Esto es CARNVAL!

Carnaval. How do you even try to explain it?

It's like Halloween on steorids. Or better yet, let's pretend that Mardi Gras and Halloween were people. They fall madly in love, get married, and decide to have a baby. Now this baby, as all babies do of their biological parents, inherits many of the traits of Mardi Gras and Halloween. This little one likes to dress in crazy costumes (like Daddy Halloween), it likes to host excessive groups of people in the streets for insane night-long partying and singing and drinking (like Mama Mardi Gras), and this baby seems to basically be an excuse for unbelievable party-making (Daddy and Mama traits, alike). And this baby speaks Spanish (very bright for his age). They call him Carnaval.


Our trip to Cadiz to celebrate Carnaval began with confusion - we had a group of five Americans (including myself) taking the three hour bus ride to Cadiz: Amanda, Katelyn, Joanna (dressed as three 80s prom queens), Ashley (a pretty pirate), and me (a hippie -- which, to my surprise was greatly recognized here in Spain!). Since we all signed up for the Cadiz Carnaval trip together, and told WeLoveSpain that we were traveling together, we assumed that the organization would put all of us on the same bus.

We were wrong.

Somehow after spending a solid thirty minutes waiting outside of the buses being told that they would work it out, and we still ended up divided. Ashley went on bus one with some of her Spanish friends and the rest of us went on bus two.

Climbing onto the bus, we weren't surprised to find that there were no grouped seats together. Joanna sat in an aisle seat near the middle of the bus. And I, I sat in the only other open seat. Walking towards the very very back of the bus, I was greeted by a large group of blonde Polish boys.

This ought to be interesting.

Squished between a 7 foot tall, 300 pound Polish giant and a smaller and seemingly kind boy, Magic, I rode for three hours. Thankfully Magic kept me company. Sounds of Spanish, Polish, and English filled my ears on the bus ride. Texts between Joanna and I kept us both sane and connected during the trip. Arriving in Cadiz, we pledged to be sure to be some of the first ones back on the bus to ensure seats together.

Brightly colored lights spelling out Carnaval greeted us along the walls of Cadiz. Pulling up into the plaza, Kamal (the group leader) reminded us to be back on the bus at 5:30am. Stepping onto the cobblestone pavement, the madness began.


Crowded is a vast understatement of how it felt at Carnaval. It wasn't so bad in the plazas but once we made our way deep into the city, near the cathedral, it was almost unbearable. Shoulder to shoulder, leg to leg, body on body, breath on breath. Stepping on the cobble stone you find broken glass, trashed cups with reminents of vodka and rum. Speaking wasn't how we communicated with each other -- it was more of a shouting match. Near the cathedral there was a huge stage with live performers. The stage hosted several performances throughout the night, performances which are supposedly really witty and clever, if you can understand the Spanish well enough. :) We stayed for a few minutes, attempting to understand the Spanairds dancing on the stage dressed as something similar to vikings, but then the uncomfortableness of the situation trimumphed. We headed back to the plaza for some breathing room.

The plaza was much more fun. Although there were groups of people, it was more spaced out. Grown men dressed as babies, women donned in Lady Gaga clothing, and Pharohs surrounded us. Walking through the streets, we found a stand that you would think to find at an actual Carnaval - it was stuffed full of ridliciously sugary treats and sweets. Joanna and I decided that 2 euros would well be worth the investment in a 2 foot long red and white striped stick of sugar - and it certainly was. :)

Chomping on the sugar, we found our way back towards the entrance to Cadiz. It was starting to get cold. Cadiz is located right on the coast of Spain, so the ocean breeze and the lack of sun at 3am made for a frigid combination. Thankfully, we found a tent-like discoteca. The cover charge was 10 euros, which is expensive here in Spain, but we decided that it would be well worth it for not only keeping warm but also for having some fun.

"Toma! Gratis!" a woman shouted as we walked towards the discoteca. She was holding a bright red fedora-like hat in an outstretched arm. "Take it! Free!" she said. Sure? Why not? They will add to our costumes, we thought.



