The Bus Ride to Alicante

Heading south from Madrid, the Spanish countryside is patchwork green and brown. Short, shrub-like trees and olive groves speckle the land, and unlike in Iowa, the passerby is never subjected to the smell of animal feces. I guess the thing that struck me immediately about Spanish "farms" (orchards?) is that they surround the village center. Every few miles, there is a cluster of homes, with the cathedral or church standing prominently in the middle. And all of the pastures lead away from the homes... In Iowa, the land is visibly private rather than communal, owned by one farmer who lives in one house and has no neighboring houses as far as the eye can see.

As a former West Virginian, I didn´t realize how much I missed seeing mountains; it has been nearly five years since I´ve been back. Here, the topography is haphazard and beautiful. Atop several cliffs are medieval castles, abandoned I guess. And I counted three marble statues of Mary randomly on the side of the road (sure beats roadkill).

Alicante is in a very dry part of Spain, and they´ve been experiencing a drought for a couple years now. But the beaches bring humidity and some cool breezes, so at the end of May, I couldn´t dream of better weather. Yesterday, Kelly (my roommate) and I wandered down to the Esplanade and had some pizza and tiramisu (not very Spanish, and therefore quite good) in an outdoor cafe. We then wandered over to the beach, where I saw two pickpockets successfully steal 2 people´s backpacks. It was insane! This afternoon, I am going to go to the open fruit market near the Plaze de los Toros (bull fighting stadium) and have been warned by my host parents to hold tight to my bag, and plan to do just that.