Las Alpujarras

A view of the snow-capped peaks of the Sierra Nevadas in the Alpujarras.

The weather report for this past weekend forecast an 85 percent chance of rain on Friday and a 100 percent chance of rain on Saturday.

So many of us who we're supposed to go hiking in the Alpujarras this weekend went in thinking it would be a little miserable.

But it was quite the opposite.

The Alpujarras is a region of the Sierra Nevada mountains. Included in our tuition for this semester was a weekend trip to this region, where we'd hike with one of our resident directors, Miguel Angel, who lives for things like this.

After a bus ride of a little over an hour, we arrived at our hostel in Pampaneira, a little village in the natural park. And lo and behold, it was sunny and warm! So, we set out for a hike of about five hours, where much of the hiking was trekking up the mountain. 

We were in a valley between two mountains with a river flowing through the middle. At one point we saw a herd of goats on the other side of the mountain, where dogs were herding them into a concentrated area. Later we found ourselves on that side of the mountain, slowly making our way down a very steep and muddy path. And suddenly, the herd of goats was behind us! As there were 21 of us, we were causing quite a traffic jam and the dogs were running back and forth beside us while the sound of the goats and the bells around their necks added a cool soundtrack to our hike. Eventually we got down and they got down too, but I have no idea where the herd disappeared to.

And now it's the goats' turn!

The mountains were so green and offered amazing views of some of the peaks of the snowy parts of the Sierras. We stopped for lunch at a flat landing and pulled out the baguettes, chorizo, vegetables, apples, and goat and sheep cheese that we had been carrying in our backpacks. What a feast!

We then headed back to our hostel and after showering, we headed to a chocolate shop called "Abuela Ili" in the town. I'd heard that it offered chocolate samples, but I had not expected the huge array of samples that were laid out on the counter in the small store. There must have been at least 30 different flavors to try, including chocolate mango, chocolate with corn, caramel chocolate and chili chocolate. I kept waiting for the workers to tell us we had had enough samples, as we ended up "sampling" multiple flavors multiple times. I decided this couldn't exist in the States because people would just grab handfuls and run. We ate a lot, but at least we all bought a bit at the end too. This store exists in Granada too, so I think we'll all be making stops there in the future!

Shortly after that, it was time for dinner! We quickly (mentally) digested that chocolate and got ready for our 3-course meal: a salad with fruit, STEAK and fries, and for dessert, flan. Some people tried rabbit, and to my horror, the entire rabbit came out on their plates. Christine enjoyed sticking the head on a fork and bouncing it around in the air, while I unsuccessfully tried not to look. Later she and Tori ate the tongue and brain. Madremía. We were also served tinto de verano (AKA the poor man's sangria). So that, combined with our sugar high from the chocolate, made for a night of Patti, Elizabeth, Melissa and me laughing uncontrollably in our room about who knows what. Good times.

On Saturday, we didn't have as much luck with the weather. It started to rain early on, so after a breakfast of tostada con tomate, cafe con leche and zumo de naranja, we put on our ponchos and headed out on a different route. We were hiking on a route called the GR7, which runs through Spain, Andorra and France.

Clouds, ponchos and muscles.

We made it through about two and a half hours of hiking, but then it started to rain harder so it was decided to stop in a village and end our hike there. Our lunch was to be driven to us, so Miguel offered to buy us all hot chocolate in a nearby bar while we waited. We all crowded into this tiny place, complete with a friendly, 9-month-old German Shepard. Most of us ordered ColaCoa (which we finally realized is the way to order hot chocolate and not receive melted chocolate in a cup). A while later, the owner started blasted Spanish pop music for us, much to the apparent dismay of an old couple squished up against a wall of the bar. We obviously started dancing and singing, and when we eventually left the bar, we realized that the music could be heard basically throughout the whole town. What a way to spend a rainy afternoon.

After lunch, we were driven back to Pampaneira to pick up our bags and then we were bused back to Granada.

I've grown to love hiking after many forced hikes during my childhood. Hiking is funny because most of the time you aren't doing the hike just to get to the destination. The journey there is the point of hiking. I didn't get that when I was younger, but now I really appreciate and love the natural beauty of the Earth.

