Costa Rica: Sacramento to Houston to San José, Costa Rica

Teatro Nacional: San José, Costa Rica
Mom and I in front of the cathedral in San José
The crew getting ready for departure from Houston

June 23 Sacramento to Houston to San José, Costa Rica

It seemed too good to be true that everyone showed up to the Sacramento International Airport on time, with their luggage, with their tour guide tips ready for collection as instructed. We even skidded around and avoided leaving one student behind ,Mike, as he had his dates mixed up, and made a zooming trip to the airport It was so smooth that when we got into line to do the Group Check In, that ease turned into panic as one student passed forward her Passport CARD instead of her passport. Unbenownst to her, the passport card is only good for entrance into Canada and México. Amidst several moments of panic, Judi’s friend Ellie called her brother to save the day. What ensued was pure luck. Ellie’s brother, not knowing Judith, and not knowing where she lives, found her house, found the passport in the house, hopped in his car and sped down the freeway heading south where the precious cargo was handed off to Ellie’s parents who were heading north on I-5. The handoff ocurred in Orland, where Ellie’s parents promptly turned around and headed back to the Sacramento Airport. At this point, time was ticking, and we were all nervously watching the clock wondering whether Judi’s dream trip was going to happen, or if it was going to turn into ¨the dream trip that was¨. By the grace of God, the flight was delayed one hour, which allowed Ellie’s pare¨n¨¨ts to hand off the passport, and for Ellie and Mary Lord to get checked in, and race upstairs in hopes that the plane had not left. We all breathed a sigh of relief as we saw the whites of their eyes, and we all realized that they whole group would be headed toward the PURA VIDA!!!! (Costa Rica’s national slogan literally meaning: “ Pure Life”)

A three and a half hour leg to the Houston Airport left us all hungry and of course, waiting in line at Starbucks; mostly just to waste time. After a two hour layover, we boarded Continental flight #1528 and headed toward our final destination of San José, Costa Rica. We arrived and were met by our EF Tour guide, Margel, at about noon Costa Rica time (one hour ahead of California time), and of course thunder showers. Due to the fact that Margel was awaiting another arrival, he took us to somewhere very familiar. The mall. This is every Spanish teacher’s desire, that her students’ first experience with Costa Rican culture is with Taco Bell, Burger King, and Pizza Hut in a Costa Rican mall. J Luckily after filling our bellies, we were whisked off to the city center, where we checked into our hotel, the Gran Hotel Costa Rica. The hotel is one of the oldest in the city, and is located ketty corner to the National Theatre, which iluminated the plaza as the nightime rolled in. After getting the students squared away with their rooms, we all bee lined to our beds to take a nap after sleeping very little on the red eye flight. The rooms were modest, and I respectufully headed to the roll a way bed in the corner, and offered the larger one to my mother. It was the least I could do; she came on this trip with me!

After a well deserved rest, we groggilly awoke, and set out to explore around our hotel. We strolled down the pedestrian street located directly behind our hotel. I would say that we partook in the evening ¨paseo,¨ but as one student pointed out, the Ticos (costa ricans) were walking at a very fast pace. This struck me as odd, as they are a self proclaimed relaxed people, that simply go with the flow. However, we were in the capital city, which was strikingly similar to all of the other capital cities in the world that I have visited. Después de visitar the cathedral, window shopping, and enjoyingly watching the students take funny pictures of themselves throughout the city, we returned to the hotel and got in the mile-long dinner line. As per typical costarican fashion, the dinner consisted of rice and black beans, a questionable (as per Mary) hamburger patty, green salad, and a delightful array of vegetables that required seconds by many of us. Before retiring for the evening, the adults headed downstairs and sipped on a costarican capucchino, and attempted to listen to piano music played in the hotel restaurant. To sum up the day, the beginning was forgetful, while the rest was a great introduction into what is to come in the next eight days.

Córdoba

Guadalquivir River, looking at the Mezquita and Cátedral de Córdoba

Outside of la Mezquita
Inside la Mezquita
The Cathedral of Córdoba (right) inside of the Mezquita (left)
La Mezquita

Granada

Inside the Alhambra
The Alhambra
Alhambra
Granada
The Alhambra from Mirador San Nicolás

Nerja

Cueva de Nerja (Cave of Nerja)
Aqueducto de Águila (Roman ruin)
Beaches of Nerja
A view of the water....

