I feel like I'm at camp!

A few weeks ago, within the course of just a few days, Salamanca jumped directly from winter to summer.

Way to go, Salamanca! I like spring as much as the next person, but I’ll take 75 and sunny over a continuation of the country’s rainiest winter in seventy years any day.

Although there have been some relapses.

The change was really crazy, actually. I mean, Salmantinos are outside a lot more than Americans are even in the freezing winter months, so I’ve been used to passing a good number of people on the sidewalks around town.

But.                                                  

Since Semana Santa, absolute throngs of people have started to stream into and the city. Japanese tour groups, retired Spaniard tour groups, middle school field trips, French high school exchange programs.

And since mid-April, when the temperature inexplicably rose about 20 degrees Fahrenheit, I’ve quickly learned why Spaniards are so slim, despite their steady diet of bread and fried everything. Walking along the river one Thursday evening on my way to Pilates in a park, I passed what seemed like the entire city out enjoying the weather in a way I‘ve never seen before. When spring arrives at USC, the students spread out on the Horseshoe with Frisbees, puppies, guitars and bikinis. When spring arrives in Salamanca, every single spot of grass and path and water is occupied by walkers, joggers, runners, sitters, nappers, slackliners, readers, drinkers, futbol players, picnickers, roller bladers, skateboarders, bikers, unicyclers, scooterers(?), dog-walkers, sunbathers, strollers, kayakers, rowers, paddleboaters, guitar-players, bonding families, gossiping old men, gossiping old women, kids playing tag, kids playing Read Madrid vs. Barcelona, kids playing Spain vs. Germany, parents teaching their kids about nature, happy dogs chasing each other, and teenagers whose American counterparts would be at the mall.

Every restaurant has set up outdoor seating, and there are so many people buying ice cream cones that the only seating left is directly on the cobblestone ground. Daniela and I leave our bedroom window open pretty much all the time now, even sometimes while we sleep, and I feel like I'm at camp! A camp filled with very urban sounds, but there you have it.

Just look at all those happy Spaniards frolicking in the nature.

It's unnatural.

Don't they know they're supposed to enjoy a sunset from inside a building?

It’s beautiful to see the whole community come outside like this. It really just warms my heart. Sooo…why can’t we do that in the United States?

You could argue that most American cities aren't nearly as walkable as those in Europe. You could also remind me that most Salamantinos live in apartments with no yards, so they use the city itself as their playground, so to speak. These are true. But I could argue right back that as recently as my own childhood, warm weather drove the neighborhood kids out into the street and yards in droves to ride bikes, play tag, build forts and catch lightning bugs. We managed to spend hours outdoors most days because we considered it an interesting and invigorating extension of our houses. I don't see that as much anymore, and it really sucks. I had forgotten what I was missing until Salamanca reminded me how nice it can be to just take a walk for an hour or two, or to get everyone together for a picnic just because the sun is shining.

Is there a better view anywhere in the world? I think not.

Sitting in the Plaza to eat your frozen yogurt is pretty much as good as it gets.

And it builds muscles.

The remnants of a riverside picnic

On my happy rock somewhere along the Camino del Agua

Maybe we should all take a leaf out of Salamanca's book and drag our kids and friends and parents out of our houses more. I mean, seriously...if we really tried, we could turn Chattanooga/Columbia/wherever into the backdrop of a daily block party. Um, HELLO perfect summer.

This is the Most All-Encompassing Blog Post in my Short History of Writing Blog Posts.

Remember when Dumbledore explained his Pensieve to Harry in Goblet of Fire?

"I sometimes find, and I am sure you know the feeling, that I simply have too many thoughts and memories crammed into my mind," he said. "At these times, I use the Pensieve. One simply siphons the excess thoughts from one's mind, pours them into the basin, and examines them at one's leisure."

Well, I don't have a Pensieve. I've got a neglected blog (sorry mom), 3.8 gigabytes of photos on my computer and pocketfuls of plane, train, bus and metro tickets from the past month. And this weekend, for the first time since mid-February, I didn't travel (wooooooooo!), so I sat down and tried to wrap my head around it all.

So here they are - the highlights of my recent adventures, complete with helpful GIFs from my new favorite website, thetimeistudiedabroad.tumblr.com!

Barcelona, Spain (March 1-3)

What can I say? We came. We saw.

We had our dreams crushed when we realized we wouldn't have time to tour the Sagrada Familia.

We ate kebabs, God's gift to anyone walking around a European city at 3 a.m.

We basked in the tourist-saturated sunlight at Park Guell.

We saw this man blowing huge bubbles.

We accidentally stumbled upon the eerily empty Olympic Park, home to the 1992 Summer Games.

We saw some views that were okay, I guess.

We hurt our brains trying to read and speak Catalan, which was just no fun at all.

We caught the sunset over Barcelona's harbor on our way to get some paella for dinner.

We attended an early Mass in the crypt church of the Sagrada Familia, still sad that we couldn't tour the inside of Gaudi's masterpiece above us. But we got to drink coffee in this cafe right next to the church beforehand!