Geneva, Switzerland

Photo credit: lonelyplanet.com

Let me be the first to introduce some of you to Skyscanner — AKA the greatest thing since the invention of study abroad. It's a flight-booking website that will search for the best flight deals from destination to destination. It also has a feature where you can put in your departure point and select "everywhere" as the destination. It will then generate the cheapest flights to various cities within Europe for your specified time period — perfect for spontaneous weekend trips.

A month or so ago, I used that feature and came across a 90€ round-trip flight to Geneva, Switzerland. I then booked it a couple of days later.

Only after booking that relatively inexpensive flight did I realize that everything else — EVERYTHING ELSE — within Switzerland is out-of-this-world expensive.

But I digress.

After sleeping in the Málaga Airport overnight (which I'd rather not have to do again), I boarded my Swiss Airlines flight on Thursday morning. We were served drinks, a napolitana (a pastry filled with chocolate), yogurt and a bar of chocolate on the flight. I appreciated that very much, especially considering I've become accustomed to Ryan Air and Easy Jet flights where you're given zippo to consume. As we neared Geneva, the views of the Alps were breathtaking. Whereas the Sierra Nevadas in Andalucía are wide and tree-less, the Alps have countless peaks that jut into the air at different elevations, and trees add a beautiful effect.

Once we arrived in Geneva, I met a friend that I had met in Budapest a couple of months ago and we headed to our hostel. There hadn't been many hostels to choose from, and we ended up paying six times as much per night for the hostel in Geneva as I paid for at the Art Hole in Prague. There were older adults staying at this hostel too, which told me that even working adults (or the retired dentist we met from Toronto) can't afford regular hotels in Switzerland.

We asked a worker there about places to grab some food, and he sent us to a "great, cheap chicken place." Once we got there and looked at the menu, we realized that to the Swiss, "cheap" is 15 SFr. per plate (which is about equivalent to the euro). It was quickly decided that after that meal, we would be buying all of our food at the grocery store.

Afterward, we walked through the city and I was amazed by how high-end everything was. The people were dressed in extremely nice clothing and all the stores were designer (I did not see a single Zara, H&M or anything affordable). We didn't see any street musicians, no homeless people and the streets were very clean. I'd never been to a city this wealthy, and it actually unsettled me. It seemed like a fantasy world — something that wasn't a representation of "normal" life.

Felipe and me by the Jet d'Eau.

So, the next day we got out of the city center. We loaded up on food from a nearby supermarket (and we were given two chocolate bars with our receipt!) and hopped on a bus with the intention of going hiking. The night before, we met a group of Americans by the Jet d'Eau who were studying abroad in Geneva and they told us to hike in the Jura Mountains. They said they were really easy to get to even though the cable car to the top of the mountain was closed.

Long story short, it probably took us an hour and a half after we got off the bus to find a hiking route on the mountain. Felipe used his limited French to ask around where we were supposed to go, and soon after almost giving up, we rejoiced when we found the route markers for multiple hikes.

Hiking was really the only thing that I had known that I wanted to do in Switzerland, which is funny, considering we actually had to cross the French border to hike in the Jura Mountains. 

But it was an amazing and challenging hike.

The first 45 minutes or so was extremely steep hiking, such that you really had to be careful that you didn't slip. We marveled at runners who were somehow traversing their way down the mountain, even though they looked slightly out of control. At the top, we came across a quaint French town called Monnetier-Mornex, and a ways down the road we found a place for a picnic, where the view overlooked another French town in a valley between mountains with the Alps in the background. Absolutely gorgeous. 

Picnic time! Unfortunately the camera didn't capture much of the Alps in the background.

And I have to mention that while we were walking through another French village, we came across some friendly French bulldogs in the yard of a house. So I pet French bulldogs in France. SCORE.

A village in the French countryside.

Eventually we made it back to the hostel and cooked frozen paella and a pizza in the microwave. (Turned out that the hostel didn't have an oven.) There we met a guy from Tokyo who was doing research for a week at the United Nations on the League of Nations. I really wanted to question him about that since I just finished a book that talked a bit about the League, but his English was a little too limited. Felipe enjoyed a little Japanese lesson with him, however.

The auditorium of CERN.

The next morning was rainy, so we headed to CERN, the world's largest particle physics laboratory. This is the place where the "God particle," or the Higgs boson, was discovered two years ago. We weren't able to see the actual particle accelerator, as it was kilometers under the ground and required a special tour, but there were a lot of interesting free exhibits.

