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,
Sarah

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.
Sarah

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,
Sarah

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.
Sarah
Pictures: five foot drop to awesomeness and likely deportation.
The Alhambra on a stormy afternoon.

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. :/
Adios,
sarah

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
Sarah

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,
Sarah
Pictures go: original tattoo- before picture,(don't have an after pic yet), Toledo, and my rooftop view of Sevilla.

The walking tour that turned into a hike.

After getting lost yesterday and doing nada last night, I decided to see some of Madrid today. And what better way to do so than with a walking tour? A bus tour, I know. But I took part in the walking tour, partly because it was walking, mostly because it was free, and learned a whole bunch of Madrid and Spanish history. All I remember are the 6 kings that kept marrying cousins therefore resulting in an extremely inbred king Carlos the seconds who was oddly unable to produce children..... And I remember the date 1561. I think it's the year Madrid became Capital of Spain. I'm going to pretend it is. During the tour, I introduced myself to a guy who looked about my age and we chatted the ought the tour. After the tour, we just continued kind of walking together until neither of us really knew what was going on. I think we may have accidently kidnapped each other and not realized it. We grabbed some food from a grocery store and sat down in a park a mile away and people watched. And then we continued walking and walking ad walkin and enjoying the madridian sun yes I just made up the word madridian. The Spanish sun? Hm. We enjoyed the great ball of fire rolling through this side of the sky. Space. Whatever. It was hot, like 19 degrees and I think I got burned! Awesome, more freckles. I went out for dinner and wrote postcards and my waitress was kinda rude and seemed curt but at one point she asked where I was from and I told her Canada, and she was suddenly so happy and spoke awesome English. Seriously, this is the second time people have done this and I think it's because they think I'm American. What's this story behind the Americans anyway? Most of them are really nice individuals. Oh well, as a waitress I understand the battle of stereotyping our customers. Also, thanks to an amazing friend of mine, my blogs are somewhat back up. All the posts I cared about are flying high again and I'm so incredibly ecstatic about it.
I'm going to go enjoy some tapas and agua since I can't get enough of one and haven't had enough of the other.
Good night world, all my love
-Sarah
Ps, the guy in the picture is some random from the tour. He doesn't know I have this picture of him either but he had the most interesting facial hair. It was like he had an accent just because he had the goatee thingamajig.
And the location is the royal palace.

because i suck at computers....

every post since september 2011 is deleted thanks to my inability to double check what im deleting. im sorry to anyone who was trying to follow my journey and im incredibly upset. they werent awesome posts but it was still my writing and memories that i dont have anywhere else. and this keyboard wont let me capitolize letters which only makes me want to cry more. i´ll continue posting but im afraid it might not make a whole lot of sense. i just really want my moms hug and computer intellect right now....

These Last Few Days

i apologize ahead of time for the lack of capitals in these sentences. i cant figure out how to make it happen... anyway, these last few days. first i met some awesome girls at my last hostel and one night we went out for dinner and ended up drinking and being the only dancers in a club. the german girl was really fun and relatable, and the two finnish chicks taught me bad words and sang lots. they were pretty cool. yesterday i survived another bus trip and figured out my way from the madrid airport to the hostel without anything getting stolen or pushed. this hostel is interesting. once i figured out that i needed to buzz the door so i could get it, i wandered up and down the stairs for a while before awkwardly knocking on an unmarked door with loud music coming from the other side. i figured if i cant find my hostel at least i can party with some spanish uni kids, right? thankfully it was the hostel. my room is a 12 bed girls dorm and its nice and clean and spacious. unfortunately there is one washroom, three stalls, and a sink in what looks like it used to be an old closet. the showers are closer to the kitchen and there are three of them without much privacy within the room, so this morning i enjoyed the hot water and then awkardly got partially dressed in the shower before stepping out into the main area. that was a horrifying decription. its not quite as bad as i accidently made it sound. 

