Finals

Here are a few reasons that finals month, even though more spread out than the American finals, are more stressful.

1) We're JUST now starting finals and we started class in September. That's about 5 months of material to study and memorize.

2) We didn't have midterms. So everything will be on the final.

3) The final is worth at least 70% of the final grade.

4) The tests are in Spanish.

I just took my first final today and am hoping the professor decides to be generous. I did go to almost every class of hers and I know she recognizes me... But it wasn't the best final I've taken.

Two more this week... then one on the 15th.

Wish me luck... I need it.

Mastering the Art of Taking a Cold Shower

So, for those of you that don’t know (or just in case I haven’t typed it yet), our piso doesn’t have a gas line. We use butane that comes in tanks. When one of our tanks runs out, we call the delivery guys and they deliver it to us the next day. Someone has to be home to pay him and give him our empty tank, but it’s a relatively painless process.

Since we use gas tanks instead of a gas line, we don’t have a hot water tank. We have one of those heaters that heats water as you need it. So, then, we only really use hot water when we take showers. We need to go outside, turn on the gas, and light the pilot before we take a shower.

Just before Christmas break, one of our bottles started running really low, meaning it wouldn’t work for the hot water heater, but it worked just fine for the stove. The other one was brand new, so it wasn’t that big of a deal. Then I was out of town for about 3 weeks.

After coming home, we still only had the one butane tank. Paulina was the only one here and she’s hardly ever home, so it’s not like a ton of gas was used.
But late last week, we ran out of gas completely.

That means for a week I haven’t been able to cook on the stove or take a shower that’s any warmer than ice.

Luckily, I had just showered the day we ran out of gas (which is probably part of the reason we ran out of gas that day). But since the gas guy hadn’t come on Saturday and I knew the earliest he would come is Monday, I knew I would need to take a cold shower.
This isn’t the first time this has happened. This is the first time we haven’t been able to cook, but not the first time we haven’t been able to take a normal shower. But this time, a little wiser than last, I had a strategy.

We have a handheld showerhead, too, which should be noted because it makes the whole thing much easier.

First, kneel down and bend over the tub to wash your hair. The hardest part about being in the cold water is feeling the cold drips from hair. So if you can get this done in a way that it won’t get your back wet, it makes the process much easier. Wring out your hair when you’re done and put it up in a towel.

Hop in the shower. Wash your body in sections. Legs, then arms, then body. Just lightly splash yourself with water and make sure the soap is good and wet. Scrubbing will warm you up. It’s the final rinse that really sucks.

Next, get dry. Lots of rubbing with the towel will help warm you up, too. Get on the warmest set of pajamas you have, and nice, thick socks.

Once you’re out of the shower and dry and dressed, wrap your hair up again. Wash your face in the sink.

Get in bed, get in your blankets, and drink a steaming cup of hot tea.

Yes, it was a cold shower, but I felt MUCH better than I had before taking that shower. And I figured that would be the last cold shower while living in Spain.
However, now it is Wednesday night and the butane still hasn’t come in. I will be here all day Thursday, so hopefully we get it by then. Paulina told me that she will have the guy (again) come on Thursday. But I think tonight I will need to at least wash my hair in the cold water.

Honestly, the worst part about not having gas isn’t the cold shower, it’s the fact that I can’t use my stove. At least we have a new microwave now! So I can still drink tea and make some basic food things.

In other news, today was my last day of class! I can’t believe it’s all coming to an abrupt end. It gives me a weird feeling of relief at being done with lectures, taking notes, and writing papers in Spanish; and dread at the finals that are just around the corner. Not to mention the excitement of returning home… and the sadness of leaving this one.

At least I don’t run out of gas in California.

And California has Mexican food.

Keep looking at the positives.

Mi vida después de mis vacaciones

I got home and crashed. It was nice to be in my bed again.

...

Actually, that's getting a little ahead of the story.

I got home and saw the gaping hole in our floor. Paulina was home and explained to me that there had been a leak and the people below us were complaining about the water coming into their ceiling. So the landlady sent a guy to fix the pipe.

I turned on my light and saw the damage on my wall. The drywall had started crumbling off in places and there was mold.



I didn't notice the mold that first night, so I was a little confused when Pau (who moved out that week I was in Italy to move back into her old place) offered her room to me for the night.