A model of the particle accelerator.

Afterward, we headed to the United Nations building, which is the European U.N. headquarters. We couldn't go inside since the building was closed on Saturday, but it was still cool to see the building and the flags of all the member states.

Soon the rain cleared up and we walked more around the lake, which offered more great views of the Alps, the Jura Mountains and the Jet d'Eau.

Those are the Jura Mountains we hiked!

The next morning we both had super early flights, and I was back in Granada on Sunday afternoon.

Since then, I've been doing a little research to figure out why Switzerland is such a wealthy country. It appears there are many factors that contributed to the country's high standard of living, but an interesting factor pertains to World War II. Due to Switzerland's neutrality during the war, many people invested their money in Swiss banks, and the banks even housed the gold and money confiscated from the Jews by the Nazis, much of which was never reclaimed by the Jews, as many perished in the concentration camps (in the Swiss banks' defense, however, they did donate much of that wealth to charity). Additionally, the exchange rate of the Swiss franc remained stable during both world wars because of Switzerland's neutrality, which countered the hyperinflation that other nations were experiencing.

As beautiful as Geneva was, I do not have an urgent desire to return to Switzerland (unless the opportunity to ski in the Alps comes up!). I like cities with a little grub and with more character and personality. Geneva was prim, proper and quiet.

But for a 90€ round-trip ticket, it was worth it. Thanks, Skyscanner.

Marching Illini Ireland tour

The Trojan Marching Band in front of Parliament in London! 01/01/2011

Melissa and me before the
St. Patrick's Day parade! 03/17/2014

Music is a common language that people across the world can share and enjoy together. 

For this reason, the ability to play music will present opportunities for travel. For myself specifically, marching band has allowed me to travel abroad for some of the most unique experiences I'll ever have. Four years ago, I traveled with the Downers Grove North Trojan Marching Band to London to play in the New Year's Day parade. And a week ago, I traveled with the Marching Illini to Ireland to perform in the St. Patrick's Day parade in Dublin.

So basically, whoever says band isn't cool is lying.

When I first heard that the MI was going to Ireland, I was ecstatic. As many of you know, Illinois' football team is, to put in nicely, struggling, and it doesn't look like a bowl game trip is in my future. Even when Illinois went to the Kraft Fight Hunger bowl in San Francisco three years ago, there wasn't enough money for the whole band to go. So I, as a lowly freshman, was left at home.

For the past few months Melissa and I have been planning for this trip from abroad — arranging for people to pick up our uniforms and piccolos (100,000 thank you's, Ashley and Jared!), listening to YouTube videos of Runaway Baby and trying to memorize the music without a piccolo, finding a "hostel" for the night before the band arrived (probably only Melissa will understand those quotation marks), and trying to figure out how and when to meet up with the band. Luckily, everything turned out in the end.

Photo credit: lonelyplanet.com

1. Getting to Ireland

The day before we were to take off for Ireland, I printed my boarding passes and realized my connection flight in London wasn't within Heathrow Airport, but from Gatwick to Heathrow. I had to make an AIRPORT transfer.

Later, Melissa tried to check-in online, but eventually realized that her payment for the flight never went through. AKA she had no way to get to Ireland 12 hours before we were supposed to leave.

So, we ended up on separate travel paths, and eventually met up in the Shannon Airport in Ireland. I paid for an overpriced bus transfer between Gatwick and Heathrow (especially since the dollar is weaker to the pound than to the euro) and Melissa paid too much for a last-minute flight, but we successfully traveled alone and got to our hotel just before midnight.

2. Limerick

Melissa and I had about half a day to kill in Limerick before the rest of the band arrived, so we set out on Friday morning to explore the city. We also had to feed ourselves that day, so our first stop was Aldi, which was conveniently right outside the hotel. We settled on Nutella and a loaf of bread for breakfast, and lunchmeat and the rest of the bread for lunch. That sure made us feel like broke college kids. But I have to say, it was delicious cheap food.

Some of the MI started arriving around 4 p.m. There were a ton of problems with flights being delayed and cancelled because of an Aer Lingus strike, so the band arrived sporadically, with some not getting to Ireland until Saturday! Seeing everyone again was so surreal — it felt like I was entering a different life. I've essentially been on vacation for a few months, and they've been in Chambana. But it was so fun to share stories and settle back in with my MI family, especially with my piccs!

