Erin's Expedition

Barcelona

erinkobannon@gmail.com (erino) — Sat, 24 Apr 2010 07:58:00 +0000

Flew to Barcelona yesterday morning. Just in time for Día de Sant Jordi (St. Geroge Day), which is the Spanish version of Valentine's Day. There are roses being sold EVERYWHERE, in any color you could ask for, even rainbow. It is also el día de los libros (book day), so there are tents set up in all the plazas selling books. Several of them also have authors signing throughout the day. I had a book called Fantasias animadas by Berta Marse inscribed.

I came to Barcelona this weekend to visit my friend from high school spanish class, John Neff. So I was calling him throughout the morning trying to meet up. However, he has a spanish girlfriend, so he was spending the day with her. I decided to get myself away from all the cuddly couples and roses on the street by having some retail therapy. I spent a lot of time in Desigual because I really want to get something from there, but I couldn't find anything I really liked enough to pay those prices. Their swim suits are adorable, however, if you don't have a butt as big as mine. I also went into the other spanish stores: Mango, Zara, Berska. Made my first purchase from Zara of an ADORABLE dress. Can't wait to wear it. I also got a really cute flower headpiece that I can wear at graduation, and, well, everywhere. I would've bought something much bigger and ostentatious, but they're kind of expensive, easy to make and hard to fit in a suitcase.

Today I'm heading to the Dalí Museum in Figueres. I'm really excited. Salvador Dalí is my favorite artist. Hopefully I'll have tons of pictures to add when I get back.

Semana Santa - Las Fallas de Valencia

erinkobannon@gmail.com (erino) — Thu, 22 Apr 2010 19:43:00 +0000

Stage 1.2 La Crema

We woke up around noon on Friday. We immediately got into the car to drive into the city and see the last show of noise fireworks. They're set off at 2 pm every day for about two weeks before the Crema of the fallas. And they're supposed to have a certain rhythm to them. The plaza is always packed for the fireworks show, and especially for the last show, so we wanted to get there early. We worked our way through the crowd and squeezed into a small bar to get a breakfast of patatas bravas and calamari. Then headed back outside to see/hear the show.

After the fireworks, everyone disappears from the streets and into the bars to drink until the crema begins. We walked a few blocks away from the middle of the city to try to find someplace where we could have a sufficient meal. Cote said he was going to buy us lunch because it was his saint's day. Saint's days are more important than birthdays here in Spain. I'm actually surprised he didn't have something planned. We got some Manchego cheese, greek salad, ham (obvi) and a steak.

As we ate we made plans for the rest of the day...and the night. My plan was to go back and take a nap before the night's events. So after waiting forever for the slow service (I was watching the seasons and years go by before we got a bottle of water we asked for three times), we found a cab and went back to siesta.

Around seven, we piled into Cote's car and drove into the chaos. I'm not sure how we were successful in finding a parking spot. As we walked into the center of town, it seemed as though we were in a war zone. There were policemen and ambulances everywhere. Booms of fireworks were constantly going off, sounding like bombs and gunshots. All shops were closed. The only thing missing was pillaging. But people were obviously dressed up in the traditional costume. Everyone was drinking and smiling because little quiosks on the corners were selling beer and ice cream.

We wandered through the streets looking at the different fallas for a while, and we were also in search for a place to buy fireworks. Eventually we found one and got in line. As we were waiting, we saw a couple men dash by, followed by police. The men were illegal immigrants who had been selling goods on the street, which is illegal. Obviously, since there were cops everywhere and the men were not being discreet about what they were doing (it was happening everywhere you looked), they got caught. But not before making a break for it. When immigrants are arrested in Spain, they go to jail for about two years and then are sent back to their home country, usually to be imprisoned. Illegal immigrants are just deported.

Well, this guy really didn't want to go back. He ran through stands set up in the street selling souvenirs. We could see them swaying as he ran from one side to another and the police followed. When they came back, man in cuffs, there was a woman yelling at the cop for being unnecessarily violent. He had tazered the man. I think the woman took all the police officer's information to file a complaint.

So we bought our fireworks and set of a few of the small ones before deciding to get something cheap for dinner. We picked Burger King. However, we couldn't find it. All of us knew we had seen it, and passed it, but when and where? We got too impatient and instead got bocadillos at some small cafe. THEN we went to set off some fireworks. We bought about a thousand tiny ones, four really loud bombs, roman candles, flying saucers and one giant string of 50. I set off my roman candle and we all tossed a few of the little ones, but then things were starting to burn.

We wandered over to a big one that someone said was going to burn at 10. There were very few people there when we showed up, so we got really close to the front. We were standing there for an hour waiting for them to be ready to burn the thing though. There was a big sheet of protective fabric, which firefighters were spraying down, covering the corner and side of one building. Valencians literally build the fallas in the middle of the street, not necessarily in an open space.

Finally, they lit the fireworks and the giant paper maché structure began to burn! It was so amazing! And hot. And as soon as that one was finished, we knew we could walk in any direction to see another one burn to the ground. It's quite fantastic to see.

After watching a few burn, we went to go set off the rest of our fireworks. I can't believe they allow regular people to set off some of those things. The string of 50, which I thought would be like what Macaulay Culkin had in Home Alone, turned out to be what they used to light the fallas. ¡Fenomenal!

After all that activity, we were pretty tired. Cote wanted to meet up with his friends and celebrate some more. But after having some (delicious!) variation of churros and chocolate, Steph, Darlene and I decided to go back and go to bed. That was a really good decision.

Semana Santa - Las Fallas de Valencia

erinkobannon@gmail.com (erino) — Wed, 21 Apr 2010 20:39:00 +0000

Semana Santa - Stage 1.1

Las Fallas of Valencia

My vacations for Semana Santa began on 18 March. Steph, Darlene and I had plans to go down to Valencia to see what Las Fallas are all about. Darlene's host brother, Cote, offered to drive us down there and let us stay in his apartment for the fiesta. Free transportation and a place to stay cannot be passed up, so of course we said yes.

We drove down on Thursday afternoon to avoid the traffic on Friday, though I was still recovering from a stomach flu that hit me Wednesday. I had forgotten how much fun road trips are with your friends. We put in the mix that Liz had made and kept our eyes open for any Toros on the side of the road.

When we arrived in Valencia the traffic was already crazy. There were roads blocked off everywhere. Cote drove to his apartment, but then told us that we wouldn't actually be staying there. I guess it is an apartment belonging to his work, so all of his co-workers were staying there as well. He told us that if he showed up with three girls, everyone would think there was going to be a party. (I was under the impression, and still am, that Las Fallas WAS a party.) Instead, he said, we were going to stay in a couple of dorm rooms at the University. One of his friends works there, and he hooked us up.

Now, the girls had been joking for a while that Cote was going to put Steph and I in one room, and say Darlene would have to share a room with him. He has a bit of a crush on her. And now we were absolutely sure that was going to happen. Darlene was less than pleased. But we all got settled in and ready to head into the center of town.

There was a train stop right outside of the dorm, so we hopped right on. Unfortunately, it has a payment system like that in Phoenix: buy the ticket on the platform and you won't get fined for being caught without one. No one was checking for tickets on our train, luckily, but we knew better for next time.

As soon as we got off the train we could hear kids setting off fireworks. These weren't just the little, dinky fireworks that you can buy for fourth of July. No, these are the giant ones that I think only professionals should be allowed to set off. And you never knew when one was going to set off right behind you, right in front of you, as you walked over it. But no one (except us) seemed bothered by it at all.

