I hadn't started to process that my Extremaduran days are coming to a close until today when I was sorting my clothes into what goes with me and what stays here (limited suitcase space!) Suddenly I was like, "Wait, so I'm actually leaving." Getting settled into a city for eight months and then simply packing up and going is an odd phenomenon. But I don't think I'll fully realize it's over until the plane thuds onto the Logan runway.
Although I leave Cáceres in six days, I still have three weeks until I hit Boston. I'll be traveling with Phyllis, a dear pal from home, for a good while. Gotta make the most of being in this land where wine is cheaper than water and people shout rather than talk, where castles are as common as gas stations (well, almost) and highways are surrounded by dramatically angular mountains. The details of our impending adventure will be in the post that follows! I'll likely write it from my home in Massachusetts while munching on a burrito. (Burritos are non-existent here in Spain, so that's one thing I'm quite looking forward to.)
So, last weekend I soaked up Mediterranean rays (although Spaniards still make fun of me for being very "blanca") with Antonio in Fuengirola, Málaga, a town brimming with seafood, English folk, and souvenir shops. Since I'm used to the bitter, cold Atlantic waters, I readily jumped into the sea. But Antonio, who lacks the Massachusetts-bred tolerance of the cold, merely dipped in a toe.
This weekend, I began my goodbyes. Yesterday, I went to the nearby city, Badajoz, to say bye to my chums, Cady and Dani. We lay in the grass and ate chocolate-covered Chips Ahoy, and then, just like that, it was time for me to take the bus back. They're from the Midwest, but hopefully one day in the future, we'll cross paths again. Last night, I went out with Caroline and her roommate, Noelia. As there was no dance floor at the bar, we swayed in our seats to classic 80s tunes, mostly American. Then I had to say a sad goodbye to Noelia. But not yet to my dear Caroline. I'll save that for the very last moment I'm here. It definitely won't be my favorite moment of my time here in Spain. That's for sure! Today, I had lunch with my intercambio, Honorio (I practice Spanish with him and he practices English with me) at his house with his family. Got to enjoy a typical, Spanish lunch of gazpacho and paella. And then more goodbyes. I'm sick of them already!
Although I leave Cáceres in six days, I still have three weeks until I hit Boston. I'll be traveling with Phyllis, a dear pal from home, for a good while. Gotta make the most of being in this land where wine is cheaper than water and people shout rather than talk, where castles are as common as gas stations (well, almost) and highways are surrounded by dramatically angular mountains. The details of our impending adventure will be in the post that follows! I'll likely write it from my home in Massachusetts while munching on a burrito. (Burritos are non-existent here in Spain, so that's one thing I'm quite looking forward to.)
So, last weekend I soaked up Mediterranean rays (although Spaniards still make fun of me for being very "blanca") with Antonio in Fuengirola, Málaga, a town brimming with seafood, English folk, and souvenir shops. Since I'm used to the bitter, cold Atlantic waters, I readily jumped into the sea. But Antonio, who lacks the Massachusetts-bred tolerance of the cold, merely dipped in a toe.
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| Fuengirola! |
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