i was told that there was a market held only on sundays at this spanish plaza de something and so at 12 i set out to find it. yeah, madrid is way bigger than i had pictured in my mind. or at least my hostel isn´t as central as i thought. so after getting really lost and seeeing a starbucks, i bought coffee and breakfast and politely nodded and said ´gracias´ when the barista explained a long special offer to me. and then i walked and walked and walked and bought a cute country style sundress for only 5 euros and walked and walked and found a park. i think it was called parc de madrid but it probably wasnt. i sat and enjoy the sun and wrote a little bit. mostly i was listening in on the conversation of three guys behind me just because they were speaking english and i felt a little bit less terrified of being lost in such a huge city. but then some one started talking to me in english and that was awesome. unfortunately i kept noticing someone in front of me turning around every once in a while as if he was watching someone and waiting for them to do something. and it was always in my direction. after the guy i was talking to left, i decided to wander back and try to find a metro. so i stood up. and the creepy turn around dude stood up too. so i casually stretched, turned around, admired the statue, and sat down again. and he sat down again and looke dto the front again. so i did that awkward backwards walk out of the park so i could make sure he didnt turn around. i honestly have no clue if he was looking at me or not but it added some potential discomfort to my day and so i think im good for the rest of the day now. at a loss for what else to do, i think im going to go sleep. because i seem to love sleep. and i need to figure out where to go next. im thinking sevilla but who knows. im really hating the bus lately and kinda just want to walk to the next town and see what happens. ill be sure to let yall know what my plan is. ha, my plan... right. okay anyway, if i write from denmark, you know i ran out of food and went to bum off my friends parents. 

that could be fun too actually. 

good afternoon world, 

all my love, 

sarah 

and im really sorry again about the lack of capital letters. its driving me nuts too.

Writings by a Fountain

Last night I went for a walk and wanted to write. Since I'm still in this towns nd today I haven't yet left my hostel (waiting for laundry to dry) here is a little of what happens in my head. 

Estoy casa enfermo. Sitting in a Spanish plaza I listen to my music, headphones in my ears, looking at the starless night sky. I enjoy the sound of nothing but the glacier-like waterfall that reminds me of the river back home. Except where the water back home is fresh and twists and winds through the valley, past farms and under bridges, this waterfall is in the middle of the town and the water just continues to be turned on or off depending on the time of day. Many tourists walk by and take photos of it; I'm not sure if they are all tourists, my friends and I take pictures with tourist attractions back home all the time. I get the feeling that there is something happening in this town. First, there was some festival yesterday and now at the chapel behind this waterfall there are a lot of black shiny cars and people in suits and police and guards. I wonder if there is a president or some sort of importance in town. A police van is driving through the courtyard. Two in fact. This is very odd indeed. 

This is one of those nights where I wish I had a pack of cigarettes and a table in the corner of the world. I would sit and watch the going ons around me and eventually somebody would come ask me what I'm looking at and id tell them "everything." 

I want to ask someone what's happening. "¿Qué pasa? Y puede hablas dispació, por favor." And could you speak slowly please. But I know id still only understand a word or two and id have to piece together things with my own imagination. You know, sometimes I wish I didn't have to imagine. That life was just so brilliant and adventurous that I was to busy enjoying it to imagine something better. Something better could not be imagined.