We crossed the bridge going over a long park that borders the inner city of Valencia. There were hot air balloons all lit up and of course more fireworks. Many of the people passing us were all dressed up in traditional costume. They looked fantastic. Eventually, we made it to the plaza de la Virgin where every year they construct a humongous Virgin María made out of flowers. She's gorgeous. Women in traditional costume (presumably participating in some version of a Miss Fallas pageant) paraded by after dropping off their flowers to honor María. They looked absolutely fenomenal.

We had planned to meet up with some of Cote's friends, but not until later, so we decided to sit down and have something to eat. We crammed ourselves into a tiny, packed bar (aka cervezeria) and immediately ordered sangria. We also got two different types of bocadillo and some patatas bravas. It's a good thing our meal was giant (because we were starving) because we were walking walking walking all through the city for the rest of the night.

I guess Cote and his friends couldn't decide where to meet, so we spent half the night walking past every different Falla in the city. Of course, Cote hardly gave us time to snap a photo of them. Finally, we stop for a minute. Cote disappears inside a cervezeria and returns with a soda + wine. He offers a taste to us all. The wine coke is a common drink here (who knew?) and they call it calimocho. The only way I can describe the taste is: wine float. If you've had wine and you've had an ice-cream float and you like both of those things, then you'll like the calimocho.

Finally, one of Cote's friends meets up with us. However, our next move was to follow follow follow him through the city again until we met up with everyone at some little bar. (I must add that at one point during all this wandering we happened upon a bar-b-que. In the street. Literally coals on the pavement with a grill set on top.) They bought us beers, we sat down, we chatted for a bit. And then they said we were going to go watch the fireworks...from the roof of some girl's apartment. She had left them her keys. And now I can tell you that fireworks are really great from on top of a roof. Also, concerts, as there was one going on in the street below us. The fireworks were over at about 1:30 am. The night was still young, so we decided to go meet up with other friends who were bartending at an outdoor concert.

After another long walk we arrived at the place where the concert had just ended. Everyone was drunk, and leaving. But since Cote's friends were the bartenders, we were able to snag a beer before they closed the tent. What remained once everyone had left was a mud pit. A giant field of mud. And mud is not that much fun when there's no music to listen to, but we stayed to chat for a bit.

Darlene and Steph thought they had done enough for one night and decided to walk the now only few blocks back to the dorm and go to bed. I am going to graduate and have few nights remaining to have fun, so I decided to stay with Cote and his crew. While they decided where they wanted to go, Cote thought he would confess to me how much he loves Darlene. Clearly, he was drunk. Literally, he said, "Estoy enamorado de Darlene". That's real serious in case you don't speak Spanish. And he went on to explain the whole situation to me, which I'm not going to do because my posts are already waaaaay too long. Finally everyone decided we were going to (take the train to) a different bar.

We all got on the train, but somehow (I don't pretend to understand the brains of males) Cote must have thought we had a thing going because I sympathized so well to his situation with Darlene. He spent the train ride trying to kiss me. As that was clearly the end of my fun, I said we should go back. Instead of figuring out where we needed to go, Cote just got off the train at the next station. He asked a couple in that station where we needed to go and we followed their directions. They had also boarded the same train. All the while, Cote is trying to make out with me. I'd had enough, so I called Steph. Cote pulled me off the train at the next stop so we could catch a cab.

There were no cabs. I was visibly irritated at this point, but Cote seemed to think he could make me happy again by buying me churros con chocolate. In a normal situation, that would have worked. However, it was 6 am on the morning of the crema. I wanted to be asleep and away from this weirdo. FINALLY a cab came and drove us back. It was 7 am before I got in bed.

Ryanair Sucks

erinkobannon@gmail.com (erino) — Wed, 14 Apr 2010 14:44:00 +0000

Ryanair sucks. They seem fenomenal when you're booking your flight and it costs a mere 25 € roundtrip.

But then you get to the airport.

Actually flying with Ryanair is a horrible experience. Unless you buy your ticket at the counter, and, come on, who does that anymore? you must check-in online and print your boarding pass. They say it's no problem if you have printer issues or no printer. But what they really mean is that it will cost you 40€ for them to print it for you at the airport. This is "because there are no printers" at the airport.

If by some luck you did print your boarding pass or you had enough cash to buy a new one, you then get to go through the super-fun process of checking your bags or trying to fit your normally-acceptable carry-on into the shockingly small testing cage. Don't forget that you're only allowed ONE (1) piece of hand luggage. No, you can't also carry a purse or computer. Those things must fit into your carry-on, which must fit into the tester-cage. I have witnessed several people breaking pieces off of their luggage in order to make it fit, only to be charged the 35€ because, clearly, it won't.

Now your flight is delayed an hour. Next your gate changes sending you and one hundred other people sprinting through the airport.

Alright, so you made it on the plane, though your wallet may be much smaller than you had expected when flying with Ryanair. Time for a good nap before your busy day of sightseeing/conferences/dealing with family ahead. Well, no. The Ryanair crew are going to interrupt your little siesta every 15 minutes or so to try to sell you over-priced goods like food, drinks, perfumes and lotions, lottery tickets and even smokeless cigarettes. I am actually tempted to buy those and see how they work. But...I'd rather be sleeping. And there's no way you won't hear the announcements that Carol is coming through the cabin. The volume on the speakers will pierce through even the loudest iPod.

Finally, you land, everyone applauds (literally. I've seen this happen several times only on Ryanair flights.) You're late. Yet, they still insist on playing a recording of a leprechaun announcing that the airline with the most on-time flights, Ryanair, has again landed on time.

Please get me off this plane asap.

Want more evidence of how much Ryanair sucks? Google it, or start here: http://www.ihateryanair.co.uk/

Chefchaouen, Morocco

erinkobannon@gmail.com (erino) — Sun, 11 Apr 2010 20:41:00 +0000

On the third day we ate breakfast for the last time with our families. Of course, we had fresh bread and cookies to go with our tea. Steph, Nora and I made sure to take pictures with all the family before we left.

On our way out of the city to drive to the Rif mountains, we made a quick stop at the Mausoleum of King Mohammed V. It is an unfinished mosque, which would have been the largest mosque if it had been completed. I took plenty of pictures of the beautiful patterned devised by islamic artists. I think it's so amazing how creative they can be without depicting anything living.

After our quick walk through what would have been the mosque, we piled into the van and drove to the Riff Mountains, where we had a personal visit with a family living there. We picked up a guide along the way – a man who was born in the village and left to go study in England. He led us on a quick walk through the countryside around the village before taking us to his sister's husband's house. He was a really quick and nimble guy and there we had a hard time keeping up with him. At one point, we lost half the group because one girl had lost her shoe in a mud pit. It literally disappeared into the mud and came off her foot. Consequently, her jeans also got really muddy, and she walked back to the van to change pants.

Meanwhile, we started preparing lunch and conversing with the family: our guide's sister, her husband, their son, and the mother-in-law, who owned the house. She was very likely the most adorable woman I have ever seen. She wore the precedent of a snuggy, in leopard with embroidery on the chest, a rainbow cloth tied around her waist like a skirt and a green pakistani scarf wrapped around her head bubushka-style. She also had all the authority of the household and would interrupt at any time she pleased.

The little boy was also quite novel. He was obviously Moroccan (looked north-african). However, he had red hair. It is very strange to see moreno (tan) skin against red hair. I'm pretty sure he had light eyes, too.

Our guide was in charge of translating for everyone. But he had a snarky attitude and had a tendency to control where the conversation was going. We asked the family about their way of life in the village: how many people lived there, what they did, how frequently people moved to or away from the village, etc. They asked us where we were from, what we study and what we like to do. Eventually the conversation turned toward marriage, or more specifically, what love means in America. I guess they were under the impression that many women are gold-diggers and only want to marry for money. And looks are really important too.

