Monthly Archives: March 2012

london’s calling


We’ve been planning our London/Amsterdam trip for quite some time now. So when they announced a national strike the day of our flight, I was a bit peeved. Luckily (I figured out yesterday) it’s free to switch your flight to the night before. So, I’m rebelliously skipping one of my classes today and jet-setting off to the land of tea and crumpets early. I will finally get to break out the plethora of button downs, cardigans and ballet flats that I have reserved exactly for this occasion. My GPS on Prince Harry has been turned on and my backpack has been prepared to steal the crown jewels. Some notes about my relationship with England up until this point. I’m a bit obsessed with princesses (I prefer fairy princesses, but really any type will do). It started at an early age, and really hasn’t subsided at all.

So, when an old British women told me I bear “a striking resemblance to Kate Middleton” I almost dropped dead on the spot. I also haven’t stopped talking about it since. Also, my favorite author of all time is Jane Austin. And if the whole Prince Harry thing doesn’t work out, Mr. Darcy will most definitely do.


mustache watch


One of my favorite paintings I’ve seen in my art history class thus far. Probably because I want to frame it and put it somewhere in my room. I wonder how much a painting of Hans Arp’s goes for these days. The simplicity of it was a welcome break from the phallic rhinoceri of Dalí’s surrealism.

Also, a message to all my friends trying to grow mustaches. Stop watching your mustaches. Shave them.

muchas cosas


Ah what a week it has been. Carly and Natalie’s visit was so amazing, it made me so excited for our house of 10 chicas next year! On a related note, I purchased my football tickets for next season! go blue!
After two fabulous days of sightseeing, catching up, and the discovery of Restaurante San Marcos (who serves a three tiered tray of mini cookies with your cappuccino!) I left Sevilla for a day trip to Málaga and Puerto Bánus.

Birthplace of Pablo Picasso and more importantly Antonio Banderas. We walked around this beach town for about an hour, touring the Cathedral and another church in which Picasso was baptized. It seems as though these Cathedrals are quite the thing here. They are all gorgeous, and exhibit a grandeur that simply cannot be found in the states. Carley however, had some interesting insight about the Málaga Cathedral. In all seriousness: “I don’t like this Cathedral. It’s tacky.” I had no response.

I'd like to live here please.

"How'd Picasso fit in there!?" No one laughed.

Speaking of tacky. I find going to the movies in America to be just that. The large neon signs, the overpriced snacks, the association it has with laziness. I would have like to have visited the theater back when you had to get dressed up. When seeing a movie was something magical. When I make my millions I will come back to Málaga, steal this sign and open a boutique movie theater with a dress code I think. Mom – that font!

And then I got tired.

Puerto Bánus
After Málaga, we headed to the Hamptons of Europe. Unfortunately the beach lost it’s appeal once the winds picked up. For the record, wind is my least favorite element. Not too keen on fire either. Regardless, we were able to reside among all the fabulous big spenders and eye all of the wonderful stores.

Lots of Birken sighings. Both in the store and in use.

Delayed pictures from St. Patricks day! I’m sure they have palm trees and were wearing sleeveless dresses in Ireland that day…

proof i’m european


The Anthem of the European Union is none other than our favorite Ode to Joy.
For those of you not familiar with my musical talents, it is the only song I can play on the piano, which has to be some sort of a sign.
Now if we switch the instrument to trombone, that is an entirely different story (Drops of Jupiter is made that much more magical with my eloquent brass tones).

On the subject of Joy: two of my favorite Michigan chicas arrive in Sevilla this week! Many many many pictures to come I’m sure. Hopefully I’ll finally make it to all the tourist places I haven’t hit yet!

perro cabeza arriba, perro cabeza abajo


In an attempt to save my knees from pounding cobblestones on my runs every day, I joined Cuesta Sport. Things I’ve gathered thus far
1. yoga class consisted of an hour and a half of breathing
2. spin class lasts 45 minutes, the instructor loves Beyoncé and Rihanna (both of whom have spanish versions of their songs). There is also a spanish man who whistles in the 2:30 class on Tuesdays. He whistles the entire time. Because people kind of disregard the instructor (poor Santi), and peddle leisurely.
Also, after having us take our pulse, Santi told me mine was too high…is that a thing?
3. women wear tights under their athletic shorts
4. they sell candy at the front desk
5. no matter how fabulous the athletic shorts with tights look is, choosing a gym over the park next door is nearly impossible

top of the mornin’ to ya


Hello Lads y Lassies,
Turns out the Spanish are not the Irish. We did manage to find a Guinness festival at the park next door. Attendance was sparse and mostly american. But no matter where you are, a picnic table in the sun on a Saturday is pretty close to nirvana. We left once a ghetto spanish man started playing Gangster’s Paradise on his trombone onstage.
I hope the leprechauns are good to you all and you enjoy your Lucky Charms and green beer. To my dolls at Michigan – don’t drink the jungle juice.

vino in vez de un examen


Torrija y Vino de Naranja was served in my last class yesterday instead of a midterm. After spending days copying down copious notes while inhaling chalk (front row student, obviously) and trying to figure out why they write the number 1 like an upside down V – I was thrilled when he offered us snacks instead of more information about the ancient Hispania. Watching our esteemed Spanish professor enjoying sips out of a large wine bottle in the middle of class is something I’d like to remember forever and a tradition that the professors at Michigan probably wouldn’t be too thrilled about.
La Torrija is a typical dessert served around Easter. It came from the culture of Al-Andalus, when the Arab Empire occupied the Iberian Peninsula from the 8th-11th century. Fun Fact: French Toast was derived from this gooey glob of goodness. A good recipe can be found here.
It is usually served with orange wine, which has the consistency of cough syrup – and probably has the same effect when drunk in large quantities. It makes sense that they would attempt to ferment oranges, they line the streets of Sevilla and are absolutely divine. You can get 3 kilos (10 oranges) for one euro at the farmers market. It’s recommended that you do that instead of picking your own, as they water the public orange trees with sewage water. It’s safe to say that I’m getting far more than my required dosage of vitamin C these days, no scurvy for me!