Alicante acclimated.

Hace dos meses llegué a Alicante y I am already acclimated. Two weeks ago, I  would giggle a mi mismo at the old men and women sitting on the Ramble bundled up with scarves, hats and jackets in the 60 degree weather. They were just coming off a 90 degree summer/fall. I understand. 

Now, I laugh at myself. Because I wear my down jacket to school in the mornings when it's no colder than 45 degrees. The same jacket I wore in -60 degrees in Fairbanks, Alaska. I wear layers to bed because I have piel de gallinas.

It's a facade. The tropical flowers are in full bloom, and of course there are the palm trees.

But it's legitimately chilly. And the beach is deserted. A few personas valientes banarse en el mar. Some relax on the beach with a book. 

The other day I took a detour on my run to jog on the beach. Just to say I ran on the beach in December. 

Alicante es pequeño.

Kirkwood, Missouri is a small town. Being born and raised within it has been cozy. Quietly situated far enough away from the big city noise of St. Louis, but close enough to roll around in the ruido if one wanted to. It was hard not to run into anyone you knew when you went out to the local grocery store, gas station, or just out-side.


Columbia, Missouri is a quaint college town where I went school for my Journalism degree. Although it is home of 30,000 undergraduates it was hard to not pass familiar faces on the way to class.


Anchorage, Alaska, the biggest, most populated city in Alaska, even felt like a cat in a fish bowl sometimes. With only 300,000 residence and only 10 go-to bars, you couldn't help but see everyone you wanted to see, and perhaps others you may not have meant to. 


I'm noticing that Alicante, Spain is becoming smaller everyday. There are people that I know, that know people that I know, that know people that I know. And so on. 


My friend Aurora told me the people here dicen: Alicante es pequeño. It's for this reason I'm feeling the big city-ness close in a tid-bit everyday. 


En todos formas, I feel like once a city starts to feel like home, I begin to cozy up with it and it's not so big and scary. Perhaps I'll coin it the "hacer hogar" effect.

New nivel.

Another week down. Didn't get to post to keep you posted because my internet went out at my piso. And on top of that, the internet wasn't working at my go-to cafe for free wifi. Y encima de eso, la semana pasado era la semana de infierno. I had un montón de cosas hacer. 3 tests and a 6 minute presentation. 


Now remember, I've been out of escuela for almost four years now. Studying for tests has been out of my vocabulary for awhile and out of my routine. Nevertheless,  I did well. Creo. 


Last week was Thanksgiving or dia de la acción de gracias. I went to Armando's piso with a bunch of American students and we cooked up a tasty mescla de comida. Take a look:

Then this weekend, I had my first visitors. Erin, from London, and her dos bebes (gemelos) en la barriga. We had a relaxing weekend. Laid by the pool, took a long walk along the "country" roads full orange groves, ate, talked, caught up, slept in. 


Today began the next level of classes. I like my teachers. This time they're both women. The one talks super fast, but I need that. The other is super cheeky. She has two novios: Bruce Springsteen and Rafa Nadal.  


Think I'm going to learn a lot this mes. 

No lo creo.

In my first entry of "España de nuevo," I mentioned how the getting here hasn't been easy. The winding route to be here in this silla* in a cafe in Alicante today has been full of literal and figurative pit stops, pot holes, and even a fender bender. 


I failed to mention- as to not freak out the friends and fam- one of the things that pushed me back a bit was last weekend. I got robbed. Some hombres pick-pursed my wallet. And I know it was guys because the discoteca was a sausage-fest. Thought for a moment I was in a gay bar, until I got hit on for being rubia. I was an obvious extranjera. I stuck out like a a sticky-upy on a good hair day. So of course I was an easy target...gullible to the lurking ladrones that lodge their manos sucias in pockets. It's their weekend gig. Their beer money. They are good. Like an anesthesiologist, in and out of the room without your knowing or feeling a thing. Until after. When you realize what just happened. And the pain kicks in.


But don't worry. I called my credit card companies as soon as it happened and canceled my plastic. Thankfully I have a good friend here that is letting me borrow money sin me da verguenza because I have no way of taking cash out  of the ATMS.


Now just wait.
I get a call last night. A week and two days later. They found my wallet!


There is hope in this world.
Everything still there. Minus 15 something euro and some sweat.


Lesson learned. Never carrying more than 10 euros in cash out. Ever. Again. 


*All the underlined words are spanish. Feel free to look up in Google Translate if you want to learn a thing or two. :)

Now that I'm here.

The search is on. Now that I'm settled. De-jet-lagged. In a new place. Free of cucarachas and hormigas. And over whatever bug of a cold I had. 

I did "un monton de" research before coming to Alicante on the ad agencies in town. Found that there were a good handful. My second week here I sent emails out to those agencies and even stopped by one to drop off my book. A few responded with news of no opportunities at the moment. There is a "crisis" here. Unemployment is high. It's tough times in Spain. 

I have class Monday-Friday from 8am-noon. When I'm not in class I'm scanning LinkedIn for job ops in Spain. I love Alicante, but willing to move to Madrid or Barcelona or wherever an awesome opportunity takes me... 

Getting here.

The hardest part of being where you want to be is the getting there. No snap of the fingers does the trick. No time-machine or tele-transport exists yet. Nor would I think the destination would be worth it, if it were that easy. 


My getting to Spain has been anything but basic. First off I started the "getting there" in Anchorage, Alaska. On the complete opposite curve of the world. Thousands and thousands of miles away.


Wanting to do more with my career I spent the long, cold and dark winter days soul searching. I thought about what stimulates my brain and makes me grin big. I realized it's when I'm working in a creative environment, getting to think outside the square. Dreaming up big ideas. Also I remembered that when I was learning and speaking Spanish, I was on an endorphin overload. When I put the two together I figured out my dream: to work in the advertising and marketing industry in Spain.


To satisfy the soul I made the hop over after a long, adventurous road-trip through the United States and a flight to Madrid. Now I am here, job searching instead of soul searching.