,,,,,,,,,,

maybe
it is my pink polka dotted innocence
that convinces me it’s a beautiful dream i’m remembering wrong
or that it’s a vivid story colored with laughs,
dimly remembered as horrifying
or as evil; it doesn’t matter.
she was shy and nervous and allergic
and self-doubting,
a spider, stomped out of her home
a caged bird, making noise too quietly
a naked tree, skinny and cold and bare
forced to bear the harsh chills whipping her hair
around her skeleton frame with feet too big
and knees too knobby and breasts too pointy—
that’s what the men say
but they will still laugh and take turns
keeping her warm.
and all she wants is to be carried home
but that sweet chariot isn’t swinging low enough.

and here i am looking away
drinking watered down wine
drunk on my comforts and feeling so safe.
come awake, beloved.
and my glossy blue eyes like pearls
see that i’ve become a harlot with hands full of blood
and beautiful nightmares.

and she’s beautifully shy and nervous and allergic
and she’s self-doubting and
lovely and talented and worthy and valued
making noises that make music
it’s quiet but it’s music.
and hope may be here
and the chariot may be near
and the tender light once so dim speaks,
I am going to set you free, beloved.
and she smiles and she’s free,
once a caged bird making noise too quietly
now flying and singing and perfect and protected

wash your hands, beloved.
don’t look away.
embrace it
embrace it
bring My Life with all things new.

John 15:19

One week ago I walked over to Gabriel’s home, or the “Magical Orange Forest” as we called it when Collin first found it in October or November. Following a small path from Malaboro through the African bush, you will eventually come upon a grove of fruit trees, displaying different fruits in different seasons: oranges, lemons, mangoes, jackfruit. That’s where Gabriel lives.

He placed a bench in the shade of a mango tree, told me to sit there, and brought me two varieties of mangoes to taste. Perched on his little stool, he began to tell me about his wife, who died eleven years ago when his daughter Aloyo was born.

She was beautiful, my wife. Aloyo means, “the one who has overcome.” It means, “I have survived.”

His sweet little eleven year old, who never knew her mother, sat next him. She listened to her father, and she smiled up at him.

He didn’t marry again. Not because he couldn’t find another lover. He didn’t marry because he feared that a new woman would treat Aloyo and her brother like servants, not like children.

It’s been a struggle. But we have each other.

She smiled again. What a sacrifice he’s made for her. He has learned to cook, he has planted and harvested so they can eat, and he has struggled day after day to have the money to send her to school. She is now in primary five class. She’s a bright girl; she knows the value of her education.

But, you know, we don’t belong to this world. No, we don’t belong here. We’re not living for here. We won’t be here long.

What a mindset to live in. To realize that it’s not about us. To realize that there’s something greater to strive for. That our bodies, our possessions, the things we value… are fleeting. To not live for the world or for anything in the world.

It’s another one of those lessons that convicts me to put aside the American dream and go to feed some starving babies and hug some widows and orphans.

Ah.
Learning.
Seeking vision.

Los Niños

This past semester, I went to Colegio Claret primary school once a week to teach English to four-year-olds. Sometimes I dreaded it before going, because I wasn't prepared fully or because I didn't want to walk the 30 minute walk to get there. But I always left feeling so glad that I went! Here's my class... Click the picture to make it bigger. Check out the kid to my left pickin' his nose. They're so cute! I'm really going to miss them!

Morocco in Photographs

You know you're not in Spain anymore when the stop signs are in Arabic...


Above: The second largest Mosque in the world. Casablanca, Morocco.

Above: Argana Cafe, in Djemaa el-Fna square, Marrakech. This is the cafe that was bombed on 28 April, just about a week before I went there.

Above: Cooking a delicious Moroccan tajine.Above: Spices!

Above: My favorite photo from the trip. That's Omar, playing a 3-stringed instrument and twirling the tassel on his cap in a circle. Smiling all the while.

Above: Can't go to Marrakech without getting some fresh-squeezed 100% orange juice!


