Third Entry -- Food and People Watching

Seems appropriate to combine two of my favorite subjects. Also given that (so far) I'm by myself when I eat out, I pass the time by watching all the various activity. Besides, sampling food and observing people is a great way to learn a culture. Honestly, I'm usually more interested in the people watching than I am touring museums and such. Just seems a lot more fun! Plus…if you know me, you know how much I LOVE food, so it makes sense that this is how I choose to learn and blend in. 

So far, most of the food has been really good -- fattening, but decent. Right away I jumped into the fresh bread, cheese, salami and wine. Good stuff! Glad I'm gonna be walking everywhere. Truthfully though, dining out has had some challenges. The first night I went out for tapas was pretty intimidating. "Tapas" is a very typical Spanish tradition. It's basically a small serving of food -- like an appetizer. Most restaurants and bars have an extensive tapas menu. Some serve mostly tapas (as opposed to a "racione" which is a normal entrée serving). Granada is well known for tapas and has several signposts designating where the Tapas Routes are so tourists can locate multiple bars in certain areas. On one signpost I read that Tapas originated when bartenders would put a small plate over a patron's glass to keep the flies out of the drink…practical, but….eeewww! That led to including a small serving of food on the plate, which eventually became the custom of automatically giving away a tapa (one small serving) with every drink purchase. My treasure hunt has been discovering which bars and cafes automatically give out a free tapa with every drink (some do, some don't). I like the ones that do :-)

Free "tapa" with every drink order -- sometimes.

So I go out and find a lively spot to practice one of my phrases: "esta esta mesa libre?" (Is this table free?). It was. I sat down and flung out the next phrase: "quiero un vaso sangria, por favor" (I'd like a glass of sangria, please.) Now, don't be impressed here. These words did NOT come out smoothly. And I'm certain I didn't pronounce them correctly (in fact, another night I got corrected, but that's a different story). We've all seen and heard the poor foreigner trying to speak English, right? "Jez, eye wood li-king - uh, uh - uh glazza - uh de wine-a - uh, eff dju so pleeze-a - tank u" … yeah, well, that was me. sigh. Which prompted the sweet, young server to hand me a menu in English. geez, thanks! I really didn't want to resort to that yet, but I admit, it was helpful. Glancing over the menu, I realized this place didn't serve tapas. Crap! How'd that happen?! But I was committed now, so I ordered a racione instead…something I recognized (a plate of tempura shrimp and veggies). However, when the sangria comes, so does a small tapa. YAY! It's a wee bowl of olives and a golf ball-sized, fried melted cheese ball…YUM! (Which I later learn is a common tapa called a "croqueta" and can be filled with many different meats, cheeses and such.) 

As yummy as the fried cheese ball, fried shrimp, fried potatoes and carrots (which constituted the "tempura veggies") and sangria was, the next day my body was not so happy with all the grease and breading and the custom of eating so late at night. Did I mention that this tapas-happy-country eats dinner at roughly 22:00?! Yeah, that's 10:00 at night…EVERY night! Yikes! So indeed, I'm gonna have to scale back and ease into this tapas thing gently. Maybe I can find a way  to venture out for tapas two or three times a week (and stick to UNA tapa!).    

Constant activity in Granada -- open air art exhibit.