After that night, I've been sleeping in Pau's room but living out of my room. I haven't shut the window to my room, and I've just been waiting for it to be fixed.

The floor was fixed in about one or two days. The walls just got fixed this morning, and let me tell you, it really makes me such a happy person. I can't wait to wash my bedding and sleep in my bed again! My walls look so fresh and clean and I really just can't wait to enjoy the space again. I really have grown fond of my room and it's been sad to be avoiding it.

Also, to get my deposit back, I need to find someone to replace me in the apartment. I think I can officially REALLY start that process now, since I have a presentable space to show them.

My finals month looks a little something like this: Jan. 31: Morning: Sistema Político Español, Afternoon (or sometime the previous week?): Gramática. Feb. 3: Sociología de las Religiones. Feb. 15: Proceso Político Español. The first and last finals will definitely be the most difficult and Gramática will be really easy.

With the gap in my finals schedule, I might take a trip to the north of Spain with Jim and Lauren, my compañeros de vacación POR SIEMPRE. One last trip with two of the best people ever.

After finals, I'm also hoping to go to Barcelona, because, I mean, if I've been living in Spain for 6 months, I HAVE to go to Barcelona, right? Maybe even a Barcelona partido de fútbol if I can get cheap tickets!

I may have to only pick one, though, and in that case, it will be Barcelona.

Anyway, Lauren and Michelle and I went on a hike this week, as a study escape and a search for the best bread in Granada... but sadly the town we thought we were going to is actually about 12 km away from the place we wound up in after 2 hours of walking... so we will have to go by bus another day.

Last week, Lauren, Jim and I skiied the REAL Sierra Nevadas. It was epic.


I've had many nights in with friends, just chatting about life here, life at home, and our future lives... I am going to miss my Spanish companions more than I think they realize. I have found out so much about myself through them, and we have grown so much together in our own lives, and in doing so we have grown together.

I have been plagued with so many mixed emotions. I am definitely ready to be home. I miss home, I miss Mexican food, I miss the beach and taking notes in English on my MacBook...

... but in a weird way, I am NOT ready to leave. I'm not ready to say goodbye to Granada indefinitely. I'm not ready to say goodbye to my friends indefinitely. I'm not ready to leave a few behind and watch the others go away to their other UCs, far away from me.

It will be weird to call my old friends up to hang out instead of my new ones.

It will be weird going back to work.

It will be weird to be only taking in English.

It will be weird to drive and actually see the street signs. And to wait until the green light to cross the street.

I may never see this city again. I hope to, but it's very possible that I won't, and that is frightening to me. And so, so sad.

Granada has become another home to me, and in a way, it was MY first home. I had to pay rent every month. I lived on my own. I created my own life out of nothing... and now I need to leave it all behind.

I suppose this is just another part of the experience. I AM ready to be home... but I will miss everything here so much.

I just hope my friends here keep in touch with me after I'm gone.









These guys are awesome.

That's Amore: Winter Break, part 2

I was alone. Chris had left me, and for the first time in three weeks, I was completely alone.

I stared at the clock and read intermittently. I bought a sandwich. More than anything, I wanted access to internet... I wanted to either talk to someone or recharge my phone so I could text some people Happy New Years... but of course, there was no internet in the tiny Granada airport.

Perhaps it was for the best.

I continued reading and waiting for my flight. I actually finished The Glass Castle just before boarding, much to my dismay, since I had a 2.5 hour flight to Bologna and, now, nothing to read.

I was exhausted. I slept on the flight. Whenever I woke up, I was delighted by the view of the clouds over the mountains and sea. It was beautiful.


I got to Bologna about 4 hours before Kirstin would. Which, of course, meant more waiting once I got there. I walked laps around the airport and figured out how to get to the train station. Although we were flying to Bologna (thanks to Ryanair not offering flights to our ideal destinations...), our first nights were to be spent in Venice.

Kirstin arrived and it was nice to see a friendly face. A day alone after three weeks of constant companionship was heart wrenching. I gave her a big bear hug and we immediately started chatting about our trips.

We got to the train station and boarded our train to Venice.

