El dia del padre!

Today is Father's Day in Spain! (Because   every.   single.   thing. is different between the United States and Spain-- this includes holidays).  While I'm usually opposed to most of the differences I find here in Spain (talk about change overload), I actually prefer Spain's Father's Day over the U.S. due to the reasoning behind it.  The reason Father's Day is March 19 in Spain is because it is also St. Joseph's Day.  If you recall one of my previous posts, Spain takes the days of Saints pretty seriously even celebrating them like a small birthday.  And St. Joseph played a pretty big role in the Catholic/Christian religion.  Ehem... he was that guy who ya know was pretty famous for raising a really famous kid who went by the name of Jesus...

Kidding.  But you would surprised at how many people don't know the story of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.  Anyway, it makes a lot of sense to hold Father's Day on the same day as Saint Joseph's Day.  So I prefer the significance of Spain's Father's Day over the one in the United States held in June. 

While I'm on the topic of differences between the two countries, here are some more I've discovered recently...

Day Light Savings Time:
Yep.  This is different too.  While the U.S. changed their clocks about a week and a half ago, Spain has still not changed theirs.  I don't completely understand how it makes sense for the countries to change at different times of the year.  Also, I've asked dozens of people, and no one seems to know when day light savings time is here in Spain.  So for now, I'll enjoy the five hour difference between here and home instead of the normal six hour difference.  (Trust me, you would be surprised at how one hour makes such a difference when it comes to corresponding with people in the U.S.)

Crutches:
Even crutches are different in Spain!

I cannot report the effectiveness of this particular type of crutch since I've avoided breaking any bones since moving to Spain.  But I am curious to know which is the better (aka more comfortable) model.   

Pick Up Trucks:
 So for those of you who had the pleasure of growing up watching the TV show "The Wild Thornberries," you will recall distinctly the type of vehicle the family drove.  Well when it comes to farming in Spain, they use those safari looking trucks instead of pick up trucks.  On the topic of farming, you will be happy to know that they do use John Deere tractors which I think is pretty cool.

You know you grew up in a small farm town when you get excited about seeing John Deere tractors...

Kids Don't Lie:
I don't know whether it's just the kids in my school or all Spanish schools, but it's incredible to me how almost every kid is completely honest and doesn't lie.  For example if you ask a kid if they did something, they will admit to what they did instead of lying about it.  Or if you ask an entire class who was the person who threw the pencil (for example), the kid who threw it will turn himself in.  I like Spain's honesty in this aspect!

Eat and Play at the same time at recess:
Something that will make every school Nurse and administrator cringe... kids playing and eating their lunch at the same time.  We're not talking a little game of hide and seek.  We're talking full on soccer games, tag, running around, etc.  I'm still shocked that since I've started working in my school, there hasn't been any choking incidents.  (Thank goodness since I'm obliged to play the role of the school nurse too.)

Happy Father's Day Dad!!

Felicidades!  

Las Fallas

This weekend, my Spanish friend Gemma invited Sara and myself to Las Fallas.  For those of you who don't know about Las Fallas, it is a big, famous celebration held in Valencia, Spain where they light things on fire.  At least, that's all I knew about it before this trip.  So Friday afternoon, with our bags packed, Sara, myself, and Gemma headed to Gemma's hometown La Solana.  La Solana is a tiny pueblo situated in the province made famous by Don Quixote: Castilla la Mancha.  After driving two and a half hours, we finally arrived in her town.  We were greeted by Gemma's sisters (she has four), her Aunt, her mother, and her father.  Like all Spanish mothers, hers rushed us to the dining room for some food and socializing.  And after that, we called it an early night and headed to bed.

