Impulsive Rhythm Nation

I would always like to think of myself as someone of a rather exciting nature. Oftentimes, however, that is just not the case. I’m rather not as spontaneous as I would enjoy being and I do like sticking to a plan (even if said plan is just time marked out for “wandering around” time). Incognizant, I seem to have been working on this lack of excitement that I’ve always desired to have. I have, with in the last three weeks made a few “last minute” decisions that I would otherwise never find myself doing. One: Cadiz. The other: Sevilla.

Now as I last left off, I was toying with the idea of going to Cadiz for Carnaval. This trip was composed of a 20 Euro round-trip-over-night-bonanza that was bound to be anything but uneventful. I later realized I would never, ever be more correct in my life. Between not wanting to be a stick in the mud, almost choosing Cadiz to study in and the wise words once spoken to me by a former professor wise beyond her years which went a little something like, “Go to Cadiz... it'll be more blogging material than you'll know what to do with. That is a big PRO,” I chose to march my way over to the travel agent and demand my ticket to Carnaval. To my dismay, they were sold out. I then convinced the man, who, smoked at least 6 cigarettes during our conversation and picked up the phone at least two times, to take my name and number and let me know if any “plazas” opened up. Fortunately enough for me, one did! So, easy as that I was off on my way to Carnaval in Cadiz. Dressed as an Indian (Native American), no less!
I also recall from my last post of predicting a number of terrible things. Going back reading it now, there was no fallout between friends, no one missed the bus, and no one (to my knowledge) got in a fit about there not being enough to do (because there was entirely TOO much to do). Some people did however: got mugged/pick pocketed and had to go to the hospital (not me, phew!). Lists of injuries included falling/walking on broken glass and a 40oz. Cruzcampo bottle to the face. Noice. Unscathed, I am able to have a rather positive outlook on carnival despite a few hours that are still not entirely clear to me. I managed to lose my costume (?) and get myself a couple of sweet bruises the size of Texas on my hip and shoulder. In all, everyone had a great time and thankfully everyone made it back.

As for my latest stint into trying to make myself content with my level of excitement had come hand-in-hand with a visit of the College of Charleston study abroad group and a few teachers I thoroughly enjoy (no, I don't mind stroking y'all's ego since you both happen to be avid, or so I hope, readers). The group was in the middle of their Tour de Andalucia when it landed them in Granada. So of course I am not going to pass up the opportunity to hang out with some awesome people and show them some of the things to do around town. Their last night in Granada, I was invited to Sevilla with the group. Now, this was after three glasses of wine and a few beers, so I of course said, "Sure, why not?!" I soon left the group so that they could get their beauty rest and I could make it to the club "Mae West" for a few moments for my friends birthday. The next, quite groggy morning I realized what I had agreed to and was shocked. Not only had I not followed my programs rules by letting them know the exact whereabouts at every given second of the moment I step foot out of downtown Granada, but I had also agreed to a not-so-small weekend vacation. Regardless, I had the time of my life. Everyone in the group from CofC is so unique and brings their own "flair" to the group. Not to mention both of the professors keep everyone ridiculously grounded. So awesome and definitely mad props you two.

As for everything else that is coming up in the near future, I'm having Sevilla: Round II this coming weekend. I've been designated "Tour Guide" as I am one at school and am now, apparently, an aficionado of Sevilla (who knew?!). We're also going to Cordoba during one of the days, Gibraltar and then finally Tarifa. I'm very, very excited. And things should be rather calm. Hopefully. Then I get a weekend off and then I'll be off to Morocco! I'm extremely excited about this trip and really thrilled to put my Arabic to use. Then following that I'll be off to Sardinia for a fun-filled European Vacay with my host family (practically) in Barcelona.
I'm also looking for one more trip to take, I'm trying desperately to make it to Prague to visit my friends Emily and Jenna, but it's looking more and more impossible. Damn being in Granada (just kidding I love you)!

OH! Before I forget. My first Junta de Andalucia bus ride was today. It definitely merits some sort of discussion. First and foremost, I wish I was lying about this entire experience. So CofC and friends leave the Hotel Catalunya Giralda at about 12:20ish in the afternoon which allows me to get lost in Sevilla and discover a few nooks that I otherwise would not have found since my bus left at 2:30. I go to the bus station and buy my ticket with the 20 Euro I have left to my name until I returned back to Granada. So this left me with .20 Euro for food (and we all know how much I LOVE food) so that kinda stunk. So I end up sketching in my sketch book and reading Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse (which I am not too impressed with) to keep me busy and keep my mind off the fact that I have no money in the rare, but likely case something were to happen which required money. When I get on the bus, the seats aren't numbered even though there are assigned seats on our tickets. Everyone on the bus realized this and let it affect them to a minor extent. Two people, however, were extremely distraught by this "shake up". This old man and his wife are some of the last to get on the bus (not to mention the lady right next to me smelled like she had not showered in years) and they cannot come to terms with the fact that the bus has no numbers even though they were assigned numbers. The old man then stops to a 20-something year old man right behind me and demands that he move because these seats must be his. The boy gets into an argument which then sends the older man (I'm guessing 70's). Up to the bus driver to protest. The bus driver then tells the older man that there, in fact, are no numbers on this bus and that he just has to do the best finding a seat close to his wife if they want to sit together. Long story short, he makes a person move so that the old couple may sit together. Strange occurrence number two: a seemingly homeless man had somehow made it on the bus and had thrown a jacket over his head in an attempt, I'm assuming, to appear asleep and that the conductor wouldn't mind him. The girl right next to the man with the jacket over his head goes up to the front complaining about how the man next to her smells and is wearing no shoes. The bus driver then gets up again and removes the man from the bus. Fortunately, the 2 hour bus rude went by so smoothly UNTIL we get to Granada. Our bus driver (who must have been a last minute replacement) drives by the exit for Granada. He pulls off the carretera and then heads back to the exit that he just missed.... and ends up missing it again. I wish I was joking. Finally, after the entire bus yelling directions we made it to the Estacion de Autobuses in Granada in one piece (and unfortunately it's about an hour and a half walk away from my house here). Regardless I ran across some absolutely gorgeous parks and buildings that I did not know existed before my forced march back to Calle Rey Abu Said.