During my daily meanderings, I see a lot of city life. Typical urban activity…people going to and from work; shop keepers sweeping their front walks; delivery drivers squeezing their trucks into tight spots, mopeds whizzing by. I LOVE being in the thick of it! It's cool seeing how people go about their day, how they dress, how they interact with others. A lot of behaviors are different from ours. But of course, many things are also universal. What stands out most to me is their open expressiveness. Men and women -- young and old walk hand in hand or arm in arm. I see many couples kissing and embracing on the sidewalk. Older women gather and walk together holding hands. Same with men…a younger, maybe middle-aged man often has an elderly man on his arm. Families with small children roam about. And there are lots of dads out pushing strollers. It's also no surprise seeing how well dressed people are (I remember that from living in Sweden)! No plastic crocs and fleece jackets in this part of the world! Women wear short skirts or fashionable dresses or pants. Sandals are popular right now, but I see lots of high-heeled shoes too (I don't how they do it on those cobblestones!) So many older men wear suits (that's not so different), but younger men in their "casual wear" are often sporting colored, tight pants, a stylish shirt, and fancy shoes. Always the shoes! I've decided that's the best and easiest way to tell the Europeans apart from the Americans…look at their shoes. Ok, ok. I know I'm generalizing and rambling on a bit too. Sorry. But I'm really taken by this stuff. It fascinates me how simple public behavior and clothing can differentiate a culture. I think it says something about people and their values.

Gotta also give a nod to the universal bond between animal lovers. Granada is a dog-friendly town. Lots of people out every day walking their dogs. And just like at home, people will stop to chat and pet the dogs out with their owners. Unfortunately, also like at home, some people pick up after their dogs and some don't. ugh! And it saddens me to see how many strays roam about. I don't know what the laws are or what kind of organizations they have like our Humane Societies, but as an animal lover, it's tough watching all these little mutts wandering the streets.

Tapas, tapas, tapas...

My second tapas experience went a little better. I found a small table inside a bar with a perfect view of the nightlife outside. The server brings me my glass of sangria and a free tapa -- YAY! -- which is a plate of french fries (nothing fancy, just ordinary frozen fries), but topped with incredibly tender chunks of meat in a sauce. Now this could be oxtail or some other crazy weird carne, but it's likely pork. Whatever it is, it's damn good! When I order another drink, I get ANOTHER free tapa, which I wasn't expecting and wished later that I hadn't actually ordered food. But, again, I'm learning here. The tapa this time was a stew of sorts. Same mysterious, tender oxtail/pork meat in a thick soup with potatoes and peas and such. Again, yum! So duly noted…add this bar to the "come back here" list. I also learn that evening about 'tinto de verano.' Translated: summer red wine. Basically, cheap red wine mixed with sparkling lemon soda. Very popular and very tasty. It becomes my standard order for awhile…in addition to, 'una copa de vino blanco' :-)

On yet another night, I go outside about 23:00 (11:00) for some fresh air and to continue exploring the late night culture that's so typical of the Spanish way of life. I'm not hungry, so I'm not looking for tapas this time, but it'd be cool to find some live music or other form of entertainment (NO chance of a karaoke bar I'm pretty certain!). But oddly, as I stroll around, follow the crowds, peek inside the cafes and bars, I don't find a single club or band. Several places have televised sports and one, very touristy-looking joint outside of a large hotel, is advertising Flamenco Dancing (yeah, I'll probably go there later). Other than that, nothing besides food and drink. hhhmmm. Later I learn from talking with a server at one of the tapas bars that Granada has very strict laws about live music. From what I could understand, because there are so many small bars, cafes and restaurants stacked together in close proximity, the city restricts live music (and thus controlling the noise) to only one or two or the larger, more prominent establishments. The server went so far as to call the local leaders 'fascists' -- also interesting! With a better internet connection and command of the language, I would research this more.

A locals tapas bar scene in my neighborhood.

