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| I'm relearning how to write, this time with my left hand. I'm studying
prepositions, but now in Spanish. Someone else has to do my hair, cut
my food, and carry my stuff. I can't help but feel like a child.
There's something humbling about being dependent. | | |
| For those of you who have not yet heard the story of my valiant effort to fly, here it is.
Jen, Ricardo, Kara and I had rented a car to go to Granada for the weekend. The drive was beautiful as we wound our way between orchards and vineyards into the mountains ahead. We passed some castles capping the mountains and eventually decide to stop and explore a couple of them. The particular castle that i am uncomfortably intimate with is located in the little town of Sax, Spain (I have now deemed anything to do with the word sax a bad omen). The castle door had a dead bolt on it, but we found an alternate entrance by climbing neighboring rocks. I made it in first and decided to explore the far tower where i found a ladder leading up through a hole in the ceiling. Curiosity got the best of me, so i climbed up and began looking for the others. Hmm... they aren't there. I think I'll go.........(this is when i fall back through the hole to find a cold concrete floor there to welcome me) I put up a fight, but concrete appears to be stronger than bone. After assessing the damage and coming to the joyful realization that I was still alive, I called for help.
My hero Ricardo and heroine Jen took flight back down the mountain for help while Kara stayed to keep me distracted from the psychological realization of what had happened.(Sorry Kara, you didn't get a title even though I would argure you had the more difficult task) The paramedics finally arrived after busting the dead bolt on the castle door. They had a stretcher, but apparently no intention of using it. After getting sufficiently frustrated at these incompetent people "playing" paramedic, I walked down the castle without help thinking "I guess I could have just done this earlier." Once in the ambulance I searched my Spanish vocabulary and came up with one phrase: "Drogas Fuertes!" (Strong drugs!) But of course they didn't let these fools administer actual medicine. No drugs on the ambulance.
Ricardo stayed with me for the rest of my adventure as my prometido (fiance) because he speaks the most spanish. My accommodation in the emergency room was a quaint little bed in the hallway. They gave me drugs, took x-rays and were finally ready to put me back together. They failed to inform me that plaster and staples were the tools of choice. It isn't till now that I realize there is a huge gash in my side which they numb and I hear a sound that now haunts me, a stapler. Six times I hear the ca-chink of the stapling gun. I looked at the doctor and ask, "do those come in gold hoops? Stainless steel is so last season." Well he didn't understand me. My humor wasted once again. Next they put me through chinese torture treatment. I guess someone told them I am a ninja. They pulled, set, and plastered my arm into place where it remains now.
So, for now I will stay in Spain. And, God willing, these bones will stay in place and i won't need surgery (meaning a plane ticket back to the States). I find out Tuesday. Below are pictures of my arm, an x-ray of the break, and the castle that got the best of me.
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| This last weekend, the 9th, we went to Peñíscola. It’s a city on the Mediterranean Sea. On the top of the hill is a beautiful 12th century castle that was once inhabited by Anti-pope Benedict XIII.   Some pictures of the castle.  
Doesn´t that first shot look like it´s from Pirates of the Caribbean?   The picture on the left is of the floor. All of the streets in the town looked just like this. I can´t imagine how long that must have taken. The picture on right is of the stairs to the dungeon.  
These make me laugh. There were a couple old ladies walking in the ocean with canes. They can hardly walk, but darn it, they’re going to the beach. All I have to say is, You go girl! | | |
| Saturday June second we made our way to the quaint little town of Albarracín located amidst the mountains of Spain. It’s a little town with houses that run together and are stacked on top of each other. We wound our way up the cobble stone streets to the city wall. Jen and I scaled the wall taking what we learned later to be the vertical climb as opposed to the easy path. Later my ankle painfully reminded me that it probably was not the best idea. Once at the top I gazed over the other side, standing where archers once stood as they fired arrows at attacking armies. Jen and I pondered ways to ambush the city as if we had an army of our own. What has happened to armies and war? The days of city walls and archers have long passed and now we fight with obscurity and fear with ammunition more destructive that I can comprehend. Bombs that I pray are never detonated. Well, I suppose I have strayed from the topic. We had a wonderful time in Albarracín. Here are some pictures:  
 
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| Some observations I have made these past couple weeks - Although everyone drinks coffee (it’s really strong and not sweet) no one gets coffee to-go.
- Lunch is the big meal of the day and everyone eats breakfast.
- The schedule is very different, everything shuts down for siesta from 2-4 but they stay open till 7.
- Milk is disgusting, like weird soy milk
- Nearly everyone has a cell phone, but they’re considerably less obnoxious. People don’t talk or text on them all the time and I rarely hear them ring.
- Most of the cars are stick shift.
- People care about conservation. There are recycle bins on the street. You don’t use much water when you shower. You don’t leave lights on. The hallway lights automatically shut off. We don’t ever have left-overs. Lots of people walk, ride a bike, or take the bus.
- Modesty is... very different. Women walk around topless at the beach. Men go running in spandex shorts. But for work and school, people dress nice. They don’t wear shorts and their clothes aren’t revealing.
- On Sundays, everything shuts down. What happened to the Sabbath in America?
- The mullet is still cool.
- Dogs poop on the sidewalks.
- The cars are tiny and I have only seen one truck.
- Public things seem well kept like the parks and the busses, but graffiti is not cleaned up.
- The school busses look like charter busses.
- They don´t speak english.
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