It's Monday!

Hello my lovely readers! I am currently sitting at a cafe in Vitoria and it is the most beautiful, sunny day ever. It is 72 degrees outside and I'm having one of those days where I am just so happy to be in Spain. I know as a Monday, it's hard to find the good in the day because, well, Monday's suck. But, I'm going to try to improve YOUR Monday with not only my blog, but also with this rockin' playlist  that will leave your spirit uplifted by the time you finish listening to it. If you're feeling dangerous, you can listen to some of the songs while reading this, seeing as I am listening to it while I write in my blog.

Sydney's Monday Playlist:

1.You and I- Wilco & Feist
2. The Underdog- Spoon
3. Why Do You Let Me Stay Here- She &Him
4. Silver Lining- Rilo Kiley
5. You Are The Best Thing- Ray LaMontagne
6. 5 Years Time- Noah and the Whale
7. L.I.F.E.G.O.E.S.O.N- Noah and the Whale
8. Lost In My Mind- The Heart and the Head
9. Up Up Up- Givers
10. Rock & Roll- Eric Hutchinson
11. Hang On- Dr. Dog
12. At the Bottom of Everything- Bright Eyes
13. Ain't No Reason- Brett Dennen

Enjoy this playlist. It will make you happy.

Now, to talk about my week. To begin, on Thursday, the kids did not have school. I was slightly upset with this because this meant that I would not 9-5 off to be carefree, to explore, to relax. But, that's beside the point. What I'm getting at here is that they didn't have school because of some special Basque holiday, no, no. They didn't have school because their teachers were on strike. Ah, yes, classic. Well done Spain. To be honest, I wasn't very surprised that the teachers just refused to teach kids that day. So, I ended up taking the kids to this optical illusion exhibit that they have going on right now in Vitoria. It seemed really interesting and like something I would be really into. The problem is everything is written in Oskera or Spanish. On top of that, the kids don't know how to read. It was kind of a helpless situation.


Maybe the coolest part of my week was that I got to experience the Medieval faire that they have here. Allow me to add: the only Medieval faire I have ever been to is the Hoggetowne Medieval Faire in Gainesville. Gainesville, Florida. A place that has absolutely no Medieval ties whatsoever. So, when I heard the faire was going to happen in Vitoria, I kind of just rolled my eyes about it. Like, big deal. Okay, wrong. It WAS a big deal and it was one of the neatest things I have seen since I've been in Spain. Vitoria, first of all, is a city that was established in Medieval times. So, the old city is nothing but old buildings filled with history and beauty. Within the old quarters of the city is where the festival takes place. There are vendors selling food, drinks, crafts, jewelry and so forth. Flags are streamed throughout the old city. The delicious homemade foods and drinks permeate the air as you walk through. And, of course, everyone is dressed up. It honestly felt like I was living in Medieval times. They even had people acting like the crazy people of the town, chained up with black teeth and flesh wounds (oh, it's merely a flesh wound!). They were such good actors they even made Paulina cry. We actually had to leave after that because she was so freaked out. They also had these gigantic, trained falcons and one owl, that were flying around. I wish everyone could have been here, as dorky as it sounds.

On Saturday night, I went out. I WENT OUT!! It was my first time going out in Vitoria and I had so much fun. But, I suffered the consequences the next day, make no mistake. Allow me to elaborate. There is a very strict schedule to follow if you want to cooperate with Spanish time:
9:00 P.M.- Go to a friends house and drink a little. In my case, I went to my friends house and enjoyed a couple glasses of wine as we got ready to go out.
11:00 P.M.- Go get dinner-- take forever to eat. Also have a beer.
12:30-2:00 A.M.- Go to the bars.
3:00-4:00 A.M.- Leave the bars (because they close) and go to the clubs.
5:00-7:00 A.M- Club.
7:00 A.M.- You have two options at this point. You can either A: Go home and finally sleep or B: Go to the "after-club" and continue to drink. I'm not sure why anyone would ever choose option B. It sounds awful and all I imagine are just people who are zombies and act as if they are lobotomized.
Anyway, I was "responsible" and only stayed out until 6:00 A.M. I opted out of the "after-club" portion. Partying is a tough way of life, man. But it was so much fun. I dressed up and everything. I even wore wedges! I'm still not sure if it was a great decision on my behalf, however. I'm already a tall girl, and with the wedges on, I was like some Amazonian woman/beast. In addition, the Spanish guys are so much shorter to me as it is. So when I was walking around on Saturday, I could basically see over everyone's heads. It was a laugh.

