"Every fallen angel prays for a second chance to fly again. And over time these tired wings have given in to the same old sins.
You're the only one who makes me feel like I could ever fly again."

Monday, February 18, 2013

New Blog Home, Same Great Moi!

Hello! and goodbye. I´m moving my blog from blogspot to wordpress simply for the simplicty of following and also, most of my fellow bloggers are there. I´ve greatly enjoyed my time here and I have copied and pasted most of the 2013 posts to wordpress. On that note I´d like to send a massive thanks to Michael, without whom I woud not have any of those 2013 posts. Also, thank you to my devoted Aunt Anita who treats me more like a daughter than a semi distant relative and is my city mom. I think shes been reading my blog longer than anyone and its been awesome to know that its not just sitting here :) also thanks to any other family who came and read without me sending an email with the link as a reply to "where are you?"
I hope you come visit my posts on wordpress! its pretty simalar, saradio27.wordpress.com and you can subscribe for blogposts. which I think is Epic.
Just throw your email address in and bam! you get my blog post right in your inbox every second day, give or tak a few.
so with that, I bid a misspelled "adue" which seems like it has an i in it.
Goodbye blogspot.
All my love,

Sunday, February 17, 2013

Another Town, Another Adventure

Hello Cyber world,
You sure look dapper today. Staying healthy I presume?
Alright, enough with that. Today I rode nine hours in a bus, read a huge book, watched half a movie, and daydreamed for a good 2 hours. Now I´m seated in a comfy chair in my OWN room, with my OWN wardrobe, and my first workaway hosts. And me oh my are they lovely. I am here to help them learn English and work on my Spanish until March 3rd. they are teh kind of hosts who assume that when they invite a person into their home it should be the experience like that of a five star hotel. Like I said, I have my own little room which I haven´t had since leaving my sister´s in Vancouver. I also have a makeshift wardrobe from Spains version of Ikea.Adn they wouldnt let me help with any of it. Not in the "get out of my way you annoyance" kind of not help, but more in the "darling, sit down and relax. You must be tired from sitting on the bus all day." except in more broken english and a few muttered Spanish words. they are much better at English than they think they are though, so I think the thing will be to speak Spanish when I can. I´m so happy to have a place to call home for two weeks. :)
I´ll go for now and we´ll see what adventures Valencia grants me with. Oh, and by the way, the bus drivers here are insane. They drive through the smallest streets and take the corners like they are in a drag race instead of driving a massive vehicle carrying fifty people. Its exciting though.
Goodnight world,
all my love.

Friday, February 15, 2013

My Friends Are Too Sad For My Funny Stories..

Before I left to begin my travels, a co-worker who'd traveled told me two things would happen when I returned. One, I would be so much more appreciative of having a washing machine or my own bedroom; and two, people won't really want to hear about my trip. They will have still remained in their normal lives at home and don't want to relish in my encounters. I'm beginning to see the second one already as my friends are all dealing with personal tragedies and heartaches.
Well, amidst heartbreak, teen angst, and even death, there is one of my friends who still has moments of awkwardness and laughter. It's me.
Although I feel guilty sometimes for laughing and being happy while my closest friends are hurting and grieving, I'm still enjoying my experiences. Unfortunately, my friends are too sad to hear about my laugh-causing tales and I have to keep them to myself. Or tell you.
First moment, the guy who didnt believe in Canada. Two nights ago I sat in a bar writing postcards to friends and family and writing "Canada" underneath the provinces. A very drunk individual wandered up, picked up a postcard and reads out loud "Canada?! This is not a real country! Is a beautiful city."
"No." I told him. "Canada is a country like Spain is a country."
"Spain is a country! Canada is a fictional country!" was his response.
Over the next 20 minutes he would forget he'd met me and would pick up the postcard 3 more times, each time responding differently. I heard "you are a Canadian? Ah, my prayers are answered.","you are French. Canada is not real. You are French." and "I respect you. And Canada."
All of this was said in broken English and was quite entertaining because his friend was sitting beside him just laughing and telling me "I'm sorry. He's a little crazy and drinks to much." And telling his friend "you are an idiot." Drunk bar regulars will never fail to make me laugh.
Next moment I wanted to tell someone about was the first time I ever yelled at an old lady. The story is that I knew se was a gypsy lady and that although she offered me a plant and palm reading for free, she would demand money after. It happened first as I was walking to the hostel from the bus my first day in Granada. A little old lady walked up to me holding a sprig of rosemary or a plant that is supposed to bring good health and love. Being completely confused and lost I jut blanket stared at her as she told me all about my life in Spanish and then gave her one euro when she demanded five. Unfortunately, I crumpled up the plant in frustration and tossed it in the trash, so I don't know what that says for my health or love life. Apparently I'm throwing then both away... Anyway, yesterday another old lady was trying to do the same thing and was following me despite my polite "no gracias" and zero eye contact. After she followed me or a few steps I turned and said to her for the third time "NO GRACIAS." And stared at her for two seconds before continuing my pouting walk.
Third moment was today. I went on a fifteen minute walk to find the supermarket to buy granola bars. I left the store with no granola bars, the store jingle stuck in my head, and a gold/orange nail polish. I then proceeded to sit in the park with my stomach growling and paint my my nails, giving then the signature "Sarah did these" look. Notes to self, patience is key. Don't reach into your pockets within thirty seconds of painting your nails; in fact, wait thirty minutes. Pretend that it was intentional to get polish on your wrist and elbow and not at all a clumsy accident of which you have know idea how it occurred.
Thanks everyone for being there for these not so funny stories, and to all my sad and grieving friends, I hope you are one day happy again. Miss you all.
Goodnight world.
All my love,

