SPAIN!

PARENTAL ADVISORY: This will be obscenely long. I'm not sorry.

Let me set the scene…

I’m sitting in a wooden treehouse. A suspicious black cat comes slinking out of a shadowy hole (presumably a den of thieves) in the adjoining red tile rooftop. The echoes of the gypsies’ tambourines come drifting down the alleyway. Nearby, someone is whistling “Everybody Dance Now”…

Welcome to Spain.

But let me rewind. I awoke that first morning to someone running down the corridor screaming “LAND!” in a British accent. We ran up to the top deck as the sun was coming up and saw birds circling for the first time in over a week. We watched the ship pull into Cadiz, Spain, and a good friend turned to me and said in all seriousness “I’m so happy right now.” Going against all my natural instincts, I didn’t mock her.

We had no plans except a vague (burning) desire to attend Cascamorras, which is a festival near Granada where everyone throws paint at each other and runs through the streets. So we hopped on a bus to Granada and 5 hours later we turned up at an abandoned wooden door that turned out to lead to the best hostel I’ve ever been to. The treehouse is only the tip of the iceberg… a huge courtyard and bean bags and floor pillows and hammocks galore. Basically what I’m saying is this place is the Seating Capital of Spain. We met so many unruffled (I just used Thesaurus to get a synonym for “cool”) people hanging out there and that night Fernando, a Spanish guy who worked at the hostel, took a few of us out on the town with him to the haunts where the locals go. We went salsa dancing and there wasn’t an English speaker in sight. I twirled with the best of them and by the end of it all I was hoisted above the crowd into the DJ booth and was spotted spinning with DJuan Antonio. Back at the hostel we ditched our bunks to sleep in the hammocks under the Spanish sky.

The next day we walked through the winding alley maze of the Albaizin, down the narrow Moroccan markets (there’s a huge North African influence in Granada), and climbed the hill in the middle of town to tour Alhambra, which is amazingly beautiful/huge and reminds me of the following SAT problem… Hogwarts:Alhambra::Harry Potter:Jarrí Póter. A huge portion of the day was devoted to sitting in various tapas bars across the city eating plate after plate of little food and talking about life, love, and the infinite abyss with our new friend collection. That evening at 4pm, this British guy Ed was supposed to pick us up in his rent-a-car to take us to Guadix, the town where Cascamorras was held. HE NEVER SHOWED. “The Most Vivid Hatred Ever Felt” is a good way to describe the general Ed-related feelings that night. I gathered the troops and made a valiant effort to get us there by autobus but by the time we got there the festival would be over. (Epilogue: I later found out they were actually throwing motor oil at each other… I’m speechless. That’s just sketchy is all.)

Later that night my Australian friend Eliza and I went to get ice cream at this lookout where you could see Alhambra all lit up. On our way back we heard music in the distance and followed it through the streets until we stumbled upon a walled park where gypsies were playing music in a circle. They invited us to join them and were so welcoming, aka they didn’t touch my purse. The music wasn’t like anything I’ve heard before, and they all wear cool clothes and smile and dance and sing and all I want to do is be a gypsy for the rest of my life. We hung out with them in the park clapping and dancing for awhile longer and then got kebabs in the street and called it a night. ‘Sleepover In The Hammocks II,’ if you want to get specific about what kind of a night we called it.

Next day we took the train to Sevilla with 3 of the people we had met. Checked into another great hostel after a 3 hour long hunt in the heat. The boys hunted and we girls actually just ate gelato in various air conditioned buildings. Beds were scarce so I ended up in a 4 person room with The Trifecta, as I affectionately christened them: Three 60+ year old men from “Holland” who never wore shirts, were tanned to a crisp, and smelled worse than anything I’ve ever imagined, if the ‘anything’ in question lived inside a toilet in India. Anyway, we bopped around the city and went out for Paella Night with a group of Australians from the hostel who were hilarious and had a waterproof camera (# of pictures of ourselves taken through the inside of a glass of sangria: infinity). We found an extremely authentic (i.e. the best dancer was wearing zip off cargos and a polo shirt/belly top hybrid) Flamenco place where everyone just gets up on the stage at will to show their stuff. One of the Australians, Chris, and I practiced SO HARD in the corner and got really good and asked if we could dance onstage. They said “si” enthusiastically, then proceeded to ignore us until 2:00 in the morning when the festivities ended. We were so unnecessarily nervous. The place closed so we all went and hung out down by the river for the rest of the night and I finally rejoined The Trifecta as the sun was rising. A great day.

