A Vegetarian Converted

A few weeks ago two German girls started working at the Tourist Office. Sarah and Vanessa are interns just like me and they will be here for 4 weeks. Today I was working at the desk with Sarah and we were just chatting about random things during our typical mid-morning lull. We were speaking in English and all of a sudden she says,

"I have never aten? ate? eated? How is the past of eat? Eaten! Yes, I have never eaten hamburgers in my life before I come to Spain. But now? Everyday."

After Google Translator helped her learn the word for vegetarian, Sarah told me she used to be one for 7 years. Then she came to Spain and started eating a little chicken here and there, and then...........she tried a McDonald's cheeseburger for the very first time in her life.

Now she is obsessed. She and Vanessa both. They don't have internet in their apartment in Toledo, so every day when they walk to the library to send emails and get on Facebook, they stop in at McDonald's and get a cheeseburger. Literally every day for the last ten days or so. And this was the best part...in addition to her daily cheeseburger snack, Sarah said, "And when I am drunken? That is the best. I will eat five." WHAT!!! How is that even possible??! Sarah and Vanessa are both these tiny little blonde-haired blue-eyed skinny minnies but I now fear for their figures. They still have two weeks left in Spain and if this consumption pattern continues, that's 14 cheeseburgers--plus a generous allowance of 20 drunken hamburgers, assuming they go out two nights per weekend.

Grand total? 34 CHEESEBURGERS.

Also Sarah is flabbergasted that extra ketchup packets are free. I guess at McDonald's in Germany if you want extra condiments (ketchup, mustard, mayo, etc.) you have to pay 30 cents per packet. So she loads up on those too. "Ketchup is free, why would you not take so much?"

Now, don't get me wrong, I love a good cheeseburger just as much as the next person. But really? 40+ cheeseburgers in 4 weeks? Dear McDonald's...LOOK WHAT YOU HAVE DONE TO THE WORLD!

I WANTED A STAMP.

I wasn't homesick for Toledo this weekend. Not one single bit. I could have stayed in Portugal for the rest of the semester, except my Portuguese is terrible, so I wouldn't have fared well. The only things I know how to say are "yes," "no," "how are you?" (TUDO BEM???), "I don't speak Portuguese" and "I'm really thirsty, would you buy me a drink?" and I don't think any of those phrases would get me very far in life. However, despite the language barrier and many thanks to our traductora Sofia, Lisboa and I got along just swimmingly.

The airport sleepover was rather uneventful. And by that I mean it lacked events. Including the event of sleeping...but it was nothing that a nap on the plane and lots of coffee for breakfast couldn't fix!

My bed in the airport. The Bacon Wallet slept fine on this bench. I, however, did not.

I think I have already discussed my fear/hatred of being labeled a tourist. But this weekend we did the activity that I would consider to be the EPITOME of tourism. We rode the red bus. Yes, the red tourist bus with the open air top level that drives around so nerds with cameras can take lame blurry pictures of random buildings while listening to an audio track that doesn't even work.

I can't believe I actually paid to ride in this thing...

And it was actually.........kind of awesome.

Since so many of the main sights in Lisbon are at opposite ends of the city, we got to see them all within a few hours, and afterwards we went back to explore the neighborhoods we liked best. It was perfect! But still, SO touristy. It took me a little bit to warm up to the idea and even the first few minutes on the bus were kind of painful, but I have to admit, it was cool. BUT my pictures were terrible! I thought I was getting better at taking pictures whilst riding a moving bus, but when I uploaded them to my computer...boy, was I wrong. They are awful so I'm only posting a few. I was going to put the link to the Facebook album on here but Facebook is being stubborn and won't let me post pictures right now. I will later, though, doooooon't worry.

After our bus tour we walked around what I think was the Bairro Alto and saw a lot of free things...the free outside of a castle, the free church, the free gorgeous view of the coast, the free view of the trolley most people pay to ride when they explore Bairro Alto. We did come thiiiiiis close to renting go carts to drive but it was getting late and we had already paid for the bus tour. We are pretty cheap, if you couldn't tell. We thought about splurging on a Cirque du Soleil show that night but it was sold out...darn.

Free views of Lisbon and the coast.

