountain, a flamenco show going on in the nearby tavern, when this group of graying Englishmen came and set up a movie camera and began filming part of a documentary tape.  You know, the kind that shows at the same time as a comedy show so you tape it to watch later and maybe or maybe not get around to?  Well, I must say that it was exactly as dramatic as in the films... ask me to reinact it for you in person... the accent kind of falls through the text.

All in all it was a fine weekend, last minute and a bit of an expenditure but worth it.  I arrived on Sunday with little time to think it over... I am planning a Thanksgiving feast for Saturday and there is much to be done.

Missing all of you... Happy Thanksgiving!

Love xox cr

Last Wednesday was Halloween... I tried to get excited and teach my classes a bit about the history of the holiday and also about our customs and traditions.  I was met with blank stares and yawns.  I don´t know what is wrong with these people but whenever my language teachers would rather have discussions or just talk I was completely supportive... anything but work on Grammar.  Different strokes for different folks... proving to be more and more true with every country I visit.

November 2, All Saints Day (Day of the Dead in Mexico... and Lucy´s birthday, happy love to you!), is a huge holiday here and everything shuts down... much like a typical Sunday.  Since it fell on a Thursday this year, everyone... and I mean until the government buildings and universities... cancelled all regularly scheduled programs for Friday so that Spain could abandon it´s post and travel about.  My friends Katie, Luis and his flatmates all decided to head to Portugal. I, blushingly admit, did not plan well for the trip except to look up places to stay on www.couchsurfing.com and I checked the map to see where Porto is in relation to Lisbon... not very up to date on my Portuguese- language or geography.

I met Katie in Madrid and we hopped an overnight bus (travelling Mexican style... minus the goody bag and la-z-boy seats) to Lisbon to save money... pay for a night in a bus and you get hotel and transportation in one! Trains could be an option for the same thing but they are more expensive, quicker and you don´t get the pleasure of the symphonic sleep noises of your fellow travellers.  There is just something comforting about a stranger sleep-murmuring in you ear while another snores in harmony with the bus´ squeaky breaks.

I didn´t realize there was a time difference between Spain and Portugal... and that was just one of the constant road blocks on our mini-adventure.  We arrived at 6:00am in Lisbon and wandered around the bus station and then the metro for a good forty-five minutes before figuring out how to get to the main part of the town... we play around on the automatic machines that are there for ¨easy buying¨ of metro passes but if you had seen us pushing the buttons and making faces, you might have assumed that we were deep in concentration on the most crucial level of a hard core video game.  It was that confusing... and there were English and Spanish translations!  Finally we get to the ¨purchase¨ screen of the unbeatable level when Katie says ¨my wallet is gone¨.  Of course.

Whenever we get together trouble either finds us, we invite it or we create it... neither of us can figure out which it is but it is not just a once-in-a-blue-moon thing... EVERY time we go somewhere or plan something together there is a little hiccup or a gigantic catastrophe that occurs.

So we go back to the bus station, search the waiting area, interrogate the bus driver, look in the bus, scour the metro station... then decide that it is gone and head for the American Embassy which is convieniently located nearby.  We walk up to the little guard house to be greeted by a girl who doesn´t speak English nor Spanish and we figure out by signlanguage and head shaking that the embassy is closed for the holiday that we don´t, as a country, recognize.  Without options and very hungry, I think it was about 8:30 by this time, we decided to search for a cafe and have breakfast by the river.  Already, after only one tiny meal, I like Portugal more than Spain for their food options and cafes:  delicious pastries, fresh fruit and a lot less cigarette smoke in the air to contaminate the flavors.  Germany still wins for the coffee (American sized).

We get in touch with Diego, this guy I found on CouchSurfing, [okay... side note/disclaimer... CouchSurfing is this thing where you look up people and their profiles and you can stay with them. Check out the website.  I didn't tell anyone -family- before I did it because I knew you would freak out but it really has been the best thing that I have found out about since being here.  Sebastian, the guy that I stayed with in Germany, was a couch surfing find, too.  Punishments, anger, fear, etc. can be sent via email.] and get a little oriented with the city.  He draws us a map and then heads to the library because he is studying for his masters and has a big test on Saturday... this kid is 21!  Turns out, in addition to being a boy genius, he is an amazing cook, a wine connoisseur and a critic of jazz music. Too ambitious for me, but very noble all the same.

