here's to a slower week. plus el torre eiffel.

Being in a hurry. Getting to the next thing without fully entering the thing in front of me. I cannot think of a single advantage I have ever gained from being in a hurry. But a thousand broken and missed things, tens of thousands, lie in the wake of all the rushing... Through all the haste I thought I was making up time. 

It turns out I was throwing it away."

- Ann Voskamp, One Thousand Gifts: A Dare to Live Fully Right Where You Are

opening ceremony.

I'm sitting here with Piper, and while she lovingly tries to destroy the new alligator toy I got her today, I'm watching the Opening Ceremony for the 2012 Olympics. It's interesting, seeing the "history" of the Isles. They focused on the pastoral aspect of the UK, then boomed in the Industrial Revolution, pausing for a few minutes to honor the fallen from every country involved in the first World War.

I started thinking about what America's opening ceremony would have been if it was about our history. I immediately thought of war...war is how we gained our independence. If you think about it, most of our history (which is short compared to every country in Europe) is war. A lot of the UK's history involves war as well...but they left it out of the ceremony.They left out everything about the problems with Ireland. They left out how mistreated the Irish felt during "the Troubles." I mean, war doesn't exactly promote world unification, right? But good grief, what would we display about ourselves, about our culture?

I'm not ashamed to be an American. I never have been and I never will be. That's not where I'm going with this.

I just think...what if we all had to do an opening ceremony of our lives? I guess we kind of do when we meet our Lord. What am I ashamed of, that He will see (and has already seen)?! What am I proud of, that I pray God is also proud of? What will I try to hide? How many people have I mistreated, intentionally or not, that wouldn't even be mentioned in my opening ceremony? Yikes, life. I think we have some work to do.

sherrilyn kenyon.

"It’s easy to look at people and make quick judgments about them, their present and their past, but you’d be amazed at the pain and tears a single smile hides. What a person shows to the world is only one tiny facet of the iceberg hidden from sight. And more often then not, it’s lined with cracks and scars that go all the way to the foundation of their soul."

last bit of spain.

Today, I've been thinking about Paloma. I emailed her (via Gonzalo) earlier to inform her that I made my first batch of Paloma Summer Salad! Unfortunately, it's nothing like her's and I didn't cook the potatoes long enough, but I'm sure she'll be happy anyway.

I never got around to blogging about my final day in Europe, did I? I grabbed another banana nutella crepe from our sweet friend and his crepe stand and walked around for a bit in the cold rain with Sara and Olivia before heading to the airport. I sat by a couple from Australia on the plane, and they were so nice. I was so grateful to not be stuck by another drunk Asian man.

I texted Paloma to let her know when I landed in Madrid and hopped on the Metro as quickly as I could. She was waiting in her house for me with a huge hug and tons of questions about Paris. Of course, she fed me immediately (it was the summer salad, by the way!) and asked what time my next flight was. Here's the problem. This is Sunday, about 9pm. My flight didn't leave until Monday, 11am. I was just going to chill in the airport because a) I didn't want to pay for a hotel or for another night at Paloma's, b) she already had a new student in mine and Sara's room, and c) I did NOT want to impose on her like that. Paloma would hear none of my excuses, naturally. That sweet woman insisted I sleep on the couch in her sitting room. I told her I couldn't ask that of her and she looked me in the eye and said, "Well, you didn't ask, did you? I said. That's it." She grinned and I wanted to cry. How this woman could have such a huge heart for someone she'd only known for a month I still don't understand. But, I would have done the same for her. I may not get to pay Paloma back for her incredible kindness, but it will stick with me until I can do something equivalent for someone else. I thank God everyday that Sara and I were blessed with such a wonderful housing situation in Madrid.

Here's me, Paloma, and Sara.

 Here we are with Maria, Paloma, and Gonzalo sporting the Auburn shirts Sara brought for them!

After sitting in the kitchen for a couple of hours and talking about everything I saw in Paris and EURO2012 and stories from Paloma's life and goodness knows what else, the New Yorkers went to bed and Paloma got me a pillow for the sofa. She and I stayed up for another two hours just talking. I was so tired. It was so hard to focus. But I wouldn't have traded that for anything. She is such a strong woman, that Paloma. I can't remember what pieces of her life I've mentioned and which I learned that night, but it doesn't matter. Lots of things have happened in Paloma's life that should have broken her. One or two of those events alone should have floored her, and she has dealt with five or six huge road blocks. She's still chugging. She's still happy with her life. She knows she is strong, and she knows that's how she has made it so far. Paloma told me she prays every night and thanks God for the good things and doesn't even dwell on the bad. How often do I catch myself complaining about things to God? How often do I NOT catch myself?