Saturday night was a true testament to our thriftiness. We went to a supermarket, spent 2 Euros each on baguettes, ham, cheese and sangria, came back to the hostel and hung out with the two Portuguese girls who worked there...dinner, drinks, BS, Portuguese pictionary, some sweet new dance moves, and of course, the Notre Dame game. Only the first half though, then we got...distracted. It was so much fun and it hardly cost a thing!!! Also another man who worked there brought out a bottle of vino verde for us and when we asked him where he got it he said, "Don't worry about it." Ok.....what does that mean?? His English was terrible though so maybe something got lost in translation but it was pretty funny.

Only negative part of this weekend: they didn't stamp my passport!!! I really wanted a Portugal stamp but I guess Madrid-Lisbon is a pretty common journey so passport control is zilch. Oh well, I'm mostly holding out for my stamp from AFRICA. Stay tuned for that adventure next month.....

Ok this is getting long and I'm trying to work on writing shorter posts (not working so far) but anyways Lisbon was awesome and I wish we could have stayed longer. Maybe when I get a real job and have real money I'll come back and go inside all the places we just looked at from afar.

ALSO.
It appears that the revelation of my family connection to Paris Hilton has caused some people (COUGHCOUGHSHEERINMEHDIANANDKATEO'CONNORCOUGHCOUGH) to question my integrity and the validity of my newest fun fact. So, just to prove you two haters wrong, here is the family tree:

Peter and Anna Laufersweiler had seven children when they came to America. Elizabeth and Conrad were two of the seven. Elizabeth Laufersweiler married Henry Kuhlmann Their daughter Mary Kuhlmann married Frank Depweg and they had Neoma, who is my great grandmother (my mom's grandmother). Conrad Laufersweiler married Caroline Wasen. They had a daughter, Mary Genevive Laufersweiler. She married August H. Hilton and had a son, Conrad. Conrad Hilton married Mary Barron. They had a son William. William B. Hilton married Marylin J. Hawley. They had a son Richard. Richard H. Hilton married Kathleen E. Avanzino. They had a daughter Paris.

So that makes Paris Hilton a 5th cousin to the great grandchildren of Neoma Wetzel (AKA, ME). HAHA IN YOUR FACE, SHEERIN AND KATE.

Una Smorgasbord De Cosas

Partly for your enjoyment, but mostly so that in 20 years, when I log on to this old-fashioned thing called the internet to look at this blog and reminisce, I can remember these little gems that are are more like fun facts than stories. So here are a few totally, completely, 100% unrelated tidbits of LIS. Not necessarily TIHL, but just LIS in general.


Raquel is MIA. Or AWOL. I know what those acronyms stands for, but I've never really understood the difference. Anyway, the point is, host mom and I haven't seen her for 4 days. She left for Madrid (we think) on Sunday and went to Zaragoza (we think) with her cousin (we think) to go to a concert (we think). According to a note left in the kitchen, she got back today and is asleep in her room. However, she has not emerged, so I can't be certain. Host mom was rather peeved about the whole situation, especially on Monday which was her birthday. When I think about what would happen if I just peaced out for 4 days without telling anyone.......I just have to stop. My phone would be exploding with "Where are you? Call me." texts from my mom and it makes me cringe.


I really need to learn some children's vocabulary. Javier's niece was over the other night and we were having a tickle fight and I didn't know how to say anything child-like to her so I just made some kind of weird noises and we laughed a lot. Luckily she's only 5 so she doesn't think I'm that weird. I hope.


TIHLAL #7:

7. Lola is the watchdog of the house. If there is ever a noise in the hallway, she runs to the door, ready to pounce and attack anyone who might be about to break in. Too bad she just got her claws cut or else she actually might be able to do some real damage.


Tomorrow night I will be going on an adventure called "Sleeping In The Airport Because My Flight To Portugal Leaves At 8 AM Friday Morning And It Takes 4 Hours To Get From My House In Toledo To The Airport In Madrid So Therefore I Have To Go To Madrid On Thursday Night And Attempt To Fall Asleep On A Bench Or Something Of That Nature." This adventure has great potential to be a disaster, but at least I know I'll be on time for my flight this time. UNLESS I OVERSLEEP OMG I'M SETTING 5 ALARMS. Wish me luck.