Anyway, eventually I find myself sitting on a concrete bench out in a large, open plaza. I'm beneath the lamp posts, surrounded by several very old buildings where a small crowd has gathered to hear a Flamenco guitarist playing in the center of the plaza. His guitar is connected to a small, portable amplifier and his fingers are flying in that traditional Spanish music style. I can't help thinking the scene is a bit of a Hollywood movie cliche, but there it is and here I am taking it in. Hundreds of people are out strolling. Again, men and women, young and old, walking arm in arm, holding hands, smiling, laughing, talking, gesturing. It's such a lively, social atmosphere! THIS is the culture I read so much about. This is their life. And it's mesmerizing! I wonder…where are they going? Who do they see? What are they doing? And how do they manage this every, single night? (Siesta in the afternoon is key I think!) This late-night strolling they do is such a simple activity, really, and quite enriching to their lives, I'm sure. Yet to me it seems strange and foreign. Back home I might go out once or twice a week -- usually to go DO something; listen to music, have dinner with friends, catch a movie. But to simply gather and stroll and socialize…interesting. I sat there, listening to the guitar, feeling the warm, late-night breeze, admiring the soft amber glow the lights were casting against the old stone buildings, and I thought…what in the world would these people think about our late night lifestyle? And what in the hell would they think about our 'All You Can Eat Buffets'?? sheesh!!

Second Entry -- Settling In

It's one thing to unpack my suitcase, hang my clothes, set my toothbrush on the bathroom counter and put my books beside the bed…it's quite another thing to navigate a foreign city alone with all of about 20 words and phrases in my vocabulary. So over the past few days I set some goals: settle into my apartment and make it feel like home, which meant spreading out my things and buying some food and other supplies; get outside every day to wander around, explore my surroundings, and discover the areas I'd like to investigate in more detail; and finally, establish a "normal" routine of sorts. Since I'll be here awhile, I want to feel like I'm really living here and acclimating to the culture as much as possible. I don't see this as just an extended vacation where I spend all my time shopping and sightseeing. I want a regular schedule, a normal exercise routine, and time to focus on things like writing and studying the language.  

Settling into the apartment (my "flat" as I like to snobbishly call it) has gone pretty well. Once I got past the debacle of being lost on my first day and figured out my bearings a bit, I see how lucky I am to be in this neighborhood! It's in the Realejo district of Granada (which has some historical significance that I haven't quite grasped yet, and maybe never will), but is basically in the heart of Old Town and mere blocks away from the tapas routes, Plaza Neuva, and primary shopping districts. I love that it's set back off the main streets a bit (it feels quiet and somewhat isolated), yet is such a short distance to all the main attractions. I've already walked to and briefly explored the Alhambra, the Cathedral, the Genil River area, the Alcaiceria, and the Albayzin (for more info on these sights: http://wikitravel.org/en/Granada_(Spain)) Truly the BEST part is walking to all these places. Unless the weather turns bad, I may never hop a bus. I certainly won't/don't need a car…and I LOVE that! Plus, Granada is nestled along the foothills of the Sierra Nevadas mountain range, which makes the town quite hilly. There are wonderful steep walks to get up to several of the viewpoints (see the photo below of one particular pathway). My calves and butt are gonna appreciate that!

My flat's interior is a perfect studio size and has everything I need, although not without a few quirks. For example, the AC has a drip hose that empties into a green, plastic jug, which hangs from a rope outside my living room window. That's odd. Since I'm on the third floor, Mabel (my landlady) instructed me to empty the jug periodically or it will drip onto the neighbor's balcony below. Ok that's fine. Well it's been so freakin hot that I've let the AC run pretty much 24/7 to keep cool. One evening, on about my third day, the door buzzer rings. My luck, I had just showered and was still in my towel. So half naked, I peep through the hole from behind my door. "No habla Ingles," I said. The woman answered in English. It was the neighbor below me. She was there to tell me to stop running the AC so much. Apparently I'd pissed her off cuz it's very loud in her apartment (I don't hear a thing), and she'd had enough. I felt bad. And here I was trying to be careful about emptying the water jug. So much for sleeping comfortably at night.