Sugar stick consumed, red hats donned, we were ready to dance! Inside the tent we found a bar and a surprisingly large crowd of people. Priests, punk rockers, and chefs surrounded us, although we ended up spending the night with a group of zombies and one man dressed as Michael Jackson (RIP, MJ). Needless to say, we had a good time. :) We spent the night dancing away, sipping drinks, posing for pictures, and getting insanely excited about American songs like the YMCA (as seen in the picture). Before I knew it, Joanna was glancing at her watch and telling me that it was 5am -- time to head to the bus.

The bus was deadly silent the entire ride home - everyone slept. I still wonder if everyone made it back to the bus or if anyone got stuck in Cadiz...? I certainly hope (and think) that everyone did make it back to Huelva.


So. Moral of the story. Carnaval is an experience, for sure. Is it one that I would want to participate in again? Of course! Would I want to travel all the way to Cadiz to celebrate Carnaval? I'm not so sure. We had a good time, met some interesting people, and saw Carnaval at its fullest. And that is one of the main joys of life, right? Seeing and experiencing things at their fullest? I certainly think it is. :)

Thank you for reading and sharing in my journies! I'm praying great blessings, peace, and lots and lots of joy for you. :) I love you!

And remember, as a rubia Spanish hippie would say...
Peace, love, espana. :)

Spring Adventures

Spring is coming. And as we all know, spring is not only a time for the renewal of the roses and daisies and trees, but it also seems to be the renewal of an active life for most of us. The spring always seems to bring adventure and busyness. And this fact about spring seems to transfer into my Spanish life as well: it looks like the next few months are going to be full of adventure and travel -- which I am unbelievably excited about! I thought I would share with you a schedule for some of my upcoming adventures.

Upcoming Excursions:

-February 13th-14th: Carnaval Celebration in Cadiz, Espana and Valentine's Day!




Carnaval: To the best of my understanding, Carnaval (Carnival in English) is the third largest party in the world, and Cadiz hosts the heart of this celebration in Spain. Spaniards have told me that people from all across Spain make the journey to the south to celebrate in Cadiz. Carnaval is a HUGE celebration and a two week long festival. Singing, dancing, night-long partying in the streets, and costume-donning are just some of the traits that characterize this party. My girlfriends and I will be taking a bus with other Huelva college students and CIEE teachers to Cadiz (which I think is approximately a two hour long ride away).

Valentine's Day: We all know what this is. But I have to say, I am really excited about Valentine's Day this year. As Oti explains it in class, Valentine's Day is not just for couples - it is for all of us to celebrate. It is a time to tell your family, your friends, your teachers - everyone - how much you care for them. And with this in mind, I feel so thankful for all of the love and amazing people that God has put in my life....and I'm very excited to be able to celebrate the love that I have. :)


-February 26th-28th: Three day trip to northern Morocco (Africa) with Discover Sevilla!




YES! Julie and I are going to AFRICA! I am so incredibly excited about this trip! We are going with the travel group Discover Sevilla - we paid a flat rate that includes our hotel, meals, guided tours (in English!), and bus and ferry rides to the north of Morocco. More details to come about this soon. :) (But I will tell you one thing: I think I might get to ride a camel while I'm there!)

-March 6-8th: My 23rd birthday celebration in Cordoba, Espana with some of my best girls!




23 + Cordoba = Amazing: March 7th I will be celebrating my 23rd birthday here in lovely Espana! Some of my wonderful friends will be able to celebrate with me, and we decided this would be a good time to make the much-desired pilgrimage to Cordoba: land of the hot men (according to every Spanish woman in Andalucia). Cordoba supposedly has THE MOST guapo (handsome) men in all of Spain. It is also supposed to be a beautiful place to visit. What better combination could a girl ask for to celebrate her birthday? Amazing friends, a beautiful city, and gorgeous men? I'm game. :)


-March 12-14th: A continuation birthday celebration with Alicia! (Location and events remain TBA)




My sweet sweet friend Alicia will not be able to join in on the Cordoba birthday trip (she already had another trip booked), so we have planned to celebrate my birthday this weekend! We are still uncertain about what/where we will be for this weekend. We may be having a relaxing beach weekend here in Antilla (weather willing) or I may go to the hilly pueblo of Bullollus to visit Alicia and have a night out. Either way, we are planning on cooking some of her delicious, spicy gucamola, zucchini bread, and other treats and enjoying time together. :)


-March 26th: European adventure with my Madre begins!!!!