We got to Venice just after the bus we needed had stopped running. It was only two bus stops away, so we opted to take a cab... shouldn't be too far, right?

20€ later... grr... we were at where we should have spent our first night. Little did we know that check in ended at 11 pm. We were there at 11:20 or so. The window was dark and the gate was locked.

Let me give a bit of background on this place. Staying in Venice in a hotel or a hostel would have cost us about 30€ a night each, maybe a little less. Camping in Venice would cost us 9€ each. Despite the -1 degrees (celcius, don't worry) outside, we decided that we were just hardcore enough to camp.

...Not the first night, however. We had gotten there just after check in. We were stranded with nowhere to go and no idea how far away the airport or anything like that would be where we could sleep.

We started walking. We had no idea where we were, and we had no map. We saw a guy pick up a prostitute. We NEEDED to get off the street.

We passed jankier and jankier hotels, one after another, but eventually, we found one that looked fairly decent. We walked in, and between us speaking Spanglish and one person's ability to understand basic English vocabulary, we managed to book a night. 25€ each. Really, it wasn't that bad. And it included a really good breakfast (which no other place we stayed at in Italy did). The shower was hot and clean, and the check out was fairly late in the day.

The next morning, we moved into our campsite. They usually book out tents, but due to the cold (and lack of business, I'm sure, since most of the world is not as crazy as Kirstin and I), they gave us a bungalo at no extra charge.


The problem with the bungalo was that it was designed for summer. It had small windows that received little to no direct sunlight, and high ceilings so our body heat did little to heat the room. It felt colder inside than outside, by just a smidge, but the wind didn't move inside so we kept everything locked up.

I have never gone a night without feeling my feet all night before. It was very, very cold, despite sleeping in about 6 sweaters and shirts and jeans and pajama pants and taking the blankets off of the extra beds in the bungalo...

... but if given the option, for 9€ a night, I would do two nights there all over again, even during the first days of January. It was fun, even though we hate to admit it.

Venice itself was one of the most beautiful cities I have ever seen. The canals and gondolas are everything they are hyped up to be in the movies. Something about its beauty made it feel almost surreal.




All the streets were extremely narrow, and almost every corner turned into a bridge over some random canal. It was amazing, although also amazingly easy to get lost. There were main streets, but it was nearly impossible to discern them from the sidestreets. The main difference was the number of people on them, and the occasional Gucci or D&G. Yes, we did actually navigate our way to where we were going once by following the Guccis.

Perhaps the most striking things, however, were the artisan shops with handmade art and Venician masks and quills and puppets... You really feel the essence of the Venician culture looking into the little windows and seeing people at work, handmaking beautiful things.


Venice was an amazing city, and I would go back in a heartbeat.

After another frozen night in the cabin (although I could feel my feet all night thanks to some wooly socks I bought for 5€ off of a street vendor. BEST PURCHASE OF MY LIFE) and a breakfast of sandwiches and grapes, we headed off to the train station. We were headed to Florence.

I have been watching history videos about Florence, Italy since 10th grade European History class. I knew it wouldn't be a huge city, but it was a place I have always wanted to go. I was so happy to be there once I got off the train, and the city did not disappoint.

This is what you think of when you think of authentic Italy.

First of all, there were Vespas EVERYWHERE.


The streets were narrow and the buildings were old.

The river was wide and fairly calm.



The city was beautiful.


The highlight of the city, of course, was the Duomo. It's a Renaissance-time cathedral with (at the time) a dome that was so big that it took years for the construction to complete simply because they didn't yet have the technology for it. At least from what I remember from the documentaries I watched about it.





It was beautiful. It was huge and colorful and beautiful. And the view from the top of the dome was the best view of the city... except for that you couldn't see the Duomo because you were on top of it!


Florence, birthplace of the Renaissance, was all about the art. The David was there (although we only saw the recreation, since the real one is locked away in a museum that had a HUGE line), along with many other statues.


We also climbed up a mountain to get to a fort. It was green and beautiful and we hiked up this windy road and met a traveler from New Zealand heading in the same general direction, which was not easy to find right off. We helped each other out, mostly let him read our map because his was puny, and walked together. After climbing back down the mountain, though, we said our goodbyes.

I had my first bite of real Italian lasagne there. And a waffle/gelato sandwich. It was the best thing ever. Even if a bit over priced.