Above: Two men in Djemaa el-Fna square, doin tricks and pan-handling for some coins.

Regarding Osama bin Laden's death

The day that I left for Morocco (this past Monday, May 2), I woke up, showered, ate breakfast, packed, and checked my facebook. Of course, my newsfeed was crazy with statuses commenting on the death of Osama bin Laden. The majority of those statuses were filled with celebration and American pride. I couldn't help but feel a small twinge of sadness over all those one-line statuses so jubilant over someone's death. We cannot simultaneously love our enemies and kill them. It just doesn't line up biblically.

Prince of Peace, renew our vision.

“Rejoicing in the death of another, however wicked, involves forgetting the depths of our own depravity and the astonishing reality of our own salvation." -Gideon Strauss of the Center for Public Justice, in response to bin Laden’s death.

Romania: Part 2

Back to hear more about my time in Romania?! Great. I'll jump right in. (If you haven't read the post prior to this, scroll down and read that one first, and then read this one)!

As a quick update, my sociology paper is officially half done. It's been slow going, but I'm proud!

Another day in Bucharest, I went to a woman's shelter for vulnerable women. Their goal there is to teach the women life skills and help them find jobs so they can eventually support themselves and their kids. There were five women living there when I visited, and each had a baby. I don't know what each individual woman's situation was prior to moving to the shelter, but I expect there was abuse and/or addictions... or at least just some bad choices or mistakes involved. The lady who co-runs the shelter (Alice) told me that they are really focused on teaching these women how to care for their children. You'd think that that sort of knowledge is instinctual... but I guess not. These women need to learn what sacrificial love looks like. When you have a kid, you should give up your life for your kid. If you are fed, he should be fed. He needs hugs and kisses and love. He's dependent. These women are learning that, and they are learning to care for themselves too.

This is Aurelia and her smiley baby boy Mihai (one year old). While I was there, Aurelia cooked lunch for all the women in the shelter. Boiled chicken and overcooked green beans. Not the best lunch ever, but what can you expect from a woman who has never learned to cook before? The shelter teaches them to cook and they have a schedule so every woman cooks one or two days a week for them all.

This is Gina and her beautiful baby girl Andreea (seven months old). She's feeding her some mashed banana mixed with what she told me was "cereal for babies"... yummm.

Last but not least. My favorite day in Romania was when Ed took me to Pitesti (see it on the sign?!) to visit another shelter for girls/women who have been trafficked for prostitution. I walked in and was greeted warmly by 12 women... some with no makeup, some with too much makeup, some with skimpy shirts, others with baggy pants... and Iana, the amazing woman who started the shelter years ago and has devoted her life to rescuing girls from sex trafficking. I hung out with Dana, age 21, whose favorite song is "Mighty to Save." We sang part of it together in English, she sang part in Romanian, and I sang part in Spanish. Dana didn't talk about this, but Iana told me later that while Dana was forced to be a prostitute, she prayed for deliverance daily... and look where she is now, safe and healing. God really has proven to her that he is mighty to save. Gives that song some life, you know?

I hung out with Ramona, age 20, who was shy and sweet. I hung out with Betty, age 13, who was at LEAST as talkative as any typical 13 year old! She knew English the best out of all of them, and she was more than excited to talk to me. I learned quickly that her favorite color is pink, that she doesn't like tea, and that she is proud to be a gypsy. While we made bracelets with some craft supplies they had, she kept calling the beads "bling-bling." She'd yell to me from across the room, "HEY! Where's my bling-bling?!" It was so funny. While hearing her chatter away and seeing her adorable smile, it was hard to imagine that she has seen some pretty ugly parts of the world, at only 13 years old.

After hanging out with the 12 for awhile, Iana welcomed me and Ed into her office and immediately opened up about her life and the work she does. She had no problem getting into the gritty details, which I appreciated a lot. I didn't want a sugar-coated picture of how these girls had a hard life, have since been rescued, and how now they're all fine. There's so much more to it than that. (If you're interested, go back to my blog post titled "Not for Sale." It has a fair amount of information I learned about human trafficking. To go to it, go to the columns on the right side of this blog page and click "2010" and then "November." It will be linked there for you to click).