At the beginning of our conversation, during introductions, the poor muddy girl returned from the van still wearing her muddy pants, now soaked from trying to rinse them off. She told us she didn't know where she put her pants (the clean pair). Obviously, that came out sounding very inappropriate for a lady, and we all burst out laughing. We had to beg the guide not to translate what she said.

After the conversation was over, the family brought out two giant bowls of couscous, homemade, for us. It was FANTASTIC! I've never had, and will never have again, better couscous.

Once we finished the couscous and chatted for a little while longer, it was time to go. Chefchaouen was our next stop. It is a cute touristy town. We got there at night and it was drizzling. Apparently, it had been raining quite a bit there because the path we had to use to walk up to the city was completely flooded. There was actually a creek flowing down the street with pretty strong current, and we had to walk on a wall until we reached the top of the hill. We walked through the city with our backpacks in front because there were little punks trying to snatch anything they could out of our pockets. Thankfully, it wasn't long before we got to our hostel and could drop off our stuff.

Katy gave us a little time to do some shopping before we met up for dinner. I was on the hunt for a pakistani scarf, a necklace with the Hand of Fatimah pendant and some leather sandals – gladiator style. Oh, and post cards. However, the shopping in Chefchaouen was not as high quality as I would have liked, and I gave up on trying to find a decently-priced necklace or good shoes. The scarf was mandatory, though. I searched everywhere for one of those suckers. I had also been preparing myself for some fierce bargaining throughout my entire search. And when I finally found them, I was ready. But the price the shop owner gave me was so much lower than I expected, so I was completely thrown off. I ended up giving him the price he wanted, which wasn't bad at all anyway, so I guess I can't complain.

I also had a pretty tough time finding good postcards. All the ones they had were very weathered. They were faded and the corners were curling up. They were also rather dated. Actually, I ended up buying an antique one because it was in better condition and had a better picture than the others.

Finally, we all reunited for dinner. I had a traditional Moroccan meal. It was a pastry bread with a chicken filling and sugar and chocolate sprinkled on top. I know that sounds weird (but let's face it, I've eaten way weirder stuff, like this or this), but it is super delicious.

We all went back to the hostel immediately after dinner and passed out. We had to say goodbye in the morning. I was sad that my trip was over. It was like a bite-sized snippet of my Semester at Sea days, really opening my eyes to what other types of people and lifestyles are out there and how little we understand about them. So we drove to the Moroccan-Spanish border and went across to catch the ferry back to the Spanish mainland. (?? Yes, Spain does own land in Morocco.)

I ended up having about 10 hours between when the ferry landed in Algeciras and when my bus left for Madrid. So I tagged along with Nora and Steph to go to Gibraltar – the England of Spain. We had a great time wandering around in search of the monkeys, but I think it may have been too cold still for them to be out because we never saw any. It was a really pretty rock anyway.

¿Cómo se llama?

erinkobannon@gmail.com (erino) — Tue, 16 Mar 2010 22:50:00 +0000

Erin is a very difficult name for the Spanish.
--
Erin es un nombre muy difícil para los españoles.

Rabat, Morocco

erinkobannon@gmail.com (erino) — Sat, 13 Mar 2010 11:50:00 +0000

The second day we woke up and had a giant breakfast of fresh bread and cookies made by our host mother in the bakery. Mmm they were so good; l-makla bnina. One of the best parts of eating breakfast there was being able to see the sunshine on the roof/deck through the kitchen door.

Our family's house was...interesting. I think it was pretty typical for a Moroccan house. A big wooden door on the street opened to a short passageway leading to a courtyard, which I assume is shared with other families. Another door in the passageway opened to a winding staircase that went up to our family's house. The bathroom, equipped with a turkish toilet, was half-way up the stairs. Once you reached the top of the stairs there was a long, skinny room with a TV and couches lining the walls. The kitchen was through a doorway on the right. There was a small bedroom at the far end of the TV room and another large sitting room down there and to the right. We slept in this large room. Couches lined the walls all the way around this room too, with a large round table in the center. A course structure had been built out on the roof, which also held a bed. Most of the family slept on the couches lining the walls, as we did. Katy said that was the norm. Beds weren't usually common.

In the mornings, around 0500h, you could hear the call to prayer. I'm not sure if anyone in our family went. We asked the young sister whether or not people would go back to sleep after going to prayer or if they would start their days. She said it depended on the person's job, and if they went to prayer or not. A sure sign of how lax people are about their religion, though it still dominates their lives.

After breakfast we met up with the rest of the group to go to a “facilitated discussion” with different Moroccan students about stereotypes between the west and Islamic countries. It was pretty fascinating. There were a lot of stereotypes towards Americans that I already knew about, like that we're fat and greedy. One boy (in a really nice shirt that I wish I had been able to examine more closely) was trying to say something without being offensive. “I'm going to say something, but it's not what I think, and it's not nice. But American women are, in the movies they...some people think the women are easy. Do you understand me?” I think he felt relieved when we all nodded our heads and said yes so he didn't have to go into further detail. But I was quite shocked to hear one boy say, “If there's a problem in the world, there's always an American behind it.” That's a pretty strong statement. And just goes to show how, far too often, Americans act without thinking about the consequences their actions might have somewhere else.

Moroccans, and probably most non-western countries, seem to think that we don't get along with our parents, that we fight a lot. The reason for this is that we move out of our parents' house as soon as possible instead of living with them until we are married. I'm glad we got the chance to explain to them that our parents wanted us to move out and be independent; it was what they raised us to do. That, while in Morocco it was considered respectful and good to the family, living at home for a long time was seen as lazy or incompetent.

After our discussion, we had another round of tea (my fourth glass of the day) and cookies before driving to the Roman ruins of Chellah and a brief stop at the Mausoleum of King Mohammed V. The ruins were really cool. It's amazing to think that people lived there thousands of years ago and their building still survive.

After lunch with our families, we spent the afternoon walking around and exploring Rabat in small groups with more Moroccan students. We sat in a cafe for a while and just chatted about differences in life in America and Morocco. We told them about maple syrup.

That night was one of the most exciting parts of the visit to Morocco. We had the option of going to a Moroccan bath, called a Hammam. Clearly, I went because I was filthy and there are few things more relaxing than a bath. I had expected something like the thermal baths I had been to in Romania with the choir. But this was much different. It was just one small room (plus the changing room) that was super hot and steamy. There was a set of faucets where you would fill up your bucket to wash yourself. They gave everyone a special loofa-glove and soap to use, and we all stripped down to our panties and went inside.

I paid something around 5€ to have a lady scrub me down. And she was thorough. First she laid me down on my stomach to scrub all of my back, including my butt cheeks, which required giving me a giant wedgie. Then she made me flip over to get the front. She even scrubbed my armpits. And I have never seen so much dead skin come off my body. I was so soft and glowing after that trip.

On the walk back to our house, we kept hearing men say something to us. My jaded brain thought they were probably cat-calling us. But when we got home, we asked the sister what they were saying. “Bsshha,” she said, “It means 'to your health.'”

Weekend in Morocco with Morocco Exchange

erinkobannon@gmail.com (erino) — Wed, 10 Mar 2010 17:17:00 +0000

Whew! It's already been two weeks since I was in Morocco. What an exciting whirlwind of a weekend. It was like a mini aftertaste of Semester at Sea, like a memory snack.

First of all, I must apologize for being such a bad blogger. I just can't ever get myself to write a post before I climb into bed at midnight. It's all the spanish reading, I assure you. But in my own defense, I did write a couple posts on my iPhone using a horrible app that just deleted everything I wrote and told me it was posted.

