I am currently sitting in a hotel room in Granada with my Spain besties. We have to wake up tomorrow to return to Alcala after four days of bliss in the south of Spain. Since the last blogpost things have been a whirlwind of crazy consisting of festivals, castles, palaces, flamenco, boats, and dreadlocks.
"We eat tons of bread (Spaniards can't get enough of that stuff) and we often talk as if we were Ron Burgundy. During long bus rides we turn up our ipods to drown out the sound of boring tour guides and laugh when the director tells the "secret couples" that he's not stupid and once again goes over the rules. We have way too may inside jokes. We stay up way too late when at hotels and run off of way too little sleep. We have animal spirits, we rock hammer pants, we visit museums, we love Kebabs, we have band, we sometimes crave McDonald's, we tell way too many "that's what she said" jokes, and we get yelled at by scary Spanish women. We are excessive amounts of ridiculous."
In other news, I can cross off dreadlocking my hair from my bucket list. I rocked dreadlocks for approximately 24 hours while living in Spain. I'm still in the process of taking them out.
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