Wonderful Mama is making the long trip here to visit for Semana Santa (it's like our spring break here in Spain)! I CANNOT WAIT to see her and travel through Europe together! More details about that trip to come soon. :)

I'm so excited about and thankful for all of the upcoming adventures! I cannot wait to share my new experiences and lessons learned with you. :) Please keep these travels in your prayers - and not just for safety, but for these to be the experiences that God desires for them to be for us. Thank you so very much for reading and being a part of my time abroad! I love you and think of you constantly! :)

F. Buechner

I like to read books by Christian authors. And a couple of the books by Christian authors that I've read of late have contained quotes by Frederick Buechner. The Buechner quotes are both beautifully written and incredibly wise.

So I googled this man.

And this is what God gave me:

"You can kiss your family and friends good-bye and put miles between you, but at the same time you carry them with you in your heart, your mind, your stomach, because you do not just live in a world but a world lives in you." - Frederick Buechner

I hope this quotes brings you as much peace and joy as it did me. :) I love you!

An Honest Entry

Today was beautiful but also a little sad.

It was a combination of the best and the worst.

Sunny - so sunny. So thankful for the sun, especially after a seemingly endless season of rain and gray and freezing unheated rooms. And the sky was blue - like a powerful, bright, almost unreal kind of blue. The blue that just captures your attention and steals your day and forces you to stay outside - deadlines, chores, work - they all seem to fade into the background because this blue sky has cast a binding and captivating spell on you.

It smells like salt. Fresh, slightly bitter. Although it's sunny, it's still cold. The strong wind whips my face - turning my hair in every direction. Pulling the cool brass zipper on my jacket up a little more, I try to stay warm as I gather my hair to one side.

My hands now rest inside my jacket pockets with my fingers curled tight into my palms. The lining is warm, not very soft though - the wool is functional but not the most "comfortable" in that sense. But warmth definitely overrides comfort now. I occasionally feel the slight weight of Ana as she locks her arm around mine as we walk.

Children. One of my favorite sounds in the world. Abrupt bursts of laughter, playful screams. The constant rolling of r's - a skill which I still haven't mastered.

Red and blue and white catch my eye as the children run through the sand - teasing the water and testing to see how close they can go. A futbol rolls by. A knotted jump rope - made of a used piece of yellowed twine - swings. Up, down, up, down as the eight year olds practice their skills. The usual flock of Antillian seagulls grazes near the water a few hundred meters away. They always stick together, those seagulls. Perhaps even animals are built for community.

And it is beautiful. Peaceful. Joyful. Absolutely gorgeous here. At times I still can't believe that this is my life - this is where I live, this is what I do. Is this real? Yes, it is very real. Is it everything I imagined it would be? In many ways, yes.

But if I'm honest with myself, my joy is met with a slight bit of sadness. At times, even when I am surrounded by groups of people, I feel alone. Loneliness is not something that is found only by being physically isolated - loneliness, true loneliness, is met by feeling alone - the number of people you are surrounded by is irrelevant. Although it was a joy to be there today and although I felt a sense of community by being around the children and my coworkers, I also felt isolated. I can't contribute to conversations as I normally would in the United States. It's difficult to make small talk. It's difficult to communicate when my limited question asking skills are quickly answered by a one word response.

At times I feel isolated by this language barrier.

But you have to keep trying, I tell myself. I have gotten better - I understand more than I did before. And if I keep trying, even when it's difficult and I don't feel like it, it will get easier. At times I feel defeated - why even try to learn Spanish? I will never master this language. And maybe I will never be quite like a native speaker, but I am learning. And something should be said for that. Not everyone is willing to take that risk and meet that struggle and challenge head-on. Being the only American in my town: a challenge. Not fluently speaking the language: a challenge. But adversity breeds strength if we allow for it to. And the things that I am learning here - what it feels like to be alone, what is feels like to be an outsider, what it feels like to stand out in a culture, what it feels like to be a minority - are lessons of invaluable worth. Lessons that I really couldn't learn any way except through being in this situation.