And now, my Morocco trip with Morocco Exchange: I started and ended my trip with an overnight trip on the bus. It was not fun either time. But my options were limited since I guess not many people go from Madrid down to the very southern tip of Spain - Algeciras. So I got on the bus on Wed night at 10 pm and arrived in Algeciras at 6 am. I had to wait around for two hours to meet up with the rest of the group for the Morocco Exchange Program. Because Semester at Sea taught me how to be patient and flexible, I was able to pull it off. I was rewarded with a two-hour ferry ride to Tangiers, Morocco.

As soon as we landed, we drove into the city to visit the DARNA women's center. We got to walk through the market on our way to the center because our group guide, Katy, had to buy some water and snacks for us. The market was one of the highlights of the trip. All the food was set out on display: fruits, vegetables, olives, bread, meat, everything. And it was all so fresh and colorful. Everything looked delicious...well, maybe not the chickens dangling in some of the windows, but they looked at least.

We went to the DARNA center to speak with Moroccan students about cultural diversity, education and women's rights in Morocco. We talked a lot about the different ways of practicing Islam while enjoying the Moroccan tea and cookies. Basically what they told us is that some people follow all the rules - don't drink, don't dance, dress modestly, wear the head scarf, etc - while it's just as common to see people living a very liberal or western lifestyle. And everyone has they're own ideas about what is right or wrong. However, the main point of this discussion was, no matter your beliefs or ways of practicing them, they and you would be respected. Everyone respects everyone else's choices and ways of life even if they don't agree with them.

Then, we got a tour of the DARNA center, where women learn how to weave, sew, read, write and use the computer. The hope is that they can learn a trade to get a better job and improve their lives.

After our lunch with the three students, we drove along the coast to Asilah to walk through old-town Medina. There was a surprise for us along the way, though. Camels!

We walked through Medina and admired the art painted on the walls of every house or building. This is where they hold an annual cultural festival and the city becomes an enormous gallery.

From Asilah we drove three hours to Rabat to meet the families we would be staying with for the weekend. I was staying with Nora and Steph. Our family was a mom, dad and three daughters. The youngest, and the only one who spoke English, was 23. The family owned a bakery, so we had lots of fresh, delicious bread at every meal. And they fed us a ton. Even saying "sbet" wouldn't stop them from refilling your plate.

Seville (Español)

erinkobannon@gmail.com (erino) — Wed, 24 Feb 2010 15:02:00 +0000

La fin de semana pasada (12-13 de februario) fuimos a Seville los otros estudiantes y yo. Fuimos por tren—el AVE. No me parecía muy rápido, pero es pienso. Cuando llegábamos, caminamos al hotel. Después fuimos a la Catedral para...no sé, para que supiéramos dónde reunirnos luego.

Tenemos tiempo libre para comer antes de ir de gira por la Catedral. Era una lástima que estaba lluviendo. Nos refugimos en un resturante de tapas. Pero, ya que hemos comiendo en el hotel porque morímos de hambre, sólo compramos cafe y churros con chocolate.

Hace frio dentro de la Catedral en Seville como la Catedral en Toledo. Asi que subimos la torre calentarnos. Se puede ver toda la cuidad desde lo alto. Revolvemos abajo y hacimos un recorrido por la iglesia. Más de lo mismo de la otra Catedral: techos altos, arte gótico, borroco, altar, coro...Sin embargo, esta Catedral tiene la tumba de Cristobal Colón.

Después caminamos con Ray al Museo de bellas artes. Era un monasterio antes de convertirse entre museo. Verdad que es bella, el edificio y el arte.

Luego, Steph, Darlene y yo revolvemos al hotel para que nos aparejarmos para la noche. ¡La ducha era increíble! Muy caliente y relajado. Hemos comprado vino, queso y galletas también guardar nuestro dinero cuando salgamos. Durante nos preparamos, pensamos en lo que quremos hacer aquella noche. Flameno era una de las ideas. Desfortunadamente, cuando pregunté al concierge, él dice que todos los expectáculos han empezado. Tampoco son muuuuuuuy cara. ¡Setenta euros por cada persona para cenar y expectáculo.

Así que, fuimos caminando por la ciudad en búsqueada de cenar. Lo encontramos en un pequeñito bar. Todos comidan la versión español de enchiladas. Es diferente, pero apetitoso. Hemos hecho planeas ir a un bar que se llama Buddha, pero no podemos encontrarlo. Nadie ha oído de este bar. ?? En vez, reunimos con Alex y fuimos juntos a un pequeño bar para 1€ cupitos. Qué barato, ¿no?

Un hommbre en la calle ha dándonos discuentos en un discoteca si llegaríamos antes de medianoche, lo cual hacemos. Pasamos toda la noche balando nuestros corazones hacia fuera. Nos regresamos al hotel a las 5 de la mañana. Sólo dos horas dormir antes de despertarnos para ir al palacio.

Por lo menos, no estaba lluviando en sabado. El palacio es muy bonita con arquitectura musulmána. Pero, ¿cómo se explica estas cosas? Es imposible si no has ido allí. Sólo en fotos, creo. Tiene jardines tan bonitas, con un laberinto.

Después del palacio, fuimos a la universidad y parque. Darlene, Steph y yo ententamos a ver la plaza de España, pero fallamos y nos hacimos perdidas. Por fin, fuimos por taxi a marcado y comida. Todos los restarantes circa del marcado estaban muy llena a causo de las celebraciones de Caraval estaban empezando. El restarante dónde comimos está circa de la plaza de toros, y tiene cabezas de los toros en las paredes. Era raro.

Era la hora de salir después de comiendo. Entonces, fuimos al hotel para nuestras cosas y subimos el tren para Madrid.

Voy a Morocco (Marruecos)

erinkobannon@gmail.com (erino) — Thu, 18 Feb 2010 22:12:00 +0000

Voy a Marruecos en una semana. Estoy nerviosa, no sé por qué. He ido a Salvador, Brazil. ¿Qué lugar pueda ser más peligroso (además de las otras ciudades en eso país)? También, yo las sé las regulaciones de vestir en sitios religiosos; fui a India y Malaysia. Pienso que es que me hacería daño. No hay facilidades medicales suficientes en caso de una emergencia, sino en ciudades grandes como Rabat y Casablanca. Y esas también son caras. Sería problemas con seguro contra accidentes. Yo no sé.

Pero, al mismo tiempo, ¡estará en Maracas, en Casablanca, en Africa! Estoy excitada. Si queraís saber más sobre lo que hacerá, aquí es la página web: http://www.moroccoexchange.org.

I'm going to Morocco in one week. I'm nervous, but I don't know why. I've been to Salvador, Brazil. What place could be more dangerous (besides other cities in that country)? Also, I already know the rules of dressing in religious countries; I went to India and Malaysia. I think it's because I could get hurt. There aren't proper medical facilities in case of emergencies, except in big cities like Rabat and Casablanca. And those are expensive. There could be problems with insurance. I don't know.

But, at the same time, I'll be in Morocco, in Casablanca, in Africa! I am excited. If you want to know more about what I will be doing, here is the website for my program: http://www.moroccoexchange.org.

For My Mother

erinkobannon@gmail.com (erino) — Wed, 10 Feb 2010 16:32:00 +0000

My mom is not as knowledgeable in things computer- or internet-related. So this post is for her and people like her. It is an explanation of hyperlinks.

Dear mom,
As you read my blog posts, you may notice some words are a different color, as if they are being highlighted. Well, these words are the equivalent of a footnote in books. You can click on them for a further explanation or more information. A hyperlink is the term used for these special words.