Also I discovered that the hallways in my building get pitch black dark later in the evening. It caught me off guard when I came home one night and couldn't see a thing! Picture me gingerly walking up the stairs with my hands outstretched to feel for the walls and my feet tapping the ground ahead of me before stepping and forging ahead. The epitome of grace for sure! shit. This can't be how the other residents live here?! Halfway up the stairs, I remembered I had a flashlight app on my iPhone. So I pulled it out, fumbled about to turn on the app, and managed to phone-light the rest of my way up. Later I discovered light switches in the hallways that seem to be on a timer, but they also look exactly like the doorbell buzzers, so I'm hesitant to use the ones on the lower level, lest I accidentally ring my downstairs neighbor. sigh 

Grocery shopping has been an adventure. Initially, I'd romanticized the thought of wandering through the vast, open-air markets, selecting fresh fruits, cheeses, and breads and sampling all the local fare. I mean, geez, even La Grande has its Farmer's Market, right? Well no, so far, I haven't discovered them. Instead, there's a gigantic, Macy's-like department store that houses a Safeway-sized grocery market with equally Safeway-esque product packaging and displays. hhhmmm…not very romantic. But, I needed things like shampoo and coffee and such, so I spent no less than two full hours wandering the aisles, list in hand, trying to tell the difference between the choices for oils, vinegars, milk, yogurt, conditioners, soaps and the like. Side note…eggs are kept in wrapped cartons and stored on un-refrigerated shelves…and octopus and squid of numerous types and sizes garner their own refrigerated shelf…interesting! The other day, however, I stumbled onto the SuperSol market. A much smaller, "locals" grocery store with far fewer options and cheaper prices. Plus it's closer to my flat, so that's probably where I'll do most of my shopping. But I have to remember that most of the stores close around 2:30 - 3:00 and the streets clear out until later in the evening. The guidebooks call this "siesta time" which conjures in my mind an image of everybody scurrying home to lay in a hammock with a sombrero over their face (too many cartoon stereo-types at work here). I'm looking forward to when I can chat with a local and find out what people are really doing during that time. But silly me wasn't paying attention to this on the day I decided to buy some running shoes, and I ignorantly waltzed into the store and asked to try on shoes right at closing time. Poor kids were awfully kind and polite to this stupid American and let me go ahead with my shopping, but clearly I had violated a custom. **Note to self: do shopping earlier in the day!

Truthfully, these mistakes are good lessons. And they're the stuff of great stories! I've also learned getting lost helps me figure out good routes, interesting locations, as well as places to avoid. I spent one afternoon walking across town to the university campus in search of what looked like a nice park only to find it was colorless, dried up, and overgrown with weeds. Very sad. But on the upside, I found a perfect jogging path along the main canal that runs through the city. It's beautifully tree-lined and seems to be where the locals exercise too as there's also a large area with an outdoor gym of sorts…various machines for doing shoulder presses, leg lifts and such. YAY! This'll help me accomplish one of my goals. 

I also always keep some kind of journal with me. I like to take notes of these discoveries and surprises I find along the way. So far, I'm feeling like a kid in a candy store. Everywhere I look there's another sweet, colorful, yummy treat that I want to devour! Like the numerous plazas…open-air squares that simply buzz with activity…sometimes in a picture-postcard-perfect way. There's usually a fountain surrounded by flowers with old, stone buildings set in the background. The outdoor cafes are everywhere. I'm always trying to steal a glance at someone's plate to figure out what people are eating (bread with meat & cheese is most common, plates of numerous, little fried fish is another big one, and large dishes of rice Paella is huge too!) And, yeah, the street entertainers are out there too. More than once I've seen a Flamenco guitar player…and…really?…a mime! Who does mime anymore?!? wow! I'm also drawn to the stark contrasts between the old and new -- the ancient and the modern. One minute I'm taking a photo of a centuries-old building or artwork. The next minute, some bitchin' graffiti catches my eye…even better…both in the same shot! :-)

Surprisingly, few people speak English, or at least enough for me to ask in-depth questions or hold a conversation. Not that I necessarily expected people to speak English (that's WAY too presumptuous on my part, and I refuse to be *that* type of American), but I'm definitely having a different experience than I did when I lived for a year in Sweden where nearly everybody was quite fluent. So, I'm forced to practice certain phrases and muddle my way around the various tasks I need to accomplish. "Lo siento…mi espanol es malo" has become my standard greeting (I'm sorry…my spanish is very bad). Thankfully the majority of people I've interacted with have been extremely polite and helpful and quite willing to reserve any judgements about me (at least to my face). I'm also trying my damnedest to use what phrases I can. I think the effort alone helps bridge the gaps. 