So maybe my aloneness and slight discomfort are truly blessings. For it is teaching me things that I wouldn't be able to learn any other way, and it is creating a more flexible, more resilient, and more optimistic spirit in me. And maybe, hopefully, some day, I will be able to understand a child more when he feels like the odd one out.

Malaga (times two)

I love Malaga. And I think that might be a vast understatement. It kind of reminds me of the place where I studied abroad in Spain - Alicante. Both places are near the coast. Both places house large cities. Both have bustling night lives (or as the Lonely Planet book describes it "a healthy nightlife"). Both hold centros that are full of Blancos, H&Ms, ice cream stores, and tasty restaurants. My two most recent trips in Spain have been to visit my good friend Julie who lives in Malaga. Each time I go, the two bus, one taxi, and 3 hour train ride away from Antilla has been work every minute and every euro of it. December was my first trip to Malaga - Joanna and I went to visit Julie and explore the city there. My second trip was a solo adventure, and I went to see Julie for her 25th birthday last weekend!

Besides all of the fun and lightheartedness, Malaga also contains some history - it is the birth place of the artist Picasso. A huge castle rests at the very top of Malaga too. During my first visit there, Joanna, Julie, and I climbed up to the top of the castle and enjoyed the amazing view of all of Malaga. The climb was pretty grueling - but Joanna reminded us that we were getting "free exercise." :) So after 30 plus minutes of climbing, three bottles of Aquafina, and several "picture stops" later, we arrived at the top. And it was breath taking. :) Once at the top, we explored some more, walked around admiring the old architecture and taking an insane number of pictures. One of my favorite things about Spain in December is the fact that it was still warm enough for roses to bloom there (which we saw some at the top of the castle). Now it's January, almost February, and the roses are gone. But they were beautiful.

The second time in Malaga we also walked around the city and Julie and Amanda (Amanda is one of Julie's good friends and also one of her roommates) showed me the beach at Malaga. Glancing at the dark ground, I commented about how the sand is different. "The sand is crap," the girls told me. "The beaches are man-made here." Although the beaches are man-made and the sand is different, they are still gorgeous. You look out to the Mediterranean Sea, and mountains rest behind it, turn to the other side, and large buildings stand in the city of Malaga, and you turn again, and there are red and blue colored playgrounds with small Spanish children and little dogs running around on patches of bright green grass. It's a nice mixture of everything there - some city, some beach, some people, and even some mountains in the distance.

Besides exploring Malaga during the day, we also explored it by night (I'm sure you saw that one coming). :) The night life there is amazing and buzzing with energy and an incredible number young people...especially guys. :) The first time we went out (in December), we had drinks at an Irish pub (An Irish pub in Spain? Why, yes there are quite a few of them.) and then enjoyed the night dancing with our new Spanish friends at a discoteca that was kind of like an old building - wooden banisters, a large stairway, and no real dance floor made for an interesting feel to the place. It kind of reminded me of a museum for some reason.

The second time going out in Malaga (in January) was for Julie's birthday. That was my reason for going to Malaga -- to help her celebrate her 25th in style! A large group of her friends came over to the apartment, and we had Long Islands, ate chocolate ice cream cake (delicious), and served our duty as American cultural ambassadors by teaching the Spanish an American drinking game.

We then made the 30 minute walk to the centro, through the cold and wet puddles left over from the rain earlier in the day, and we tried out a couple of different places. Sadly there were not as many people out that night - we think it was due to the weather. Regardless, it was still fun. We met a few different groups of guys - one group of guys who claimed to be our age but looked like they were roughly 15 years old and a second group of guys in which one of them claimed that all of his friends with him were gay. I, naively assuming this man would only tell the truth, was absurdly excited to meet a pack of gay Spanish men. I smiled largely and ran up to one of them and started dancing. He excitedly danced with me, and soon we began talking. He actually spoke a bit of English with a heavy Spanish accent. "So.." I started, "you are all boyfriends?" I asked him in English. With a startled look on his face he grabbed my hand and shouted "No! I like girls!"