First of all, Iana is really struggling right now in dealing with some lawsuits. Some of the girls' parents (no doubt parents who willingly sold their daughters into prostitution) are accusing her of holding the girls hostage, of selling their sex "services" to the neighbors, of getting them drunk and taking advantage of them... the list goes on. There are no conclusions for these lawsuits yet, so be praying for that, please. There have been many instances in Romania in the recent past where the policemen and the judges side with the traffickers because they are bribed. What has our world come to when the people who are supposed to be administering justice are not doing their job?

Iana also explained a common technique called the "lover boy" technique used by traffickers to lure young girls such as Betty. The trafficker will find a vulnerable girl, preferably a young virgin whose family isn't super well-off (Betty, for instance, is a gypsy, meaning her family is already socially excluded from Romanian society), and start taking the girl on dates and woo her over the span of a couple months. Eventually he'll convince her to have sex with him (not forced, because they're dating and he's sweet), and because girls tend to attach emotionally, these girls quickly fall in love with their "lover boy." After a time, he convinces her to run away with him so they can start a new life together and live happily ever after. She complies, and off they go. After this point, there's a couple directions the story can take. One, they conveniently end up lacking money, so he suggests that she try prostitution, saying it will only be until they make enough money to get on their feet, and that no one will ever have to know about it. Or two, his partner (who the girl knows nothing about) kidnaps the girl and forces her into prostitution. This latter technique is especially terrible, because there are many cases of these girls truly believing that their "boyfriend" is still out there waiting, wondering where she went and longing for her to return.

Hearing stories like this from a woman who sees this every day is unbelievable. Like, literally unbelievable. I can't wrap my mind around it. I can't process it without getting overwhelmed, sad, and angry. I want to do something about this injustice. I want to go in and rescue those girls with Iana. I want to hug girls who have been rescued and show them what TRUE love is. At the very least, I want to bring awareness to this situation and hopefully see hearts stirred and action taken.

This will be a journey, friends. I'm going to keep learning about this stuff, and I'm going to try to think of ways to change it, and I'm going to do everything I can to act on those ideas. I believe that God's heart is to defend the cause of the oppressed, to care for orphans and widows, to give life to the needy. I believe it's the very heart of the gospel. We just have to let ourselves be used to administer this justice. I can't do it alone, and you can't do it alone either. But if everyone who hated this injustice did a little something, we'd have a pretty big army fighting for a really noble cause. So starting thinking, sharing, and acting. And keep me updated (I'll keep you updated too). This is a journey.

Love you guys.

9 Days in Romania

I'm back! Today my goal is to write 4 pages of my sociology paper (which will eventually be 8-10 pages)... but what better way to start off the day than to procrastinate by writing a blog post? Sounds great to me. Well, we had a week off school the week leading up to Easter for Semana Santa (Holy Week), and I took the entire time to go to Bucharest, Romania.

My family has some friends from years ago (from the church I grew up in) who have lived there for nearly eight years now. I remember when their family moved there, their purpose being mission work. I didn't think much of it at the time. But now, I've realized that that's the kind of life I will eventually be living- albeit in Africa. I wanted to go to Romania to see how some ministries and organizations that are based there operate. I wanted to see the positive change that is taking place in Romania right now and the hope it is bringing. I wanted to get a feel for what helping other people feels like when it's not done in a third world country. I wanted to help some people and love some people.

It. was. awesome. I held babies who were abandoned. I hugged mentally disabled kids who live in a gross center without much interaction with the outside world. I hung out with twelve girls who were trafficked for prostitution and I talked to the lady who rescued all twelve. I got to show love to some vulnerable women who don't understand what sacrificial love looks like but are learning.