The next day, Saturday, we woke up bright and early at 6:00am.  We got ready, ate a big breakfast, and headed to the bus station.  In typical Spanish fashion, we were running late.  But managed to catch the bus just in time.  For 21 euros, the bus took us to Valencia (a three and a half hour trip) and then picked us up in Valencia at 11:30pm for a return trip home.  This was a very good deal considering how far Valencia is from everything.  I should also mention that I had yet to travel outside Andalusia.  So seeing other provinces and countrysides was exciting.  But other than that, the bus ride was uneventful.  Around the two hour mark, we stopped at a rest stop for a 45 minute coffee break.  I got this sugar packet with my coffee.  It had a lovely poem on it about love:

Aprendemos a amor

no cuando encontramos a la

persona perfecta,

sino cuando llegamos a ver de manera

perfecta a una persona imperfecta

We learn to love

not when we find the perfect person,

but when we see the imperfect person

perfectly

Finally we arrived in Valencia.  Our first mission was to head to the city center, so we could see some of the Fallas.  Without a map, we stopped and asked a lady for directions.  She ended up being our own personal tour guide and walked with us to the center while giving explanations to the different things we passed.  Eventually, we made it to the city center, where we parted ways with our tour guide.  In the center, we started seeing some of the Fallas.  The only way to describe these architectural masterpieces is like this: Imagine Pixar building giant sculptures the size of buildings-- that is essentially what the Fallas look like.  They're made out of a combination of wood, Styrofoam, and paper.  Then they are painted and assembled together to make an incredible piece of art.  Each Falla had a lot of detail to it.  Most of this detail is making fun of people, places, or things which in turn made the viewer not only marvel at the masterpiece itself, but also smile and enjoy the piece.  Along with the Fallas, there was the constant sound of fire crackers and fire works being set off.  The children truly enjoy scaring the adults and giving them heart attacks so our 12 hours spent in the city of Valencia were filled with lots of screams and jumping thanks to children throwing these stupid things near to us.

 Las Fallas starts in the beginning of March.  Each falla is built during this time by a group of people.  Throughout the course of March, people from all over the world travel to Valencia to see the fallas being built.  The city also builds giant architectural structures made completely out of lights.  So aside from looking at each falla, the visitors can also walk through these massive light structures, watch light shows, parades, and of course, party.  Las Fallas ends on St. Joseph's Day (aka March 19).  On this day, each falla is filled with fireworks and then set on fire.   (Pictures below stolen from the internet...)

After, walking around a bit, we decided to get out of the sun and rest in the shade of a restaurant.  It was very hot in the sun! And Spaniards are kind of crazy in that even though its 70-80 degrees, you still won't see any of them in flip flops, tank tops, or shorts yet.  They continue to wear boots, sneakers, jackets, long sleeve shirts, etc.  In the U.S., everyone would be jumping at the chance to wear Spring clothes at the first sign of warm weather.  The only part of this that bothers me is not being able to wear my flip flops.  I mean, yes I very well could wear my sandals, but then I face the risk of standing out more than I already do being an American.  So trying to blend in without dying of heat (kind of-- I still wore a tank top), I wore my flats on this day.  And after walking miles around the city of Valencia, my feet have been paying for it for the last few days. Speaking of standing out like an American, the bus driver, in reading the list of people's names making sure everyone was on the bus, struggled with reading Kelly and instead addressed me in front of everyone as the American.

Below are some of the Fallas we saw...

 Traditional dress of Valencia

 Angry chicken

 

After resting in the shade, we moved onto finding a spot to watch the parade that the city puts on daily.  Unfortunatly, everywhere was completely crowded, so we went back to a place in the shade and basically listened to the parade.  Below is what we would have seen if we had been closer...

The parade was kind of scary.  It did not elicit happy feelings like a normal parade.  This could probably be attributed to the fact that we couldn't see anything but instead only hear and feel it.  And let me tell you, you felt like you were standing in the middle of a war.  You see, there was no music like a typical parade; but instead lots and lots of LOUD firecrackers.  The ground was shaking, your body was vibrating; it sounded like bombs were continuously being dropped on us.  And then to make matters worse, a girl standing next to me fainted.  I'm not sure if it was because of the heat or because she was drunk or a combination of both.  Thankfully the place we were standing was packed, so people immediately caught her and made some room on the street to lay her down.  Meanwhile, one of the girls in the group of people I was travelling with went off to find some police.  I'm happy to report that the girl revived and walked away okay.  But between that and all of the sounds and vibrations, I can't say I enjoyed this particular parade.