I hope that helps. Love you.

Vocab

erinkobannon@gmail.com (erino) — Mon, 08 Feb 2010 22:09:00 +0000

Vocabulario que he aprendido (y escrito)*:
Vocabulary I've learned (and written down)*:

recordar to remind
quedarse bien/mal to go well/bad with
pegar to hit
pagar to pay
enchufar to plug in
pelaje fur
cuello neck
parelo (?) sarong
viento wind
cuenta bead (on clothes), check (in restaurant)
mono/a cute

*afuera de mis clases, por supuesto.
*outside of my classes, of course.

Toledo, España

erinkobannon@gmail.com (erino) — Sat, 30 Jan 2010 16:10:00 +0000

Viaje a Toledo/Trip to Toledo

29 de enero fuimos a Toledo en central España. Todo reunieron a las 9.30h en la estación circa del Instituto—Conde de Casal. Y allí cargaron los autobuses. La vuelta duró una hora, y paramos un poco fuera la ciudad para usar los baños, porque aparientamente??? es dificil para encontrar baños públicos en Toledo. Nos primera parada era encima de una grande colina dónde se puede ver toda la ciudad.

Despúes volvimos abajo a la ciudad para llegar a la Catedral. Hace más frio dentro que afuera la Catedral. Era construido en los estilos gotico y flamenco con aspectos de musulmán. En cualquier sitio que se ve, hay muchos detalles bonitos y intrincados. También tiene muchas obras de arte de diferentes artistos, incluyendo El Greco y Goya. Era tan mucho para absorbar en tan poco tiempo.

Luego tenemos tiempo libre para comer y caminar como querimos. Fui con unas chicas que se llaman Steph y Darlene buscando para chocolate con churros. Los descburimos en una calle muy pequeña. Y, claro, estabamos las únicas personas allí en el restarante. Pues, estaba un hombre jugando el lotería.

También, buscabamos para botines. Todo el mundo lleva botines muy monos. Todo su ropa es buenísima. No puedo hacer juicio en español, así que puedes leerlo aquí. Pues, no podemos descubrir botines porque todos las tiendas son cerradas para mediodia.

En ves, dabamos un paseo por la ciudad, y luego reunimos con el grupo en la iglesia de Santo Tomé. Es donde hay una obra por “El Greco”. Después visitamos el Museo del Tránsito y la Iglesia de San Juan de los Reyes. Todos son bonitas, y me pregunto cómo iban cuando construiban. ¿Por qué no construyen edificios hoy tantos bonitos y duraderos?

January 29 we went to Toledo in central Spain. Everyone met at 9:30 at the station close to the Institute—Conde de Casal. The buses were parked there. Our trip lasted an hour, and we stopped a little outside the city to use some bathrooms because apparently it's hard to find them in Toledo. Our first stop in Toledo was on top of a big hill, where we could see all of the city.

Next we went down to the city to go to the Cathedral. It is magnificent. And it was colder inside the cathedral than outside. It was constructed in gothic and flamenco styles with muslim aspects. Everywhere you look there are intricate and beautiful details. There are also several paintings by different artists, including “El Greco” and Goya.

Later, we had free time to eat lunch and walk around. I went with girls named Steph and Darlene looking for chocolate with churros. We found them on a small side street. And, of course, we were the only ones there. Well, there was another guy playing slots.

We were also looking for boots. Everyone in Spain wears the cutest boots. Their clothes are perfect as well – I can't give them justice in Spanish so read here. We couldn't find boots because everything was closed for the daily siesta.

Instead, we walked around the city and later met up with the group at Saint Tomé Church. There is a famous painting by El Greco there. Later we visited the Synagogue of El Tránsito and the monastery of Saint Juan of the Kings. Everything is beautiful, and I wonder how they looked when they were built. Why aren't buildings built as beautifully and long-lasting today?

Mis Clases Y Trabajo

erinkobannon@gmail.com (erino) — Wed, 20 Jan 2010 17:08:00 +0000

En mi primer lunes tenía una entrevista para mi puesto de interno en Glamour . Estaba nerviosa porque mi español no es muy fuerte. Pero hice okay. Era más de una instrucción de mis responsibilidades que una entrevista. También, empecé trabajando entonces. [Más sobre este aquí.]

Las clases en el Instituto empezaron en lunes también. Obviamente, no podía ir porque tenía trabajo, pero mis profesores lo sabían. Las clases que estoy tomando son Cine Española, Arte en los museos de Madrid y Novela contemporania Española. Entonces puedo asimilar toda la cultura por mirando, viendo y leyendo.

De todos modos, esta tópica es aburrida - más sobre España:

Aquí, no se dice "bien" o "bueno" - se dice "vale." No se dice "qué", pero "cómo". No "lo siento", es "perdón".
Se come muy tarde. Casi nada para desayunar, cafe con leche (mmmm) y una tostada o cookie. Se tiene cereal, pero todo tiene chocolate, incluyendo Special K. Mediodía es a las dos o, más frequentamente, a las tres. Se cena a las nueve. Tengo hambre todo al día. Los niños quien vivo con son despiertan hasta once de la noche. Se marcha MUY tarde. Medianoche es temprano. Y se queda fuera hasta seis de la mañana, porque lo es cuando el tren empieza. Todo al mundo esta cerrado de uno hasta tres por la tarde, porque es mediodía - siesta.

Y ¿qué más? No lo sé porque tengo hambre y estoy cansada. ¡Hasta luego!

The first Monday I had an interview for my internship at Glamour. I was nervous because my Spanish still isn't very strong, but it turned out to be more of an explanation of my duties than an interview. I started working right afterward.

The classes at the Instituto also began, but obviously couldn't go because I was working. But my professors already knew about this. I'm taking Spanish cinema, Art in the museums of Madrid and Contemporary Spanish novel. So I'll be absorbing the culture by watching, looking and reading.

But, enough of these boring details; more about Spain:

Here, you don't say "bien" or "bueno" (good, okay) - you say "vale" (that/it works). You don't say "qué" (what), but "cómo" (how). Not "lo siento" (I'm sorry), it's "perdón" (pardon).
They eat really late. Almost nothing for breakfast, coffee with milk and toast or a cookie. They have cereal, but it's more of a dessert. All of it has chocolate in it, even Special K. Lunch is at 2 at the earliest, usually 3. And dinner is at 9. So, I'm hungry all day. The kids that I live with are always up really late, until 11 or so. Spaniards go out REALLY late. To go out at midnight is considered early. And they stay out until 6, when the trains start running. Everything is closed in the afternoon from 1 to 3 for the siesta.

And, what else...? I don't know because I'm hungry and tired. Later!

Primeros dias en España

erinkobannon@gmail.com (erino) — Tue, 19 Jan 2010 12:26:00 +0000

*I am going to write in Spanish first and then translate to English, so I can see if my language skills increase AT ALL over the semester.*

Después de llegando en Madrid, fui con el resto del groupo a un hótel, que se llama Hotel Regina. Es circa de la plaza del Sol. Tuvimos un reunión sobre los móviles al hótel poco después de llegaron allí, pero tuve tiempo para ducharme. Era sucia después de sido en un avión o aeropuerto todo al día. Luego tenía tiempo libre y podía descansar. Era una siesta muy agredable y refrescante.

No hicimos mucho más eso día. Solo tenía cenar, y muchas personas fueron fuera, pero yo dormía más.

El próximo día, tenímos reuniones dónde nos dicieron sobre clases y quedando en las casas. Hay mucho información, entonces te ahorro los detalles.

Luego unas amigas nuevas y yo fuimos para cenar. Buscamos para un restarante que sirva sushi, pero no podemos descubrirlo. En vez, fuimos a un restarante de tapas. Tuve un plato de espárrago y fois. También sangria, claro.