We experienced divine intervention when the priest called us to the front of the church at the end of Mass for a blessing, found out we hadn't seen the upstairs and told us that if we waited for him to change clothes, he'd let us in the side door.

And oh. My.

So we got in for free (saving 16 euros apiece!) before regular tourist hours, giving us just enough time to try to soak it all in before we had to catch our plane. I don't think a week in there would have been enough, though...and it's not even completed. I'm glad no one told me about the rainbowed stained-glass windows before I saw them, because the lights dancing on the white stone was the most incredible surprise ever. I gasped so many times. It was absolutely surreal.

Lisbon, Portugal (March 8-10)

What DIDN'T I do in Lisboa? This was probably my favorite weekend so far and the most gorgeous/bohemian/historical/underrated/artsy/musical city I've ever visited.

The first local to welcome me to Lisbon. He's got a pipe. I like him.

We admired the sidewalks.

We walked up the San Francisco-esque streets to Castelo de São Jorge.

We ran around the turrets.

I creeped (crept?) on some peacocks.

We had a traditional Portuguese meal of broiled bacalhau with vinho verde and it was INCREDIBLE.

I saw the tomb of Vasco de Gama.

I ate a Pastel de Belém from the original little blue bakery, according to my friend Sydnie's orders. This little cream pastry, when topped with powdered sugar and consumed while still warm from the oven, is something akin to the nectar of the gods. In my opinion.

I got real serious with Anna in front of the Torre de Belém.

And then we had to walk across this with our LIVES FLASHING BEFORE OUR EYES.

But the view from the top was nice!

I met up with Sydnie, who has an internship at the U.S. embassy in Lisbon this semester! We ran around all afternoon/night/morning with her friends David and Suzie, Gamecocks who were visiting Portugal over spring break, and Grant, who works with her at the embassy.

We took the train to Cascais, a small beach town about an hour's ride from Lisbon and one of the most ridiculously pretty places I've ever seen.

I finally found out what my soul is.

Got a snack. Got a good view.

I hung out with such an attractive posse!

I saw some really huge waves.

Kind of maybe had a little Titanic moment with Sydnie.

We took the last bus of the day to Cabo da Roca, the westernmost point of mainland Europe...and made it there about 10 minutes after the sun set. And then we had to sprint back to the bus before it left us there overnight. It was still incredible, though!

I ate an incredible steak dinner.

We headed back to Grant's studio...

Throwing up our spurs!

Grant's a former Gator, so we humored him.

...and then we ended up in Bairro Alto, where good times were had by all (in the streets, because that's how they do it in Lisboa).

Madrid and Turin (March 13-17)

My best friend Eleanor came to visit me over her spring break!

I watched helplessly as Eleanor tore apart the bathroom in our Madrid hostel out of pure rage. That, or the place was just as much of a dump as the guy at the front desk was a big fat mustachioed meany pants. One or the other. (Side note: this was when we found out that Papa Francisco was elected pope!)

We flew over some little wimpy hills on our way to Turin, Italy. No biggie.

BIGGER DEAL, SAW A MUMMIFIED CROCODILE at the Museo Egizio, where we meandered through the world's second-largest collection of Egyptian stuff. Like mummified reptiles, for example.

We found out that our hotel room was actually a cabin attic from the 1970s.

We stopped by the Cattedrale di San Giovanni Battista, which we were stunned to find is the resting place of the actual Shroud of Turin. Ok, actually, I knew this, but it completely slipped my mind. How embarrassing. We were really, really bad tourists the whole time we were in Turin, actually. On the plane ride over, for example, we realized that our knowledge of the Italian language consisted entirely of "prego," "diva" and assorted pasta dishes and cheeses. We hadn't bothered to look up "hello" or "good morning" or even "yes" or "no," or honestly any places to go or see. Oops.

Alas, the Shroud on the wall is a replica. The real one is in the altar.

On our way out, we found the tomb of Blessed Pier Giorgio Frassati! Take a sec to read his story. It's just awesome.

We stopped by the Tourism Office, found a guy who spoke English and asked him where we should go to get to the Alps. The next morning found us on a train to...Susa? What's a Susa?

YUCK ugly.

It's tiny, that's what. Tiny and gorgeous and completely devoid of English-speakers. We tried in vain to figure out how to get out of the village and into the snow-capped mountains, but our charades apparently weren't funny enough to persuade the locals to direct us to any secret trails, so we kind of just wandered around until we got hungry.

And then we saw Turin by night.

We got back to Madrid Saturday just in time to catch a Real Madrid game. Eleanor bawled like a baby, she was so happy. And the teenage guy and his grandfather next to us were smoking and having some serious futbol talk the whole time; it was so quintessentially Spanish.

We took the metro back after the game. THAT was super fun.

Ughhhhhh.

And then we were famished; and then we saw McDonalds, like a beacon of crispy golden goodness, beckoning to us. And we answered. In my defense, this was my first American restaurant all semester (minus a minor breakdown at a Subway in Barcelona).

Mumford & Sons Concert in Madrid (March 21-22)

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And that's all I have to say about that.