TIHLALIS #20-21:

20. Bare feet indoors are unacceptable. You must always have something on your feet. Shoes are preferable, slippers are acceptable, and socks are a last resort. I need to invest in some cheapo slippers, because I'm going through socks like it's nobody's business.

21. Spaniards never go to work! Tuesday was a national holiday so most people didn't work (we still had class, though...probably Notre Dame's idea). On Monday, host mom skipped work because it was her birthday. She also stayed home last week for two days because her leg was hurting. Raquel skipped work this week to go on her mystery excursion. Everyone gets at least a month of paid vacation every year, no matter what your job is or how long you've been working there. Siesta lasts for 3 hours...every day. People in Spain complain all the time about how the economy here blows. I wonder why???


Classes are going really well. They are all so interesting and I am learning more about current events, politics, economics, and business relations in Spain than I have ever learned about America. Also I hardly ever do homework. And it's not even that I'm being lazy...we just don't really have any. And our profesor de filosofía told us today that our midterm is going to be facilísimo. So that's good.


Today I ate the exact same soup for lunch and dinner. Seriously. It was the EXACT. SAME. SOUP. Lentil soup with vegetables and little pieces of sausage. And of course a piece of bread on the side, because no meal in Spain is complete without pan. I couldn't bear to tell host mom that I already ate the exact. same. soup. for lunch earlier at the Fundación because I am 100% sure that she would have cleared my plate and cooked me another meal on the spot. Hers was better anyway, but still. The exact. same. soup. And now that I've typed "exact same soup" four times, it looks weird to me. Is it even grammatically correct? Spanish language is doing strange things to my English skills and I have to be extra careful sometimes.


I'm related to Paris Hilton. This fact is not at all related to me being in Spain, but when I typed the words "fun fact" earlier I remembered this fun fact and also the fact that I HATE that ice breaker where you have to say a fun fact about yourself. So I'm publishing it. This is my fun fact and I will use it forever and ever. Paris Hilton and I are fifth cousins and I have the family tree to prove it. Wetzels rule.

The Rain In Spain Stays Mainly In The Plain

Sorry, My Fair Lady, but you've got it wrong. The rain in Spain stayed mainly in...every single city this weekend. Including the lugar of my most recent jaunt, sunny Sevilla. Bummer! Luckily it only rained twice when we were actually outside walking around. The other showers conveniently fell during meal times when we were tucked away inside a warm, dry cafetería.

Other than the sporadic lluvia, Sevilla was quite enjoyable. I'm rather obsessed with the architecture. Everywhere you look there are painted ceramic tiles! Entire bridges and even the walls of buildings are covered with bright blues, greens and yellows and I do not understand how they have survived the elements. Any art expert out there/Mrs. McCarty, please explain this phenomenon to me. How are these ceramics so resilient? I would think that years of extreme heat and sun (and even occasional rain) would do some damage to these beautiful works of art, but they seem to be unharmed. It's a miracle, and I love it. I'm hooked. When I grow up I want to have a "Spain room" in my house. It will have loads of these ceramic things...painted ceramic tiles on the floor, painted ceramic dishes and vases, painted ceramic mirror frames...everything. And also it will have a faux roof with curvy shingles. But seriously, look at these ceramics! They are incredible.

We found Toledo in the Plaza de España.

The Bacon Wallet enjoyed it too.

According to my "Let's Go Spain!" book, you can't go to Sevilla and not go to a flamenco show. So of course we had to go. It was.......interesting. The flamenco singing was not at all what I expected. As soon as the woman started singing, my thoughts immediately flashed to my sister's obnoxious singing at home. Eileen, you could have a wildly successful career here in Spain as a flamenco singer. This video features a male singer, but his singing style is very similar to what we heard. No videos allowed for us until the end.

After getting over the initial shock, the show was really interesting. The guitar player had a few solos and he was awesome. At first I closed my eyes to listen to the music, but then I realized he was doing some crazy things with his fingers so I had to watch! They were moving faster than I thought was humanly possible. It was so cool. And the dancers were amazing too. Their feet were swishing and stomping and clacking all over the place and after every number they were out of breath.