We also tried to take a picture of the US Embassy, but apparently that's illegal in Italy. Some army men with big guns ran after us and told us to delete our pictures. We promise, we just wanted a picture of the GIANT American flag in Italy!

And after a short time in Florence, it was time to move on.

Rome was unlike anything I have ever experienced in my life. It has all the hype and excitement of a big city, all the quaint narrow streets and art and fountains you can expect of Italy, and all the ruins of an ancient empire.

Rome was amazing, in a word, amazing.

We spent an entire day walking through the ruins, seeing the old Roman temples and forums, around and inside the Colusseum... It's so easy to feel completely insignificant when sitting among ruins that used to be a great city that people like Ceasar Augustus and Marc Antony (before he was running off wooing Cleopatra) once walked upon.






We sat upon fallen Roman pillars and contemplated life. We looked at the Temple of Saturn and the Colusseum and were just in awe. At least I was. You just feel so... small.

The Trevi Fountain was beautiful. It definitely lives up to what you see in the movies. I was blown away.


The city itself is quite big. There aren't any towering skyscrapers or anything like that, but there were a lot of really tall buildings that after being in Amsterdam, Spain, Venice, and Florence seemed huge.

Then, we went to Vatican City. Which is another thing that will make you feel so small. It was a giant church being visited by people from all sorts of different backgrounds. You go underneath the Basilica, however, and you see the tombs of Popes from as far back as the 1400s. At least from what I remember seeing. There might even be older Popes down there.


People were lined up to mourn John Paul. Even after about six years, people were still bringing him flowers and mourning him. I was a little surprised.

We ate a daily gelato in Rome. And we had some pretty delicious pizza and pasta along the way.

I fell in love with Rome. After 5 too-short days, I was fell in love with a city.

I hope to go back someday.

We spent our last Italian night over a lasagne dinner, then went and got one last gelato to eat by the Trevi Fountain.

The next morning, we got our last slice of pizza (Bruscetta pizza. It was amazing.) and departed back for Spain.

I was glad to be back in Granada... but it's so hard knowing that all you have to look forward to is finals.

There are three weeks of school and a month of finals in Granada. My first finals are on the 31st of January. Then one on the 3rd of February. Then one on the 15th.

Italy was a great trip, and I'm so glad I had an awesome friend like Kirstin to share such an amazing place with. And now, it's back to the old grind.

This experience is quickly drawing to a close, and it's drawing a huge mix of emotions out of me. But I can save that until next time.

Love and other drugs: Winter Break, part 1

I found myself growing anxious. I almost felt nauseous, and I was nervous in a strange way. The bus to the airport had not arrived yet, but I kept my focus on The Glass Castle to keep from staring at the clock that hangs over the bus stop.

After over four months of being apart, my Christopher Guevara was coming to visit me.

My heart skipped. I looked at the clock. I continued reading. My stomach turned.

The excitement of knowing he was coming had kept me up all night and now, along with having not slept, my stomach was doing backflips.

It was after 11 when the bus came. He was scheduled to land around 1.

Just as I got on and paid, I got a text.

''Cancelled! I will try to use a payfone as soon as I get to the front of this helpdesk line and they give me some info! Sorry, love!''

My heart sank. I sat on the bus, waiting. Helpless. I started trying to think of the name of the metro stop where the bus station was (Méndez Álvaro? Of the... circle line... what was the number...?), trying to put together detailed instructions, when my phone rang.

He got on another flight. It would land at 5.

I wasn't particularly fond of the idea of waiting in an airport for 6 hours without even needing to take a flight, but I was less fond of the idea of spending 6€ extra to go back to town and go back to the airport. I'd only gain an hour or so anyway. So I stayed put on the bus. And I waited.

My stomach calmed down and I bought a sandwich. I stared out the window and read. I'd waited longer in the past. 6 hours wasn't too bad. And I had a book.

I watched other families say their goodbyes and their hellos. I wondered what ours would be like. It was a little unreal, and I couldn't believe he was coming.

I stared at the arrivals board. It was approaching 4 p.m. My heart skipped.

Then I saw the arrivals board change. Next to Chris's flight was the one word I was dreading. DELAYED.

