Hasta septiembre!

Today is my last full day in Navalmoral until September.  As I look back on where I was at this time last year, I can’t believe how much of a difference just one year can make.

Last year on my last day here, I was a wreck. I sobbed when I had to say my goodbyes and didn’t even try to hide my tears in the airport, as mascara ran down my face and people stared at me. This year, I’m so excited and happy to be going home for the summer...because I know I’ll be coming back here.

Navalmoral has really turned into my home. I always tell people, “If my family and friends from the USA would just come here, life would be perfect.” I know that’s not a possibility and that I will always be missing something from the USA when I’m in Spain and something from Spain when I’m in the USA...but for now, I’m happy.

So many people who have lived in Navalmoral their whole lives, don’t understand why I love it so much.  They just think it’s an ugly small town where there’s nothing to do.  I don’t see it like that.  While people might say that Navalmoral is not the most beautiful place, I can travel to Salamanca or La Vera or Andalucía whenever I want to see gorgeous buildings and nature. The physical beauty of the town is not what concerns me...its heart does. And Navalmoral de la Mata has a very big heart. It’s a community where you can walk down the streets and most often see, at the very least, one person you know.  It’s a place where people reach out to me just because I’m foreign.  They embrace me and treat me as one of their own, while not expecting anything in return.  Just today when I was entering my apartment building, a young family was coming out. I had never met them before or even seen them.  As they held the door open for me, the wife asked in English, “Where are you from?” I said, “The United States.”  She replied in all sincerity, “Oh wow, that’s wonderful. Well, if you ever need anything we’re in 2A.” That’s not something that happens everywhere.

This is one of the many reasons that I couldn’t leave here for good...again. I needed to come back.  Come back to the morning pastries and cafés con leche. Come back to late nights spent dancing and running into everyone you know at the bars and staying out until the churros shop opens. Come back to going for a walk down the street with someone with no intended destination. I could go on for pages and pages, but I think you understand.

Though this year was very different than last year here, I learned even more about myself this time around.  Last year I learned how to travel alone and how to explore the world fearlessly.  This year, I learned how to survive the world fearlessly and how to stand up for myself in ways that I never could before.

I remember during my first year here, around February when I had to decide to renew for another year or not, I was walking down the street and I thought, “I’ve gotten all that I can get out of this place. It’s time for something new.” Over the next few months I figured out that wasn’t true and I kicked myself over and over for deciding not to return for another year.  In the end, it all worked out and I was able to come back.  However, now and then I find myself questioning if I truly have gotten all that I can get out of Navalmoral and if it is time to move on...and the answer is always a constant “No.”

You're from WHERE?

About 3 weeks ago, Whitney and I took another beach adventure, but this time to Fuerteventura in the Canary Islands. Life is rough.

After taking the 9pm bus into Madrid and getting in around 11pm, we went over to Juan’s place to crash until he would drive us to the airport at 4am. Good man.  At the airport, though tired, we were able to appreciate that we hadn’t been two of the unfortunate souls who had spent the whole night on the floor or the luggage belts of Barajas. Been there, done that, no thank you.

Once we boarded our flight and got our exit row seats (with no drama this time), we set off. We landed in Fuerteventura a couple of hours later and only knew which bus to take to get to our hostel, but not actually where the hostel was.  This led to a lot of wasted time walking around until we used GoogleMaps on Whitney’s phone and finally found our hostel...or should I say hotel. It was an amazing place. For (if you stay the 3 night minimum) 16 euros each a night or (for our two nights) 20 euros each a night, it was a legitimate hotel. It had a small kitchen in the room, a nice bathroom, and comfortable beds.  The best part was the pool...it was complete with two cabanas, a normal pool, and either a sun-tanning pool or a baby pool (we couldn’t completely decide its intended purpose). Also, the hotel guy said we were the first Americans he had ever seen there. We thought surely he must mean that day.

Once we had changed into our bathing suits and made a quick stop at the supermarket to pick up things for lunch, we walked over to the beach near the hotel. It was a much more “beachy” atmosphere than Cagliari had been.  The beautiful turquoise-blue waters were surrounded by a busy boardwalk and the beaches, though not overrun, were definitely crowded.  We spent the rest of the afternoon on the beach, soaking up the sun.  Then when the wind became too strong, we went to the hotel pool to soak up the sun a little more. It wasn’t until we got back to our room than we realized how much sun we had soaked up. Despite putting on and reapplying lots of sunscreen, I guess the African sun just was not too forgiving. We were super burnt. Carefully showering and slathering on layers and layers of after-sun lotion, we put on our sundresses and headed out for the “early bird special” that we had seen at an Indian food restaurant (we are officially old ladies).

Sangria at the playa.

The cabana on the left was ours.

The restaurant was completely empty and we were excitedly ushered in by the workers outside, who were trying to bring in business. We were a little wary of the experience that was to come. Luckily, it was some of the best Indian food I had ever had, at an amazing price, with incredible service. At the end of the meal, the cook/owner/mother hen came out to make sure we liked everything and was shocked to learn that we were American.  She decided she loved us and treated us to some shots of honey rum on the house.

Mmmm butter chicken.

For the rest of the evening, we walked down the main street, avoiding the harassment of all of the restaurant promoters, all who when they shouted behind us to ask us where we were from, were amazed.  We thought, “Are Americans really THIS much of a rarity in Fuerteventura?” Our last stop of the night was to a bar with a terrace that opened onto a plaza and was filled with people to see a grade-D magician performing.  We ordered a mojito and piña colada, that both came out with a sparkler on top...A great ending to our first day on the island.

We took the picture too late to get the sparkler in it.

The next day, we got on a city bus to go see the sand dunes that were about a 20-minute ride away from our hotel. After we decided to ignore the ambiguous sign about “no entry” to the dunes, we explored, played, and took loads of pictures. Once we were sufficiently covered in sand, we went to wait for the return bus.  When we got back to our side of the island, we headed over to the port, where we caught a ferry out to the nearby Isla de Lobos.

Photoshooting.

The “Island of Wolves” was much more protected from the high winds that had started up on Fuerteventura that day, so we were happy with our decision to go there.  The walk from the ferry to the beach though, was so excruciatingly hot, that we were ready to actually get in the water by the time we laid our towels down on the burning sand.  And no, we didn’t see any wolves...

It looked a little like what I picture Mars to.

We spent the next four hours sun-tanning, sleeping, and swimming (although I swam more than Whitney, who was not a fan of the minnows swimming around us).  We were ready to go when the ferry left the island around 4:00 pm and went back to the hotel pool to sit in our favorite cabana. 

That night, after showering, we went out to dinner at a place that a tour guide lady had recommended to us.  It seemed super touristy, was right on the beach, and looked pretty expensive too.  We were very hungry once we sat down, so we just decided to suck up the cost and enjoy our last dinner in Fuerteventura.

The place ended up being amazing. We found out that it’s true that Fuerteventura doesn’t actually ever see Americans on the island when the entire wait staff, upon hearing of our nationality, came over to talk to us.  They also gave us a free appetizer and free shots at the end of the meal. It was perfect and the food was delicious.  After dinner, we went back to the same bar as the night before and sat on the terrace again, this time listening to a singer, who was much better than the magician.

Our free appetizer. Octopus and potatoes.

Chipirones!

We went to bed that night exhausted and just a little more red than the night before.

In the morning we woke up bright and early to take a bus/taxi combo to the airport.  The flight home was uneventful and the next week was spent applying incredible amounts of Aloe Vera.  All in all, I give the vacation a 10/10.