She hugged me tight and kissed my cheeks before she went to bed. I had to leave around 6:30am, so she wasn't going to be awake. She told me at least four times to make sure I ate breakfast before leaving. I left her a note on the coffee table the next morning and headed home.

War Eagle moment: an older couple was sitting beside me in the terminal and I asked them to watch my bag at one point while I ran to the restroom. He asked where I was from and I told him I went to Auburn, and their faces just lit up! He and his daughter went to Auburn and he just gushed about the university. It was nice.

I had a window seat on the plane (yes!) but there were NOT individual screens for movies or whatever. I read most of the flight which suited me just fine, but the guy beside me was kind of mad. So was the obnoxious group from Georgia. I started talking to the guy beside me and kept up a conversation for about half an hour. He's from Spain, Pais Vasco in the north, and I couldn't tell you his name to save my life. Pais Vasco speaks Spanish, but the people also have their own unique language that is often reflected in their names. He was so nice. He was headed to Mobile after ATL (small world, no?) because he works on a boat or an oil rig there. I can't remember exactly what he said, but he's on the water for a month and a half, then he flies back to Spain for a month and a half, then back to Mobile, etc. He must be making bank if he flies that much. We laughed a lot talking to each other. I asked him tons of questions about Spain and Pais Vasco and what he liked or didn't like about America. He asked me about Auburn and driving everywhere and what the difference between the words "beach" and "witch" with a b was. To him, they sound the same! It was great fun, and honestly, I wasn't ready to quit speaking Spanish yet.

It was weird landing in the US and hearing English full time again. I didn't like it very much. I called my mom as soon as I could, texted Reed (because he was at work), and found a Chik-fil-a. Three things: fried chicken, french fries, and sweet tea. I had a five hour layover, so I read some more, walked a lot, and talked with Reed for a long time. The flight to Huntsville was about half an hour and I definitely fell asleep on the plane. I left Spain at 11am, arrived in ATL at 2:45pm (9:45pm in Spain) and got to Huntsville at 8:30pm (3:30am in Spain). Needless to say, jet lag had already kicked in. That didn't stop me from going to Krispy Kreme with my mom and sisters after they got me from the airport :]

Since then, I've thrown my sister a lingerie shower, loved on my sweet puppy, driven to Auburn, started my new job (more on that later), visited Reed in Mobile for the 4th (finally! it was almost 6 whole weeks!), and picked up a cold. It's officially wedding week AND week-before-summer-reunion-week at the ACSC, so I don't really have time for sickness right now. Isn't that always the case?

Piper's already sprawled out on my bed, fast asleep. I missed that little girl and her weird sleeping positions.

june 23: paris, part deux

Let's try this again.

After adoring the Notre Dame and taking lots of pictures, we walked. I'm not sure if we had an exact destination in mind, but we ended up walking across an adorable bridge over the Seine. Something strange about our time in Paris: one of us would mention something we wanted to see or needed to find and less than five minutes later, that very thing we had just discussed appears! For example, my little sister Becca LOVES postcards. I sent the girl two from Spain and vowed to find "antique" postcards for her while on my trip. I told my friends to be on the lookout, and the next street vendor we passed had hundreds of antique postcards! I grabbed a card for Becca and a card for myself, complete with stamps, postmarks, and handwritten notes on the back. They are precious, and the old man that sold them to me was so typically Parisian I couldn't stop looking at him!

Walk, walk, walk. War Eagle moment with some other students from Auburn, spending their free weekend from Rome in Paris. Walk, walk, McDonald's. I don't think you people understand how very viciously cold it was in Paris this day. We needed coffee and sustenance and free WiFi. McDonald's it is.

When I say McDonald's, I really mean McCafe. These restaurants are legit in Europe. They. Are. So. NICE. Sara ordered Earl Grey and they served it to her in a mug with a teapot of steaming water. Olivia's coffee had a design in the foam and came in a glass, not a disposable cup. There were macaroons, muffins, and tons of other pastries I've never even seen before.

Walk, walk, walk again. Stumble upon a plaza with art all over the walls of the buildings and modern art sculptures in the fountain. There was a strange looking modern art museum and a few men creating beautiful art on the sidewalk with chalk. Then, we found Etam. Etam is a clothing store with really cute, fashionable clothing and lingerie for ridiculously reasonable prices. I hunted for a loong time and finally found some things for the other sister who gets married in two weeks :]

Next item on the check list: the Louvre. Of course, we didn't have nearly enough time to even consider entering the museum, so we took pictures outside by the glass structures. Thank you, Tennessee Vols fan for snapping our photo. Check.

I mentioned how frigid Paris was weather wise. Did I mention the wind? Did I mention how difficult it is to control a dress in the wind and avoid showing the world your unmentionables? Well, it's hard. And funny. And such a funny memory. Olivia, Sara, and I had quite a time controlling our skirts.