I have been going to bed early since I've been here, 8 or 9. That's when the Spanish people eat dinner though and now at 7:30 there are far more people out and about than I expected. People walking out of churches and restaurants, children running and looking for their parents, tourists taking pictures of themselves in typical tourist poses - peace sign; falling; with food. This new language swirls around me and I grasp to understand even a word; but, one word streams into the second without a hint of a breath and I lose any understanding of the conversation I was hearing. 

~~~~~~~

And that's where typing my thoughts ended as my fingers became frozen. Now I'm going to continue waiting for laundry to dry. It's about as much fun as watching pain dry. :/ Madrid soon. Can't wait! 

It was just the names.

I accidentally booked myself in this town for 6 nights when I have already seen the town in its entirety in the last two days. Zaragoza is charming and beautiful but for a lone traveler who needs to meet people, it's as boring as a plain biscuit. The churches and cathedrals are cool and today I found a castle that I checked out. It used to be for Christian, Muslim, and roman use and then as military barracks. Now as a museum. I thought I could go into all the little rooms and up the stairs and scurry around but it was all blocked off and I had to be content with imagining what was behind the big iron gates in certain parts. However, I hope to go to Toledo in the next couple of weeks and I hear it has a couple castles. We shall see. If all else fails I will simply go to Ireland or Scotland sooner and find their castles. 

This town is not without its own entertainment though yesterday I took a walk and as I stepped into the same plaza that had been so empty just a few hours earlier was now swarming with people. And every church had a form of mass happening and there were weird scary puppets and cotton candy and chocolate and bread. I asked the tourist lady what was happening and she kindly told me all about it and have me some flyers. They were in Spanish. So I still have no idea what happened but it was cool. There was music all around and different bands playing. I heard a Spanish version of "hokey pokey" sung by am Spanish version of The Wiggles. Something about a band of adults purposely performing kids songs just seems so creepy. Personally, if either of my parents were to do that I think I'd assume they had committed a crime and were doing community service. Oh to be 5 and naive and happy to sing along to any song. 

I have no clue what I will do for the next three days. Maybe ill take their train to a weird old town on the outskirts. My hostel is so cold (or maybe I'm getting sick) and so while I'm here I just try to sleep. Which is also fun. Anyway, sorry for the monotonous post. I promise next time I will try to make life sound more exciting. Madrid on the second :) 

Buenas tardes world. All my love, 

Sarah. 

Let the Confusion Begin Again

There are few things more awkward than goodbyes; however, foreign goodbyes in a foreign country with foreign people gets to be one of those things. As I was bidding farewell to my new Barcelona friends, I was the awkward recipient of hugs, handshakes, two-cheek air kisses, three-cheek air kisses, and two-cheek physical kisses with a hug. For a girl who thinks hugging is weird, this blew all my limits. But I have to admit it was nice to feel like I will be missed by people who were only strangers to me a week ago. 

At 1, I took the bus headed toward Zaragoza. Or, as the receptionist has now confused me, "tharagotha" with the accent. You know that incredible feeling of excitement you get when you board a bus about to leave town? You've got an awesome song and the best playlist you've ever made ready to go and as the engines start up you hit play and nostalgically stare out the window to watch the memories roll by. Well, that's all fine and dandy when leaving a small town like my home, but when leaving a city it's a whole different world. First, the bus engines start up and you hit the play button on your iPod thinking "yes! This is it!" And then you sit there for another fifteen minutes. Next, the bus finally starts to backup and so you restart the playlist and begin that melancholy glance out the window--- into a bus station filled with other busses and people who are staring at you wondering if you're okay. After that the bus gets on the highway and its just trucking along and as soon as you pass the big apartment building you replay the begging of the playlist. Finally, finally it's working out like you had imagined. And 30 minutes later you pas a big "leaving Barcelona" sign and realize that the movies must skip a huge time frame between the awesome song and nostalgic window glances. 