Era el cumpleaños de un chico, Alex. Todos se encuentraron a las once y media para ir a un "cave bar." Dos estudiantes que estaban aquí el semestre pasado nos conduían. ¡Esa bar era llena! y más de 20 personas no ayudaba. Me fui al hotel temprano, circa de 2:30.

Inglés:

After arriving in Madrid, I went with the rest of the group to our hotel: Hotel Regina. It is near the Plaza del Sol, so there was a lot of stuff to see and do. We had about half an hour of free time before having a meeting about cell phones and then eating lunch, so I took a quick and much needed shower. After lunch, we had plenty of free time, and I took a delighful and refreshing nap.

We didn't do much else that day, just had dinner at around 8. A bunch of people in our group went out that night, but I was still exhausted, way too tired to try to conform to Spanish going-out customs, so I went back to bed.

The next day I had meetings all day about classes, internships and the homestays. There was a ton of information and I'll spare you the details.

I went out to eat later with a few of my new friends somewhere around Plaza del Sol. We were looking for a sushi place, but couldn't find it, so we had tapas instead. I got a plate with asparagus and fois gras on bread. It was goooood.

Since it was a boy's, Alex's, birthday, everyone agreed to meet in the hotel lobby at 11:30 to go to some "cave bar." I don't know who heard about it, but two girls who had been here last semester led the way. Even though midnight is still considered a little bit early to be out in Spain, the place was packed. And the 20-something people in our group probably didn't help. I went home relatively early - about 2:30.

Preparing for Spain

erinkobannon@gmail.com (erino) — Tue, 12 Jan 2010 21:12:00 +0000

The process of finalizing my application for my semester in Madrid was much different than getting ready for Semester at Sea. Semester at Sea really did so much of the heavy work for me. I guess they had to, since most of my problems were with acquiring my visa, and there were so many visas to get for Semester at Sea. Somehow I managed to get everything together, though there were a few close calls.

Now, the day has come for me to leave. My flight leaves Tulsa at 6 am tomorrow, and I am freaking out. I have everything packed (somehow I managed to fit it all into two suitcases), so I'm set. But I have recently come to the shocking realization that I don't speak Spanish. Yes, I've taken it since 8th grade. No, that doesn't mean I speak it.

How am I supposed to manage living with a Spanish family, taking classes in Spanish and interning for Spain Glamor? They will expect me to speak Spanish! And rather well, too. I'm terrified.

I'm going to Spain!

erinkobannon@gmail.com (erino) — Wed, 23 Sep 2009 17:21:00 +0000

This is the email I received this morning:

Dear Erin:

Enhorabuena! You have been accepted to Boston University's Spring 2010 Madrid Internship Program/Level 2. Soon you should receive an official acceptance letter in the mail. Please allow at least a week to ten days to receive your acceptance letter and contact us if it does not arrive. I am writing so that you can begin to make your plans for next spring. The dates of the program are January 14 (the group flight departs the US on January 13) to May 14, 2010. Late arrivals and early departures are not permitted.

Be sure to consult with your academic advisor regarding all courses you will take in Madrid. You will need to determine, prior to the start of the program, the precise degree requirements these courses will fulfill.

There will be a Madrid program-specific orientation in early December. The date, time and location of the orientation will be announced in a future email. The orientation is required for BU students. Local non-BU students are encouraged to attend the Madrid specific orientation. All students will be sent the Madrid orientation materials if they cannot attend.

Man, oh man. I am excited. I have had plans to study abroad in Spain ever since I decided on my Spanish minor. Last spring it didn't work out, but there's no reason to cry over spilled milk, right? I guess this means I'm going to need to brush up on my español - no easy task since I'm not taking a Spanish class this semester. Thank god for podcasts. This also gives me an excuse to spend all my time reading Spain travel guides and Notes From Spain.

Bahh! I can hardly control myself. But I have much homework to do before tomorrow morning, so I'd better get back to that.

Betrayal

erinkobannon@gmail.com (erino) — Wed, 01 Jul 2009 01:24:00 +0000

This post will lean more toward the Erin sexpedition side of things.

Let me tell you a story. Like most other girls, I have my regular group of close girl friends.* And like any girl who has been around, seen or heard of a male, we all have our boy drama.

During sophomore year Charlotte met a boy (Ryan) whom she really liked. He was cute, funny and had a lot in common with her. They started to spend a lot of time together, but she couldn't seem to get him to commit. He just wasn't wanting to be in a relationship at the time, I think. I don't really know all the details. The point is, she has liked this dude for a long time.

All through the rest of college Ryan and Charlotte oscillated between being more than friends and not speaking with each other. One night, at the beginning of this year, Charlotte hosted a party. All the usual suspects were there, including Ryan and our friend Brooke. Everyone got a little less than sober. Brooke was even crying at one point because she "loves [Charlotte] so much!"

At the end of the night, Brooke, Ryan and a couple others who lived in the same direction shared a cab home. Since they lived on the same street, Brooke and Ryan walked home together, but Brooke never made it home. Instead she slept in Ryan's bed. When they woke up the next morning and realized what they had done, Ryan and Brooke promised each other not to tell a soul for the preservation of their lives and their friendship with Charlotte.

Well, as everyone knows, that was a stupid idea because secrets always get out somehow, especially in a small group of friends. This secret was no different - Charlotte found out at the end of the spring semester about Brooke and Ryan's night together. And she was rightfully pissed. She could have never spoken to either of them again.

But of course it's more complicated than that. There were certain developments during the months when Charlotte didn't know the secret:

Both Charlotte and Ryan were staying in Boston for the summer. Ryan had the option of subletting from Charlotte's flatmate or in another apartment a few blocks away. He decided to live with Charlotte. However, they got into a fight (I'm not sure if it was the revelation of the secret), and he ended up staying in the other apartment.

Throughout this entire time, Charlotte had not spoken to Brooke. Brooke thought Charlotte was just too busy, but was getting anxious when Charlotte failed to return any of her calls. She only found out why when a mutual friend told her.

Charlotte didn't tell Brooke she was mad at her. But she had started dating Ryan.

Does that make sense? Of course it makes sense to be furious at a friend who sleeps with your long-time crush. It makes sense to not want to speak to or see her. But I would also think it makes sense to be mad at the guy who slept with your friend even though he knew you liked him. He is just as much to blame as she is. Don't get me wrong. Both Ryan and Brooke are idiots and jerks for what they did. But to me, it does not make sense to date the guy and leave the friend in the dark.

*Since I will probably refer to them several times in this blog, I am going to protect their true identities by giving them pseudonyms based on popular TV characters.

Same Same...but Different

erinkobannon@gmail.com (erino) — Tue, 23 Jun 2009 23:56:00 +0000

I've decided I'm not finished talking about Semester at Sea. I guess the point of going is that I'll never be. I keep thinking about it; what I've seen, what I've done, the people I've met, the culture differences. I really thought I would live differently when I came home. But, really, I haven't changed. The only difference is when I think about those people living in Brazil, Namibia, South Africa, India, Viet Nam, China, I feel guilty and cry.

My life is the same except for guilt.

Why was I given this privilege? Why was I born in America instead of Africa? What did (or will) I do to deserve this life that Daniel from Namibia didn't (or won't)? He wants to be a doctor; he wants to cure AIDs. But I wonder if he can afford to ever go to college. He lives in a house the size of my living room with his three siblings (was four, but one died) and parents. They don't have an indoor bathroom. But he wants to save lives, to save his country. I want to teach people how to dress.