I've realized, since my last blog post, that I get down when I don't feel like I'm helping somewhere. I want to have a purpose in my life, and I want to fulfill that purpose. I want to change things; to pursue justice. Not just while I'm in Africa. But everyday. Because of this, being in Spain has been a challenge. I kind of wrote about this in my last post. I feel like I really am here just for me. I go to school and I take up space on the sidewalks of Seville and I give money to the Spanish economy by buying ice cream every so often. That's what I do. I mean, I do more- I hang out with friends and hopefully am showing them love! But my heart just longs to be doing something that actively pursues justice.

A new friend of mine is similar to me in this way, and he has encouraged me not to idolize the "experience" in life in trying to build legitimacy for myself. To not lose my identity simply because I feel like I don't have a missional purpose at the moment. My identity is not in my experiences, but in Christ. I must be content with where God has me for this time and even be used in this context- which could potentially just be that I should focus on and grow my relationship with Jesus in this "quiet" time of my life.

ANYWAYS, that's not the point of this. Romania! My point in saying all that is to say that spending time in Romania was so refreshing!! I felt useful and I felt like I was learning about things and doing things that promote positive change in the lives of individuals who NEED it. Let me tell you about the details of my nine days there!

Staying at the home of those family friends was so great. They were so generous- I had my own room and free access to their kitchen! I ate cereal (if you don't know this, cereal is one of my favorite foods) and ice cream and chocolate milk and cookies and whole grain bread and I even made a cheese quesadilla. Yum. I know I blog about food a lot, and I knew you guys would be curious... so now that we've got the food update out of the way...

One of my days there, I visited a ministry called Children to Love (basic name, I know, but they really are true to their name)! With them, I went to what they called "rehab" - a center for mentally disabled kids. Most of the kids were at least autistic, and there were other disabilities there that I don't know much about. It was overwhelming (not be confused with "scary") to be there, because as soon as we (it was me and another young woman) walked in, a bunch of kids raced up to us, wanting to hold hands or touch my hair or stare at my blue eyes. They weren't young kids- so they weren't small. That's why it was overwhelming, cause if they got too touchy you couldn't really tell them to stop like you can with a normal kid, you know? But after a little bit I got used to the quirks each kid had and then it wasn't so overwhelming anymore. One girl, for instance, would randomly just SCREAM. But then she'd stop and it was like nothing happened. So I learned quickly to just ignore that behavior because she probably just wanted some reaction! The lady that I went with to this facility brought her guitar, and let me tell you, it was like magic when she started playing it. All the kids in the room immediately stopped wherever they were, and started rocking back and forth, swaying side to side, or any other sort of "dance," if you will. It was really beautiful. They loved it so much. Some tried to sing along, others just were so full of awe that it was like they were in a trance.

For awhile while I was there, I talked to a girl who was really malnourished. She couldn't talk back to me, or understand me for that matter (I spoke a little in English and a little in Spanish... I don't know any Romanian), but she smiled a sweet sweet smile, so I talked to her anyways. I didn't know how old she was, but I could tell she was malnourished by her bony body. I later learned she is 21 years old... my age. You guys, she probably weighed about 55 pounds at most. Breaks my heart. It's interesting how I am drawn to someone like her- it makes me feel more at home, in a way. It reminds me of Africa. I wish I had a photo of her, but they didn't allow cameras in this place, probably for two main reasons- one, the kids would have grabbed at it relentlessly and chances are good it would have left that building broken; and two, they don't want those kids exploited.

Although it was hard and physically and emotionally draining, it was nice to be there. Those kids need to know that they're important and worthy of visitors and hugs and smiles. It's a government run facility... and you can tell. It is sparse and cleaned just as much as it can be to be considered "cleaned," but nothing more. It is understaffed and the staff clearly do not know how to deal with mentally disabled kids... discipline is often just a slap on the head. That was hard to see.

Two of my days, I went to a hospital with a lady from Rock Ministries. They send someone every day of the week to this hospital to care for abandoned babies. There were three babies there when I went, and who were just left there by their parents. Here are their precious little faces:

Florentina, 14 months old.

Sara Maria, 4 months old.

Florin (or Daniel), 8 months old.

