More Barcelona, San Juan, Fireworks, Food, Food, and More Food!

More exploring around Barcelona consisted of an attempted visit to Mount Tibidabo. I say attempted because we never actually made it to Tibidabo. We took the tram to metro to the train and tried to take that to another tram, but that’s when our journey stopped. The second tram we were supposed to take (the old tram) was closed (opened Thursday through Sunday, it was Wednesday). We ended up staring at the peak of Mount Tibidabo from the area of Barcelona just below it (don’t ask me the name because I don’t know it and I am feeling too lazy to look it up now and even too lazy to ask Mar who is sitting right in front of me). The second tram was supposed to take us to the funicular (or train that climbs a steep incline for those less wise among us - those like me the other day). Recapping, to get to Mount Tibidabo from Mar’s apartment it takes two trams, a metro, a train, and a funicular. To top off our frustration, the old tram which was closed, would be opened every day starting the next! Bad luck, but we were still in Barcelona, and the view of the city from even halfway up the mountain was very nice.

Later that day we went back to Mar’s apartment and packed our things to return to Blanes for the night. It was the day before Sant Joan, a holiday held throughout Spain in celebration of the summer solstice, and the city was already beginning light up (and quite literally since people were shooting fireworks all over the fucking place). To get us into the spirit I put on a song and busted out some of my best dance moves. Mar commented that I looked like a drunken chicken, as she does every time I dance (but this time even I believed that it was true). I grabbed her and we danced around the living room then out the door to Blanes.

On our way out of Barcelona we stopped to pick up Mar’s friend Anna (one of many Annas in her life), who also grew up in Blanes. Entering the car, she warned me that she wanted to make use of me (my expertise in English that is... if you can call it that). She then read sections from an article in the Economist in her Catalan/Scottish accent and asked me the meaning of certain words in each. Most I was able to answer with relative ease, but some even had me confused. By the end of the lesson the confidence I had in my ability to speak the English language had slightly diminished. It’s a good thing I am learning Spanish now. Hopefully I will have more luck with that.

When we got to Blanes (about an hour longer than it would have taken on any other day), we headed straight to an apartment in the middle of town belonging to friends of Mar’s family, Leo and Rosa. We parked the car and walked through the battlefield that had become the streets of Blanes (as the sun set, the number of fireworks being set off increased drastically). A short and treacherous walk later and we were in the apartment safe and sound from everything except the continual crack of fireworks just off the balcony (we were having dinner on the balcony). Enough complaining, dinner was sensational. Croquettes, Spanish omelet, and a delicious salted cured port for appetizers and pasta with crushed tomato and a mix of veal and pork meat for the main course - I was floored. I am not a huge fan of pasta in general, but every bite of this meal was fantastic. As we munched away, we watched as people on the beach celebrated with fireworks, swimming, and music. The occasional crack of exploding gunpowder was not enough to break my state of peace and relaxation.

After dinner Mar and I went for a relaxing stroll down the beach. Somewhere in between the time the 20th M80 or 3rd quarter stick exploded in front of us I became very sleepy. We left the chaos that had developed in the town and headed back to Mar’s house for the night. From bed I watched the twinkle of fireworks reflecting off of the sea, falling asleep to their metronomic cracks.

The next day I was feeling rather guilty from days of overeating and little to no exercise. Mar suggested we go biking around Blanes, and I was immediately up for this idea. Since neither of us wanted to go biking on the road, we piled the bikes into her car and set off for a nearby trail. It had been a long time since I was last on a bike so I took things cautiously at first. We rolled down a dirt trail past farms growing olives, lemons, grapes, and many other things that I did not bother identifying. The countryside in Blanes is exactly what I would expect from a small town in Spain. Everything had a certain weathered feel to it, as though millennia of farming had slowly washed away much of the land’s color (at least this is how it appeared to a Pennsylvanian). Rocky hills slope down to dull valleys. One farm connects to the next, to the next, to the next. The landscape holds a certain aura of wisdom and experience unlike any I have seen before.

The next day we had a lunch at Can Vinyals. We woke up inspired and went on the bike again to the botanical garden near Mar’s house. Thankfully the ride was short because my ass was rather ripe from the ride the day before. Each pump of the pedals sent a shock wave of soreness and pain surging from my ass. By the time we got to the garden I was hobbling. I quickly forgot as we walked through the dry forest of cactus the garden displays. In between rows of cactus were Roman-looking buildings to rest and grab some shade. Mar is going to post pictures very soon (if not already) so you can see for yourself.