Sevilla

Flamenco
Real Alcázar
Amphitheatre at las Ruinas de Itálica
Las Ruinas de Itálica
La Catedral de Sevilla

All good things must come to an end...

In search of Mexican food, I instead settled for a caramel flavored coffee beverage, and an egg and bacon sandwich. Being that Cuban is the more dominant food in the state of Florida, this was good enough I figured, as I finished up and headed to buy a Cosmopolitan magazine. Ahh. The good old United States of America. Not sure if it was me, or the language I had been used to hearing for the 5 months I was abroad, but the two times I approached a store counter in the airport, I mis-understood what the cashier asked me (in English), and had to ask them to clarify. Regardless, as I wandered through the Miami International Airport on my all-important mission to satisfy my appetite, I simply couldn´t wipe the smile off my face. I loved knowing how to interact with random people naturally without having to think or adapt to cultural situations. I was happy, fulfilled, and over-joyed to be heading home to surprise my father for Father´s Day. After all, he traveled over 5000 miles to visit me doing what I love, which goes without saying was waaaay out of his comfort zone (but something that he enjoyed), and certainly a first for him. In my eyes, there was no better way to return the love than to come home early and be with him and the rest of my family on Father´s Day, and with my friends for the rest of the summer.

I have a hard time processing what I have done the past five months although one thing that is certain, is that I left happy and having fulfilled a life long dream. To sum it up, I went to Spain on a mission: to live my dream of studying abroad, and to learn more Spanish. Leaving, I now realized that I´ve accomplished so much more, and have changed in so many little ways that make the experience one that has changed my life for the better forever. No, although I didn´t meet the man of my dreams as many had predicted and as I had secretly hoped, I have grown, and in fact, grown up even more. (Well….except for allowing my parents to spoil me during our travels together J hehehe).

In my eyes, life can´t get much better than pursuing a dream while taking a risk, learning, meeting new life long friends, re-affirming the love for the friends who mean the world to me at home, traveling with my best friend Karen in Italy and then with my parents for three weeks while ending the experience traveling solo and learning to appreciate myself and my own capabilities and self worth. Although very difficult at times to be away from home because of all of the exciting things happening in my absence, I am thankful that so many people close to my heart had such memorable changes in their lives since I left home in January.

One of my very best friends from college, Lisa Mispley-Fortier and her husband Craig, gave birth to their son Marcus the day before Easter, shortly after having lived through a memorable time in Lisa´s career, helping guide her Gonzaga Bulldogs to the Sweet 16 for the first time in school history. Another best friend Gib and her husband Adam, survived raising their adorable son during his first year of life, and I was able to be there in spirit and through Skype to watch my ¨first born nephew,¨ grow, and test his mother, with big blue eyes and a bright personality J. In other baby news, I´ll never forget the day, while studying for my last final with my ¨neska¨ Lisa Brown in my dirty piso on Calle Fuenterrabia, when my brother Skyped me and told me that he and Brandie were expecting a baby of their own in September. I never expected to come home counting down the days to meet my first blood niece or nephew, but I can tell you that this has already changed our family forever, as we all anxiously await the arrival of Baby White.

After being home for a month, my exhaustion has somewhat passed, and I am starting to remember little by little all of the places that I visited and the things that I saw. When my Mom left from Lisbon the first week of June, I set off on a journey of my own….to do a little solo traveling for the first (and probably) last time. After a teary goodbye at the Lisbon Airport, I returned to our hotel, re-packed my big backpack, and headed for the metro a few blocks away. I hopped on a bus that took me on an 8 hour ride to Faro, Portugal, where I transferred to another that took me back into España, where I arrived in Sevilla few hours later. Although I had been to Sevilla in February, this time I was determined to make good use of the spectacular weather, which was definitely sub par in February, as in, raining so much that I could hardly take pictures and returned to my room each night with wet socks. I wound my way from the bus station to the cathedral area, and checked into a hostal. I needed the four days in Sevilla to recuperate from the every-two days-new hotel that I had been living for the previous three weeks, and to truly embrace the Andalusian style of life while visiting the majority of places mentioned in the Spanish II textbook I use in my classroom. I spent an afternoon reading in the Parque María Luisa, another visiting the Real Alcázar Palace, and the last proudly figuring out the city bus system and taking one to the Ruinas de Itálica, or Roman ruins, a half hour bus ride outside of Sevilla. Evenings were consumed with the evening paseo, or walk, through the Barrio de Santa Cruz otherwise known as the former Jewish Quarter, a glass of Sangría, and on the final evening, a flamenco show. For having visited Sevilla for the third time, it´s vibrancy aids in the campaign for one of the most beautifully lit cities at night that I have ever visited.