I wanted to cry. The expected landing time was around 6.

I flopped into a chair, defeated, and continued reading.

But when I checked the arrivals board again, the flight was now scheduled to land at 5:25. Still a delay. But I'd take 25 minutes over 55 minutes anyday.

I felt overwhelmed. I wanted to cry and scream and cheer and run and throw up... All at the same time.

I stood at the window for about 10 mintues until I saw his plane landing.

I watched him get off and walk across the blacktop towards the airport.

I waved. He smiled and waved back.

Yes! He saw me!

I felt tears welling up in my eyes, but I ignored them as I RAN to the other side of the airport. Towards arrivals.

Neither of us could cross the line into or out of the baggage claim, since he didn't have his luggage and being in the carossel room without waiting for your own personal luggage was forbidden, but we stood at the line and stared.

We kissed through the door.

He went to wait for his luggage and I waited on the other side of the door oh so very impatiently.

His luggage didn't come. We had to go tell the people at the information desk.

By the time we had finished, the bus had already left and it would be another hour or so before the next one came.

We didn't care. We were finally together. We talked about nothing and everything. We kissed. It was so strange having him there, as though he had never not been there, but it had been so long...

It was magical and surreal. I love him so much.

We spent the first week of his visit in Granada. Naturally, I simply HAD to bring him to the Alhambra. Since I don't have class on Tuesday, we made a day of it. We packed ourselves a picnic lunch of salami and cheese sandwiches and fruit and went up to the carmen that is right across from the Alhambra. I showed him my favorite views of Granada and told him a bit about whatever we saw. Whatever I could remember from our days in the ILP. It was so fun and so nice to spend the time with him. I had missed him so much.




And I was pleased to see that he also enjoyed the Alhambra. Not quite as much as I did when I first went. But it was still fun.

I wish he had had a better opportunity to meet my friends and stuff here, but unfortunately we had just four days before we were off to London!

The flight there was no problem. We bought our tickets for the train to Liverpool Station in central London and we were off.

Or so we thought.

See, we made it to the airport just around 11pm or so. Which meant that we made it in time for the last train to Liverpool, but when we got to Liverpool, the underground had just closed.

Our directions from Liverpool required the underground. We had other directions, but we had to be across town for them to make sense.

We were stuck. It was the middle of the night. And it was COLD.

By 4 a.m., nearly frozen through, we found our hostel. We had been outside in freezing temperatures for over four hours. But we had made it. We collapsed in our beds and laid there shivvering. Somehow, I managed to fall asleep. It was not long enough before my alarm went off for check out.

We had only gotten this hostel for one night since it was a little pricy. We had to book another that morning. So we booked and got on the underground (after buying our Oyster cards!) and checked into our new hostel. It was out of town, but it had a functioning kitchen and great breakfast and was cheap.

We hung out in the hostel for a couple of hours resting up and dreading the cold and the snow after the night before.

Luckily we were indoors during the storm.

I had never seen so much snow fall in my life. It was amazing and beautiful and it really felt like Christmas.

However, it practically shut London down. We were stuck in the hostel until about 6 at night, when it had definitely grown dark, and then we just got on a double decker bus to see the town from up top.

We just happened to get on a bus that brought us down the very Christmas-y Oxford street.



The next day, the tube was running, but with delays and such. So we used the tube to get into town and tried to stick to buses to get around town.

We saw all the sights, of course.








We made a squirrel friend, thanks to a nearby photographer who was giving them food (they thought we'd be so kind...).

We were silly.



We kept each other warm.

And overall, just enjoyed one another's company.

We also went to the London Transport Museum, which was fun in its own way.

And we ate fish and chips... London was a great trip, but it inevitably had to come to an end.

Our flight to Amsterdam was to leave at 7 am, and it would take over an hour to get to the Stansted airport. Rather than pay for a hostel and catch a bus at 4 am, we opted to take a bus at 9 pm and spend the night in the airport, which wasn't too bad with some company. But it would have been better if we had gotten chairs. We spread our coats on the floor and snuggled until we were both half asleep, which was about as close to asleep as Chris got. I would fall asleep, but wake up every hour.

We had bought little apple turnovers for breakfast, and around 5ish, maybe sooner, I don't really remember, we decided to wake up a bit and eat them. Then we checked in with Easyjet and went through security.