Ok, Can Vinyals, this was the big one. The lunch I had been waiting for. The one we had all been waiting for (actually I think Mar already wrote about it). Paella! Mar’s dad was preparing his paella de sepia (cuddlefish) with rice made black from the fish’s ink. It was pure bliss. With each bite I felt compelled to close my eyes and drift off to an enchanting island of flavor and pleasure (no I am not talking about Puerto Rico). During this meal I sucked shrimp heads, chomped down muscles, and savored bits of sepia. I was hooked! As if the paella wasn’t enough, it was followed by chorizo that exploded with the flavor of spice and fat in the mouth and black sausage (black because it contained blood) that was absolutely divine (I feel like I am running very low on adjectives by now).

After lunch Mar took me around and showed me some of the games she used to play when she would visit Can Vinyals while growing up. Using a piece of tall grass with a seed pod at the top, they would bend the stem around and shoot the pod off in a game called pistol. This felt very familiar to me since when I was a kid I was always looking for similar ways to wreak havoc and role play in war or the wild west or (insert violent boyhood fantasy here). The next game was called how many boyfriends (another boyhood favorite of mine). To play this game someone takes the seeds off of a different tall piece of grass and throws them at your shirt. The number that stick corresponds to the number of boyfriends that you will have. I got 18 (YES!!!)!!! I hope they are all handsome!

The next day we did even more biking. This time through the downtown area of Blanes, out to the edge of town by the beach, around some trails near the farms we biked by the first day, then to the pharmacy that Mar’s mom owns. Along the way I remarked to Mar something along the lines of, “Come on Lance, let’s hurry things up a bit.” No more than two minutes later while crossing through Blanes, a man crossing the street as a passed shouted, “Contador!” I guess I need to take the country I am in into account next time I try to make such a joke.

I’m tired now so this post needs to come to an end. I know a good way...



-Greg

Barcelona Day 2

Ok so it has still been a while since my last post, but luckily Mar decided to take up the reins and write a few posts of her own (as you probably have seen). I love the tiny grammar mistakes she makes. They don’t break the cadence of her story at all (at least not for me), and they lend even more authenticity to the blog!

It was another day to explore. Today Mar decided to ditch the thesis and come with me (sorry thesis). We took the tram to the metro on our way to the outskirts of the downtown area. When we arrived, Mar took me to the area of UB (University of Barcelona) where she took classes for her masters degree in biomedicine (not to be be confused with the masters in nutrition or the masters in film... apparently she likes getting masters degrees). We went into the building with classrooms and the nearby library. The campus at UB is very spread out, not confined like the campuses I am used to. It also seems more modern than most big universities I have seen in the states, which seemed strange to me in a city as old as Barcelona. It almost seems as though the university is breaking from the city’s Gothic style for a more modern look. I found myself a little disappointed in this, but the library was far more satisfying - big stone pillars that transformed into arches at the ceiling filled the room. Yes, I rather enjoyed the library.

A little later we walked to Barceloneta, the main beachfront area of the city. Mar showed me the Olympic Village (the center of the 1992 Olympic Games held in Barcelona), the main port of the city, the Museum of Catalan History (which overlooks the main port, and other things in the area. To tell you the truth, I was not too crazy about Barceloneta. It felt far to contrived and inorganic to me, standing in blatant contrast to the nearby Barri Gotic, which is the exact opposite.

To cheer me up Mar took me for patatas bravas (the Catalan version of french fries) at a nearby tapas bar called El Vaso de Oro, which sits in an alleyway in Barceloneta. This place, although in Barceloneta, felt very right to me. It is a tiny bar staffed by only a few men. There aren’t any waiters or waitresses - you just go up to the bartender and order whatever food and drinks you want. They bring the food to you (or just have a chain of customers eating/drinking there pass it back to you if it is too crowded). It is an authentic place that knows its role (simple food and drink) and does it very well. My frown quickly turned shortly after arriving here!

That day turned to night and we did other things around Barcelona that I can’t quite remember at this point since it was last week. I didn’t get the chance to update as soon as I had liked to, but a week without posting is better than a month.

Love always,

-Greg

Black Paella

Paella is a Valencian dish. Valencia is a region of Spain that is just under Catalonia. When Catalonia was a country, Valencia was part of it. They speak Valencian there, a dialect of Catalan. The Valencian Paella is the most well known Paella but there are many different types of Paella. In my house we make the Paella de Sepia (Cuttlefish Paella). Since we put the cuttlefish ink too, the rice turns out black. The paella contains cuttlefish, shrimp, crayfish, clamps, and mussels.
As an appetizer my dad made baby squid with garlic and parsley. Even Greg thought the squid was too fishy for him. It was so fresh it was literaly like licking a rock covered with seaweeds.