Wednesday, February 13, 2013

Royal Frustration

Palaces and castles really are the bomb diggity. Most of them are ages old and are submerged in years of history and mystery. History that I'd like to be briefed on and mystery that I'd like to uncover or discover. Unfortunately these palace owner people think that for our safety they should block all the gates and doorways. Some even have the sense of humour to put little windows in these doors so that I can see all the other little doors and unblocked paths on the other side. They probably have hidden cameras so that the palace people can laugh at the little people who push every door and attempt to turn every handle. Today there was a very easy 5 foot jump that would have had me land in what I assumed was an old house with various tunnels leading down unto awesome darkness. But then I realized id probably get deported and I'm actually trying to put that off ias long as possible. At least today's palace, the Alhambra in Granada, has various rooms that I can imagine people once living in. I went to some castles else where in which I was allowed to walk up the stairs and around the first floor. Not my idea of adventure. In Scotland and Ireland I hope to go visit some castles and I'm praying I can find a loose gate and get lost. Something exciting.
One day I shall solve my problems by buying a castle and asking adventurous volunteers like myself to come help me discover everything. And then ill leave it with no gates and simply have warning signs that there are broken steps and low ceilings thanks to the dwarves and elves that once lived in the dungeons.
It will be epic.
That's all for today folks. Ill be sure to give you first access to my castle when I buy it.
Good afternoon, world.
Pictures: five foot drop to awesomeness and likely deportation.
The Alhambra on a stormy afternoon.

Monday, February 11, 2013

Where Am I?

Well, I´m in Granada and rather frustrated. The wifi at this hostal is more spotty than a leapord and the shower is the tiniest cubicle ever. I´m not meaning to complain though, its a roof over my head and its hot water. Im at a point in my travels where I feel like Ive been traveling for ages but I have no idea what I want to do now or where I should go. I just dont know. And with the lack of wifi I cant even google places so I just stare at the ceiling. Today we did a walking tour and all I can say about Granada so far is that its steep. If anyone told me that they walked uphill both ways here, I wouldnt doubt them for a second.
In other news, I found peanut butter!! my own personal tub that I can eat straight out of with a spoon. I had some this afternoon and I must say it may have been my second favorite moment after barcelona. :)
I dont rememeber if I posted while in Seville; if not, it was pretty blah. I did a pub crawl the first night I arrived and met a German girl from another hostal. We hung out that night until I left at one club and went back to my hostel. I was a little disappointed that I didnt get her last name or facebook but figured oh well. The next day however, I was sitting in a plaza enjoying the sun and she walked up with a cheerful "Hola Chica!" so we hung out for that day as well, this time I got her email so I could find her on facebook. Alas, back at the hostel, I could not find anything when searching that email. I knew she had left Seville the next morning so I couldnt find her anyway. Yesterday I caught a bus at 7:45 am to Granada and saw the most beautiful sunrise across the Spanish mountains. After arriving in Granada and getting lost trying to find the hostel, I finally turned down the correct busy street and bumped into someone rushing down the stair/street. It was Martina from Germany! It was so cool. I still need to get her on facebook or something because I still dont know her last name.
I´m now in Granada until the 16th trying to figure out a bus tickey to Valencia for the 17th where I will spend two weeks helping a young couple with their English. On the 3rd of March I will excitedly find my way to Barcelona to spend a couple days with 4 friends I met my first time there and then on the 5th I head off to ... Ireland. I know its not Spain like I swore I would stay in for three months. But I´m working there for two weeks or 20 days as well. Dont really remember. After that I dont know what I´ll do again but in April I will be in Scotland hopefully to see another friend from Barcelona and I just can not wait for the girl talk and hugs I´m sure to recieve :) And then, thats wheremy plans end. the second week of April is where Im back to hopping around scotland and finding my way to London or anywhere I get volunteer work. look at me planning and stuff. Its truly a miracle. I´m almost a month into my travels and I am 3 days from beginning a new decade. such exciting lonesome things.
I shall maybe update later but now I´m off to try to get onto facebook. It just doesnt seem to want to work anywhere. :/