We were able to board the plane on time, but once we were on, we were delayed an hour. We were expecting as much. According to the daily newspapers (which are free in England. And in English. Which was awesome), the London airports had been backed up by three days worth of flights that never were. Stansted was the most operative, lucky for us, but we had been expecting our flight to be delayed. We watched the guys come out and de-ice the plane, which I thought was cool, but was kind of old news for Chris. I fell asleep somewhere in there. But I woke up for take-off, which I was glad for. Even though I know exactly what to expect, I still think it's fun.

It was only a 45 minute flight before we landed in Amsterdam. This time, we landed in the morning, so right as the day was starting, so naturally we had no trouble getting around town or to our hostel, although Chris was a little nervous about it. We had made it and checked in and took a bit of a nap before going outside.

In a word, Holland was COLD.




We had to get Chris a hat and scarf. He was freezing!

There were lots of swans and crooked houses.



I wondered if the swans would ever get stuck in the ice, but they seemed to be doing okay in the icy canals.

There was lots of cheese.

...and pancakes.


And, no offense to any Dutch people that may be reading this, but their language is funny.


...and their shoes.


We went to the Heineken brewery, just because.


WEWEREsterdam

And we saw two movies. On Christmas, we opted for Catfish, since it was in English and fit into our schedule, if we had one. Our last night, out of things to do, really, we found a theatre playing Little Fockers. It was nice to go on dates. And going to the movies is an American thing to do on Christmas, right?

Our Christmas dinner was pizza.

It was tasty, but I missed good ol' home cookin'. Our second hostel in Holland didn't have a kitchen, so we couldn't cook a feast for ourselves, which I was hoping to do.

We saw Anne Frank's house from the outside, but since we were over there on Christmas, decided not to go in. What a terrible time to be depressed. On our free walking tour, we found out that Amsterdam was the first location of a non-Jewish outward Nazi resistance. The whole idea that Amsterdam and it's laws work on is that if you're not hurting or dangerous to anyone, no matter who you are or what you stand for, you'll be accepted. So, the non-Jews saw what the Nazis were doing to them during some raid of the Jewish quarter and they stood up for them.

I think it's kind of sad that a place with such a remarkable history (which if you go back to the creation of Amsterdam, which should be underwater but isn't thanks to canals, the Dutch East India Trading Company, through their responses in WWII, to cheese and tulips and windmills, etc.) gets overshadowed by the fact that marijuana and prostitution are both legal. Once again, if you're not hurting or dangerous to anyone, your actions will probably be tolerated.

Our last day in Amsterdam we spent at the Science Center. Chris was like a kid in a candy store, and he was so excited to explain all the things he knew about the displays, what they were trying to show, how to work them, etc. It was nice because the signs were in Dutch. Chris was proud that he couldn't even cheat to explain them and that he really just knew it (such a dork)... but there usually was English available around the displays, just in a much less obvious spot than the Dutch. We watched a 3D movie about cells in Dutch. It was funny.

Chris put himself in a bubble.


And again, our days in Amsterdam drew to a close and we headed off to Madrid. We were landing fairly late, not so late as to worry about public transport, but late enough that we weren't going to want to take a bus right then to Granada, so we opted for a hostel for one night (one with breakfast, which we really missed at our second hostel in Holland) and to spend the day in Madrid.

We were both happy to be back in Spain. It was dry. It was warm. And everyone spoke Spanish, which is much easier to understand that Dutch.

We walked a LOT in Madrid. They have an effecient metro, but it's a bit pricy and we were feeling low on cash after the long trip. But we saw the changing of the Royal Guard.


I met Don Quixote.

Chris and I took a rowboat out on a monument in a park.


He even let me try... although I wasn't very good. We didn't really move. At all. But it was fun.

We ended our day with a hearty meal of, you guessed it, McDonald's. I swear, I see more of them in Europe than I do in the US. And we were hungry after all that walking and rowing.

Then we got our stuff from the hostel and headed to the bus station. 5 hours later, we had made it to Granada. We slept SO well after all that time in hostels with people coming in and out in the middle of the night.