But movies can't really grasp the awkwardness of a first night in a new hostel. Here I am in an amazingly cool hostel in Zaragoza and after 20 minutes of arrival I've managed to say hello. That's it. If this trip teaches me anything I hope it's to be more outgoing. I always seem to leave he introductions up to others, scared of saying the wrong thing or being talked about in a foreign language. But I guess we have to over come silly fears. So I'm off to greet my fellow hostellers and find food. Ill probably try to find food first though.... 

Good evening world. All my love, 

Sarah. 

P.S. everyone I've met assumes I'm French because of my last name. Now I'm pondering if my parents lied about my British ancestry. Hmmm

This is my Siesta.

It is the middle of the afternoon here when the shops close up for a couple of hours and the locals sleep and the tourists whine about nothing being open. Around noon I found the Arc De Triumf and sat and wrote for a while, basking in the warm sunshine. With not a cloud in the sky I wanted to take the moment to tan (freckle) and wondered why people kept staring at me as they walked by. They weren't just casually looking either. It was straight up staring. I thought it could be my red hair or maybe they were just looking at the lamppost/ statue/ bench I was on; but, my red hair isn't that odd (shh..) and there were lots of other lamp post thingamajigs. I finally clued in. It's January. Everyone was bundled up in long sleeves and hoodies and there were even some people on fur winter coats WITH THE HOOD UP!!!! I wanted to ask "are you allergic to the sun?!?!" But alas, I don't know how to say that in Spanish nor the local language, Catalan. Eventually I wandered around the beautiful Parc de Ciutidell and made my way to the beach. Those places are not that close so I took a long walk in the sun until I saw the Mediterranean Sea. It was stunning. Did you know I've never been to the beach on a perfectly sunny day? Not an ocean beach at least. Today is simply blue skies meeting the sea. I again wondered where all the surfers were and why no one was tanning. Again, it's January.... 

However, there were about five people wearing less clothes than I. (Mom, stop freaking out. I'm in a tank top and jeans- modest as ever.) They were guys playing some awkward form of volleyball/futball. Using a volleyball and net they kicked or chest bumped the ball over the net. It was interesting to watch but judging from the shouts and sighing I heard, they weren't very good. Also, they weren't in beach clothes. At least, not beach clothes I was used to seeing on men. All were clad in underwear that must be a European fashion because it was neither the boxer shorts nor the tighty whiteys Canadian and Americans often wear. Unfortunately , it was an odd mix of both therefore resulting in an unflattering, saggy, male version of granny panties. 

All in all it was an educational day and now I am lying in my bunk trying to stop the soreness that has come from all my walking in this city. 

Good day world. All my love 

Sarah. 

Morning Adventures

This morning I woke up at 4 and watched movies. Then I kinda slept again and suddenly it was 8 o'clock. I'm briefly going to fill you in on my bunk partner. No, we are not sharing but we are both top bunkers and if we were really tall our feet would touch when we lie down. Anyway, he is old and grey and looks about 67 or something and he always sleeps! Every day when I go into the room he is sleeping. Last night at around 8 when I was going to my bed I passed him as he was leaving the room. I didn't really think of it except this morning at four his bed was suddenly empty and it was still so when I went for breakfast at 8. When I came back around 8:45 he was sitting in bed wearing a leather jacket and texting. So I have the idea that he is either a hardcore partier or a pimp. Who else sleeps all day and stays out all night while living in a hostel? 

Around 10 I decided to take a walk through a little alley I keep passing and I found a market, a liquor store, and a drugstore. I just wandered the streets taking in the morning business in a little spanish town. The buildings reach up so high and beneath various windows are balconies from which colourful clothes hang drying. When I glanced in front I me again I realized I had stepped off the street and into a park full of stone arches and playgrounds and trees. It was beautiful and mystic and seemed like I had stepping into an old castle. I came across some old men playing a game that looked like "Boche" and I watched them play for a while. One person would roll the ball in an attempt to knock their opponents ball out of the way and everyone else would stand around with cigars in their mouths humming and hawing about what kind if throw it was. I gestured to my camera and asked "photo?" And one old man said yes so I snapped away. Shortly after, I was making my way back to the hostel when someone behind me said "hello! Where are you from?" I turned to see an older black man carrying a loaf of bread. 