Greg trying to learn from my dad.

With my sister and me.

All together.

-Mar

Breakfast in Blanes

I like to have breakfast in my parents house. The kitchen has a nice view and we always eat toast with cheese and different types of dry sausages and dry salty ham (we call it Jamón Serrano and it is kind of similar to the italian proscuitto).

Siting at the kitchen table having breakfast. Anna, my sister, right next to Greg. Susagna (with the black bikini), and me.

Another view. We, the kids, were having breakfast while the parents were taking a bath in the swimming pool.

-Mar

Barcelona

Now I am about caught up, so posts will probably contain more details from now on (unless I get lazy, which is definitely a possibility).

We came to Barcelona on Sunday. Since then Mar has been spending a lot of time working on her thesis and her paper that was recently accepted for publication in ACS Nano (I am very proud of her for that). Actually, I wasn’t planning on doing a summer blog until I spend the day exploring Barcelona on Monday. Then I decided that some things from this trip just have to be immortalized.

Sunday night after arriving, we were quite hungry and tired. We didn’t feel like cooking or going very far to get dinner. Luckily there is a shoarma place just around the corner from Mar’s apartment (shoarma is an Arab sandwich, akin to a gyro, that usually contains lamb or chicken). Anna, Mar’s sister decided to come along as well. As we sat out side eating shoarma and drinking beer, the conversation seamlessly switched between Catalan and English. The scenery was nice, a quiet city street with tons of trees and a park just nearby. Under the streetlights, listening to Mar talk with her sister in Catalan, I had one of those all too rare moments in life where everything just feels right. I began to wonder how I ended up halfway across the world with the company of people who grew up in a different culture than my own, feeling so comfortable. I always dreamed of doing something like this and now I am realizing that dream. My trip to Puerto Rico opened more doors than I ever could have imagined (I met Mar in Puerto Rico, in case you didn’t know that already).

I woke up Monday morning feeling particularly lazy. Before heading out to explore the city I had to fix the internet on the computers so Mar could work on her thesis. I have never been very good at dealing with internet problems. There as a lot of frustration involved (and even a broken lamp), but by lunch time the internet was up and running. We had lunch at the apartment, and after I headed out to explore the city.

Having eaten more than my fair share since arriving and resolved to do some exercise, I decided to walk to the Barri Gotic (Gothic Quarter). I left the apartment showing some Philly pride in a Flyers shirt, and headed down Avinguda Diagonal (you should be able to guess what that one means on your own) toward the water authority building (which looks like a giant, blue penis). I crossed several neighborhoods along the way, passing schools, parks, and plenty of bars and restaurants. Eventually I made it to Parc de la Ciutadella, the main green space in Barcelona. Walking along the northern edge of the park, I stopped for a little while to enjoy the scenery before continuing on toward the Arc de Triomf.

Just before reaching the end of the park I got a call from an ecstatic Mar telling me that her paper was accepted to ACS Nano. I continued on with a smile on my face to the walkway leading up to the Arc. This open space allows the Arc to be seen in all its majesty from a distance. I proceeded down the walkway gazing with awe at the Arc when suddenly I saw some guys with blonde dreadlocks and full hippy attire walking toward me. I continued past them when I heard out of the corner of my ear, “Hey, Philly!” (remember I was wearing my Flyers shirt). One of the hippies told me (in a British accent) that he had spent some time living in Philadelphia a few years ago. We chatted for a minute about the city. Just before heading on our respective paths he remarked, “The best thing for Philly was Lindros, and the worst thing for Philly was Lindros.” I never expected to meet someone in Barcelona who knew who the Flyers were, let alone about some of their history!

Continuing on, after many struggles zig zagging through the city streets, I made it to the Born. The Born borders the Barri Gotic and is essentially the shopping district of Barcelona (but beautiful nonetheless). I walked through the Born, Barri Gotic, and Raval (the section bordering the Barri Gotic on the other side) for several hours, stopping only to buy a travel guide and drink some orange mango juice at the central market off Las Ramblas. During my walk I found myself going in circles several times. The streets of old city Barcelona are extremely confusing, narrow and windy. It is extremely easy to get lost here. At one point I walked past a bar with a nice patio, then walked for a few more minutes in what I thought was a totally different area only to find myself walking past the same bar and patio again.