I'm embarrassed to show this video because of its massively poor quality, but this is the best I could do. You can barely hear the guitar--by far the most impressive part of the show--and even the dancing is not as good as it was during the heart of the performance. Unfortunately they only allowed photos and videos at the very end. In any other situation I definitely would have attempted some illegal shots, but I didn't want to get kicked out (or deported!!!) so I played it safe.

One thing I'm ashamed to say about this weekend is that in the city of the birthplace of tapas, I never actually ate tapas. But let me explain myself. Friday night when we went out searching for dinner, we passed an Italian restaurant. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE Spanish food. But after an entire month of solely Spanish food, bruschetta and pasta sounded like the most appetizing thing on the planet. So we caved. We ate Italian. Tapas fail. Saturday night, we were determined to get tapas. I mean, there are tapas bars on literally every street in Sevilla. Why couldn't we just pick one? Well, here's what happened. It was dark. It was raining. It was after 10:00, and we were hungry. We were hurrying down a street, trying to escape the increasing downpour, when out of the corner of his eye, Mickey made a clutch observation: a momentary flash of gold helmets coming from the TV inside a nearby restaurant.

That's right. THE NOTRE DAME GAME WAS ON IN SEVILLA. Decision made. We ran into the restaurant and asked for a table near the TV without even looking at what restaurant we had chosen. When they gave us the menu...oh, were we in for a surprise.

Italian.

Oh well, what can you do? We had to watch our Irish play, especially since we were winning! So we ate Italian again. Tapas fail...again. I'm actually still wondering who requested that game on the TV, because we were definitely the only ones interested. Our subtle touchdown celebrations went largely unnoticed by the rest of the patrons.

Here is one thing I've noticed about my weekend traveling. Without a doubt, I absolutely LOVE seeing new places and I love exploring unfamiliar cities. But always at the end of the weekend I find myself a little homesick for Toledo. It's comforting to see the casco histórico as we roll in after a 7 hour bus ride. It's nice to see my apartment building from the bus stop in Polígono. And it's especially wonderful to have a comfortable bed to crash in after those lame hostel beds which probably don't even actually qualify as beds.

SSA Hotchner in Toledo

Monday morning I saw a real, live FBI AGENT on my bus from Polígono to Toledo. Well, I thought he was real at first. I got on at my usual stop and there he was, sitting in the back row all by his lonesome. I didn't get a good look at him, but I did see his very official-looking red shirt with FBI written in huge white letters. Also I could see New York written under it. That's legit, right? I was so curious. My journalist mother will be happy to know that she has passed her curiosity and questioning tendencies on to me. I was dying to ask this guy what he was doing in Toledo...why was the FBI brought in? Was he from the BAU? Is there a SERIAL KILLER IN SPAIN????? I had made up my mind to switch seats, go sit by him and begin my interrogation when he pressed the "parada solicitada" button and got up to get off the bus. Darn.

Upon further investigation of SSA Mystery Man, I realized that I was wrong. An entire summer of borderline religious dedication to Criminal Minds has given me the skills to deduce that this man was not actually an FBI Supervisory Special Agent, much to my disappointment. Here is my reasoning; tell me if you agree:

1. His t-shirt read "FBI Special New York City Department." A simple Google search told me that that special division does not actually exist. It was totally just a souvenir t-shirt.
2. He was wearing a wedding band...on his right hand. Wedding rings are worn on the right hand in Spain, meaning pseudo-SSA was probably just a local.
3. He was listening to music with earbuds AND singing along. Even an off-duty SSA in street clothes wouldn't allow himself to be distracted by the latest Top 40 hits. He would be alert, paying sharp attention to his surroundings, lest any UnSubs board the bus he's riding.
4. In addition to his FBI t-shirt, he was wearing Formula 1 sweatpants and sneakers. When we arrived at his bus stop, he hopped off and jogged away, enjoying the sunshine on his morning run.
   

Also. TIHLALIS #15-19:

15. Reaction time in Spain needs some serious improvement. Women's rights, economic situation, job strikes...everything. It's all a delayed reaction! It's a little bit funny when you think in retrospect that Spain is slow to react to everything, But really. Come on. You guys need to step up your game here.

