After living in Sevilla in a bit of a Guiri (non-Spaniard) bubble for three weeks, CIEE pushed me off a cliff (bought me a train ticket) and hoped I could fly (make it to Andújar without messing up too terribly). Apparently I picked up a bit more Spanish than I thought! Shout out to CLIC and Octavio, Sevilla’s coolest bilingual teacher! I successfully navigated the train to Andújar and hitched a ride from probably the only taxi that exists in this town. The taxi driver was super nice. His name is Francisco, and he gave me his card…just in case I ever don’t feel like walking the 15 minutes it takes to get from one side of town to the other on foot… 

Flash forward a month and a half - after living in the smallest possible hotel room for three days to moving to the #penthousepenthouse; I am finally starting to feel like a local. Except for the whole language barrier thing, being taller and blonder than all the ladies thing, and still not being able to go a day without my feet hurting from walking so much thing…whatever…I’m getting there. I have “my places.” The panaderia right down the street from my apartment that sells me fresh-from-the-oven bread in the afternoons, a gym membership that gives me access to classes with about 25 Spanish women and permission to use their outdoor track at any time, a weekly date with the other auxiliaries in Andújar to celebrate Wine/Whine Wednesdays, and my favorite café with a view of the Plaza de España to take in a coffee and people watch on a Friday morning. 

After a day full of wrangling children and speaking English at a glacial pace while trying to understand the most rapid, jargon-filled Spanish I have ever heard, I am mentally and physically exhausted. I’m pretty sure I never even used my brain this much in college! I have found that with all of the changes around me, developing a routine helps me feel more at home. Sometimes, this normalcy is my saving grace. Becoming a local is important to me to help me feel comfortable. I think I’m doing a pretty darn good job, y’all! 

Legit, CLIMB A MOUNTAIN.  
We’re talking inclines. Steep inclines. For six hours. Oh, and did I mention we left for the pilgrimage at 5am in order to beat the afternoon scorching sunshine? It's casual.

Lazy American Stereotype? Shattered. Boom.

After waking up at 4:30am to hike 22km to see a cool piece of Spanish culture only to hop on a bus at 2:00pm to go check out another cool piece of Spanish culture, you surely understand why I was completely un-Spanish and headed home at 1:00am to CRASH (See: PTFO). 
All in all, such an amazing weekend, and I am so thankful to have experienced it. 

Sorry for the crap picture quality. I'm going to do some editing of my favorites in the future. And, at the rate at which I post on this stupid blog, you'll probably see the finished products sometime in 2015. 

Chow! Besitos!