After a while I resolved to leave old town Barcelona... but I had completely lost my sense of direction. I decided to choose a direction and walk straight. After a while I noticed the scenery changing and knew that I was getting out of the maze that is the old city. I walked until I saw a street sign an noticed that I was walking in the direction of Plaza Espanya (the opposite direction of Mar’s apartment). I reached the plaza and main road and turned toward the apartment. Having walked at least 8 miles already, I was beginning to lose my resolve to exercise, so I took the metro back. Public transportation in Barcelona is fantastic - fast and easy to use.

That night I cooked a dinner of tortellini, chicken sausage with onions and tomato sauce, and salad for some gracious Catalans. It was a good first day and night in Barcelona.

-Greg

Greg did all this walking by himself but the day after I went with him. We went to the Marine section and here are some pictures. I'll let him do the explanations since he's much better than me at writing.

This is a neighborhood called La Barceloneta. The building in a sail shape is a W hotel, that was built last year and that completely changed the Barceloneta shore. Some people like it and some other don't.

You can still see the W hotel. Right next to it there's a tower that holds the teleferic (cableway) to go up to the mountain of Montjuic. This is the old port from the terrace of the History of Catalonia Museum.
Ciutadella Park was built in 1877 where the Ciutadella (Citadel) was. The park was built to host the Universal Exposition in 1888. 2,000,000 million people attended this exposition back then. That is a lot of people! The Citadel was built by Felip V, the Spanish king who invaded Catalonia. Once they won and they annex Catalonia to Spain (1714), they built this Citadele to protect themselves in case Catalans started a riot or another war.

In the same park is where the Catalan Parlament is. Catalonia is part of Spain now but it has it's own parlament because a lot of powers were transferred from the Spanish goverment to the Catalan goverment, such as education, healthcare, and pretty much everything BUT taxes. Catalans still pay taxes to Spain.

Close to the port, there's the France Station.This train station connected Barcelona with France. Barcelona was the first city in Spain to be industrialized during the Industrial Revolution.

Blanes

By the time we arrived at Blanes I was beginning to have feelings of familiarity again. During the first week in Blanes we spent a lot of time going to the beach (which is gorgeous with amazingly clear water, sorry Puerto Rico), relaxing by the pool, etc.

Cala Boadella, a naturist beach, close to my parent's house. We went with my dad's scooter.

We had lunch with Mar’s family at Can Vinyals (a house that is hundreds of years old and has been in her family for many generations). After lunch we hiked around the property and went to some places where Mar and her sister used to play as young kids. We climbed through caves formed by fallen boulders and up and down hills throughout the property. Her young cousins came with us. One was going to be watching Schindler’s List at summer camp the next day (I thought it was a rather odd choice for a twelve year old). As Mar began to explain the story she stopped her to ask, “Wait, who are the Jews?”
“Sylvia, you know that there are people who believe in God?” Mar asked (I am paraphrasing since I don’t actually understand Catalan at all).
“No,” she replied.
You can imagine the rest of the conversation for your self since that is essentially what I had to do too.

Can Vinyals. Well, a corner of it.I'll try to take a better picture next time we go.

Picking up cherries. The black doll on the chair is to scare the birds. They had another dall hanging from the neck right next to a dead sea gull. Apparently birds don't like dead sea gulls or black dolls.

More fruits and vegetables: green beans, lettuce, prunes, carrots, cucumber, zuchini, strawberries, tomatoes, eggplant and green peppers.


The "caves" in Can Vinyals backyard.

The property is gorgeous. Back country Catalonia, filled with farm lands and open fields. Hills roll up to castles that overlook the countryside. Ancient houses still stand, stone weathered by years of sun and wind (but not much rain). It’s no wonder Spain is such a gastronomic paradise with all the herbs that grow wildly throughout the forests. Anise, rosemary, dill, thyme - the list goes on and on. The meals I have been having hear have been delicious to say the least. Among my favorites have been some of the sausages and charcuterie - dried sausages called fuet, chorizo that explodes with the flavor of spice and grease in your mouth, blood sausage, Catalan sausage, more and more and more. Even the fresh tomatoes here have a certain freshness and magic about them. Needless to say, I have been eating well (so don’t worry Mom).

Among the more memorable moments in Blanes so far has been Antonio (Mar’s father) feindishly dancing at her uncle’s wedding. As the cava (sparkling white wine) flowed, his moves became more and more daring. As a crescendo, he lead the chicken dance followed by a conga line that went serpenting through the room and out into the nearby yard. Not only did the cava increase his prowess on the dance floor, but it also made him a bolder (and I must say better) English speaker.
At the wedding. We didn't dance the chicken song or the conga. We are too classy for that (and we weren't drunk as everybody else!)