Gracias, Malaga, for reminding me that I am officially back in my nightlife living, mis-communicating, meeting new guys, exploring new cities life of Spain. :)

Carne, por favor!

An article in the SpainAir in flight magazine told me that eating meals hefty in protein for breakfast and lunch and meals heavy on carbs. for dinner help to re-set your internal clock and therefore help with reducing jetlag. Hm. I thought. I wonder if that works? It seems as though everyone has their own "theory" as to what will help reduce jetlag. I still haven't found one that really works for me, so why not give this one a try?

The next day, after checking in to my hotel in the centro of Sevilla, I wander into the street searching for some protein-rich food for lunch. Glancing up and down the two lane street, I notice that, not to my surprise, most of the stores and cafes are closed. Today is Sunday. The entire world of Spain closes on Sunday. Spaniards do not like to work, especially on Sundays. So finding food will be interesting.

After stopping into a couple of places that were not serving food, I stumble across one cafe that does happen to be serving food. The woman there is very friendly and is speaking very quickly to me. Or maybe it sounds quicker because I haven't heard Spanish in several weeks since I've been home? I order a Coca Cola Light (the Diet Coke of Espana), and look at the menu. Hmmm. Protein, protein.

Placing my Coca Cola on the table, the waitress proceeds to tell me that the full menu is not available right now (because it's Sunday and they don't want to have to cook too much, claro - clearly). She starts talking to me about what she can offer -- she mentions croquettes. Croquettes! I love croquettes! They are kind of like hushpuppies filled with warm cheese and ham -- delicious!

I'll have some of those, please! I tell her.

But where is my protein? I doubt that the tiny specks of ham in the croquettes will suffice for re-setting my internal clock.

Carne! Carne means meat in Spanish. The waitress describes some meat that they are serving today -- it is delicious! she tells me. She says that the other people in the cafe are eating it right now - it is so rich, so good! Wow, I think. This must be some meat. She is speaking very quickly, telling me about the meat. All I can really understand is that (a) The food is meat. and (b) The food has something to do with "cola." Cola means "line" in Spanish. Like, you wait in a "cola" (you wait in line). Maybe she means it's a line, like a stack, of meat? I've had something like that here in Spain before, and it was amazing.

Ok, I tell her. I would like that too!

I wait, sipping my Cola, reading my book, lifting my head occasionally to people watch.

The croquettes come - familiar and delicious and satisfying. And then, the mystery carne cola meat comes. It smells kind of like a pot roast that your mom has been cooking for hours -- fresh, warm, seasoned. Ok...this smells good at least! I look at it. It is not a stack of meat like I expected, rather it is several different pieces of round shaped pieces of brown meat in a small bowl.

Hm.

I notice that in the middle of each piece of meat there is a bone.
Brown. Round shaped. With a bone in the middle.
Don't think about what you are eating, Brittany....just eat it. You know the rule abroad! You can't think about what you are eating....and you have to be fair and give the food at least three full bites.

Fork and knife in hand, I dive in. Placing the meat in my mouth, it feels chewy and soft. Squishy almost. Chewing, chewing. Hints of ham and bacon being to come alive in my mouth, but it's not quite ham, and it's definitely not bacon. Ok....it's not bad, but it's not great.

Bite two....the texture is horrible. Way way way too squishy. What am I eating?
What if this is what I think it might be.
What if this is what I have heard is a popular dish here in Spain.

Oh my goodness.
This is bull's tail.

Don't think, Brittany...you don't know that! Take at least one more bite! Bite three....and I'm done. Putting down my fork and knife, I surrender to the carne. The mystery meat wins. I do not like it.

As I pay for my food, I glance at my check. It reads "Cola de toro." Oh dear, I think. Toro means bull....