But then there was this man who decided to climb a lamp post...

After 20 minutes of standing in a war zone, the parade ended, and we moved on to finding Gemma's friends who were participating in a Paella cooking contest.  This contest was also like nothing I have ever seen before.  As opposed to using tables or grills or stoves, the chefs cooked the paella in the street.  They each built little fires and hovering about three inches from the ground, they cooked the paella in the traditional massive paella dishes.  For those of you who don't know, Valencia is famous for it's paella.  Being a big fan of the rice dish, I expected this to be one of the best paella's I've ever eaten.  I, however, was sorely mistaken.  Once each participant finished cooking their paella, their fan club/entourage moved inside a restaurant nearby set up with long picnic tables.  There, each entourage member helped themselves with forks to the paella. So when our paella was done cooking, we went inside, found ourselves some seats and dug in... only to discover that the paella was incredbily burnt.  And the rice that somehow managed to excape being burned was tainted with the burnt taste from the smoke of the fires.  But determined to eat some Valencia paella, (or mainly I was just really, really hungry), I suffered through it.  Upon seeing our incredibly burnt paella, the other teams felt bad for us, so they offered up their leftovers for us to try.  Those were at least yummy!

 Our burnt paella

 Oh ya know.... just cooking paella in the middle of the street

 It takes two people to carry such a big dish!

So. much. paella.

After eating burnt paella, we continued to walk around the city looking at more fallas.  For the really, massive fallas, there was only a little bit of street space to walk on to see them.  So beating through the ridiculous crowds, we all walked hand in hand as to not lose each other.  After about three hours of walking, we decided to rest a bit at another restaurant.  Around 8:00, one of our group members remembered that there was a light show about to start nearby.  So we literally ran through the insane crowds to watch the show.

 More lights than Christmas in NYC

After touring the rest of the light shows set up by the city, we stumbled upon a DJ who had set up his booth in the middle of one of the streets.  We decided to hang out here, and we danced until 10:30 when we had to leave to catch our 11:30 bus.  After running around Valencia trying to find the bus station, we finally arrived, sandwiches in hand (priorities), at 11:29.  Talk about close call.  The three and a half bus ride home was filled with another rest stop and a lot of sleep.

The next day, we woke up reasonably early (10:00am) and got ready for a quick tour of La Solana.  Being that the town is smaller than Priego, it was fairly short, and we spent the majority of our time sitting in the Plaza Mayor in the sun drinking wine.  Around 2:00 we headed back to Gemma's house where her entire family, myself, and Sara ate a delicious lunch consisting of tortilla de patatas, salad, and paella.  I'm happy to report that this paella was not burnt. Wooo.  Around 5:00, we embarked on our journey back to Priego.

All in all, Las Fallas was incredible, and I am so happy I had the opportunity to experience it!

Las chicas de Las Fallas

How Spain Does Education

Today, I learned more about the Spanish education system.  Boy did it make me mad with our American one.  So here comes a rant about education...

Did you know, that in Spain,  

the teachers are awarded points for their years of work instead of basing their abilities on student's test scores.

AND... 

the government finds jobs for the teachers

That's just the begininng.  Let's start with some recent college graduates...

Pretend this is Johnny who just graduated from Rutgers.

And this is Lily who just graduated from Ramapo.

Both graduates earned their NJ teaching certificate.  Johnny had a fulfilling six years at Rutgers-- partying, drinking, attending some classes, partying, drinking, failing some classes, etc.  (Don't be fooled by that medal around his neck... he won that medal when he did the longest keg stand.)