Ok, I slacked a little bit on this post. A lot more things happened in Blanes, but I am on vacation. Sometimes you need to enjoy the moment without worrying about capturing it.

-Greg

Heading to Spain

After arriving in the airport and checking our bags we had some time to kill so we walked around looking for souvenirs for Mar’s family. We went into every place that sold clothes in the A terminal looking for a shirt with an American flag on it for Mar to wear in Spain (so she could show off her proud heritage). We didn’t find any so Mar settled on some shirts that say Philadelphia for her parents. We also bought neck pillows to make the flight more comfortable then popped some pills (to sleep) and got on the plane. After about a half hour I still didn’t feel anything so I took another pill. Another half hour passed and the meal service came through on the plane. I figured I would force down some airplane food so I wouldn’t be too hungry when we landed. All of the sudden I began to feel very happy (see above, I took some pills - not quite sure what they were but Mar is a pharmacist so I trust her with these things). I tore open the lid to see chicken with rice and sad looking vegetables, but as I began to eat, the vegetables started to turn happy. Each bite felt like an explosion of flavor and happiness in my mouth. Often during the meal I remarked to Mar that I was having a party in my mouth. Oh, drugs. I fell asleep and slept through the majority of the flight.

When I woke up we had already crossed the pond and were cruising over Spain. The flight crew came through with danishes for breakfast (I wasn’t nearly as happy at this point) and “coffee.” We landed shortly after and were officially in Spain.

Mar’s parents picked us up at the airport and took us back to their house in Blanes (about an hour north of Barcelona). I spent much of the ride gazing out the window at the Catalan scenery. I always feel strange when I first find myself in a different place, especially in a different country. The land felt different and unusual. The mountains lush with trees that looked very unfamiliar to me. A bit of shock comes along with such a change for me, but a shock that is unexpected. I had been in this country before, even along this same road. I had seen these mountains and trees and experienced them when they were truly unknown to me, when I had never seen them before, but I still had the same feelings when looking upon them as I did when I had first come here in December. Even more strangely, I remembered having this feeling when I returned to Pennsylvania from Puerto Rico last year. The mind (at least my mind) seems to find a way of acclimating to one location and deciding that all others are foreign, no matter the duration of time spent in any other.

-Greg

Home sweet home (kind of...). Greg posing in the yard.

With my sister Anna and Ivy waiting for lunch.

At night we went to have dinner with my parents and their friends. Here everyone.

We, the young ones. Greg, me, Susagna, Anna (my sister), Rosa, Josep and Monica.

America!

Ok, so after Puerto Rico we flew to Newark, NJ before heading back to Scranton. We took the red eye flight from Aguadilla and arrived in Newark early in the morning. We met my parents and headed for Scranton. My dad, as he would decided to take the more scenic route through a town near the Delaware Water Gap. We stopped at a small corner store offering a variety of home cooked pies, breads, and pastries. I got some much needed coffee and Mar satisfied a craving she had been building for months (doughnuts). The nice country folk at this store graciously gave Mar the doughnuts for free. Having satisfied our cravings, we napped for much of the remaining drive (yes, I can nap immediately after drinking coffee with no problems at all).

First day in America after leaving for good Puerto Rico.

This was in the place I got the doughnuts for free!


Vale, vale, Scranton abridge:

We went to a graduation party at a friend’s place (Barren’s, it was Kim’s graduation - they grow up so fast!). We went to dinner at a very interesting restaurant in Peckville called Cafe Soriano - I would recommend it to anyone, especially the fried pasta. We went hiking around Lackawanna State Park. We went to visit my aunt and uncle at Long Beach Island, NJ, where we went on their boat and relaxed a little bit. And we had lunch with my grandmother (Mom Mom) in Philadelphia before going to the airport and heading for Barcelona. Ok the last parts weren’t technically Scranton, but we are going to see past that anyway. I was glad I got the chance to see some of the family before leaving for the summer. It had been quite a long time since I had seen them last. It’s nice to know that family will always take you in like no time has passed.

Pebbles on Pablo's boat in New Jersey. Greg wants a boxer like her. I want a boat like Pablo's.

Having lunch in front of the beach in New Jersey. Greg is making a face because he wasn't wearing sunglasses, it was very bright.