Returning to my hotel, I whip open my laptop and google the meaning of "cola" in English....And just for your information folks, "cola" does indeed mean line in Spanish, but it also means tail. :)

A nun, a homeless woman, and me

I'm waiting with a nun - yes, an actual habit wearing, cute, tiny, black-and-white outfit donning real-life nun - and a woman who I can't figure out if she is homeless or just carrying all of her things in several plastic bags. I glance up at the blue and white Taxi sign. Ok...I'm in the right place....so where are all the taxis? I just arrived at Plaza de Armas (one of the bus stations) in Sevilla, and I am now on my way to my hotel. I would take a bus to the hotel, but my hotel is close to the airport which also happens to be very far aways from the bus station. So I had just planned to take a taxi. I have a lot of bags and I want to rest in my hotel before I have to get up tomorrow morning at 3am for my sinfully early flight home to the US for the holidays.

So I thought that taking a problem would not be a problem. There are normally at least ten taxis just waiting outside of the bus station to take people to wherever they want to go. This is really strange. I look at my watch - it's 5pm. Maybe 5pm is rush hour in Sevilla too? That must be where all of the taxis are....they are all busy picking up other people who need them. Or maybe the taxis are getting caught in ridiculous city traffic. Ok...I'll wait 20 more minutes. It's only been 10 minutes so far, I should be patient. I am in Spain, I remind myself, they are much more laid back about everything. Let's just wait a little bit longer.

So I wait. It's cloudy. And cold. And windy. Still the nun, me, and the homeless/heavy traveler woman. I start looking at all the cars in the street - surely this is rush hour. The traffic seems really heavy - that must be where all the taxis are. Or maybe everyone had to go to the airport like me and all the taxis in Sevilla are busy taking eager passengers to the airport (which is a solid 30+ minute drive away from the bus station). That's it. That's where the taxis are.

Five more minutes pass, and then a white van rides into the taxi lane. A taxi! I think. I am beyond thrilled. The nun hobbles to her black suitcase. I look more closely at the taxi and realize that it isn't a taxi at all - it's a van with three nuns sitting inside of it. It's like a nun mobile. A nun driving, a nun in the shotgun, and a nun in the back. They are here to pick up the other nun. Maybe I could ask them for a ride? I think. They are nuns...maybe they would go all good Samaritan on me and be gracious...I mean, that's what Jesus would do.

The nun climbs into the van after greeting her fellow sisters with holy kisses, and then they ride off. Ok....I look. Just me, the taxi sign, and the homeless/heavy traveler woman who has now left her things on the sidewalk and is begging people for cigarettes. She didn't even ask me for one - she probably figures that I would be smoking a cig right now if I had one.

Great. Where have all the taxis gone?

Maybe I'll just call my taxi number. I do have a taxi number in my cell phone - I came prepared. So I call....and it rings...and rings....and rings....that's odd, I think. I'll try again in a few minutes.

I look into the streets - maybe I could just leave the taxi waiting area and hail my own cab from the street. But the thing is, I still don't see any taxis in the street. Where are they?

Suddenly, as though the heavens opened up and sent a little slice of Jesus down, I see a white van with the taxi emblem on the side. He begins to ride by. I eagerly smile and approach the car as I exclaim "Si!" I need a taxi! The man slows the van, stares at me, raises a tan, wrinkled finger and waves it back and forth as he mouths "No, no, no!" No, no, no? Oh...ok? Maybe he only wants to take someone with a lot of things since he has a big van. That seems kind of fair.

Now in retrospect I have concluded that I am either overly optimistic or extremely good at rationalizing ANYTHING.

Another van rolls up and out comes a man in a bright yellow top and dirty jeans. He too decides the join the wait for the taxis. About ten minutes later, he strikes up a conversation with me. He speaks quickly in fairly thick Andalucian Spanish until I explain to him that I am not a fluent Spanish speaker. The usual conversation begins. I am living in Spain. No, I am not studying. I am teaching. Yes, English. Yes, I have blonde hair. No, I am not German (not all blondes are from Germany). Do I have a boyfriend?

I need a fake engagement ring.

Twenty minutes later, a man walks up to my new construction man friend and myself. We begin asking about the taxis -- where are all of them? The man goes on to explain that there is a taxi "huelga" today. Huelga? What does that mean? I ask. Construction man cannot really explain it to me, but he says it means that we need to take the bus to other main bus station in Sevilla to see if there are taxis there. I'm not sure what other options I have -- I have to get to my hotel, and there are NO taxis....so construction man graciously pays for my bus ride to the next station. I am extremely thankful for construction man's grace and kindness, but I do question his motives for his kindness since he was constantly trying to hold my hand, and let's just say that the "dos besos" was very awkward.