He liked to practice in his dorm room

Lily worked really hard at Ramapo and finished her degree in four years.  While she had fun on the weekends, her studies always came first, and she graduated with a 3.8.  Her advisers gave her high marks during her student teaching, and she has continuously been praised for her work as a teacher.

Now, don't get me wrong, Johnny is an okay teacher.  He showed up for most of his student teaching.  Most of the kids liked him.  He wasn't really into the amount of lesson planning, grading, or assessments he had to complete, so he did the bare minimum when it came to any of that.  He doesn't love teaching, but for him it's an okay job (SUMMERS OFF WOOOO).  Lily, on the other hand, truly loves teaching.  She goes above and beyond what's required of her.  She volunteers for different things in the schools.  All of the children that know her, love her.  Her lessons are always engaging, and she does her best to keep the students motivated to learn.  

Graduation day has ended, and the job search has begun.  It just so happens that both Johnny and Lily apply to the same school through the awful, AWFUL, dreaded website-- Applitrack.  While Johnny's resume is nothing special or out of the ordinary, he manages to make it past the filters and into the first round of interviews.  Lily is not so lucky.   

So how did Johnny make it to the first interview and later get the job.... because his Uncle works at the school..... GAH

Lily unfortunately doesn't know any teachers or administrators personally, so while she has applied to at least 50 schools, she's still left jobless.

I would really like someone to please explain to me how this system is fair or effective??  

Lily is clearly more deserving of a job as opposed to Johnny.  But she is at the disadvantage of not knowing anyone.  It's common knowledge that getting teaching jobs nowadays is all about who you know.

Now, let's place Johnny and Lily in Spain.  Their names have been converted to Juan and Laura.  They have the same background as above.  However, in Spain, the government is in charge of giving you a job once you finish college.  You are given teaching jobs based off of your grades in college along with your grades on the required exams.  Because Laura worked really hard, she was assigned to work in a school in Granada, Spain.  Juan, on the other hand, did not have high enough grades to receive a teaching assignment.  For now, he is just a substitute.  

This, ladies and gentlemen, is how it should be in the United States.  The Spanish system is fair.  Working hard actually pays off here.  You could be the worst teacher in the world, but because you know so-and-so, you will get a teaching job in the United States.  No wonder our education system is floundering compared to the rest of the world.  Teachers are rarely hired now on merit and abilities.  And many AMAZING teachers are left doing other jobs because they can't find permanent work in the field that they love.

The Spanish education system continues in that new teachers change schools each year.  The amount of times you are required to change schools is based on the type of degree you hold.  You get to preference the area you would like to live and work in, and then the government, once again is in charge of placing you in a new school.  I personally think that this is a great experience for new teachers because they're getting the chance to see the differences between schools and that can only improve their abilities.  College students in particular are accustomed to this because during their studies, they're required to participate in field work at different schools, and the college is in charge of assigning where they are going to work. 

Once a teacher has finally completed their preliminary years, they then get to finally settle into a school.  The teacher then has the option of staying at this school until retirement or applying through the government to work at a different school elsewhere in Spain.  If you've continued to work hard, the government will grant you the option to change schools.  If you've slacked off over the past few years, the preference will go to somebody else.

In Spain, teachers are not rated based off of their students performances on standardized tests.  To start, standardized tests don't even exist in Spain.  (Halleluia!)  With each year of work you complete, you are given a set amount of points.  Now, I don't know entirely understand what this point system is based off of.  But it appears to be a more logical means of assessing teachers than the one in the U.S. 

So there you have it folks... the glimpse at the education system in Spain.  No wonder children are so brilliant in Spain.  Less stress + better teachers = an amazing learning environment.  Seriously, United States, get with the program here. 

   

         
                                  

My Achy Breaky Heart

 Fun Fact of the day:

Spain, or at least Priego, loves the song "Achy Breaky Heart"

Yea, I bet you forgot about that oldie.  I get the pleasure of listening to this song play every. single. night.  -_-  I don't know if I've ever mentioned this in my blog before, but I live next door to an old people home.  Being a huge fan of the elderly (some of you may or may not recall my three year stint working in an old person home in the states), I take pleasure in sitting on my patio and watching the residents go through their daily routines.  I guess that sounds kind of creepy now that I'm seeing it written down... oh well...Anyway back to my achy breaky heart...