Au pair friends! Sophie and Melanie

Update about my Spanish class: We have a new student! And guess where he is from? (Drum roll) PAKISTAN!! Today, we learned the verb ser, which I already knew. But we had to go around the classroom, AGAIN, saying "Soy de..., Soy..." So when it became my turn I of course had to say "Soy de Estados Unidos. Soy americana." As soon as I said that, the new student said "QUE?! Es americana?!" And not in a very excited and loving tone either. He just stared at me from across the room for probably 2 minutes without looking away. Needless to say, I walked really, really fast out of class today. So much so that I got calf cramps.

Lastly, I talked to my mom last night for TWO HOURS. Man, oh man, I miss that woman. She's about to buy her plane ticket here! I am so incredibly excited for her to come visit. We started planning what we are going to do. Apparently, we can stay in a castle if we felt so inclined. But really, this is about to be the BEST mother-daughter trip ever and I can't wait for her to finally get here!

I suppose it is now time for me to go and enjoy my two hour nap.
Happy Monday!
XX

Just a Little Hump Day Treat

I know its only 12:25 am my time, hardly "hump day" but, technically, the new day has already started. So just bear with me on the title. And, while it's fresh on my mind, I would like to acknowledge the inner debate that just occurred in my head as I went back-and-forth trying to figure if "bear" or "bare" was the correct word for the above phrase. It was painful. Anyway, I will continue about how my past week has been.
After returning from Brussels, I have to say, it was very difficult getting back into "role-model" mode. Not like I was gone for a very long time, but still, it's just as coming back to any job is quite difficult to do after a lovely vacation. Despite feeling lazy and fighting the urge to just crawl into bed and wish I was vacationing again, I have been relatively productive lately. I don't think I have mentioned before, but I have a friend in Vitoria-Gasteiz, and I feel like shouting it from the roof tops!! I am just so excited about it. Furthermore, SHE'S AMERICAN. And let me tell you-- there is nothing as refreshing as the good ol' American accent when you have been among broken English for 3 months. Not that there's anything wrong with broken English. Actually, it's really attractive, and sometimes sexy (depending on the circumstance). However, I have created this mental radar. I can be on a different planet spacing out while going on a walk, or having a coffee, not listening to the murmurs of Castellano, but as soon as I hear English, more specifically American English, I freaking perk up like a meerkat out of his little tunnel. My radar is super powerful and strong. And then of course I feel the need to say something in English, just so the other fellow English speakers will know they are not alone. Most of the time, it's just a friendly, "hello!" with a nod though. But, I have an American friend nonetheless. Her name is Melanie and we hang out almost every day. Our schedules are very similar, allowing us to spend our weeks pay on coffee instead of saving for future trips. Sad, I know. But, walking around the old city can only entertain one for so long.
I also made friends with a bartender. Okay, yes I know that sounds sketchy. But I wasn't at the bar at night, and I only go in there for coffee. Patxi makes a mean cup of joe. And on top of that, he forces me to talk in Spanish. Yeah, that's a laugh. Pero, necesito practicar mucho y Patxi ayudame! (Please, Spanish speaking friends, don't make me look bad and correct my grammar on here. Just pretend it's correct and carry on with yourselves. I'll get there!)
Speaking of horrible Spanish, I started my Spanish classes yesterday! I am definitely the youngest person in my class. The second youngest is this woman from Latvia, and she's 28. She seems nice, but dang, she likes to talk. While I'm trying to listen to la profesora, Latvia girl is trying to have a full on conversation about how she lived in Atlanta once. I appreciate her being friendly, and I understand that she's probably trying to make friends, but come on! I'm trying to learn.
Secondly, everyone in my class speaks fluent, or almost fluent Spanish. I'm in the beginners level class. Don't ask me why. I'm still perturbed by this too.
In addition, Latvia and I are the only light skinned people in the class. Not that there's anything wrong with that. But allow me to explain the situation a bit more:
Today, we had to go around the room and say our names and where we were from, what we were doing, etc, etc. I was the fifth person to introduce myself. I stood up, smiled, said hello and told everyone "Hola! Me llamo Sydney. Soy una niñera para dos niños y soy de Estados Unidos!" I felt dagger eyes from more than half of the people in my class. Hold on, I'm getting to the point. The next 6 people, in a row, to introduce themselves were all from Pakistan. I know our relationship with Pakistan isn't the greatest thing in the world right now, and I also understand that many do not like the United States. To make matters worse, after introductions, I was chosen to try to name as many people in the class as I could. I could remember everyone's name, except for the Pakistan people. Not because I didn't listen. It's just all of their names were really difficult to understand or pronounce and I just felt so bad. I thought "great! now they REALLY hate America and it's all my fault because I didn't remember any of their names."
Lastly, I am using my time wisely and applying for scholarships and schools again! As a matter of fact, I just submitted my first application to Champlain College tonight! I'm pretty excited about it. And working on essays all the time makes me feel all professional on my laptop. I love it.