3. Cliffs of Moher

The cliffs were breathtaking and gorgeous. As the MI was split into two hotels in Limerick (as not all hotels are equipped to handle an influx of 250 people), it was also where I finally saw the rest of the band! And with 100% attendance, squad 41 was reunited. 

Squad 41 at the Cliffs!

4. Dublin St. Patrick's Day parade

News video clip

The MI was the last group in the parade — AKA the grand finale, the best for last, et cetera. Before we stepped off, we met bands from Germany (whose members were taking smoke breaks in between warming up — that was different), Louisiana State University and a couple of high school bands from the East Coast.

The parade itself went by so quickly. It was a two-mile route and we marched for more than an hour, but there was so much to look at and remember to do that it felt like it lasted 20 minutes. I was in the front row of the band, so I really had to pretend that I knew what I was doing. I was prepped a little bit before we started — modified attention position, we'd alternate between Illinois March and Runaway Baby, the tempo was a lot faster in Runaway Baby so be ready to walk faster. The grand finale to the modifications, which turned out to be new for everyone, was that we would do horn flashes during Runaway Baby while marching. In theory that sounded great, but in practice it was so difficult. I wish I had a video of myself doing figure 8's with my head while trying to play the music and marching in a straight line at the same time.

A snapshot from the live feed of the parade.

Anyway, with all that going on, I actively had to tell myself to look around while we were marching. There were 500,000 people at the parade, all decked out in green and Irish flags, some hanging off statues and others reaching out over the barriers to touch us. At one point I had someone stick an iPhone in my face and take video while we were playing in place. At multiple points during the parade, we broke off to do meet and greets. During one of these, I heard someone yell "Kirsten!" and there was Muriel, who I work on the copy desk with at The Daily Illini and who is studying abroad in Dublin! The luck of the Irish must have made that happen.

During these meet and greets, I also heard comments from the crowd that they loved how happy and excited we all looked. It's so easy for these sort of parades to be intimidating, such that you worry the whole time about how it's going. However, I think most of the MI was able to let that go and soak everything in for what it was. Sure, mistakes were made. But we couldn't help but smile through it all, and I think the crowd enjoyed that.

The piccolo section!

5. Guinness Storehouse

Right after the parade and after our boxed lunches (I had missed those!), we headed to the Guinness Storehouse to perform. The Storehouse is the tourist-y part of the brewery, which is a huge employer in Dublin. The Storehouse has multiple levels with a common, open central area, and different sections circled on different levels. The piccolos were on the third level, and we all looked down to the floor level to see the drum majors and Professor Houser conducting. The effect was amazing. The music boomed throughout the building, and I loved seeing the happy looks on the tourist's faces as we played. During low brass cheer, we broke off from the railing and started circling around unsuspecting visitors. Only then did they look a little scared.

After we played, we took a tour of the Storehouse and sampled beer along the way, which will most likely be the one and only time I'll be allowed to drink in uniform. But man, Guinness is good!

6. St. Patty's Day festivities!

Surprisingly, the eve of St. Patrick's Day was the crazier and busier night. Melissa, Rachel and I went out with a group of trumpets on Sunday night and we all came across one area where there were a lot of pubs in a really concentrated area, and people were spilling out into the streets, drinking and having fun. When it was time to head back to the hotel, eight of us piled into a five or so-person taxi. The driver, a sweet old guy, warned us that he'd have to pull of the road and people would have to get out if we came across police, but we disregarded that, thinking it wouldn't happen. But sure enough, 10 minutes or so into the ride, there was a group of police cars at the upcoming intersection, so the driver pulled to the side of the road. Alek and Megan hopped out, and the driver told them to walk to the intersection and cross the street, and he'd wait for them around the corner. We got a kick out of that, and made sure to thank the driver profusely.

The next night we headed to the Temple Bar area of Dublin, which is a pretty, cobbled-street area with lots of bars. We headed into a bar that was playing some oldies tunes, and we joined a group of British guys that were having a great time dancing.

As we were leaving Ireland the next day and a lot of our buses to the airport were at 3:30 a.m., we decided to stay out all night until we had to load the buses. That was an idea that was great at the time but one that made the guy sitting next to me on the plane ask if I'd had a rough night and also one that made me fall asleep during class the next day.

