If you've spoken to me in the last....oh, maybe month or so, you'll have heard me GUSHING about how Greg and I were planning to go to Spain over spring break. We've both traveled the south of Spain before, but really, the possibility of sitting on a beach and actually feeling warm was just too alluring to pass up. So, scraped our loose change together and managed to book trip to Palma de Mallorca-- a teensy island floating in the Mediterranean just off the coast of Spain. The only requirement was that we find a hostel within walking distance of a beach, and with some kind of proximity to an interesting buildling or two.
What we got was a place that was filled with saggy middle-aged bodies on the beach, and a thousand and advertisers haranguing us to eat at their restaurants with heavy German accents and garbled English syntax (see the title-- Could. Not. Stop. Giggling). But you know what? That was okay. Because between being mistaken for German tourists (German appears to be the lingua franca in these parts), and being totally confused as to whether or not we should even try to make a point of using our (admittedly rusty, but certainly passable) Spanish, we managed to have a great time.
For about 3 days, we lay on the beach and tanned, reveling in the fact that there's absolutely no way we could have managed this in Scotland*. I devoured a book (The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao. A quick read, but incredibly poignant). We wandered the old city centre, oogling the buildings, the blue sky, the bluer Mediterranean, the palm trees, the insanely gorgeous cathederal, palace and palace gardens (pictures to follow when Greg uploads them)...We ate great food, late, under street lights and in gorgeous squares, or looking out on the ocean. And on the second-to-last night, Greg led me up to rooftop of our hostel, where we watched the sun setting over the ocean, listened to somebody else's music playing out of a top story flat, and drank a bottle of (delicious) Spanish wine. Bliss.
Aaaaand, then we reluctantly returned home. But (miracle of miracles!) Scotland decided to be sunny for us! In fact, I thought I might actually sweat to death on the bus back to St Andrews (Scottish transportation is not well-equipped for the possibility of good weather), but I only sustained a mild sunburn...ironically, the worst one of the trip :P
Plus, upon my return, I discovered that the NINo office finally came through for me, and had my first shift as a server/bartender last night (more on this to come, I'm certain). I've literally never been more excited about a job-- the staff is great (one of my good friends works there, so when it got slow, we just chatted), the clientele is pleasant, and the 8.5 hours honestly flew by like nothing (the only thing reminding me was my achy feet :P).
In conclusion, I'm warm, relaxed, well-fed, well-rested, totally in love... AND gainfully employed. Life is great.
*Only later did we learn that Scotland has been enjoying some very fine weather in the last week as well. And in typical Scottish fashion, everyone's either looking over their shoulders for the clouds to roll in, or proclaiming, "Looks like today's our summer!" and suggesting we enjoy it while it lasts. Oh, Scotland.
A post filled with happiness. I loved reading this :) sounds like you had an amazing time!
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