Now that the weather has been consistently sunny and in the 70's, the old people hold a "dance party" every night.  This includes blasting Spanish music and the old people ballroom dancing for 2-3 hours.  And there all time favorite song that they play at the end of their dance party is always this old 90's hit.  Who would have thought.
      

Now that I've successfully gotten that song stuck in your head... I don't think Spaniards are used to seeing sun burn.  Yesterday, I spent the majority of my day outside hiking.  And I got a eensy, teensy,  tiny bit of sun burn on my nose and forehead.  We're talking like a slight pink.  And every Spanish person I ran into was super concerned.  They made it sound like my face looked like a lobster!  I nervously kept checking myself in the mirror because they had me believing I was so sun burnt!  If only they could see me after a day spent at the Jersey Shore...

With the beautiful weather (it's finally spring woooo), Sara, myself, and her mother drove to a town near Priego alled Zuheros.  We embarked on a two and a half hour hike.  Hence the minor sun burn.  On our hike, we ran into a museum in the middle of no where, some sheep, and some horses. 

 The museum in the middle of nowhere

 

After our hike, we were famished and headed towards the town itself.  The town is soooo beautiful.  It is one of those picture perfect, completely white Spanish towns.  After trekking through the village, we made it to the very top where we had beautiful views of the surrounding areas.  This is the type of place people go to to rest and relax and escape real life.  Did I mention it was beautiful?  We eventually headed for lunch inside a nearby hotel/restaurant.  This town is famous for their cheese, so we started off sampling a plate of delicious cheese.  I was in heaven!  We also shared the typical Spanish dish of fried eggplant drizzled with honey (one of my favorites).  Then for our main meal, I ordered calamari stuffed with seafood.  The calamari I've found in Andalusia is not the one Americans are used to seeing in the U.S.  To start, it isn't fried.  And it is really big.  It almost looks like one of those pasta shells that people stuff with ricotta and tomato sauce.  I enjoy this type of calamari and this particular version was delicious!  There was a minor situation with my food however....  my calamari was covered in a sauce... And in this sauce, there were tiny pine cones.   And apparently this is a normal thing to eat here so I begrudgingly tried my first baby pine cone.  Very strange.  It wasn't bad tasting, but I couldn't get past the fact that I was eating pine cones.  So I left most of them behind on my plate.  After lunch, we were exhausted from our filling meal and from our long hike.  But we continued our trek to the bottom of the village where there was a waterfall and beautiful cliffs.

After taking some pictures, we headed back to Priego.  Sara and I were completely exhausted and relaxed for the rest of our night.

As for today, her mother invited me to their country house for lunch.  So around 1:00, Sara and I headed off to their other house.  I've written about my visits to this particular house before.  But to refresh your memory, the house is HUGE and beautiful.  We sat out in the sun snacking on the famous Priego potato chips-- San Nicasio. Yep, Priego is famous for these chips.  Depending on where you are, a bag could cost anywhere from 5-10 dollars.  That's how good they are!  (You can ask my parents all about this.  I accidentally started their addiction.  Now every package I send home has to contain at least one bag of these chips.)  If you ever have the chance to try them, your life will be forever changed when it comes to potato chips.  As always, all Spanish lunches are filled with food.  So we started off with these appetizers:
Prunes (yes mom, they have prunes in Spain!), almonds, olives, some AMAZING cheese, bread, crackers, and jamon.  Next, we ate the Spanish version of potato salad.  And after that everyone ate the Spanish version of chicken wings while I ate some mussels.  For dessert, we ate watermelon and little cakes.  After lunch, we digested our food while sitting in the sun.  And finally we found some motivation to get up and play tennis on their tennis court.  Being my first time playing tennis, I was a little bit of a disaster.  But it was still a lot of fun. 