The nurses don't spend much time with them, probably for a few reasons:
1. I bet that that hospital is understaffed, just like the rehab facility.
2. The nurses probably have "more important" people to attend to.
3. These babies are gypsy kids... much lower status than Romanians.

It's likely that these kids will have problems when they get older, because lack of human touch and social interaction just causes them to skip critical phases of development. For example, Florentina is 14 months old... she does not walk on her own. She can hold herself up and walk from one place to another ONLY IF she is holding on to something. If you put her down on the floor and put some toys 5 feet away from her, she will not even attempt to crawl or make her way towards them. Chances are good that between the ages of 8 and 11 months, she was in her crib all the time. She didn't have to learn to crawl. She didn't have to learn to be mobile at all. So she just kind of skipped that phase of development. I don't know what this means for her future... I mean, I'm sure she'll walk eventually, but I think she has trust issues (she won't THINK of letting go of the bed to walk even one step towards you like a normal kid that age would), and she might always have those issues because of this time in her life.

Ok this is really long. I didn't mean for that to happen, but there is just so much to share! I went to two women's shelters also... one of which was the most eye-opening thing I did in Romania. I'll divide it up for you though... I will do "Part 2" blog post before Monday! I have to do it before Monday because I am going to Morocco that day (it's our second spring break)! So I don't want to wait till after that to post more about Romania. So be on the look out for part 2, coming soon!

Roots.

Hi everyone!
Look! It's bread shaped like an owl!
Did you know I love owls?
Made my day.
Last weekend was a fun and spontaneous weekend. On Friday I went hiking with my friend Mary Anne. It was a HOT day and after we hiked up steep paths for awhile, we had a picnic in the midst of olive trees and mountains. It was so nice to not be in a city for once. I miss green.

Last Saturday some friends and I rented a car and drove to Gibraltar! We hiked up the Rock of Gibraltar and looked out over Spain and Morocco (while standing in UK territory)! We saw lots of monkeys and read lots of signs printed in English for the first time in awhile.

Then this past week I just started getting kind of a bad attitude about being here. I don't know why- I don't want to feel like this- but I feel bored of Spain. Is that bad?! I feel like I do the same things all the time, because everything else costs money, and I don't have a lot of money at this point. I feel like I just want to get moving. I want to feel like I have a purpose for being somewhere besides just getting through each day and doing my homework and walking around.

It's weird. I don't really know how to describe it, nor do I really know how to deal with it... But I just am excited to come back to the USA and be with people long-term, and be able to invest in things long-term. It will feel good to able to do anything long-term. More permanence. Grow some roots. You know?

Prayer Requests for the next few weeks:
01. That I'll learn to be content and at peace where I am, and make the most of every new day I'm given.
02. That I'll remember to see God's beauty in everything I see and everything I do. Because recognizing that gives me joy beyond compare.
03. That my gifts and passions can be used during my upcoming trip to Romania (14-23 April) to be a positive change in what is going on there.
04. That I'll have patience (this goes with number 01, of being content where I am).

Thanks friends!

Lengthy Update!

I'm long overdue for a real update, huh? I don't know why I've been so bad about it here in Spain... I had so much less time on the super-slow internet in Uganda and now that I have all the time I could ever want with a high-speed wireless connection, my posts are few and far between! I have no excuse, but I'm sure you understand.

Let's start back at Portugal, shall we? Okay. So after I returned from Portugal (which honestly I think is still my favorite place I've been to yet in Europe), we jumped right back into school and a week later... bum bum bum... the dreaded midterm exams. I was lucky enough to have three exams in one day (sarcasm)- Spanish, International Marketing, Sociology. My Phonetics exam was the day right after. Go figure.

Let me tell you a little about my classes.