Of course, I've got many more stories and surprises to share, but I'll save those for another entry or when I return home and force you to look at my pictures. This past week has mainly been an exercise in being extraordinarily patient with myself knowing full well there are certain challenges to contend with…culture shock, the language barrier, and jet lag. Right this moment, it's after 13:00 (1:00 pm) and I haven't left my flat. Five days into my stay and I've still not adjusted well to a time schedule. Can't seem to fall asleep until around 2:00 am, then I wind up sleeping until 11:00 or so (unless I set my alarm, but when I haven't slept all night, it's tempting to hit the snooze button!). There's also a baby who's been crying outside my window for the last two hours (might be a cat…it's hard to tell), so I'm struggling to finish this blog entry and walk over to my friendly Wi-Fi spot to grab a cervasa and post it. 

   

I'm not gonna lie…the isolation of traveling alone, eating alone, and exploring this city alone is already getting to me. I know -- I know…I've made this bed and I have to lie in it. Honestly, I swear, I'm not complaining. I'm extraordinarily lucky to be here and I'm grateful! But I figure if I acknowledge the loneliness…name it…and put it out there, then I can deal with it and find some way to overcome it. I've always been a bit of a loner, so there's a great deal I truly ENJOY about this way of traveling, but occasionally it'd be nice to share a meal with someone and maybe some laughs. Finding a few new friends or at least making some connections will be one of my next goals on this journey. (And yes, Kristie, your visit will be EXTREMELY welcomed!!! YAY!)

First Entry - The Not-So-Cool Arrival

Sept. 17, 2013

First entry

Well I've had my first full day traveling alone in Spain and so far…I'm CLEARLY a fish out of water. Far from home, where I don't speak the language, I'm a total bumbling idiot. It started as soon as I got off the plane in Madrid when I realized I needed to get my luggage and transfer (on another, smaller airline) to Granada, the town where I'd be staying for the next two months. All was good getting my bag, but once I walked up to the terminal I was in, I realized "uh oh" - I gotta figure my shit out! I walked up and down the long corridor trying to find some semblance of a clue where the Iberian airline was. Nothing. Nil. Nada. It didn't help that I had to pee, so a bathroom was in order. Thank god for the international symbol of 'woman in skirt go here!' Finally, after that, I managed to locate an information booth and was told to "go outside and take a shuttle bus to terminal 4". Shit. I wasn't ready to venture outside yet. It was safe indoors. Even though little information was in English, there was comfort in knowing I wasn't going to walk onto a moving vehicle and end up in no man's land. Enter my first 'traveling alone pep-talk'…ya gotta do this, I told myself. sigh. OK 

So out the door I went, looking, I'm sure like a silly American hick with my granny, floral tapestry suitcase (love the perfect size, but it's definitely Old Lady luggage…thanks, Grammy!), my neon-green backpack, and the weathered, straw cowgirl hat I bought in eastern Oregon, which I thought made me look super cute there, but now feels dreadfully out of place. Turned out the shuttle was no big deal. It was clearly marked and easy to board and took me off to terminal 4, which was, about 2 miles away from where I was! WTF? Glad I asked for directions! 