From Sevilla my mission was simple: I wanted to lay on a beach. Given that I was already in the south, I headed for Spain´s infamous Costa del Sol. More specifically, I had chosen the resorty town of Nerja as per Ricky Boy Steve´s suggestions. Upon arrival however, I was confused as to whether I was on the coast of Spain, or in a geriatric community of England. There were so many English people in the town and running the stores and restaurants, that it was impossible to speak Spanish. However, I was fortunate to spend two glorious days on the small, slightly pebbly beaches of Nerja, soaking in the rays, listening to my IPOD, and catching up on some well needed pleasure reading. On a quest for exercise the second morning I was there, I walked several miles to the Cueva de Nerja, a cave discovered in the late 1950´s, that essentially put this small town on the map. En route, I stopped at the Roman Aqueducto del Águila, and of course the grocery store to buy a bottle of lemon flavored 7 UP ish sparkling water that I had become addicted to called Gaseosa, if I recall correctly. I also used this opportunity while staying in a hostal room by myself to tackle the chore of doing laundry in the bathroom sink, a task which I had previously mastered and perfected by substituting normal bar soap with detergent: frugal and functional.

The R & R of Nerja energized me for my final two stops in two of the most well known cities of Spain due in particular to two very historic sites: The Alhambra of Granada and the Mezquita of Córdoba. Staying in the heart of the historic center of Granada, I found it to be different from other towns I had previously visited. It is home to a marvelously restored and protected old town near the cathedral where I let myself essentially ¨get lost¨ because at some point through the wandering of the pedestrian/moped winding without-a-purpose streets, I would end up recognizing a landmark. My first evening took me atop the city to two ¨miradores,¨ or ¨lookouts.¨ One of them had an astonishing view of the extended city itself, and the other looked directly across at the awe inspiring Alhambra. Many, including tourists of all ages intertwined with locals, gathered to share the scenery. It is also told that even President Clinton brought his family to the Mirador de San Nicolás to share with them one of his favorite places in Europe from his traveling days during his college years.

Day two in Granada was a day I had been waiting for. The Alhambra, perhaps one of the most recognized names in historical monuments in all of Spain, awaited me. In fact, it is so frequented that an advance reservation online is recommended to lessen the waiting time. My window to enter the palace was at 3:30. It took about 45 minutes to hike the hill up to the Alhambra grounds, consisting of the Palace of Charles V, the Generalife gardens, and the Alcazaba fort. Originally destined to be a military fort constructed by the Moorish rulers during the mid 14^th century, some portions of the Alhambra were overtaken by Christian rulers during the Reconquista by the Catholic Monarchs in 1492. Infamous for being Spain´s most significant display of Islamic architecture and therefore a UNESCO World Heritage site, this intricacy of the art and architecture of this landmark leaves lasting impressions on all those who visit, including myself. I left the city almost unsure of how to process what I had seen, and trying hard to imagine people inhabiting the Alhambra and being fortunate to live within the walls of such an amazing place.