Walk, walk, statue, walk, couple making out, walk, walk, pink limo, walk, big fountain, walk, walk, man blowing the biggest bubbles I've ever seen in my life, walk, walk, zoo, walk, walk, CHAMPS FREAKING ELYSEES. I knew this avenue was a big deal, but I was not prepared. Louis Vuitton. Cartier. Hugo Boss. People everywhere. And, at the end, the Arc de Triomphe. It is still so surreal to me to think that these monuments exist and that I saw them in real life.

Next, we hopped on a Metro and found the Sacre Coeur Basilica in Montmartre. The basilica itself is beautiful, but it's set on top of a hill and the view is gorgeous. You can see so much of the city. This is a major tourist spot, so the hill and basilica were swarming with people. Walking up to the basilica was the only time I felt unsafe my entire time in Europe. There were these men from Africa that walked up to each of us individually and grabbed our wrists, weaving some sort of bracelet on our arms. My man spoke English, but he said "Hakuna Matata." My train of thought: Lion King? Has he seen it? Or is he from Tanzania and knows Swahili? Do other African countries speak Swahili? Why is he tying this thing on my arm? I finally told him I wasn't willing to pay him for some string on my arm, and he said, "...Just a small contribution." I said no more than enough times and tried to pull my wrist from his grasp. He wouldn't let go. All four of us had this problem at the same time, so no one could help anyone else! Cynthia got caught by a man twice. As soon as my guy let me go, I ran. Flat-out RAN. We tried to enjoy the basilica, but I was kind of freaked out and really worried about having to go back down the mountain towards those men. God was watching out for us and nothing else happened.

As if that wasn't sketchy enough, we left the Sacre Coeur and went straight to see the Moulin Rouge. I felt like I needed to take a shower after walking past the stores and cabarets on that street. Worth it to see the building, I suppose. And worth it to find crepes for dinner!

We walked the city again after dinner. I am a firm believer (and so is Paloma!) that the best way to befriend a city is to walk and get slightly lost in it. We saw the Concorde Opera Paris, lots of cathedrals, beautiful buildings, Gucci, Dolce & Gabbana, Ralph Lauren, Chanel, Jimmy Choo, Dior, and finally, the Eiffel Tower.

We could see it from a bridge over the Seine and we stopped to snap a few photos. Then, of course, we found a cute little food shop and picked up some snacks (aka the BEST cappuccino muffin I've ever tasted) to eat on the lawn of the Eiffel Tower. It was beautiful at dusk, even though random Frenchmen walked around trying to sell alcohol to everyone, but it was even more beautiful at night. Right as the sun was setting, we joined the line to buy tickets to go to the top. Of course, only one side of elevators were functioning, so the line was incredible. We waited for an hour and a half and just barely made the 11pm cut off.

It was horribly cold. My cardigan, thin dress, and scarf were just not cutting it in that Paris weather. We waited for forever, but luckily we had some great people in line around us. One lady and her daughter were (white) South Africans, but the daughter now lives in London. Evidently, it's difficult for white South Africans to get jobs because of racial issues. Companies are forced to hire black employees, so most young people leave South Africa and move to other parts of Europe in search of a job. Interesting. The two ladies were wonderful though. So funny and so willing to tell us stories and listen to ours in return. I really enjoyed meeting them.

By the time we were able to ride the elevator up, we could only go to the first level of the Tower. (I'm a chicken, and I hate heights...so I didn't complain.) Cynthia had left to go meet her mom and Olivia, Sara, and I were about to freeze to death. We took pictures and enjoyed our time up there, but made it quick! We had to wait in another line to go down and made friends with some ladies from San Fran. They were so interested in our study abroad program. Even though we were in a line to get on the elevator, someone behind me thought she was entitled to push and shove her way past me and Sara to get on the elevator. Olivia made it...and the lady and her husband who pushed were the last two allowed on that load. I couldn't believe that woman did that! Everyone in line behind us was shocked (in English and Spanish, at least) and even her husband looked remorseful when Sara and I were separated from Olivia. It all turned out fine. Just frustrating!

It took us a while to find a Metro stop and when the metro finally arrived, it was really crowded. I tried to go in one door, but there were too many people. I tried to go in another door, and it slammed in my face, shooting off with my two friends inside it, leaving me standing on the platform by myself. I was so tired and so cold and irrationally upset by that point. A lady that stepped off the Metro came over to me and asked if I was okay or if I needed help. She made sure I knew how to get to my stop alone and then left. I'll forever be grateful for her, whatever her name is. She soothed my nerves without even realizing it. She didn't have to stop and ask about my well-being. But she did.

We all three finally made it back to the hotel where I tried to blog but crashed almost immediately.