Now a side note for my beautiful girlfriends back home…you know who you are…while riding the shuttle to the terminal, a MUY, MUY GUAPO male Spaniard boarded the bus and stood next to me. As I was feeling completely self-conscious in my road-weary clothes and turtle-esque, cowgirl appearance, I avoided eye contact. But this was the first of MANY such handsome men I was about to see in a very short period of time. It was strange honestly. I'm not used to seeing SO many beautiful people walking about in the general public. There is some sort of mix of tall, broad shouldered, thick-haired, white teeth, manly jawline southern European gorgeous gene pool at work here. oh my!! Bottom line…I'm in DEEP trouble! But I digress…finally, I made my way through checking in for my transfer flight and began the long wait for my plane to arrive. Unfortunately, it got delayed, so the wait was even longer. But the people-watching was good and I was glad I'd thought to put a few Euros in my wallet so I could get a Diet Coke in a vending machine.

Once I got to Granada, the fumbling, bumbling really kicked in. First off, the weather was sunny and hot, so I quickly shed my outer layers and threw on my sunglasses (yay me for thinking of those!). While I waited for a taxi, I practiced (in my head) how to tell the driver where I was going. Since it was an apartment and not a hotel, I had to give specific directions that Mabel, my landlady, had emailed me. "Hablas Ingles?" -- I kept thinking over and over in my head. Then, I figured, we'd have a "normal" conversation and I could describe where I was headed. Pretty straight forward. uuuhhh no! In response to my "hablas ingles" (muddled and unclear once I actually *spoke* the words), the driver said "No". Damn. Guess I hand't expected that. hhhmmm…well ok. So then I simply showed him the words on the piece of paper I had written out ahead of time. He sort of shrugged his shoulders and nodded in a way that didn't give me a lot of comfort. But the ride into town was fine and as I stared out at the buildings and landscape around me, I started to feel a high of excitement and couldn't believe I was actually here. 

We pulled up onto a street that started to look familiar…a terra cotta colored building with black, wrought iron window frames, a grove of curvy, cobble-stone alleys, and (there it was!!) the bustling, corner restaurant! These were the landmarks I had seen over the countless times I'd looked at my future neighborhood on Google Earth Maps, back in La Grande, when I had been planning and dreaming of this trip. I started to relax. I felt like I was home.

…For about three minutes. The taxi driver smiled and pointed up the road indicating where I was to go to find the apartment. Mabel had sent me photos of the entrance gate, so with those images in my mind, I grab my bags, paid my fare (again, happy for the Euros) and walked in the direction he pointed. Within moments, the panic kicked in. The gate to my new abode was nowhere to be found, and I couldn't make sense of anything resembling address markers on buildings, signs or posts. For about the next hour I walked up and down the narrow, winding cobble-stone alleys dragging my heavy granny tapestry bag behind me, desperately trying to locate the flat. 'barumpt barumpt barumpt' went the wheels of my luggage over the cobble-stones. So loud, I was certain, that people nearby enjoying their cervezas must have been pointing and snickering. Plus, there were hills. And wide, bumpy steps. To make matters worse, many of the "alleys" were actually roads. Taxis and buses and cars and motorbikes were zooming by in these tiny, narrow ALLEYS. Several times I had to quickly pull myself and my granny tapestry bag up against a building to keep from getting plowed over. And…did I mention it was hot?! shit was it hot! The sweat was quickly pooling down my back under the weight and heat of my neon-green turtle pack. 'barumpt barumpt barumpt'…up and down the hills. Around and around the alley-roads. Circling and circling. Trying to find that damn apartment. And…trying not to cry. Enter pep talk number two. "It's around here somewhere," I told myself. I saw the restaurant from Google Maps. It's got to be here. Don't give up. But shit…these bags are heavy. The streets are bumpy, hilly and narrow. And…it's SO freakin' hot!

Luckily another taxi came by slow enough that I waved him down and showed him my address. He pointed *behind* me and gestured to go up one block then over another. Turned out, the first driver had me going in the exact opposite direction. My flat was actually directly BEHIND the point where he had dropped me off. Geez! Poor Mabel had been waiting for me over an hour. I felt awful, especially considering she's 9 months pregnant and due any day. She was not happy! But she graciously showed me around the apartment, and again, because I had studied it so many times online, inside was all so familiar to me. 