Lisbon is a beautiful city with architecture that has been restored but they maintained the same look as the original buildings:  glass tiles of all colors and patterns cover many of the store and house fronts.  The city is relatively easy to navigate, at least around the main, touristy area... we climbed around Barrio Alto (high neighborhood... it is on one of the many hills in the city) and down into a little valley littered with shops of varying levels of chic-ness before climbing another hill to see the castle.  Diego told us about another castle and palace that are in nearby cities... the king built one of them for his brother who wanted to overthrow him.  The king locked his brother, the prince, in one room with nothing to do so after time, much time, the prince eventually wore down a circular path into the stone from pacing around and around so many times.  I thought that was pretty impressive and, honestly, I would return to Lisbon just to check it out.  I love anything that is old and shows an imprint or proof of the fact that life happened in these places. (I think that is why I liked Porto a bit more than Lisbon... more on that later.)

We never met up with Luis and his flatmates while we were in Lisbon. Neither Katie nor I had credit on our phones and there were no Vodafone stores to be found so we could only receive calls... VIVA FOREIGN PHONE PLANS!  (Sarcasm... they are really quite annoying and expensive.)

The culinary experience in both Lisbon and Porto was amazing.  Diego, like I mentioned before, was an amazing cook so we had nothing more to do than follow his instructions blindly in order to sit down to a yummy meal accompanied by the perfectly matched wine.  I don't really know if the whole "undercurrent of oak and cherry" thing is really true or it just gives people a tool to make others feel uneducated... I don't get it but I do know that it tasted great with what he made. The second night he said that we got stuck with a bad bottle... hmmm. Maybe it is because we could not quite meet his prefered spendature of 30 euros... 3 was the limit we decided upon.

After two nights of Lisbon, two breakfasts of the most divine pastries that I have ever tasted, another trip to the American Embassy and some wired money through Western Union, we hopped a bus to Porto.  (November 3: Jennie and Chad's wedding... CONGRATS!!! Mom sent me the pics and they are wonderful... Jennie, I adore you and you looked lovely! So sad that I couldn't be there in person... my heart was with you... not to be too gushy.)

Here we stayed with João (yes, another CouchSurfer) who reminded me of my friend Woomer... smart as can be and a little bit hippie.  He is a photographer and juggler and lives in a wonderful apartment just minutes from the picturesque river that runs through the town and is lined with winerys.  Katie and I dropped our stuff off and tried some sweet white Port wine (made there in Porto) and I swear there was honey in it... it is more of a golden color than white, but I obviously am not the one to ask.  The look of Porto is similar to that of Lisbon but minus the face lift.  It has all of the plazas, the tiled houses and churches, winding streets and all cuddled up to the river.  It was very cold but lovely... we had dinner outside by the river with João, Luis and his flatmates.  We finally found each other after wandering around the two same cities... and then only saw them for dinner because they went out afterwards and we went to hang out in the apartment.

We got on the metro to catch a 11:55am flight to Madrid and I am going to spell out, step by step, what we did to buy our ticket:

Biensvhuwlbg açhl ajeihn! (<---Portuguese)

Welcome! Which route ticket would you like to buy?

{press "Airport" button}

How many titles would you like?

{press "2" button}

Please pay your left eye and your right pinkie toe.

Have a nice day. Thank you!

So we buy two titles and it only prints us off one ticket.  We don't know what to do, but the next train comes and we hop on.  At the next stop I see the metro patrolmen with their ticket zappers get on and I automatically have a flashback to Germany ~~~~{ on the metro, had bought a day pass... paid with three of my molars and one eyebrow... the zapper man tells me that I have to pay 40 euros because I didn't validate my ticket... wait, what!? yes, the date is on the ticket, yes I know you bought it this morning and that it is valid until 3am tomorrow but you didn't validate it and now you must pay... I played the dumb American card and got out of it, long story short}~~~~ I snap back to reality and Katie and I decide that we have probably done something wrong and, sure enough, we did.  Here we get told that the fine is 85 euros because we both have to have a ticket.  Yes, he says, that he understands what we did. Even when I suggest he just take the ticket with an extra ride on it, so that we can't use it if for some reason we come back to Porto within the next month.  No.  We get off at the next stop and do what we did all over again... he shows us the sign where it says that all people must have a ticket... yes, we wanted two tickets which is why we bought two titles.  No, titles means trips. Ok. So the translation now needs translations? Right that makes sense.  Another long story short: we didn't have to pay and we made our flight.