But was everything worth it?

Of course.

May the road rise to meet you, may the wind blow at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face. The rains fall soft upon your fields, and until we meet again, may God hold you in the palm of his hand.

                                                                         — Irish Blessing

Assimilation

For the past two weeks, I've finally felt completely at home in Granada.

I've always been open to change, but I consistently have a long adjustment period afterward. This definitely held true to the latest change I've gone through, AKA uprooting my life in the United States and plopping down in southern Spain to coexist with a completely different family and culture for four months.

I wrote a post a month or so ago about homesickness. Looking back at that, while I remember those feelings, I now feel completely different.

My host family's habits and customs don't intimidate and confuse me anymore. I'm used to some of the strange things they say now, and I can laugh at them. I can sit in the apartment and not feel out of place or like I don't have a purpose. Part of that is that classes have picked up here, and tests and papers consume parts of my day. We're also constantly making travel plans, and while I am in no way complaining about that, it takes a lot of time and effort to coordinate. I am also starting to plan my life when I return to the United States — I need to find an apartment in Dayton, Ohio, for the summer and I need to pick out my senior year classes. SENIOR YEAR CLASSES. That sounds horrifying and exciting at the same time.

My ear is now used to the Andalusian accent, and when I overhear conversations, I no longer hear a rapid mash of who knows what, but more so it sounds like comprehendible Spanish. I don't have to ask "¿cómo?" as much in the house when my family talks to me. My speaking abilities are improving, but Spanish really is a difficult language to speak since there are so many verb tenses that don't exist in English! At least I know my accent has improved greatly.

I have planned out my first meal when I get back to the States (Aurelio's pizza, a fruit platter, salad and a huge glass of milk — por favor mom and dad!), but even so I don't crave American food as much as I did in the beginning. Instead, I have come to crave some of the meals that my host mom makes (pisto con huevos fritos y paella especialmente!) Also, note to roommates in the Ugly Shrub — our meals will surely have some Spanish influence next semester!

A lot of us here are starting to talk about how little time we have left in Europe — time is flying and we're getting anxious about the inevitable end. We've been opened up to a world of traveling — the more we travel, the more we know what else we're missing. I've already been to places that I didn't think I'd travel to during this trip, but there are also places that I planned on going but now I won't be able to, because of time and money. It feels like a curse and a blessing at the same time.

But, we are savoring every moment we have here as much as we can. We now have the Spanish culture under our belts, and are focusing on what we still want to do here while we can.

Aprovecha el día.

Córdoba y Sevilla

Photo credit: lonelyplanet.com

Sun and siestas. That pretty much sums up my past weekend in Sevilla (Seville).

But first, we made a pit stop in Córdoba on Friday for a day trip with our school.

Córdoba, a separate province from Granada, is best known for its cathedral, which actually originated as a mosque. The mosque was built in 784, but after the Spanish Reconquista in 1236 in Córdoba, it was used as a church and later a cathedral was built inside of it. After having visited countless cathedrals in Europe, I was happy to see something a little different. So much that I neglected to take pictures of the cathedral part. Sorry!

We saw some other beautiful places in Córdoba, including the street of flowers. Córdoba is a great place to visit in May, because there is a "patio festival" where people open up their patios to the public, and the patios are decorated with tons of flowers and plants. We saw the beginning signs of that festival. Qué bonita.

The calle de flores, with the alminar
of the cathedral in the background.

The gardens of the Alcázar palace.

After Córdoba, ten of us headed over to Sevilla for the rest of the weekend. Sevilla is the capital of Andalucía, which is one of the autonomous communities of Spain (Granada is part of Andalucía as well).

We stayed in the Garden Backpacker hostel, which reminded me of the Art Hole in Prague. It was small, eclectic, had free sangria and we were served paella one night for €6!

The lobby of the hostel.

On the patio! Such great weather.

Per custom, we did the free city walking tour on Saturday morning. Our guide, Medi, ("like medieval without the 'evil,'") was quite a character, rife with facts and sexual innuendos to keep our attention. We also heard a lot about his Polish ex-wife, whom he fell for because Moroccans are crazy about blondes. But really, it was a good tour, especially since Sevilla is absolutely gorgeous. I broke out my maxi-dress and sandals for the first time this season and bore my pasty skin to the Andalusian sunshine!