Now, I am back in my piso, completely exhausted from this weekend.  I am so, SO happy that spring is finally here and the awful Spanish winter is gone!  

In memory

For those of you who are close to me and my family, you know that last Tuesday, February 25, my Nana passed away.  I received the word last Sunday night that she was given only 24-48 hours to live.  She had stopped eating, which if you've worked with the elderly, typically signifies the body is starting to shut down.  I was devastated. 

After a restless nights sleep, I woke up Monday morning debating whether or not to travel home if anything were to happen.  I continued through my normal day of work where thankfully I am blessed to be surrounded by children who will forever be able to cheer me up no matter the circumstances.  After arriving back to my apartment Monday, I skyped my family to let them know that I had decided to travel back to the United States.  It was here where we decided it was best to book my flight now, so I could be home and recovered from jet lag before the inevitable funeral.

I left Priego that night at 1:45am. I flew from Malaga, Spain to Paris where I had a four and a half hour layover.  For those of you who have ever had the pleasure of long layovers, Charles de Gaul airport is one of the best places for it.  I occupied my time with a Starbucks coffee and my Kindle sitting in chair that one could have found at the beach.

 

Airport lounge chairs

 

I should also mention that the ceiling above me was made of glass and the walls were covered with plants so it was almost like being in a far away place.  

At some point, it was time to board my next flight to the United States.  I was fortunate enough to have luck on my side and the seat next to me was empty.  This is the best for long flights because you can sprawl out without having to worry about the other person.  And trust me, I sprawled.  I took advantage, and full on laid down in the two seats I had to myself.  Using both blankets.  And both pillows.  Oh and I used both TV's too.  Unfortunately, I was only able to sleep about an hour on the flight. So most of the time I spent catching up on some American films (Bridesmaids, The Great Gatsby, Lee Daniels the Butler).  The best part of the flight was when they served us ice cream as part of one of our meals.  I have never received or even been offered the option of having ice cream on a plane so this was pretty cool.  Finally, around 3:30pm (US time), I landed in the states.  After going through three different securities in Newark Airport and retrieving my luggage, I was able to finally see the face of  my Father.  And then I was slapped in the face with just how cold it was in New Jersey.  I naively flew home jacketless in a dress with leggings.

In my Dad's car, I was also greeted with something I have been missing since August 29, dun dun dun... a bagel!  On our ride home, we talked about some of the differences I was already experiencing back home:

1. I was able to understand the Newark announcements in Spanish without any problem.
2. Because we weren't driving through mountains, my carsickness was gone.
3. However, I had forgotten what traffic was like.
4. There was so much snow!

Once home, I was told that my Nana passed at exactly the same time that I stepped foot onto US soil.  I'm going to pretend that she was waiting for me to land on the ground first.  Another difference:

     5. There was central heating!  I only had to sleep with three blankets instead of my normal seven    in Spain.

The next day I woke up early to get a much needed haircut.  Six plus months of not cutting my hair was leaving me looking like a long haired cat.   Anyway, the next days passed in a blur between the wake and the funeral.  While the actual events were really depressing, it was nice seeing old faces of family and friends.

I'm getting side tracked.  Actually I'm just procrastinating writing the next part because I know it's going to make me cry.  Okay.  Deep breath.  Here I go... I mainly started writing this post because yesterday I stumbled upon this quote:

 We are here to laugh at the odds

and live our lives so well that

death will tremble 

to take us.