Oh, and we also went to Austin to look for an apartment. Here’s Austin abriged:

We looked at a lot of places. We looked around campus and found a place that looked like a house Mar used to go to often as a kid. We had some fantastic food at street carts (including pork belly slider, cheese grits with mushrooms, zucchini, and a duck egg, pulled pork with mustard aoili, and roasted quail spiced to perfection). We rested on the grass of the capital building in the blazing heat of the summer sun. We figured out how to use the public transportation system. We went to a jazz club near our hotel. We saw some of the weird people Austin boasts.

-Greg

Puerto Rico

The flight was uneventful (despite the imminent rapture). Save for a few gate changes and a slight delay, I arrived in Puerto Rico without any problems. Thoroughly surprised that Continental got me to my destination without a major outrage, I headed out of the airport to meet Mar. Seeing her felt like going home. This summer that home will be spread between Puerto Rico, Spain, and Sicily.

The day after I arrived in Puerto Rico we were set to go caving in Cabo Rojo. We woke up early and headed out. I complained the entire time because I didn’t get my morning coffee. We finally made it through my grumbling to the meeting place where we found Tim and Jeff (read last year’s blog for more on them if you are so inclined).

After a short drive we made it to the beginning of the excursion (at least the part on foot). We hiked for about a half hour before reaching the first cave. It was an average cave with a ceiling just low enough that you have to bend down to walk through it. The floor was dirt and the walls were rather smooth and rounded. If you asked a child to draw a cave this would be what you would get. It was ordinary, not much to write about so I’ll stop writing about it. I was already dripping with sweat.

We left the first boring cave and walked to the second (really just another part of this same one). This one was bigger, with higher ceilings and several rooms that opened up majestically. Light poked through holes in the ceiling in a few places. Rats hid with cockroaches in tiny holes in the walls (the holes were tiny but the rats weren’t). We saw giant spiders (called whiptail scorpions) at several points along the way. Farther down the cave we came to a room emanating a warm draft with a familiar smell for anyone who has gone caving before, the smell of bat. We entered the room to the sound of screeching bats, flying, flapping, and diving through the air. The feeling was completely overwhelming and capped off yet another successful caving adventure.
My favorite thing to do in Puerto Rico is caving. It s so humid in there that Greg always gets super wet from sweat.

Some of the animals we found in the cave. Big toad.

Bats.
Whiptail scorpions. People called it a spider but it is not a spider.

This is a spider. A tarantula. I was afraid to get closer... I don't like spiders!

Since we left Puerto Rico a while ago (now in Spain, don’t worry we’ll get to that), I am going to give the abridged version. I was lazy before and didn’t want to write the blog, I’m sorry! I’ll do my best to keep recent with it now. So, Puerto Rico, the Abridged Version:

We.... went to Sancho Panza several times (I think every time we went out to dinner), which meant tostones and asopao de pollo (a Puerto Rican dish that is fantastically good). I made goat cheese from Anais’s (Mar’s goat) milk that turned out fantastic! I fell in love with the baby goat Anais had recently, I miss her (sad face). The power went out at least three times during the two weeks we were there. Puerto Ricans drive even crazier than I had remembered. We watched Barca beat Manchester United to claim the UEFA Champions League (Yeahhhhhhhhh). We saw an amazingly beautiful and bright Bioluminescenct Bay on the island of Vieques, which was otherwise very depressing and included being stranded by people who we had already paid to take us back to our hotel. And there was a lot of moving going on - furniture, clothes, pictures, etc.
Greg with Anais and the baby goat. Greg and the baby goat fell in love with each other!

Anais grabing a guineo (banana) from Greg. They are in the front yard in my house in Puerto Rico.

The best view in Vieques, after the biobay.

-Greg

Welcome to the blog!

May is almost over... where did the time go?

I graduated from Penn State barely two weeks ago. My time there was magical - filled with experiences that I will always cherish with people I will never forget, but the time came to move on. My progress toward moving on began in Puerto Rico...

Just like last year, I found myself on a plane headed to Puerto Rico after the end of another semester at Penn State. Although the feeling was familiar, things were quite different this time. I was no longer a student (at least not at Penn State, and I haven’t started at Texas yet). I was no longer headed to an unfamiliar place full of unfamiliar people. Things just felt different - and they were. I am different. Next year I will move to Texas with Mar (coauthor of this blog) and begin the next stage of my life. This blog will be about a summer of travel before the beginning of this next stage.

Ok, let’s get started.

-Greg

Greg in his graduation at Penn State.

Me with my advisor in Puerto Rico, two days before leaving.