The next morning we took the train back to Cadiz and hung out with everyone there until we had to be back on the ship at 6:00pm. I had such an unbelievable time in Spain and I can’t even wait to see what’s next. NEXT STOP: AFRICA. Hasta Morocco mis amigos.

i'm studying abroad - the sequel

..........................................................................................................

Summer (see above) has met its demise... school is back and Target has already sold out of protractors. I'm now a senior with no legitimate reason not to graduate in May, despite my robust attempt to fail one class per year, subtly tricking them into letting me stay until 2011. When you're this intelligent, failing becomes a chore.

Anyway, an unrelated and insignificant side note: I'm going on Semester at Sea tomorrow. Yikes.

(^ that's where we're going)

I am now not only blogging for the Admissions Department, but for the Study Abroad Department as well, which explains why my picture appears here and here. I say this to dispel ALL RUMORS circling about how my ever evasive twin, Kristen, is blogging for the latter while I, Kristen, continue blogging for the former. Anyway, two birds are dead and I am the stone thrower. I'm not sorry.

So my bags are (not) packed, and I'm (not) ready to go, so without further ado please excuse me while I embark on a daring nautical voyage to circumnavigate planet Earth on the high seas, come Hell or high water (or Hurricane Bill... who I am not enthusiastic about).

Goodnight and good luck to myself,

Kristen

P.S. Next time we meet I will be scarfing tapas and overusing the phrase "HASTA LA VISTA BABY"... see you in Spain my friends.

Also...

Here is a link to the web page that tells you how to send me letters on the ship. Fan mail readily accepted. (Here's lookin at you, Grandma)

http://www.semesteratsea.org/current-voyage/overview/staying-in-touch.php

.

Summer. (also known as The End)

.



Hello my friends,

My apologies for all my empty promises. When technology (video camera connector cord) goes on strike there is little I can do but scream and flail it around like a whip. Now summer has arrived and I'm technically not getting paid anymore. I could turn this blog into a Curse Word Sanctuary and my bosses have no legal right to punish me. (That may not actually be true; I'll ask my lawyers) But instead I think I will continue with business as usual. Old habits die hard.

Before I continue my Point Loma related blogging, I want to take a Time Out to shamelessly promote my pathetic stab at summer moneymaking. I give you......



aLittleBirdSoldMe.etsy.com... an online vintage 'boutique' (that's rich...) featuring Things I No Longer Want.


Yesterday I coerced my sister Alli into hiking out to a field behind our house and trying on all my merchandise so I could take pictures of it. Here are some of the fruits of our labors. And by labors I mean me wearing a bucket hat and rainboots while swatting mosquitos off her face and yelling "STOP SMILING, THIS CAN'T GO ON YOUR MYSPACE."












I'll be back before long to fulfill my long list of promises (maybe.)
Until then (potentially never),

Kristen


.

irrelevance is bliss

.

So the year is winding down and classes have ended. Starting Monday we'll all be taking an unpleasant jaunt down Finals Week Lane (not to be confused with Caf Lane, the fashion capital of the Northern Hemisphere). As my good friend Ally Beardsley (alias: BeardsQuest) explained, finals week is like that man you see standing by your car late at night wearing latex gloves and a ski mask. You think to yourself, 'Oh that'll never happen.' Then he's putting you in your trunk. Luckily most of my finals consist of distinguishing between a Cotton blouse and a Rayon blouse, so I'm not as worried as some.

All in all, this has been the best year of my life. I'm a liar by nature, but this time I'm loosely serious. Lessons were learned (i.e. DON'T NOT REGISTER YOUR CAR!!!!!!!!!), pranks were pulled, 3am burritos were consumed (two in a row is not unheard of), important documents were lost, and I laughed until I threw up on hundreds of occasions (white lie). A good year. I'm working on something special for my last post of the year, but until then here is a rundown of some of my Junior Year's Last Hoorahs:

THE RESCUE

I'm sure many of you heard about this. It was an event in support of the Invisible Children... we slept outside by the bay downtown in simulation of what the kids in the LRA camps have to suffer through on a nightly basis. On a much safer and more luxurious scale, though. In accidental keeping with the theme of destruction and misery, the sprinklers came on around midnight and even the typically composed were screaming bloody murder and clawing at the necks of those who weren't running fast enough. My friends and I ended up sleeping on a sliver of grass in the middle of a parking lot and somehow missed the 'waking up' portion of the event... leaving us sketchily passed out until almost noon, while mothers wheeled their strollers past us and shielded their babies' eyes.