There's Medi! In the background is the Torre del Oro,
which was used as a watchtower along the Guadalquivir River.

Plaza de España. Absolutely gorgeous, and less than a century old!

All the provinces in Spain had a special area in the Plaza de España. Here's Granada!

The Plaza de Toros. AKA the bullfighting ring.

The rest of the weekend basically consisted of eating gelato and tapas (which, unlike in Granada, are not free) and moving from place to place, taking siestas in the sun. We are living the Spanish life right here. 

On top of the Metrapol Parasol, better known as the mushroom. 

A lovely siesta in the Parque de María Luisa.

There were so many bands practicing for Semana Santa in Sevilla! We'd just be walking down a street and hear some music in the distance, and suddenly there'd be a band marching down the street! Conveniently, a bunch of bands congregated just down the street from the hostel, so I hung out there for a while just listening to them play! Their sounds were generally big and brassy, but even so they were very talented.

And of course, we did the Sevilla pub crawl. One of the funny things about pub crawls is that there's a guide who will take you around to all these bars, and then basically drop you off at a club at the end of the night. So around 6 a.m., it's up to you to find your way back home. This has proven to be very difficult in every city we've done a pub crawl in thus far. Patti had packed a map, but we basically sat laughing at ourselves for 20 minutes while we tried to remember what street our hostel was on and what street we were currently on. But, one way or another, we have always found a way to get home. This time, miraculously the guys we were talking to in the club came out and "happened to run into us" and then helped us get back. So, if there's a lesson in this, befriend locals. 

One more siesta to leave you with.

¡Hasta luego!

A reaction to the press in Spain

So the good news is that Spaniards (at least from the small population sample I've encountered) watch a lot of news on T.V.

When I sit down with my host family for lunch, they turn on the news. When I sit down for dinner, the news is on again. As a journalism major, this doesn't really bother me, as I'm gaining an understanding for how the Spanish press functions.

But believe me, it's a lot different than the press in the United States.

On a daily basis, I'll watch stories with amateur video showing police beating citizens in Venezuela and people throwing what looks like fireballs at police in Ukraine. I've seen the naked bodies of the singers in the Russian punk band "Pussy Riot." I've grimaced as cameras zoomed in on drunken youth trying to barf after consuming a little too much at botellón (botellón is basically the equivalent of a pregame, where there are public places in Spain where you can drink). I've seen the bloody organs of people undergoing surgery.

These are images that I have never seen on American news stations. And it made me think, "Why haven't I seen these types of violent and graphic images before?" The United States has a very independent press, and I couldn't think of any laws restricting the types of images shown on T.V.

So, I emailed Jeff Unger, a wonderful and informative journalism professor I've had at the University of Illinois. I asked him if it is essentially an ethical issue for T.V. stations to decide what images to show to audiences. Here is his response:

"I'm sure you've heard the saying (not heard as frequently as it used to be) about American TV news: "If it bleeds, it leads."

I think American TV in general tends to be less 'blood and guts' than TV in many European nations, Mexico and South America. I don't know about Australia, and I'm guessing Canada is much less prone to graphic news photos.

Showing those images is not, however, restricted by our FCC; what's shown pretty much is up to station management in the U.S. Big city news (WGN is a good example) is more graphic than small-town news (the stations in Champaign-Urbana, for example).

Of course, Chicago has much more day-to-day violent crime, and the feeling among producers for the stations there is that the audiences are accustomed to the nightly shootings and other forms of violence, and therefore, they are somewhat inured to seeing it night after night. It's disheartening to think people are so accustomed to violence that they become numb to witnessing the result of it on their TV screens.

Bottom line: It IS an ethical issue, insofar as each station pretty much is on its own in terms of deciding what to show."

So now I wonder — which approach is better/more informative?

As I become accustomed to the way news is reported in Spain, like Jeff said, I am becoming "numb" to the graphic images I am seeing. I now expect them, and the violence I'm seeing doesn't shock me as much.

Although I cannot understand everything that is being said on the news programs here, I do not think the stories give as much informational content as those in the United States. The segments are very short, and many times, if the stations don't have a lot of video or image content, they will repeatedly show the same images as B-roll throughout the segment.