Did I mention that it is raining now? Three suitcases, an hour wait, and no umbrella, we get off of the bus and walk to the next bus station. Still no taxis -- the woman explains that there are no taxis in all of Sevilla today. Why - I still don't really understand. It's not a holiday - so why wouldn't they be working? How can they just do that? People need taxis!

We show the woman at the bus station my hotel address, and she kindly explains which buses I need to take to get there - 2 more buses. Construction man offers for me to stay with him for the night and just get up "very early" in the morning to go to the airport. "I have an extra room. Or you can stay in my room."
"No, thank you!" I smile. I explain that I REALLY need to get to my hotel. Tonight.
I thank him several more times, and then we awkwardly say goodbye as he tried to kiss me and I stare at the ground and grab my bags to leave as quickly as possible.

Ok....only two more buses, and I'll be at the hotel. I can do this!
Bus number one -- the bus driver was, again, very kind. I explained where I needed to go, and he told me if I sat at the front of the bus that he would tell me when to get off for my next stop.

And we make it to the next stop. Ok...just one more bus! Bus 55. Thanking the bus driver, and feeling extremely grateful for the kindness and helpfulness of the Sevillians, I hobble off the bus with my large bags. Pushing the wet, matted hair from my eyes, I find a friendly looking Spanish woman. I ask her where the stop for Bus 55 is -- I tell her my hotel is near the airport. The woman's brown eyes met mine and she laughs heartily as she tells me that I am wrong, my hotel is very close to where we are right now. I don't really believe her, but she did tell me that the bus stop was on the other side of the plaza. Pulling my suitcases through the puddles, I make my way to the other side to find about four more bus stops. But I don't see one that says it is for Bus 55. I ask a couple of Spaniards where the stop for this bus is -- this is the bus that the woman at the bus station told me to took, so it definitely should be correct.

It doesn't exist, they say. That bus line doesn't exist.

Ok. At this point, I am exhausted, freezing, wet, and very lost. I have no idea where I am in Sevilla, and I feel like I'm on the verge of tears. But I have a choice, I can cry and get upset, or I can take a deep breath and keep going. I WILL get to my hotel - yes, it is taking me a lot longer to get there than I had hoped, and yes, this is an exhausting situation, but I WILL get there. It will be ok.

Taking a deep breath, I show them the address of my hotel and ask them if they know which bus would be best for me to take. They direct me to another bus stop nearby. I stumble to the next stop. I check with a woman there to make sure I am at the right stop - the last thing I need right now is to get on the wrong bus. She says this is the right bus - she also said that I might need to take another bus after this one so that I won't have to walk in the rain. Extremely thankful is how I feel.

As we board the bus, a man sees me struggling with my luggage and helps me heave it up. He also explained that he overhead me talking about the hotel I needed to go to - he said he would talk to the bus driver to let him know where I needed to go and to have the driver tell me when I needed to get off of the bus.

Thankful, extraordinarily, thankful.

I get off of that bus and onto my last one (I pray it is the last one, anyway!). I tell this driver where I need to go, and he said I am on the right bus. As we are driving, the man sitting across from me points out my hotel. He explains where I will need to get off and cross the street to get to my hotel.

What kindness.

And finally, 3 hours, 4 buses, 3 drenched suitcases, and the kindness of countless Spaniards later, I arrive at the Sevilla Congresos Hotel. And it is there at the front desk, as I stand with my soggy socks, matted hair, and slick,wet luggage, that the woman at the front desk explains to me that the taxi drivers were having something today - something where they do not drive as an expression of the fact that they want more money.

A strike - a huelga.

So, lessons learned:

-Never leave your house without your umbrella.
-Don't be afraid to ask for help for it is often the kindness of those strangers that will save you.
-Pack lightly, because you never know how far, or on how many buses, you may have to lug those bags.
-Oh...and make sure you learn the word "strike" before you travel to a country that does not speak your native tongue. :)