Once in Madrid I rewarded myself for making it home alive with a falafel... not anywhere near as good as those at Sultan's Table in Spring Hill, Tennessee but they will hold me over til July... and that place better still be open.

Now I am back to work and Ciudad Real... received a package from Michelle with a card, a scarf and candy pumpkins (my FAVORITE Halloween candy) and I haven't taken off the scarf and the pumpkins were gone within the hour.  Also, semi-good news, I received the document with my number on it that makes me legal but now I have to go and stand in more lines to get the card made and then return to pick it up. Maybe I will get it before I leave for the states.

Yesterday I went to the yarn store and had the lady show me how to knit the most simple of scarves and that is currently occupying my time, in addition to listening to Christmas music and painting.  Also, planning a Thanksgiving party so that is something to look forward to. I'm doing all right, just waiting for the next voyage to present itself.  Missing y'all very much and sending my love.

Updates from your side of the ocean are welcome, too!

xoxcr

German and English do not sound anything alike and I don´t care that they share the same roots...

I get along better speaking to my Italian friends with their awful Spanish and no English than I did following conversations in German.  Not that I don´t like it... I would actually love to study the language... but my good greif is it difficult!

It was very strange being in a country where (a) they didn´t speak English or Spanish and (b) everyone assumed I spoke German because of how I looked.  I usually have to convince people to speak to me in Spanish because I don´t look like I would speak it... and in Berlin I had to be one of those idiots with a confused look and just say ¨English? Spanish? No Deutch Bitte... Danke¨ I mean how embarrassing!

I did enjoy myself, though... ran on delirium and caffinated tea but it was wonderful.

I stayed with a friend, Sebastian, who had just moved into a new apartment in a largely Turkish part of town (Falafels at my fingertips can be dangerous to the waistline).  The penthouse apartment appeared to have been previously inhabited by a group of communal-living-hippie-artists.  A great living/dining room/ kitchen set up with incredible tall ceilings and giant windows that we sat in to watch the bundled up people scurry through the streets below.  Five bedrooms with a kind of bunk set up... like I said the ceilings had to have been about 15 feet tall so there was a semi-second floor in each of the rooms where the beds were so everyone has their own mini-living area.  The bathroom area, and I say area because it was just as large as the dining/kitchen area and included another living area... complete with the couch next to the claw-footed bathtub.  Open the door and to get to the living/bathing area you have to go up about 5 stairs... cleanliness on a pedestal... so that there is no hiding.  We love our bodies! The sinks were the old-fashioned dorm or locker room style type... cement with the trough below and the three-spicket double sided faucets above.  The decor was enviable... left behind bongos hanging from the ceiling, old posters from rallys and exhibitions, a homemade throne (oversized just like Edith Ann/Lily Tomlin would have liked it), inspiring quotes scribbled on the walls... and so much more. Makes my brand-spankin-new flat look cold and boring and in need of a love/hate relationship... that or some hallucinogenic substances.

My main reason for going to Berlin... other than to buy a €5 postcard with a microscopic piece of the Berlin Wall (which I did NOT do, don´t fret)... was to see the Manu Chao concert. I got to the arena... just an enormous warehouse, basically, with a stage set up at one end, at about 19:15 and it was basically empty so I plopped myself down on the floor just in front of the stage.  Some mediocre guys opened, who are apparently really big in Berlin, and I was enjoying my spot just in front of the police barricades... then Manu started to play and the barrier soon became wedged between my ribcage and my lungs while everyone else who was behind me... now a huge amount of people... all tried at once to get into my spot. I took some photos, some videos, got spit on, sweat on and then made my way to the people who wanted to actually see the entertainment and not just swap body oder with others. So glad that I went... not the highlight of the trip because all of it was great... but worth it.

I went with Sebastian to one of his friends party and it turned out to be a costume party... there were grocery carts loaded with random items and everyone had to put something on... if you loved your costume you could pay €1 for each item and then wear it around the city when you left.  The best part is someone was wearing a Tennessee flag! I took a picture with her and then we took the flag to add to the decor of Sebastian´s apartment...

So much more to say but now I have to get some things in order before I head out tomorrow evening for Portugal... there is a long break for All Saint´s Day and Katie, Luis, his roommates and I are all going to Lisbon and Porto for a few days... more on that later...

Love from here... a birthday hug to Lucy and a big kiss to Jennie and Chad... CONGRATS NEWLYWEDS! (<--to be read on Saturday, October 3)

missing you and the Tennessee Autumn...

xox