"Uh... Canada." I told him. He began talking to me in accented English and as we walked he casually spoke spanish and said hello to a few people we passed. Suddenly we stopped at a door by the sidewalk and he asked "you want to come in for tea and bread? One day I will make you African food! But for now you can see my house." I didn't really know what to say but I didn't get a bad vibe from this guy so I said yes. And I walked into the smallest apartment I've ever seen. The man, Teru as he was called in Spain, showed me the shop, the kitchen and the living room- all basically one place. It was fascinating especially as he pointed to closed doors and staircases and said "people live there and there." About 6 people lived in private quarters all in this tiny apartment. We had tea and I told him I had to get back to my hostel to meet my friends. I now am sitting here recounting the most random adventure that ever came from accepting tea. 

In other entertainment, I am somewhat friends with two brothers from Ohio and they are pretty cool. They asked me if I wanted to go to the gym with them and i said I would meet them there. I decided I only wanted to swim but I found out that if I want to swim I must wear a bathing cap. And since those feel like condoms for the head I decided to forgo the gym altogether. So unfortunately those boys with have to work out on their own. I have no clue what I will do for the rest of the day but I don't seem to have much problem finding stories. 

I hope you are sleeping well as I write this. Much love 

Sarah 

Lets jump on a train and see where it takes us.

Day one in Barcelona! I just wrote m family a huge email and so I'm goin to simply copy and paste so I don't have to retell :) buenas tardes 

Hola familia! thats probably not right but its okay. At the moment it is a quarter after 1 pm here and already my day was so adventurous I´ve come back to the hostel.It started 12 hours ago when I finally walked into my hostel. I arrived late and after dark so finding my hostel was more difficult than necessary and everyone who offered to help was drunk or knew less English than I knew Spanish. Anyway, I signed in and got my room and went to bed in a room of 7 other people. Since it was a Saturday night, most of the people were out anyway and so i was able to figure my stuff out rather simply. And then I stared at the roof. And at the door. Then I checked facebook. And gmail. And youtube. and then I saw the window beside my bed. It has a beautiful view so I looked at that for quite a while and eventually I fell asleep. Around 5 this morning, some very drunk travelers decided to go to bed and drunk whisper while they did so. So basically talk in normal everyday voices. So after only 3 hours of sleep I was up and showering off 21 hours of grime and airplane skin cells. Best shower ever. Also, I couldn´t find the toilet last night and I REALLY had to pee so this morning when I found it hidding by the showers it was also the best pee ever. One becomes so much more grateful for facilities when traveling. 

Okay, now to the crazy metroe system part. I don´t really know what happened. Honestly, I needed to go somewhere because its my first day here and so after wandering around and not finding Sagrada Familía I found the metro station and bought a ticket. Luckily, I understood the words for train and ticket and the times. Unfortunately the train system made zero sense and I stared at the screen for about 5 minutes hoping that it would suddenly become an English speaking siri and tell me where to go. It didn´t. So I got a ticket for only a station away but the next station was kinda sketchy so I just stayed on the train. And then we went through the spanish slums or something - people were actually living in things that looked like the horseshelters; three walls and some blankets. So I didnt get off there either. In fact I stayed on until the final stop and greatly debated just going back but then I said to myself "don´t be a girl. Take this chance for adventure" so I got off the train in somewhere called Granollera Centre.I think that where it was. 

I stared at a couple more maps which also did me no help and I just walked. I didn´t walk far because as I walked past the bus stop three guys WHO WERE ON THE BUS got OFF the bus and started calling out at me and saying things I didn´t understand but I understood them to be flirtations and oy bonita bella! or something that sounded italian. I ignored them and walked on a mainish street but thought i heard footsteps behind me so I saw a coffee shop open and I stepped in. 

