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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.

My roommate, Kelly, is awesome. She´s an Ames-Higher now majoring in Biology and if you ask her why she´s here, she probably won´t give you a convincing answer but it´s a sweet deal for me because I get to listen to her speak Spanish

Since her name is Kelly and she´s a blonde, my host family immediately assumes her the quintessential all-American. On our second day, at the dinner table, Luis (nuestro papa) noticed her bare wrist and said: It must not be a custom to wear watches in America, huh?
Kelly: No...well...err
Luis: Why don´t they wear them? In Spain everyone wears them.
Kelly: Well, I have a cell phone that tells the time and there are a lot of easily visible clocks in the States that the public can consult.
Luis: Here too, but we still wear watches.
And so it went--this exploration into the American psyche through Kelly´s strange habits. Come se dice " Kelly is just a weirdo" en Espanol?

Yesterday, after an afternoon at the beach, I came back with my skin a little tanner and she with freckles all over her face and arms. Pones la crema? our mother asked. Kelly triumphantly produced the bottle of SPF 45 from her knapsack and Corin smiled in relief. At dinner last night, Luis, the purveyor of tactless questions, asks:

"Why are Iowans so white?"

In the Prado Museum (El Museo Prado), one of Spain´s greatest treasures, I had the chance to see several paintings by El Greco, Goya and Velasquez--of kings and queens, nativity scenes and portraits of random people both wealthy and vain enough to commission self-portraits. It was surreal to see, full-on, these works of art after reading about them ages ago in an intermediate Spanish class. But there was one by Velasquez that didn´t make my textbook in high school.
Velasquez was a royal painter commissioned by the king to paint pictures of the family and court. He did a series of them on the court jesters (bufones) and my tour guide, Susana, prefaced the painting by saying: ¨This is the twin brother of someone I think you all know quite well...¨¨ I turn towards the picture, and it´s GW Bush staring me in the face, furrowed brow and all!
Susana: ¨Who can tell me who this is? Dont worry-the Prado is not wire-tapped.¨
The group: nervous giggles
Susana: Es el presidente de su pais, no? Es mi presidente tambien. Es el presidente del mundo! (it´s your president, isn´t it? Well, he´s my president now, too. He´s the president of the world!)
My first encounter with US haters? Well, I survived and laughed my heart out.
El Bufon aka GW Bush--hey, I didn´t say it. It was Velasquez.

passport-check
ticket-check
camera-check
clean underwear-check
now if only i could get some sleep...only 16 more hours until my flight to madrid!