Once she left, I just sort of stood there, looking around, taking it in. Now what?! What do I do? Where do I start? I felt like a deer caught in headlights, frozen by surprise and not sure how to move. I started to unpack. But that would take too long. I tried to open the windows to look outside. But I couldn't figure out the lock mechanism. My hands were trembling. shit. I needed to relax. I needed to cool off and probably get something to eat. So I changed my sweaty clothes, ditched the cowgirl hat, grabbed my keys and left. Since I didn't want to get lost again, I carefully took note of my surroundings. I read the marker on the hallway and counted the three flights of stairs as I made my way down. I also decided to stick to one main road as I wandered about. 

Now with a fresh perspective, sans luggage and sweaty traveling clothes, I could see how FANTASTIC my neighborhood was! Just along this one main road, there were several little, quaint cafes, bakeries, wine & cheese shops, stores selling this and that, an open-air gelato place (mental note…go there SOON!), and lots of people strolling, shopping, eating, and speaking Spanish. There was the buzzing of motorbikes, the occasional honk of a passing car, and all those other sounds that seem exaggerated when you're in a new place. My senses were on fire as my eyes and ears and nose darted around in a million different directions. 

It was now about 4:30 pm local time. I hadn't eaten since my early morning "breakfast" on my flight into Madrid, so I was hungry. Normally, I would have found a cool cafe and settled in with a beer and a salad and sat back to take it all in. But here, alone, with no real Spanish skills heightened by my hunger and nervousness, I kept wandering, undecided if I should try a sit-down place and stumble through it or take the chicken way out and grab a taste-less to-go item from a convenience store. hhhmmm…Every menu in the cafes were in Spanish and nothing seemed to translate, so out of fear of ordering goat brains or some such thing for my first Spanish meal, I decided on a walk-up cafe that had photos of the menu items. I could simply mumble "por favor" and point at the dish. After doing so, the (very cute) guy smiled and asked, "chicken or beef?" Really?! YOU speak English, but not my cab driver?! wow! So I get my sandwich and pay the guy, and I think from my nervousness during the Euro bills/coins transaction, I musta tipped about 40%. 

At that point I decided there was no way I was going to be cool and collected through all this. Time to make peace with my bumbling self. So I headed straight to the gelato stand, ordered up a pistachio cup of yummy goodness, sat down with a great view of the street life, and decided what to do next. The brilliance here was that I could do ANYTHING! I could do whatever I wanted in whatever way I wanted to. THIS was why I was traveling alone. THIS was what this trip was going to be about for me. And all these little bumps along the way, I knew, would be the delicious stuff of great stories and adventures.

With a full tummy, I walked back the way I came and took advantage of the landmarks I had noted before. With a bit more confidence, I bought a cheap bottle of white 'semidulce' wine, wandered into the cheese shop and left with several slices of Havarti and salami, then picked up half a baguette from a nearby bakery. After that, some ice tea, then back to the apartment. Now, a nice long nap and I'm ready to unpack and settle in. I can't help but think about all the things I *should* do…like find the nearest wi-fi hot spot so I can check my Facebook and email to tell everybody I made it, and make a plan and buy tickets for all the places I want to see, and go to the grocery store to get coffee and other supplies. But the honest-to-goodness reality is…those things can wait. I'll get to them in good time. My main goal, truly, is to take everything one step at a time, not panic, and give myself a chance to settle in. Stay grounded. That's really what I need to do. And all that other stuff will fall into place.

Despite the fumbling and bumbling that's happened so far (and I'm quite sure there will be much more where that came from), this town and this apartment are already capturing my heart. This is a dream. A dream of a lifetime. And I intend to savor every wonderful, beautiful, sensual, awkward second of it. I might not have the comforts of home. My internal clock might take a few days to right itself. The language might never flow smoothly from my lips. But it's all good stuff. Really, REALLY good stuff. And there's no place on earth right now I'd rather be!