I found the poem so fitting with the events of this past weekend.  I really think death was afraid and "trembling" to take my Nana from this Earth because she had lived her life so well.  She was almost 99 years old for goodness sake.  How many people do you know to live that long??  When I was younger, I was lucky enough to spend time with my Nana going through all of her old photo albums and listening to the stories behind the pictures.  We continued to repeat this ritual even in her early Alzheimer's days.  It didn't matter how many times I heard the same story, her life was absolutely inspiring and fascinating.  She lived through The Great Depression, basically every war involving the U.S. (The Civil War is the exception), she played basketball as a kid and loved riding her bike up until she was elderly.  Her passion was found in horses and taking care of her family.  She was amazing at all things involving sewing.  She even played the violin and spoke some French.  She grew to have eight children; two of whom passed before her along with her beloved husband.  She was open about her disgust with the "lousy limeys" and had enough Irish sayings to fill a book.  She is one of the few people I have met who have lived their life literally to its fullest.  And even though Alzheimer's took her memory from her over the last five-ten years, she still remained the feisty, funny old lady everyone had come to know and love.

The kicker about all of this is that she was "supposed" to die when I was 15 and in my first year of college.  She had her first big fall then and it was said that she didn't have much time left.  And multiple times since then has this phrase been repeated.  But she beat the odds by eight more years.  Unfortunately, this backfired, because in my eyes it almost made her seem invincible.  And when someone is invincible, they don't die.  So of course, I just continued to live my life while she continued to live hers; always "expecting" it to happen eventually but never really believing it ever would.  So this is where I'm left today.  Still devastated.  But slowly moving on.

I've had a lot of time to reflect since my trip back to Spain was a short 24 hours (that's sarcasm in case you missed it.)  As sad as I am now, I am comforted by the fact that from now on my Nana will be with me always.  If you're one of those people who get offended by other people's beliefs, please jump to the next paragraph.  The traveler that I am, I've always tried to incorporate her spirit into my travels in some form or matter.  It actually started when she gave me a handkerchief that she embroidered when I was young.  Since my travels around the world began, I've always carried that handkerchief with me in one of my bags.  So in my mind, she's been with me in spirit to The Caribbean, Ireland, England, Wales, France, Italy, Scotland, and Spain.  And because Europe is famous for its churches, I try to light a candle in each church I've visited in her honor.  So technically her spirit has been with me in famous churches such as Westminster Abbey and Notre Dame along with smaller churches found in tiny towns like Priego.  And the funny part about all of this is that some of my traveling friends knew of this tradition, and whenever they heard about her being sick or even up to the events recently, they've lit a candle for her too.  Somehow, my Nana managed to impact people she's never even met before.  And with her passing, in my eyes, it's almost like she's closer to me now than ever before.  Because I truly believe that she is up in heaven looking down on me and this time, her actual spirit is now with me in all of my travels.  (I hope she's ready for a trip to Morocco, Prague, Austria, and a return trip to Ireland.) 

This blog post was not an easy one to write.  It took me two days, a glass of wine, and an entire bag of goldfish to finish writing it.

I take that back.  This whole Spain experience has not been an easy one.  It will forever remain one of the best years of my life along with one of the most difficult since literally every part of this experience has been a challenge.  I love it.  I truly do.  But there are just some days (aka yesterday), where I'm just dying to run back to the United States.  I am incredibly blessed to have made such wonderful friends on this journey.  When it comes to these tough times, you need other Americans to help you pull through, and the friends I've made here in Spain have been there for me for everything.  I guess when you go through such a crazy experience such as moving to a foreign country a million miles away from home, you immediately form a bond that will last a lifetime.

This is a shout out to my three greatest American friends in Spain who understood everything I was going through and did everything they could to cheer me up before, during, and after the events of this past weekend.

The giant boquet of flowers delivered to my piso in Priego 

by these amazing girls.

I hope this post gives you a small sense of who my Nana was.  Along with the impact she had on not only my life, but on other peoples lives too.  This post in written in memory of Marie Fitzpatrick Rowan June 13, 1915 -February 25, 2014

Oh and one last thing... Simply because my Nana only does things with a purpose, the day we buried her happened to be her and my grandfather (aka Gramps)'s anniversary.  Another thing, I'm believing she planned.  I hope they celebrated with a bottle of white zin, some cheese and crackers for hors d'ooeuvres, and by dancing the night away in heaven.  "Love you doll."