Spanish is just a language course. It's really not much different in content or workload than my Spanish class back at school in Milwaukee last spring. It's challenging in that it is improving what I already know of the Spanish language. I think I'm at a point where I know all the grammar and the rules, and now I just have to practica practica practica... I love my profesora for this class a lot though. Her name is Ana and she's super sweet. You can tell she really loves teaching, and she loves learning from us too, which I think is the sign of a good teacher! Yesterday in class we taught her the word "tomboy," which she thought was really weird cause it's used to describe a girl. The other day we discovered that the English phrase "get off your high horse" is also a phrase in Spanish- "apearse del burro." It ALMOST translates literally... "to alight the donkey" is only a little different, haha.

International Marketing is my only class that is taught in English. I thought it was going to be kind of boring, and perhaps challenging, since I've never taken a business or a marketing course, but I really enjoy it. A lot. I think my best grade is in this class right now... I aced the midterm! Score! The professor is funny and sarcastic, and he does a good job of actually teaching us so we learn it, not so we just regurgitate all the information. What a gross word... regurgitate.

Sociology is not super fun. The professor is nice, but uses big vocab words that a lot of us don't know (keep in mind they're all in Spanish!) and he often interrupts us to correct our grammar when we are discussing topics. I mean, I like being corrected, but not in the middle of every single sentence! Frustrating. One nice thing about this class is that we don't have exams... just papers. That's nice for me, cause I'm definitely a better writer than I am test-taker. Papers take a long time when writing in Spanish though, so I always have to give myself double the time that I think I'll need! For our final we're going to have to write an 8-10 page paper... yikes. We'll see how that one goes.

Spanish Phonetics is my favorite class I think! I like learning about the sounds of the Spanish language and how to write them phonetically. It's like a puzzle. It kind of makes me want to study linguistics or something... gah, there is so much I want to study!

Well, I passed all my midterms, and life continued on as normal. I traveled to Barcelona (March 10-13) with two great friends, Kristen and Allison, and we had so much fun! I really loved Barcelona a lot. Our first day there was nice and sunny- we walked to this huge market with TONS of fresh fruits and vegetables and all-natural juices (I tried raspberry-pineapple... talk about a fiesta in my mouth) and lots of gross-looking fresh meats too. I love markets! It reminded me of Africa except less smelly and way more expensive.


After that we walked to La Sagrada Familia, this huge cathedral that has been being built (don't know if that's proper grammar... don't care) for over 100 years now! And counting! Ok, so honestly, I'm not really the type of person to be in awe of crazy ornate architectural styles, nor do I really care to see famous buildings. I just think it's all kind of boring (I know, I wonder why I'm in Europe sometimes too). But let me tell you... La Sagrada Familia blew me away! Jaw gaping, eyes wide, camera snapping... I was your typical tourist at this place. It looks like a freaking sand castle!


So cool. Anyways, enough about the outside... then we went INSIDE and it was just as cool. Every tiny little thing has meaning, from the design of the pillars to the colors of the stained glass to the spiral staircases to... you name it.


The pictures just don't capture how striking this place is. You'll just have to take my word for it, or visit it yourself or something.

Moving on. Also in Barcelona we went to this little Tex-Mex restaurant and met the NICEST family of Bolivians that owns it. And we got one-Euro-tacos, yum. And they told us that we speak Spanish really well! I was like "Well that's the first time I've heard that since I've been in Spain!" And they told me that's because Sevillanos don't speak proper Spanish. Ha. It's true, Sevillanos DO have a really strange way of speaking (oh oh oh, but I'm learning all about it in my Phonetics class)!

That night, we went to this fountain in Barcelona that is famous because it lights up and blasts music at night. We expected it to just be one of those tourist things you have to see, but that it wouldn't really be anything overly special. WELL let me tell you, it was like... my favorite thing about Barcelona! Not even joking! Not only did it light up, but it changed colors and was synced with the music! It was like a fireworks show on steroids... And not only did it blast music... it blasted DISNEY TUNES (among other great hits of the 80s and 90s, of course). Needless to say, we sang along, we danced, we laughed, we cried... it was all very touching and so much greater than I ever imagined.

Well, the fountain is yet another thing that just is not as epic in the photo as it was in real life...

