Must....Keep...Sightseeing.

For all of you Hoosiers and wannabe Hoosiers, go with me on this. Little 5 rolls around. (For those of you who don’t know, it’s the greatest week of college drinking in America combined with a tiny bit of largely unattended bike racing.) You’ve saved your absences, strategically skipped all of your classes, and drank for a solid week like someone was holding a gun to your head, or at least inflicting you with water board torture. If you are a college grad you’ve certainly taken the Thursday night redeye, bailed on your job because you are going to “spend the weekend with your family,” and arrived in town just in time to cause plenty of damage to your liver. Now Saturday has at last made an appearance and after 6 straight mornings of waking up at 7AM to commence yet another round of highly socialized binge drinking, there’s nothing you can do but give in to all of your desires and take that highly unadvised afternoon nap. You know it’s not a good play because you will feel like you are dead when you wake up. But you just can’t help it. It has to be done. The only thing that will ever pull you out of such a slumber is a piping hot Big Ten from Pizza Express sitting on the table because your best friend, Erin, truly knows all of your weaknesses. This combined with the mantra that you’ve had on repeat in your head for a solid week, makes this extreme, agonizing task, something that will, in fact, happen. MUST…KEEP…DRINKING.

So no, I didn’t spend my first morning in Spain binge drinking, but I did spend it listening to a similar mantra with an almost identical amount of exhaustion. MUST…KEEP…SIGHTSEEING. My cousin, Jenny and I landed in Madrid after an 8 hour flight, which I slept an hour of if I’m being generous, and yet, somehow managed to navigate those Spanish trains with a speed and efficiency among the likes of something this country has never seen. Funny how a lot of people my age get their kicks from proposals, promotions, or buying their first home, while I, on the other hand, find equal joy in the act of switching trains TWICE and reading a map in a different language, all the while never having to ask directions! Ahh, the rush of it all!
Upon arriving at our hostel, we were told we weren’t allowed to check in for a few more hours. No big deal, except that a shower was likely my only saving grace to jumpstart the touristing. After a morning of being captivated by a new city and finding our bearings, Jenny and I headed back to the hostel to check in. At that very moment, it was as if the gods had descended upon us specifically to answer my very important prayer. The bluest of blue skies opened and started dumping rain. If that’s not an excuse to catch some Z’s then I don’t know what else is. When God calls, we must listen. After a few hours, the blue came back, we peeled ourselves out of bed, and got right back down to business… the business of sheer, unbridled panic.

I don’t know what it is about people speaking foreign languages to me but I literally just freeze. This is problematic for a number of reasons but mainly, Spain is the only place in which I have a fighting chance of speaking any of the language due to my years of high school Spanish. (Amendment: I did listen to 2 half hour Italian lessons in the car via cassette tape on the way to work week before last. Molto bene, Grazie Signore’!) What I’m trying to say is if this language thing doesn’t kick in soon, I’m going to be in a world of hurt. After observing our pathetic selves, Jenny and I made a decision. Day 1, stick to English, hope for the best, and simply point a lot. From Day 2 onward, Spanglish in full effect! and we haven’t looked back since.

And NowEuropeToDate...