What gives me the right to complain that I don't have an iPhone? To complain that I don't have anything besides a roof over my head, clothing on my back and food on a daily basis? I have all those things, and I should know better that they are all I need for happiness. Should I give everything away and sabotage my future? I mean, I'll need the fancy clothes to keep a reputation as a good image consultant.

That is my passion. Gary Vaynerchuck, among others, says to follow your passion. But does it count if your passion is so superficial?

YouTube

erinkobannon@gmail.com (erino) — Tue, 23 Jun 2009 02:05:00 +0000

A quick post to let everyone know I created a YouTube channel to complement the written word.

Erin Sexpedition

erinkobannon@gmail.com (erino) — Mon, 22 Jun 2009 03:34:00 +0000

Ha ha ha. Very funny. I finally got the joke.

I guess I should have taken Jonny Tsunami seriously when he joked about my blog having the word sex in it. But I didn't; I thought he was just being a jerk, as well as the exception, not the rule.

However, I was recently gaining followers and friends at a tweetup, and one of them (@JoselinMane) brought it up after looking at my homepage. He laughed, I thought, "oh please." But then he showed it to everyone at the table and asked them to read what they saw. Most said, "Erin sexpedition." One said, "Erin sex position." I became the joke of the evening. And many evenings after.

How could I not have noticed that? Here I am, an intern for the personal branding guru for gen-y, and I'm attaching my name to...well...Erin Sexpedition. To be fair, I didn't work for and hadn't heard of him when I created the blog. But now I own it, and I'm going to take advantage of that.

No, I'm not going to start writing R-rated posts. (Sorry.) That would only result in further tarnishing of my online reputation, something I clearly don't need. But I'm sure I can come up with something good (read: juicy). At the very least, I could write about general faux pas of life. That would have to be almost at interesting as Max Rampage.

I guess this is all a trial and error process. Learning for everyone involved. Please feel free to leave your comments/suggestions/complaints.

(Cartoon credit: RoystonRobertson.co.uk)

Anchors Away

erinkobannon@gmail.com (erino) — Wed, 17 Jun 2009 04:46:00 +0000

Day 104

My last day in Costa Rica. My last day in a foreign country for my Semester At Sea experience. (Panama doesn't count.) I keep thinking it will be summer when I get home. Repeatedly, I have started to say, “When I get home this summer....” Nope. Wrong. It will be winter. Frigid winter.

Oh, it is beautiful here. I am going to recover today by laying on the beach. The weird thing is there are very few people out today. It's not like Waikiki. The sand here is different. There are much more minerals in it, making it darker.

I found a spot on the beach near some other people and the lawn chairs that you can rent. I'm cheap, so I didn't rent one. I just spread my Brazilian sarong out on the scorching sand, and I lay down with my book.

After a few minutes, a guy came up and asked me about my tattoo. He was a little surprised that I could speak spanish. He asked me how much it cost and if I had any more. I wish I knew more about the tattoo culture in Costa Rica. I only know that in Malaysia tattoos are very taboo. Usually only gang members have them. After a while the guy left. He seemed disappointed that I had only one.

It was about another quarter of an hour before Wilbur showed up. He made me go into the water. It was too hot, but I didn't want to be hot and sticky from the salt water. After we got out we walked on down the beach and ran into a couple of his friends. They were friendly, as most Costa Ricans are in my experience. They played fútbol and guitar. They talked to me about America a little bit.

Then a clown walked over. Yes, a clown. He had a painted face, big red nose and oversized, colorful clothing. He immediately recognized me as an American. (That seems to be a skill everyone everywhere in the world has.) He started speaking to me in spanish, but he spoke too quickly for me to understand. So I looked at Wil for an explanation. That's when this clown went off on how Americans expect everyone to speak and understand English in their country, but then they go to other places and don't speak their languages.

I could understand his complaints because I could catch bits and pieces, but I was too shocked to retaliate or explain myself. I'm sorry I don't have a firm enough grasp of spanish to understand everything said in a spanish-speaking country. I'm trying.

Soon we walked back down the beach towards the ship, my precious MV Explorer. I wasn't ready for this trip to be over. I sat on the beach watching SASers trickle by me and get into the ever-lengthening line.

I wish there were words for my feelings. So many feelings: the grime of Salvador, the awe of Iguacu Falls, the surpassed expectations of Namibia, the adventure of South Africa, the...well, assault of senses in India, the heat of Malaysia, the juxtaposition of paradise and pain in Vietnam, the consumption of Hong Kong, the confusion of China, the perfection of Japan, the pleasure of being in your home country to celebrate a national holiday, the relaxation of Costa Rica. But what about the tightness in my stomach when I think of this being over? I can never come back to this voyage, with these people and experiences, the lessons I've learned, the things I've seen. My life has been changed is ways that I'll never be able to describe, so I hope this blog has at least given some insight into all my feelings.

Now, off to my next adventure.

Puntarenas, Costa Rica

erinkobannon@gmail.com (erino) — Mon, 15 Jun 2009 04:36:00 +0000

Day 103

I woke up early with Josie because I wanted to try to get on her outrigger canoe trip. A bunch of people didn't show up, Kelly and Kelsey included. Their hotel ended up being closer to Jacó rather than Puntarenas, where Travelocity said it was. It would have been expensive for them to grab a taxi all the way to the ship and back. If only SAS had told them where the canoe place was (in the same city where they were staying) they could have just met us there instead of losing all their money.

It was so gorgeous. The cliffs looked amazing above the crystal blue water. Pelicans were flying around and roosting in the trees on the cliffs. Something was driving fish up on one side of the boat; they kept jumping out of the water. Clouds were hiding the sun by the time we made it to the beach though. And the water was murky from rain, so snorkeling was not worth it. I went on a hike through the forest instead. We looked for monkeys, but only saw birds, frogs and leaf-cutter ants. The ants were pretty cool. I had never seen those before except on the Discovery Channel. We got to walk under a natural spring waterfall. Everyone described the water as “refreshing.”

On the trip back, we had a race. Of course my canoe won. We were a crew of all girls, and we didn't even have a pace-setter. Plus, Greg, the camera guy, was filming in the front seat.

We drove over a river with the highest population of crocodiles per square kilometer on our way back to Puntarenas. You could see at least 10 just from the van.

After eating lunch back on the ship, Josie, Becky and I showered and went out shopping. We walked along the pasaje de los touristos and then into the city to the grocery store. I loved being able to practice my spanish at all the places we went. I kept messing up and embarrassing myself, though. I guess that's how you learn. That night we went for dinner at a seafood place that someone had recommended. Gar, Brittany the photographer and a few other people were there. It was karaoke night. So Josie and I signed up to sing Stop by the Spice Girls. Gar and Brittany sang a few songs too. SAS people kept trickling in.

After a while, and a few beers, Prof. Zelenski showed up. Josie kept trying to get me to go with her to talk to him. Luckily, I didn't allow that. Tons of crew people came in too: they love to do karaoke. In the Christmas spirit, Josie and I gave a rendition of Walking in a Winter Wonderland. I don't think many people were amused.

Jacqueline and the other wellness center girls showed up. She came to say

hello and told us they were celebrating her birthday. She bought us a round of tequila shots. I am really going to miss her; she was always so great. Pretty and nice. (I guess that's how she scored Nick from the Purser's Desk.) We were talking about Nick, how envious all the girls were of her, and she told me that she had only kissed him twice. That was a huge shocker. I told her to get over there with him and start kissing before I did.

Puerto Caldera, Costa Rica

erinkobannon@gmail.com (erino) — Sun, 14 Jun 2009 04:24:00 +0000

Day 102

I made it through finals. Yesssssss. Now I get my tropical vacation in sunny Costa Rica. Some sneaky cruise ship took our spot on the dock in Puntarenas, so now we have to tender in Puerto Caldera until this evening when they leave.