(This was supposed to say "LOVE" I believe. The universe couldn't stomach the cliche and instead churned out a lovely "SUK"... Bravo on the end there, Christie. That squiggle is beautiful, if irrelevant.)

...and when i wasn't doing that, I spent the rest of my time doing this:

I'm kidding... I was only like that for a couple of hours.

TO BE CONTINUED, I SWEAR

.

Happy Birthday Everyone! Mainly Me Though.

.





I turned 21. It's the end of an era... life as a pre-teen is officially OFFICIALLY over. No more acting offended when waiters refuse to bring me the '12 and under' chicken fingers. The proverbial 'they' dragged me kicking and screaming into adulthood though, and I still managed to proverbially punch them in their faces by having a bounce house at my birthday party.



Case in point.


But anyway I had a whole weekend of festivities in addition to The Afternoon Delight, including but not limited to: a trip to Santa Monica Pier and the original Hot Dog on a Stick , a night of hijinx and hurting people at Disneyland, a secret midnight kidnapping of myself (not by myself) complete with midnight bonfire dance circle (less creepy than it sounds, but still significantly creepy), and dinners and movies and smiles and butterflies, yada yada yada. ALSO, my parents graciously gifted me a new iHome to replace my old one because I taped it to the front of my bicycle and then left the whole musi-cycle-morph sitting in the bike rack during a torrential rain storm. So I obviously earned and deserved a new one. Responsibility yields results, my friends.

Anyway, here is evidence that everything I've told you is true:














(I took the liberty here of protecting the identity of the unnamed girl in the front seat. I took an additional liberty in protecting the identity of her double chin)











Your Sister in Christ,
Krizz 10 Reformation

Point Loma Fashion Week (Day)

.

Point Loma recently held its second annual Fashion Show. The cafeteria was transformed into a Bryant Park tent, complete with runway, and I was transformed into a crazy hunchbacked seamstress, complete with renegade threads stuck to the back of my neck. Sneaky strings of Hades. But after many hours bent over the sewing machine screaming "i hate you" at fabric, bobbins, and anyone that came around, I finally finished my line and the show went off without a hitch.

Most people who took part in the show borrowed clothing from boutiques and put together outfits. There were three of us, however, who actually designed and constructed our own lines. Mine had 6 pieces, which my friends/models worked on the runway. It was shockingly legitimate and there was even an after party with waiters carrying trays of smoothies (smoothies are the mark of legitimacy). Here's a backstage look into the glamourous lives of Manhattan's Elite (Gossip Girl reference which doesn't apply here):











And here is my line:







.

Going Carless: Not only is it mandatory... it's chic and trendy.

.
The rumors are true. You can't have a car your freshman year (unless you are willing to get 5 parking tickets totaling $250 and then spend your weekends scraping gum and RVCA bumper stickers off of campus signs/seating while parking your green van in the neighborhood next to school and climbing a fence every time you want to access it.)... but who cares. It's a challenge and it's 'green' and there are plenty of better things to do with your time than drive to the myriad fantastic locations i mentioned in my previous post (sorry). Moral of the story? Pay your dues and shut up. Just kidding. Here are a few of the better things:



1. Make music videos with your mature college friends.
Here I give you a behind-the-scenes glimpse into Apartment 48A's upcoming Alanis Morissette Featurette (No pun intended. And what I mean by 'pun' is the fact that 'Morissette' rhymes with 'Featurette'... so really what I mean is 'No pun in the first place'). We are still in the production stages and have almost no valid footage, so I can assure you with absolute certaintly that the final product might be released within the next 48 months.


Note: This is without a doubt the worst video editing I have ever done. If you are a future employer and I listed this website on my resume, please turn a blind eye. Also (no matter who you are) please disregard "Kids Party!" at the beginning... I really couldn't tell you how that even happened...




2. Take secret video footage of aforementioned mature college friends doing dumb things and then become YouTube celebrity.
A little flat at the end, but other than that I can't complain





3. Ride your bike to faraway places.
A la exotic Downtown San Diego...





4. Um...





5. Climb the School Library





6. Do hood rat stuff
i.e. Write this: "Speaker Broken. Please Speak Very Loudly" on the back of an In-N-Out placemat and then use tape or gum to stick it on the ordering microphone. Hide in bushes and enjoy.





7. Form a band
More importantly, photoshop your Band Photos so you look more like rock stars who are too cool to be real. Or in Kelsey's case... so you look more like a samurai wearing a tuxedo.






8. And last but not least... Hang out with your friends. (smile and wink)





Until we meet again,
Sincerely,
and forever Yours,
Ref

.