The last stop of the my solo adventure before heading back to Madrid to hop on a flight home was Córdoba, for no other reason but to visit the Mezquita, the images of which clutter every guidebook and textbook related to the Spanish language and/or history. I reserved a hostal that was none other than steps away from the enormous walls of the Mezquita. Although not much else drew me to the town, I did enjoy the Casco Histórico, or old part of town, which was home to a fabulous Andalusian meal consisting of the Córdoba version of Gazpacho, Salmorejo, a cold creamy vegetable type soup. Being that my one full day in Córdoba was a Sunday, I decided to kill two birds with one stone and visit the Mezquita by attending mass in the Catédral de Córdoba, or the cathedral that was constructed in the center of the Mosque during none other than the Reconquista. During the mass, I had to keep reminding myself of where I was, and with one glance to the left or right, it was simple to see the architectural beauty of both the Moorish and Christian influences. With my prayers being said, I left the Mezquita, bought an ice cream, and set on its steps to reflect upon the experiences I had been through. I was fulfilled. I had traveled for five weeks living out of a suitcase after living abroad for four, visited some of the most famous cathedrals, landmarks, and cities in Western Europe, traveled with family and friends, and accomplished something I´d always wanted to do. It was time to go home. It was time to return to my ¨other¨ life back home, and see the family and friends I love so much, and to begin to mentally prepare for my other love besides traveling: teaching.

Aventuras con mi madre

Lisbon Trolley
Lisbon, Portugal
Barcelona´s Parc Guell (Gaudí)
Lunch outside of the Sagrada Familia (Barcelona)
Barcelona´s beaches!
Monasterio de Yuso, San Millán de la Cogolla

After shipping Dad off from Bilbao, Mom and I set off to explore together. After the bus ride to and from the Bilbao airport, I was lucky enough to get back on ANOTHER bus, all before two o´clock in the afternoon in the same day, en route to Logroño, the capital of La Rioja, situated southeast of the Basque Country. As this was to be my first time in this region, I was excited for something new, although as I´ve learned, even visiting places several times, there is always something different to see. Somewhat off of the tourist path except for its production and therefore capital of the wine country in Spain, I had a different motive for visiting and fortunately was able to drag my Mom along for the ride.

In one of my classes in San Sebastián, we learned about two monasteries in San Millán de la Cogolla, about an hour and a half outside of Logroño. Although signs for monasteries litter the highways along the ¨route of the monasteries¨ in La Rioja, two in particular stand out in my mind as very important. San Millán de Yuso and San Millán de Suso attract a certain type of person from around the world, me being one of them. It was here that the first written word of Spanish and Basque were found, and they are therefore known as the ¨cradle of the Spanish and Basque languages.¨ Upon arrival in San Millán de la Cogolla, our first mission was food, which still remains one of the best surprises of our trip together. Being that there were only several restaurants in the small town, we entered the first, and ordered the menú del día. For ten euro, we were treated to a fabulous three course meal which we unfortunately had to scarf down, and hand the money to the confused waiter as we were running out the door to arrive on time for our tour of Suso. We spent the afternoon wandering through the monasteries surrounded by green rolling hills, gardens, and a peaceful silence that attributed to the special feeling that we were somewhere that unfortunately not many people are informed about.

Two nights in Logroño, and having visitied the monasteries called for a change in scenery and on to anther region…Cataluña! The Spanish bus system was once again lucky enough for us to grace it with our presence for the six hour bus ride to Barcelona. After a late night, getting lost in the maze streets near La Rambla, heading down a somewhat sketchy street in which I told my Mom to not talk, just look forward, and walk, we found our way to our hotel. La Sagrada Familia, Parc Guell, la Catedral de Barcelona, and the infamous Barcelona beaches, in addition to tapas (not pintxos) made for a full two days in Barcelona. To say the least, I think my Mom and I were both exhausted, but we trudged though and made the $44 dollar one way flight to Lisbon, where we stayed until her departure. My first trip to Portugal, the land of my Mom´s maternal grandparents, made for a great end of our trip together. Although we originally discussed visiting the Azore Islands, where her grandparents were from, we were glad that we opted to save that for another trip someday as the destination spot, instead of cramming into our two week stint. In Lisbon, we did the Rick Steve´s guided walking tour of the downtown area, took a San Francisco-ish trolley up to the Miradouro de Sao Jorge and then continued to Castelo de Sao Jorge, visited the Monasterio de San Jeronimo, the Coach Museum which is the home to horse drawn royal buggies from throughout the centuries reminiscent of Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman style (am I dating myself here?) and amongst many other things, did a side trip to Sintra, where we visited a Disneylandish palace, and relished our last day together.

After being on my own now for a few days, I am able to reflect upon the amazing experiences that my parents and I shared together, and am so thankful for the sacrifice they made to share this with me. They are memories none of us will ever forget!