Saturday, February 9, 2013

Trials Brewing on the Western Front

It humbling to realize how life moves on without you. When I left home, I left with the comfort of knowing that life in the quiet town would be more or less the same when I came back. Of course there's the growing siblings and the melting snow, scenic changes. But I didn't really expect anything life altering.
Now I've found out that my best friend's brother is in a coma in the hospital. The doctors don't know entirely why and he's not expected to survive. However, I'm a believer in miracles and also that God never leaves us even though we so often leave him. I'm incredibly unsure of what to do or say in this situation. One of my best friends, the one who is so much like a sister that I can be so brutally honest and know that our silence will never be forever because for whatever wacky reason, we need each other. No one else is quite as good for high fives and inappropriate jokes and impromptu road trips in the middle of the night inspired by Tim Hortons coffee and donuts. Of course being homesick has let me wonder if I've already seen some of my family and friends for the last time but I push those thoughts away. Now someone close to me is losing someone close to them, again, and I don't know what to do. S I I'm just gonna pray, and hope. And I ask your do the same if you are the praying sort. It don't think names are needed; God seems to figure that stuff out anyway.
Sorry for the somber note today. Travel updates will be provided tomorrow hopefully.
All my love

Thursday, February 7, 2013

The Unwritten Week

Okay, I'll start off with saying that I know it hasn't technically been a week; but, it kinda feels like it, a lot has happened, and it has a nice ring to it.
Alright, with the explanation of my post title out of the way, let me begin. The hotel in Madrid was interesting in a multitude of ways. First was the layout. Stairs, stairs, and more stairs; bathrooms and showers separate from the rooms; the staff made dinner and tapas. But also interesting were the people. Two chefs were there the entire time I was and on of them was also a professional surfer and a tattoo artist. (Yes mom, dad. This is going exactly where you expect it.) I think it was my first night in the hostel when I sat in the kitchen eating delicious something awesome while watching someone get a tattoo the next table over. Everyone seemed to have signed up for one and when I declined the one chef/surfer/ artist asked why. So I showed him the tattoo I've had since November. (Kids, this is a great way to break it to your parents that you have done something they are unsure off. You're in the moment of adventure, and they are to far away to do anything about it.) My tattoo is hidden and says "country strong." Back to the story. I showed it to this guy, Alex who told me it was very thin and would fade quickly; he offered to make it thicker, touch it up. So Two nights later, there I was lying on a bed in a hostel getting a tattoo. I mean, not technically, but yeah. It was reinforcing a tattoo. All I could think about while it was happening was the British Girl who looked so quiet and innocent telling us she had her name tattood on her back incase she ever got lost. And two of us fell for it, checking her back only to be laughed at. Best sense of humour :)
The next day I jumped a train (with a legal ticket) and took off to Toledo. A half hour later, I stepped off the train, looked around, and asked myself where I was and why. Since I had absolutely no clue what to see or where to go I simple began walking up and down and in and out and all around through the smallest little streets. I felt like I was in Switzerland, Spain, Italy, and Greece all at once. It was beautiful and I could have moved there immediately. However, after many hills and stairs and hours of sunshine a girl begins to feel burnt out. So, without seeing anything incredibly tourist and after taking numerous life changing pictures if the doors of Toledo, I found a cafe and ordered three plates of food. The last thought I was joking but I finally got all my food and the best tiramisu I've ever had. I finally got back to the hostel and intended to pass out In bed but instead I downloaded free mystery books and was up till three am reading. It was a good book.
Now today I followed my friends to the train station praying I could buy a ticket on the go. And I could. So now I'm in Sevilla, kinda disoriented and tired but signed up for a pub crawl and eagerly awaiting all the calamities that are sure to come my way. I'm only here for three nights and I'm convincing myself that a 200km walk isn't that far to go to Gibraltar on the third day. As long as it doesn't rain I should be fine. I have many pros and few cons so I think it could very well happen. Ill be sure to let y'all know.
Goodnight world! All my dysfunctional love,
Pictures go: original tattoo- before picture,(don't have an after pic yet), Toledo, and my rooftop view of Sevilla.