We got some all-you-can-eat revolving Asian buffet for lunch the next day. We ate our hearts out. It was fun and delicious. I liked that it was revolving because with fresh plates being put on the belt, you weren't just taking from a big tub of whatever. There was sushi and noodles and cream puffs and all sorts of food. We ate until we struggled to stand. It was glorious.

Chris had a fun game on his computer. We played a lot.

We didn't sleep much.

We were in denial about the fact that he was going to leave. At least I was.

We spent New Years Eve together in my quiet apartment. We cooked a bit of dinner and got to talking about anything and everything and missed the countdown. We didn't do our 12 Spanish grapes. We then continued to talk and eat and play games until it was after 3 a.m. and we hadn't packed.

Realization caught up to me and I cried. Chris held me close and I didn't want him to ever let go. I could have sat like that forever... but we needed to pack. Chris had to pack all of his stuff. I had to prepare for my upcoming travels through Italy.

I pulled myself together. We packed and went outside.

We had to catch the bus that left it's original stop at 5:20 (our stop by 5:30) to make sure Chris had enough time to check in and stuff for his 7 a.m. flight to Madrid. We were at our stop by 5:10.

We sat in silence mostly. We talked a little. We joked about the Gulliver's Travels poster on the bus stop. But 5:45 rolled around and the bus still hadn't shown up. We figured it was about time we got a cab.

Before 6 a.m. on New Years Day... I don't know why I hadn't thought about it before that moment. It would be impossible to catch a cab. There was a line at my normal cab corner. The guy in front had been waiting for over an hour.

We panicked.

Chris and I both had flights that day out of the Granada airport. Chris to Madrid. Me to Bologna. If Chris missed his flight, that's about $600 down the drain plus he'd have to wait about 3 days to catch another that would take him back to San Diego, at least, according to Expedia. I would be in Italy. He would have nowhere to go and I would be nervous about what happened to him.

I started thinking about how he could get to Madrid by 12 for his flight to Chicago, but there was just no way. I didn't know how to get to the Madrid airport from the train station, and a bus would take too long.

Right around 6:10, we got a cab. Barely. We had to wrestle it from about 3 drunk girls, but we were there first and they knew it. Chris ran for it and I took his stuff, since he is faster. He jumped in the cab right as they were reaching for the handle, and I tried to be as polite as I could in my frenzy (and in Spanish) to explain that he HAD to catch this plane. I also asked the driver to go as fast as possible.

We got to the airport right before 6:30. I paid the fare and Chris bolted for the check-in... but there was still a line.

The Granada airport is about the size of my fingernail. Only one flight left at 7, and the next one was at 7:50. The queue hadn't started for the next flight yet. This line was for people leaving to Madrid at 7, and only those people.

Chris had made it. He wasn't even the last one in line. I could finally breathe normally.

We didn't have much time, however, for a goodbye. Perhaps that was for the best. He checked in, went through security, and he was out of my reach.

I stood at the same window I had waited at to see him land as he boarded the plane. I felt myself choke up as he got on the stairs. Right at the top he turned around and waved at me. I waved back at him and completely lost my composure.

I stood at that window until the flight took off. Me and one other man. His eyes were also watering. He was blowing kisses. I heard him whisper ''Adios... buen viaje,'' as the plane took off. Someone came up behind him and said something to the effect of ''Don't worry, she'll be back soon,'' in Spanish. In a weird way, I was glad to not be the only one sad on that day.

There is something beautiful about separation and reunion. I truly got to experience that this Christmas. As I experienced the biggest wave of homesickness I have ever felt in my life. I felt so guilty one day when Chris finally held me close and said, ''Natalie... I love you too...'' while I was busy crying over not being home for Christmas.

There is something beautiful about love. In that moment, choking on my own tears alone in the airport, I came to appreciate it, and was so glad that I had it. I tried to be glad that he came instead of sad that he left. In the end, I wouldn't have traded those three weeks with him for anything, so I decided I needed to pull myself together.

I saw an open line of chairs. I went to it and tried to read, since I hadn't since Chris's arrival. When that failed, I laid down across them and slept for about 3 hours.

I had about 2 hours until my flight to Bologna. I bought a sandwich, checked in, and continued reading.

I was about to go to Italy! It was time to stop being sad and start getting excited.

TO BE CONTINUED...