This morning I went zip-lining through the rainforest with Kelly and Kelsey. It was so amazing. I'm not sure we had the most optimal location because we didn't see much wildlife, but it was gorgeous all the same. There was a huge group going. I think they should have split us up. They suited us all up and we walked up to the first platform. Watching people fly over the trees to the next platform was really funny. Some people went really fast, and others couldn't quite make it. I learned how to go really fast by tucking up into a ball. It was thrilling. The views were spectacular.

However, I am frustrated with Lauren. I was afraid we would miss each other trying to meet up because of the new docking situation. And communication on the ship is lacking, to say the least. I emailed her last night to meet me in Puerto Caldera at 0900 so she could go zip-lining with me. The backup plan was to meet there at 1300 if she didn't make it in time. She wasn't there at 0900 or at 1300. I didn't know what to do. Kelly and Kelsey were going to their condo somewhere, and I had no way of contacting Lauren or anyone else unless I got back on the ship. But that's what I ended up having to do. Lauren had sent me an email saying something had come up, and she would try to make a day trip to meet me. When? Where? That was not said.

By this point I was pretty much stuck on the ship. Everyone who was going to do something had already left. I couldn't call anyone to meet up because I didn't have phone numbers. I kind of gave in to the idea of sailing with the ship from Puerto Caldera to Puntarenas. That was sucky. After sitting in my room for an hour or so, though, I was fed up. I took the last tender to the pier and a taxi to Puntarenas all alone. If I was in Costa Rica, I was going to see Costa Rica. I figured I'd run into some SAS people anyway.

The taxi dropped me off on the pasaje de los touristos, and I wandered around looking for some delicious food. I found it and a group, including Mandi, at a restaurant across the street from the pier. We got some latin food and bought a bottle of wine to enjoy on the beach. It was cheap, not very good. We tried a local dessert, which looked like a cookie, but was some kind of brown sugar, dulce de leche thing. I wasn't a big fan of that either; it was too sweet.

We wandered back to the restaurant after finishing the wine. We found Josie there. After she finished her dinner, we walked across the street and got some ice cream. Puntarenas is a boring place. We waited there with a bunch of other SAS kids until the ship showed up. Then it was bed time, nothing else was happening. Josie and I had a sleep-over in her cabin. We felt like little kids again. We sat there gossiping/talking about Vietnam and watching Black Hawk Down until we fell asleep.

Honolulu, Hawaii

erinkobannon@gmail.com (erino) — Sat, 13 Jun 2009 04:08:00 +0000

Day 92

Breakfast was served early this morning: from 0630 to 0800. I was not happy about waking up that early. What made me especially unhappy was that Kelly had heard that we wouldn't be able to get off the boat until noon or later. Luckily, that rumour was wrong. Customs proceedings began a little after 0800, and the ship was cleared by 0900.

While we were waiting for the ship to be cleared, I got to see Kelly's parents for the first time. They called her to say they were standing on the dock off the back of the boat. So we went out there and waved. We were formally introduced as I disembarked with Kelsey. Her brother is really attractive. And her parents were so sweet. They were surprisingly excited to meet us. I was thankful they had invited us to join them for dinner.

Kelsey and I let them go about their business, and we set out on our mission for Starbucks and an ATM before heading to the beach. The ATM was easy enough to find, and we just had to follow the parade of SAS people to Starbucks. Of course the line was endless. Instead we followed our noses into a different coffee place. I lucked out because we could also buy post cards there. Bonus!

We wandered around lost for a few minutes trying to find where we could catch the bus to Waikiki beach, but soon asked information for help. I am embarassed to say I felt like I was in Japan. There were so many Japanese people there, a lot of them were tourists. I took in the perfect setting on our walk through the city to the bus stop. The weather was so great. Christmas decorations were up. We were in Hawaii. What could be better?

We got off the bus in front of some shopping center, perhaps a mall. But that's not where we wanted to go. Kelsey

and I wanted the International Market. That is the tourist spot. We found it around the corner. THEN we found out that you can bargain there! It was their lucky day because I thought I would never get to use my bargaining skills again. Right after we left China I fell asleep thinking about my new bargaining strategy. But I woke up realizing that we weren't going to any more places where I could use it. But I found a place in Hawaii! And my strategy worked. I'm kind of a professional. My sales lady almost spanked me I bargained so hard. That takes skill.

As soon as I had taken them for all their worth, we made our way to Waikiki beach. It was like Malaysia de ja vous. Except the sand was covered in people. And the people were much more naked here. I was surprised to see so many people on the beach on Thanksgiving. I figured SAS kids would be the only ones. My first stop when we got there was the bathroom, actually. But then I bought my first drink in the United States. They even IDed me. It was rather gratifiying.

The next task at hand was finding a spot for ourselves on the crowded beach. I guess it could have been worse, but we didn't get a chair or umbrella. We laid out for a few minutes before deciding to get some floatie beds. I guarded the stuff while Kelsey got the inflatable comfort lounge pads (I'm sure that's their official name). The water felt so refreshing. I could have easily floated around all day long. But we had things to do. Like surf.

That's right folks. Kelsey aka the best surf instructor in the world (and I've been around it) offered to teach me. We asked some of our neighbors to watch our stuff then we pranced over to the rental place. A very good looking guy helped us find the longest board I've ever seen, even in my limited experience. However, as soon as our cutie walked away, another rental guy showed us where the foam boards were. And Kelsey said that's what we wanted. She made me practice on the beach even though everyone was staring. (She's mean.) Finally we migrated to the water. The waves were just the way I like them, nice and small. So small, in fact, that they kept dying before I could ride them.

Finally, just before Kelsey was about to drown, a big 'un came along. And I stood up! Not for long. Kelsey told me to stand up early, when the wave was at my shoulder, or else I would miss it. That's what I thought I did, but I guess I stood up too early, like when the wave was at my knees. So I was in front of it, and then I fell. It was really exciting, though. I surfed, kind of. It's a big accomplishment to stand up, I hear. Anyway, I did that one more time. But my third try I did it perfectly. I got to ride the wave in halfway to the beach, where it died. Surfing felt like standing on your own personal moving sidewalk. Oh, energy transfer, what would we do without you?

I paddled back out to where Kelsey was waiting, and we asked a hottie for the time. We were shocked to find out that we were almost out of time. We were more shocked to see that the people to whom we had entrusted our stuff had peaced. Jerks. Kelsey wanted to wait for one more wave for me to ride in on, but I knew it wasn't going to come. We paddled on in together and posed for pictures.

After returning the board, we decided to get ready for our Thanksgiving dinner with Kelly and her family. We grabbed all our stuff and headed toward the bathroom in the restaurant/bar where I bought my drink. Everyone in the bathroom loved our new dresses. We gave them bargaining pointers before hitting the street for Waikiki Tiki Bar and Grill. The Smiths were already there waiting for us. Kelsey and I ordered drinks, and then great conversation ensued. Our poor waiter was probably irritated that we took so long before we ordered. But the talk was just good.

Everyone excetp Kelly got the Thanksgiving special: turkey, cranberry sauce, mashed potatos, stuffing, sweet potatos, asparagus and yummy apple crisp. Kelly got ribs. Man, we were full after that meal. Kelly's brother was so stuffed, he declaired that he would require a c-section. We talked for as long as we could without getting dock time. Eventually, we were forced to head back to the ship, though. Gar greeted Kelsey and I on our way in with a compliment on our dresses. I wish he wouldn't tease me like that.