16. Hamburgers are made from ternera, which is pork. and they are DELICIOUS. My host mom made them the other night for dinner. So good.

17. My host mom might be a little bit crazy. She always talks to herself! I think it might be for my benefit, so I can hear in actual words what she's doing, but if not.........then we have some serious issues. She literally narrates every single thing she does. It's hilarious.

18. Reason #1239464328 why I hate backpacks: They hit people when you move around on the bus, and you don't realize it until you notice them giving you mean glares and muttering what are probably Spanish curse words under their breath.

19. The Tuesday market in Toledo called Martes (really original, right?) is essential to LIFE. Today on the bus we were like sardines squished in the aisles. Luckily I live really far out into the suburbs so I was one of the first ones to get on...i.e., I fought old ladies for the seats and I won. Just kidding. About the fighting. I really did get a seat. But I'm pretty sure every single woman over the age of 60 was headed to the market today to buy the 3 for 1 underwear the vendors wave in your face as you walk by.

Plus also (Junie B. Jones, anyone??), TIHLAL #5-6:

5. Lola can be vicious! She bit my host mom the other day and punctured the skin. As in, there was blood. Drawn by Lola's fierce chompers. I'll be keeping a safer distance from now on.

6. Lola is a great awkward silence breaker. When host mom and Raquel argue at dinner about why Raquel isn't allowed to skip work next week and then it gets awkwardly quiet, host mom just turns to Lola and talks to her instead.

Exploring the Kingdom is a ROYAL Blast

Friday morning, after almost 5 months of separation and after the 18 minor setbacks on the way to London, I finally got to see...drum roll please.........

ANNIE GURNEYYYYYYY AND EMILY WURZZZZZ!!!!!!!!!!

!!!

!!

!

Yes. All those extra letterz and exclamation pointz are necessary, becauze a weekend with the roomiez requirez lotz of thoze. Totez magotez. But only in that one sentence, because writing the entire post like that would be rawther obnoxious.

Of course, on Friday it rained. It is London, after all. I was a silly pseudo-Spaniard and, hoping for sunshine, I wore sandals. Luckily the agenda included lots of indoor sightseeing and adventures on the Tube. First on the list was the Victoria and Albert Museum. The best parts were the exhibits made for children. We require lots of diversions, so interactive things are great.

We played dress up.....


and played with stage lighting!


Also we found a room with all these super famous statues and we got really excited because we thought that it was a special exhibition with all these statues from Italy and Spain and other places and we were going to be able to see all the originals together at one time! It was totally, like, a party, with, like, the David and Trajan's Column and that one really famous Pietá.


But then we saw the sign that said "Casts Court," meaning that all those awesome statues we just gawked at were FAKES. WHAT THE HECK!!?? Who makes loads of fake statues and puts them in a museum?? So misleading. Whatever. Moving on.

Next we went to the Museum of Natural History which was AWESOME. Highly recommended for children (except the Human Body exhibit--a little bit extremely creepy and weird), so obviously being 21 years of age I had a spectacular time. The dinosaur exhibit was so legit. The Bacon Wallet really enjoyed himself as well, except for the moments when he was almost eaten by the hungry dinos.


Friday night, we raged. Kind of. There was a karaoke fail, a midgaming/blackberry fail, and Rocket fail. But it was the PEOPLE that mattered, not the places!

Saturday, we strolled around London and I got to see Annie and Emily's natural habitat. The temporary one, anyway. The London Centre for the ND kids is ridiculous. Apparently Notre Dame out-bid the French Embassy for this building...that's how insane it is. It blows the Fundación out of the water. But I wouldn't trade ever the Fund for that building! I love Toledo just the way it is...even if the London building does have a marble staircase and roses carved into the molding. I'd choose linoleum floors and a cobblestone alley any day of the week...no offense, London.

After seeing the ridiculousness that is the London Centre, we enjoyed Trafalgar Square for a bit. And by that I mean we looked like absolute fools trying to climb onto the lions for a picture. It's actually a LOT harder than you would think...so don't judge. We weren't the only ones struggling. I promise.