Other things we did in Barcelona... touched the Mediterranean Sea, got soaking wet in the rain, visited a chocolate museum which wasn't that cool but the ticket to get in was a chocolate bar, so that made it cool, found the huge mammoth statue in this one park (it was a personal mission of mine to find that statue- don't judge), ate falafel (yay for not eating bland Spanish food!), and slept in a sweet hostel with FREE breakfast. Now that's what I'm talkin' about.

Ok I realize this is getting really long so I hope you're not bored. Cause I'm going to keep going, so I guess you have two choices at this point. I suggest you keep reading, but I'm biased, obviously, so it's not really a fair opinion on the subject.

The next week was a good one, despite school. We started reading a novel in my Spanish class, which I really enjoy, even though it takes me forever to get through a chapter. The sun came out and the days started getting significantly warmer... which led up to a great weekend of fun in the sun!

So much thanks to my friend Joey, I became friends with a Spanish guy named Pablo. Joey, Libby, Pablo and I were talking one night about American breakfasts and how great they are, and we learned that Pablo had never had an American breakfast! He had only ever had the LAME Spanish breakfast of TOAST ONLY. Well we weren't about to let that fly. So a couple days after this conversation, the four of us made a hearty American breakfast at Pablo's house! It's not common for Spaniards to have people over to their houses, and honestly I just really miss hanging out at people's houses or inviting them to mine. So being at Pablo's was superguay (that means super cool if you're speaking Spanish like the hip kids do).


Here we are (left to right: Libby, Pablo, Joey, Me) in Pablo's awesome yellow living room, ready to eat. The awkward 10-second timer picture was necessary in order to document this momentous day. We made french toast, but we couldn't find syrup, so we topped it with peanut butter and honey (Pablo also hadn't tried peanut butter... what is wrong with Spain?!) and it was DELICIOUS. I ate four pieces. Once again, don't judge. We also made sausages (obviously I didn't eat those things) and a fruit salad to mix with delicious vanilla yogurt. OH and we had mango-carrot-orange juice! Delicious and nutritious. I ate so much that I was full all day. Typical.

After that grand feast, the four of us went to visit the Alcazar, this famous palace and garden in the middle of downtown Seville. There were real live peacocks walking around, not joking! Cool stuff. Then we went to a park and met some other people (some Americans and one other Spaniard) to play ultimate frisbee, which I loved before, but I'm growing to love even more since being here.

When I got home that night and started speaking to my roommate in English, I realized that I had just been speaking in Spanish ALL DAY! I mean it's not like it was subconscious or anything cool like that, and obviously there were a lot of things I wanted to say throughout the day that I couldn't, but let me tell you, it was a proud moment when I realized that that had just happened.

THEN, last weekend (March 25-26) I went to Granada with Allison, Kristen, Kristen's mom (who was in town!), Molly, Kaitlyn, and Sara. We had a blast! We saw the Alhambra which is like... what all tourists who come to Spain want to see, and it was beautiful. We stayed in a funky hostel and met some really nice people (shout out to Amy from New Zealand). I continuously looked up into the Sierra Nevada and was taken aback by the beauty of the mountains and the hilly city of Granada. We hiked up a little ways to see the caves that are so famous. It was a quick trip, but very fun, especially with the friends I traveled with!

Okay folks, I think that just about covers it! Brownie points if you stuck around this long. In just a couple weeks is Semana Santa, or Holy Week. It's a big deal in Spain, and we get school off. I'm taking this opportunity to go to Romania to work with some family friends in an orphanage and hopefully also a womens shelter... I can't wait! I honestly think it'll be the highlight of my semester. After that, we have another week of school, then ANOTHER week off (Feria de Abril... another big fiesta week in Spain) and then just one more school week before finals. It's going to come so fast!

Well anyways thanks for reading, I love you all! Maybe I'll post again soon... but you know me and my blogging reputation as of late...

Tragedy.

This is heart-breaking.

Pray for Japan.
Send your money to an organization that is focusing on this devastated country.
Go work along side them to clean, rebuild, and love hurting people.
Do something!
Encourage other people to do something too.