dear blog, i'm sorry i forgot you for so long

I realized it has been way to long since my last post, and since I have been out enjoying Spain and forgetting to blog there is also far too much to recap here. In an effort to keep things short and sweet here are little notes that I wish I could have sent to people and places over past few weeks.

Dear lunch ladies, must you be so mean to me every time I come to the counter? I know you understand me even if my pronunciation isn't perfect. I was told that you hate how Americans say please and thank you all the time ... maybe if I was less polite you would be nice.

Dear man who owns the bakery near by, you are wonderful. I love your deep, rumbling laugh, and I love that you knew every customer who walked in the door. I love that you talked to me and Britt for so long and gave us free kiwi marmalade you made yourself ... We promise to come back every week!

Dear sunny days and gentle breeze, thank you for coming and please never go away. You make everyday feel like the beach at nighttime.

Dear Mercado Central, you have become my favorite spot in Spain. Your always busy and bustling with people and you sell fresh everything - from eels, to strawberries, to cheese wrapped in basil.

Dear Botega (Vineyard) in the tiny white-washed town of Requena, your ware houses smell incredible and your wine tastes delicious, especially compared to the 1 euro wine I've been drinking before going to discotecas.

futbol

Wow, it's been a week since my last post. In short the past seven days have included ... a Spanish film from the 1930's (I learned that understanding spanish people gets harder and harder the further you go back in time), shopping (where I learned that Zara to Spain is like Starbucks to America, except there might be more Zaras), having Paella Valenciana (the dish this city is most famous for) a lamb kabob, flan and a glass of wine for only 12 euro, my first real Discoteca experience and most importantly for my European education - a futbol game.

Yesterday we descended upon Valencia CF's home stadium along with thousands of diehard fans. This wasn't even an important game (Valencia C.F. vs. Real Valladolid), but the stadium was packed from top to bottom, and there were groups of people who sang the Valencia fight song non stop for the full 90 minute game. With the sunset in the distance, and a group of adorable 4 year old boys just in front of us who were giddy just to be there munching on sunflower seeds, this was one of my favorite experiences yet.

goal for valencia! (who won 2-0)

and we got excited, too

trabajamos para vivir, no vivimos para trabajar

"Trabajamos para vivir, no vivimos para trabajar," my language/composition teacher said today. In english this means, "We work to live, we don't live to work." This is one of the main differences Europeans see between themselves and Americans, and for the most part I agree with them. In spanish culture, everyone goes home for a siesta from 2 until 4 in the afternoon. Unlike what you think when you hear the word siesta, this time is actually set aside for eating lunch with one's family. This is part of working to live. For the spanish eating and drinking are social activities; no one ever eats alone or in a hurry. Also, everyone takes off of work here on Sundays for sure and a lot of Saturdays as well. Everything goes at a slower pace, but it's nicer that way. Another wise thing my teacher said in passing today was, "El tiempo es mas valiosos que el dinero." Translation: "Time is more valuable than money."

In true slow paced Spanish fashion we went to the beach all day yesterday and had tapas and wine at a little coastal cafe.