I know I just said "lastly" on the above paragraph, but I must inform you all of one more unfortunate even that took place in my life. I dyed my hair last night, as some of you may have seen on Instagram. I bought the dye and the color looked like a very nice dark brown--perfect for winter. Well, I didn't dry my hair before going to sleep last night, and so I never really got to see the end results. Long story short, it has been a tragic day. My hair is in fact NOT dark brown, but black. My hair is ebony. This is not a joke. And to make matters worse, I finished the dye last night, but did the really awesome thing where I missed pieces of hair. So it's just all really awkward. I'm not sure why I decided to share this information publicly. Maybe just as a forewarning that if you see any pictures of me and my hair in the future (it will be fixed. Fixed as in all the same, ebony color) please no snarky remarks. This is the most trauma my hair has ever received, and we are in a state of shock. I would post a picture to make everyone giggle a little, but I'm not feeling that generous right now.

I apologize for not having any pictures to post this time around. But it's late and I must bid everyone goodnight.

Missing everyone dearly.
XX

Yes, I am alive...

Hello friends, family, family friends, friends of friends and so forth! I have fantastic news to share with you on this fine night: I am in fact alive. I know it has been nearly a month since I have updated my blog and I feel ashamed for keeping you all waiting for so long-- I say "all" assuming every single one of my friends and family members is actually keeping tabs on my travels through this blog. A girl can dream.
Anyway, I come bearing gifts of stories--stories that begin on Thursday, September 12, 2013. I left for Brussels, Belgium to visit a friend, who I actually met in Valencia (if you remember that journey I went on. If not, I encourage you to scroll down the page a little bit and feast your eyes). Of course, the origin of our friendship is perhaps a sketchy one, considering we met at a bar in Valencia; but needless to say, we hit it off, we are friends, and it was one more connection I had enticing me to visit another country. The whole process of getting to Brussels was a little rough here and there. First of all, Elliot, my friend, was supposed to retrieve me from Charleroi Airport in Brussels, but he got into a fender bender and informed me I would have to take the bus to the city (which was an hour away) so I was panicking a little bit, considering I don't speak ANY french. Okay, I'm selling myself short. I can say "Bonjour!" "Merci!" "Parlez vous Anglais?" So on top of not knowing how to get from the airport to Brussels, I had to learn how to maneuver getting from the train station in Madrid to the Madrid Airport. Ah! That's a laugh.
The train ride was nice. I did manage to let EVERYONE on the train know I was a tourist, however, and that was slightly embarrassing. I didn't realize there were assigned seats, so I just plopped down right at this nice seat by the window and had a table and everything. I was all settled in, until this older man started talking to me in Spanish, which I had no idea what he was saying, but everyone else did. It took about a solid 30 seconds for me to understand that I was in his seat. Shortly after I found my seat number on my ticket, but it turns out I was in the wrong car of the train. So I had to lug my bags around asking where my seat was and looking like an absolute fool. I finally came across my seat and prepared myself for the four hour ride to Madrid.
PERTINENT INFORMATION: On the train ride, they for whatever reason found it necessary to play the movie Taken, which for those of you who don't know what it's about, heres the jist of it: a girl gets kidnapped. Dad takes revenge.