So, I'm favoring the American approach to the news. But is it beneficial to see the extent of some violence, such as how violent the protests in Ukraine are? Does that make people pay more attention? Does it draw more interest? Does it make people understand the situation better?

What do you think?

New country, new surprises

Before I left for Spain, my friend Alexa told me to write a blog post about the unexpected things I'd encounter abroad. So Alexa, this one's for you.

1. Sites like Pandora and Netflix don't work here.
But no need to fear — there's a way to get around it. You can download "Hola Unblocker" on Google Chrome, and click the little fireball icon on your toolbar when you reach the site. Hola will then remove the regional block on the site.

2. The people in Granada are very blunt and forceful.
I am definitely not in the Midwest anymore, which is arguably the most polite region of the U.S. Here, people generally won't move out of the way when you're trying to pass them on the narrow sidewalks, and in busy stores they will push past you and in front of you if you're not aggressive enough. The Spaniards in our host families don't hesitate to tell us girls that either we have gotten fatter, or we are going to get fat because we eat so much. Sure, maybe we have bought one too many tortas de chocolate from the bread lady (But really, who can turn down €.50 deliciousness?). We'd just rather no one tell us that.

I've come to realize that these differences are not because Spaniards are rude, it's just a part of the culture. Even so, I don't think I'll ever get used to it.

3. When I traveled out to Central Europe, I never had to reset my watch.
Even though Spain lines up longitudinally with Britain, Portugal and Morocco, it is one hour ahead of those aforementioned countries. In the '40s, Spain's Fascist dictator Francisco Franco turned the clocks ahead one hour to line up with Nazi Germany. The clocks haven't been changed back, but there is some discussion of doing so.

4. "Weefee" is always an adventure.
Yes, it's true, "Wi-Fi" is actually pronounced like "weefee" here, since "i" in Spanish is pronounced how Americans say the letter "e." It sounded weird at first, but now I've become so accustomed to saying it that it's going to be hard to go back to the English pronunciation.

Anyway, most coffee shops in the U.S. offer Wi-Fi that can be automatically connected to. Here, in most places you need to buy something in order to get a Wi-Fi password, which expires after a couple of hours. If there is "free Wi-Fi," most likely your browser will never load and your texts will never send.

At my host family's apartment, we didn't have Wi-Fi for a couple of weeks, and then for another couple of weeks the router's signal wasn't strong enough to reach my room down the hall. Even now, the signal isn't strong enough to enjoy Netflix. But that's OK — I just write these blog posts instead, for your enjoyment.

Basically, I will never take Wi-Fi for granted again.

5. Going abroad makes you very patriotic.
It doesn't matter if people are bashing or supporting the U.S. — we ("we" being the American students studying here) find ourselves trying to put in a good word about the good 'ol U S of A wherever we can.

It may be a defensive reflex, as most of us came here thinking that foreigners look at Americans as rich, spoiled and obnoxious. Oh, and fat. Can't forget that.

Just the other day, I was watching the news with my host family and some segment came on that made my host sister ask if all American kids are fat. I immediately got on the defense, saying that that is what a lot of foreigners think, but obesity levels among American youth are actually decreasing. (And no, I didn't just pull that fact out of my butt — I had remembered receiving a news alert from the Washington Post about it.)

On the other hand, I like to see that a lot of Spaniards are very fond of President Obama, much more than they are of their own president, Mariano Rajoy.

Coming abroad to a country with a 26.7 percent unemployment rate — based on 2013's last quarterly report (the U.S.'s unemployment rate is at 7.3 percent) — and looking at the U.S. from a distance makes you realize that every country has problems that are not conceivable until you put them into perspective with the rest of the world. The U.S. is a huge and vastly diverse country, and therefore trying to keep everything running relatively smoothly is a feat, and one that I think Americans can be proud of.

6. My technological problems followed me to Europe.
Technology rarely goes smoothly for me. My laptop, which had chronic problems in the U.S., fizzed out on me here and was unusable until I brought it into a quasi-Apple store in Granada. There, the tech guy told me just how to shake it (yes, I was instructed to shake my laptop) so as to shift the RAM into place. I still have to shake it about two or three times daily.

My phone has also started to vibrate whenever it wants to and ring even when it's on silent.

But hey, I'm in Europe, so all's fine.

That's all I've got for now, but there will surely be more to come!