Obviously we had to ride the London eye, and of course as soon as the doors closed for our ride up to the most majestic and picturesque view of London there is......my camera died. Perfect. So no pictures of that, sorry. I have no official documentation of the rest of the weekend, but I promise it happened. Plans for Abbey Road were foiled by rain and lack of time, but we had a nice pub dinner of fish and chips and Strongbow (England's sub-par version of Bulmers...not like I'm biased or anything...) and went back to the ND flats to get ready for round 2 of London raging. This time was a success, thank goodness. At the end of the night/morning, after a somewhat teary goodbye (ha ha), the roomiez parted wayz and I made my way back to my 18-person room (thankfully my bed was still empty) to shower, pack, check out and ball out of the UK.

I came home to Toledo at 3:30 pm completely exhausted from severe lack of sleep. It was loooovely to open the door to the smell of cocido coming from the kitchen and a new fluffy comforter on my bed! Since it's getting cooler at night here and central air units are not used much, we're finally breaking out the comforters. So I ate lots and lots, went to mass, came home and slept until morning. It was wonderful.

Getting to the Kingdom is a ROYAL Pain

But upon arrival in foggy Londontown, all pains were eased! Almost. I think that everything that possibly could have gone wrong did go wrong on my journey from Toledo to London Thursday afternoon/evening/night. Some mishaps were my own culpa, but some were inevitable...

1. Forgot to check the timetable for trains to Madrid. Turns out the earliest train I could catch wouldn't leave me enough time to get to the airport from the train station so I would have to pay 30 euro for a cab. Fail.
2. Had to leave work early to catch instead the bus from Toledo to Madrid. Power walked to the bus stop to take the bus from Zocodover to the bus station. Sore legs. Fail.
3. Metro from bus station to airport look 20 minutes longer than anticipated. Fail.
4. Was not aware of the EXIT FEE to get out of the airport Metro station. Tried to swipe an expired ticket for a solid five minutes before realizing that I had to buy a new one. Fail.
   
5. Security line for Terminal 1 was a 30 minute stroll from Metro station. By this point I had 10 minutes until the doors of my plane closed. Ergo...
6. SPRINTED through endless hallways to the security line. With a backpack. Fail.
7. Got to the security line only to discover that I didn't have the necessary stamp on my ticket to pass through so the lady explained to me where to go. Sweating from running, I ran to the RyanAir office and demanded a stamp muy pronto. Fail. Ran back to security.
8. Chose the passport control line with the OCD stamper. He took an entire minute to line the stamp up JUST SO on the line. Halfway through stamping, he decided it wasn't straight enough and had to correct it. I couldn't yell at him for fear of being put on the terrorist watch list, so I just had to sit there and wait. Fail.
   
9. Sprinted again to my gate, the almost-very-last gate at the furthest away terminal-within-the-terminal. Fail.
10. Finally got to the gate just in the nick of time, red-faced, sweating, out of breath, only to discover a GIANT line in front of the gate.......they hadn't even boarded yet. The plane was DELAYED. Fail.
11. The Bacon Wallet and I made it safely to London. Double Win.
12. Forgot the address of my hostel. Fail.
13. Managed to find every non-English speaker in London in the process of asking for directions to my hostel. Fail.
14. Made it to the hostel. Win.
15. It was the wrong hostel. Fail. Turns out there are two Clink hostels...Clink78 and Clink261. My reservation was at Clink 261 but the Indian man I talked to directed me to Clink78.
16. Found the right hostel. Win.
17. Hostel room had 18 people. FAIL. Weirdest experience ever. There was a man there who I'm pretty sure was not registered to stay in this room. His stuff was on my bed when I got there and I had to move it to the floor. Then he apologized for taking my bed and hopped into what I thought was his actual bed. But then about an hour later, some girl came in and I heard her wake him up and say "Um, excuse me? I think you're in my bed....." and he apologized and hopped into another vacant bed. Sketch. Also, the beds were only separated by a tiny wall that reached halfway to the end of the bed. So if the person next you is a sprawler, there is a strong possibility that his or her legs will be thrown onto you in the middle of the night.
    
18. Phone decided to not be functional, so I couldn't call Annie or Emily at 1 am to tell them that I wasn't actually going to meet up with them since I was so darn exhausted from traveling.

Next post will detail all the happy parts of London! But first I had to rant and rave.