I tried to ask where I was but there was a delicious looking crossiant staring at me and my tummy reminded me that I had only eaten some foriegn cereal for breakfast. So I sat down and somehow communicated what I wanted. By the way, When you order black coffee over here you get straight espresso. I am literally shaking right now and not from nerves at all. I sat alone in the empty cafe and began writing in The Book for Len and Syd, and also a journal I have that Alix gave me. But the cafe filled up very quickly and everyone smiled at me and said something. I know people were talking about me wearing no makeup - the ladies here where very defined make up, even in the country like town i was in the women all had on a little makeup- lunch, coffee, four bagettes and five paninis (overheared, understood, got really excited) and other things spoken in a loud spanish fluery. The cashier asked where I was from and I told him and he said he was from peru and spoke a little English. His English was as good as my Spanish so after giving up at conversation I just asked for things in Spanish (Agua, por favor) and he´d reply in english (cold water okay?) and then Id go (Si, Frio Agua es bien) and we didn´t really care about sentence structure and whatnot because we were both communicating in a language we werent comfortable in and we were being understood. Best feeling. His name was Peter. Peter de Peru as I now refer to him. The second person to make conversation with me was Viejo Señor de Cafe which i´m pretending means Old Man from the Cafe. He was maybe 65- 70 years old and couldn´t leave me alone. or understand ´no entienda´. he just chattered away for about 3 minutes and then looked at me expectantly so I told him again " I dont understand" to which he responded by kissing my cheek say something para guapo (handsome) and buying me a coffee. and then he left and came back with his friend, had another coffee and then gave me a hug whispering in my ear guapo guapo señorita and kissing my cheek again. seriously, I probably should have been more creeped out but I just sat there and laughed in confusion surprise. So he left the coffee shop again and I took my chance to book it back to the train and back to Barcelona. The reason I think I left Barcelona is that it was a good 20 minute ride and when I told them estoy de barcelona they all looked super surprised. as if I had just walked from smithers to moricetown. So that was todays adventure.

Calgary, Alberta- Last Stop in Canada

I'm staying with my sister this week and last night my cousin/ best friend flew in as well. The three of us have known each other for about 13 years thanks to my dad marrying again. We were the only friends we had for a long time since two of us were homeschooled and the other was the elementary school bitch. So every weekend amidst fights and squabbles about who Jesse McCartney thought was cuter, we held American-Idol-like fashion shows and singing competitions. When the three of us get together it is often somewhat inappropriate and awkward for anyone around us. Or it's awesome, if they have a sense of humour and life long friendship. 

So I think for the rest of this week we are just gonna be enjoying each others company before they send me of into the world for six long months. 

Two days and I'm off!!!! Can not wait :D 

Ill likely post on here so if I get kidnapped my family will have a record of where I was. Should be a cool time. 

Later, ~S.

My Confessions.

On Saturday I leave my job and city to see my sister. A week from that I will be flying to Barcelona. In case I die, I want to make these confessions. Petty things that I sometimes feel stupid or guilty about. 

1. I think up scenarios where I would get attention, but I never carry them out. 

2. I'm trying to be an angel in hopes that ill get a cowboy. (A fail if I am indeed dead after this.)

3. Sometimes, when I'm at work waiting in tables and its been a rough day, an Asian walks in and I sigh because I immediately assume I won't understand them or they will jut be waving at me every second I'm not at their table. (I'm sorry,Asians, for judging and stereotyping) 

4. I think sex is gross and yucky. 

5. I think kissing is icky, yet I still want to be kissed by someone I like. 

6. Occasionally, I resent my siblings because I think I'll never measure up in their eyes. 

7. I want to know my parent's past, but what I know I their present I'm also scared to know their past.

8. I have three playlists titled "cry", "dont cry now" and "someone loves you, so cry" in my iPod. One for emotional days, one to convince me not to cry, and one to cy about being homesick, angry, and lonely. 

9. I hate self pity in others, yet I often pity myself. Changing that. 

10. I've had a month long crush on two of my managers before. 

11. I'm scared that I won't be remembered. 

12. People often interrupt me when I'm talking and I rarely finish what I was saying. And they rarely ask me about what I was saying. So I just stop telling people things. 

13. Nobody cares. 

14. I don't care. But I kinda do.

15. I think my little sister and her boyfriend are lovely but ridiculously attached to each other. 

16. I worry way to much about my cousin/best friend. 

17. If Sidney Crosby proposed, I would marry him purely on his looks even though I would be classified as incredibly shallow. But I love his smile. 

18. If Marlon Brando wasn't dead and appeared as he was in "guys and dolls" I would marry him too. I love his face. 

19. I pretend to be tough, but I'm a huge wimp. 

20. Sometimes, when I'm absolutely sure no one is around, I watch old Hannah Montana episodes.....

Well I feel better now that I have that off my chest. Hopefully I don't die. ¡Hasta luego!!