I finally arrived to Madrid around 11:00 at night. I was slightly nervous thinking about how I was going to find the metro, but I figured the Spanish are friendly enough and they will surely help me find my way. So I asked someone. He directed me in a certain direction and I followed his instructions, until I realized he was incorrect and there was no metro there. So I asked another person, who instructed me differently. And also incorrectly. So I asked another person, who pointed me in another direction getting me to a spot in Madrid that I was not to very fond of-- especially not at 11:45 at night. A young, vulnerable girl, alone... All I could think about was Taken. I thought for sure "All right. This is where it ends. In Madrid on a random street." Luckily I was able to find a taxi within a couple streets from where I was and swiftly hopped in. I had to pay the guy like 24 Euros, which is around $32.00 just to go about seven miles. It was GREAT!!
My flight didn't take off until 6:30 in the morning, so I got to spend my night in the airport, landing a solid one hour and 45 mins of sleep for the entire night. But it's okay. I made friends from Portugal and England along the way (both of which bought me food and drinks. Golden!)

BRUSSELS:
So I made it to Brussels safe and sound. And what's even better, I found the bus immediately (had to pay 14 Euros though...) and within an hours time, I made it to the city center. And low and behold, Elliot actually did make it to the bus station like he said he would. I have to admit, I was a little nervous that the whole car crash story was some elaborate tale he made up in order to ultimately ditch me. But he didn't. Hooray! He showed me a bit around Brussels on Friday. Saturday and Sunday we had more time to explore.
Truthfully, Brussels is an absolutely amazing city. I'm so happy I met this friend in Valencia, because otherwise, I'm not sure I would have taken the time to travel there. It definitely wasn't in my top cities to visit. But the architecture and the atmosphere are incredible, really. It delivers the classic European feel that you would see in any kind of movie. The cafés on the narrow streets, vines growing on historic, brick buildings, flowers in the windowsill... Not to mention the aroma of the city is to die for. There is a constant scent of Belgian waffles, chocolate and all sorts of yummy food (such as mussels). It's a charming city. So much so that I may go back and visit one day.
In addition, Elliot took me to a bar called Delerium Cafe which has one of the largest selection of beers in the world (maybe the largest?). Probably a bit touristy, but still completely worth it.
And then, I was exposed to another side of Brussels that perhaps most tourists don't venture off to, which was the university side. There were immense amounts of cafes and restaurants that were super trendy and had such a great vibe.
It was difficult to say goodbye to such a fun weekend and come back to work again.
Lastly, if you are ever given the opportunity to visit Brussels, do it. I've always heard it was pretty, but I feel like maybe this city is sold short among all the major cities in Europe. This city is BEAUTIFUL. Make no mistake.
I believe this is all I have to write about at the moment. It may be a while before I update this again.... Gotta earn some money before I travel somewhere again. Kinda broke after this trip.
And yes, I am now taking donations for the "help Sydney travel everywhere" cause.
Missing everyone dearly.
XX