Visita al Palacio

We walked through the gates to the entrance of my new fabulous vacation spot.  Okay, it was actually the Palacio Real, but close enough.  Though the royal family no longer actually lives there, it is still used for ceremonial and diplomatic things.  However, the fact that people used to call that place “home sweet home” was amazing. Donned in my flowy orange skirt (had to feel someone distinct in a palace, of course) I was in my element.   I stood with camera ready at hand when I saw the dreaded sign that every tourist fears:  the picture of a camera with a line through it.  I, unfortunately, wasn’t allowed to take pictures for reasons I will never know.  Perhaps they figure I will return to fashion my own home in the same style, since I obviously have both the means and desire to do so.   It's a shame because I probably could have taken enough to fill an entire album, but I will have to resort to using colorful language to paint a vivid mental picture. 

Everything was grandiose and ornate.  Hey, if I were royalty, I would probably have solid gold everything too.  Each room had a style completely unique, and the design of one room was completely different than the next.  The walls were adorned with tapestries or intricate wallpaper.  In fact, one room had wallpaper embroidered in silver and gold, forming a luminescent, textured pattern.  Shifting the attention upward, all of the ceilings had murals and opened to a celestial scene above.  Another impressive feature was the numerous crystal chandeliers.  What I find the most intriguing is the fact that there did not used to be electricity for a large part of the time they were used, and each chandelier must have held at least 100 candles… I would certainly hate for that to be my job.  One of the most impressive rooms was the throne room. From the red velvet walls, to the statues of Greek gods, to the marble lions leading up to the raised thrones, everything was designed to represent and assert power.  From the ceiling (can’t forget the ceiling) images were painted in a way to seem as though they were peering over a ledge onto the scene below—a sort of precursor to 3D. 

They also showed some of the china and silverware used.  Upon seeing a jewel-encrusted goblet-like item we were asked what it was used for.  The king’s drink perhaps?  Nope, that would be for  salt.  Totally my next guess.   There was so much to see, as each room was its own intricate vision of mosaic, marble, colors and luxurious fabrics. 

 We saw many of the copies of painting we had seen in the Museo del Prado the day before.  I felt so artsy recognizing the works of Velazquez.  Though I do not know much about art, I found it very interesting.   I couldn’t take pictures there either, because they obviously thought I was going to recreate all the paintings. Yes, this is my take on the famous Las Meninas.  It may be interpreted as a cloud.  Or perhaps a dog… 

Blondes Have More Fun

Hace mucho tiempo, no? I know all of you have been waiting in eager anticipation.  Guess I need to play a little catch up…  We have been spending time with our Italian amigos.  I must say it is pretty intriguing to hear someone speak Spanish with an Italian accent.  They took us to a hole in the wall Italian restaurant, for the best pizza I have ever had.  Grazie mille!  It was a nice change of pace from Spanish food, which is not my favorite.  Ham is the star of a lot of meals, and I am not big on the pig.  Chicken sandwich?  They will sneak some jamon in there.  Jamon with pungent cheese on crusty bread?  Coming right up.  Would you like jamon with that?  Well, you’re going to have it anyway.  Thus it was a welcome change.  One thing that I do appreciate about Spanish food, though, is they do love their chocolate.  (Gracias Dios.)  I had my first chocolate con churros experience.   I might have even shamelessly dipped my spoon right into the delightfully warm cup of rich chocolate once, or twice.  But who’s counting?

We took an over night trip to Salamanca.  Pablo was not there this time, and we were escorted by a new guide.  First stop, she said about three sentences and started moving on.  We stood shocked.  That’s it?  No inundation of senseless information?  We went through the entire city in four hours, while with Pablo, we would still be on postcard number three.  We went through the cathedral (of course) along with a cute river tucked away, where everyone comes to relax.  We also visited the park of “enamorados” (which is pretty much every park here.  Actually pretty much anywhere here…)    We also visited the library, and I’d have to say the most interesting part of that was the several kegs behind a bar.  When in Spain…? 

Salamanca is very much a “college town.”  Home to the first university in Spain, (second in all of Europe) it was full of people our age, and after dinner we were able to walk around the plaza and enjoy the scene.  After some intense research, we looked up top songs in Spain.  Surprisingly, most are in English.  Our personal favorite is “Boys will be Boys” by Mexican estrella Paolina Rubio.  We were enjoying our time meeting the locals and hanging out when I heard a familiar pop beat.   Boys will be Boys!  My friend Travis and I proceeded to dance, as the infectious rhythm had overwhelmed us. I kid you not, everyone in the room formed a circle around us to watch the espectáculo.  Thus, you could consider us rock stars.  As we made our way to another place, we found a “tuna.”  No, not the chicken of the sea. It is a group of young guys that dress up in ridiculous uniforms and play music.  (Think like a Spanish version of a mariachi band.) They begged us to come over and proceeded to play us songs.  So in the middle of the night right in the plaza, we had our own tuna concert, and they were pretty good, velvet costume and all.

The next night we decided to go to our first discoteca.  Kapital has seven different floors so we just worked our way up.  We found our way to the Karaoke floor and channeled our inner Shakira with “Hips Don’t Lie.”  Then we decided to take things to the next level and did Karaoke in Spanish.  Paulina Rubio is our girl, of course, so we sang “Sigo Aqui,”  another one of my personal faves.  I then danced the night away.  The End.  Obviously that would be too perfect, so you know something had to happen that was out of the ordinary.  It was at that moment that Leah’s foot started bleeding. Profusely.  Some sasquatch had stepped on it, so that was our cue to take off our boogey shoes for the night.

The following evening we were invited to a party with our Erasmus friends. We walked up some frighteningly rickety stairs to the apartment.  We arrived to find it was a theme party… which we were not aware of.  It was “flower power,” as in bright neon colors.  I was in black.  Strike one Americana.  I then spotted the Italian boy I think is adorable.  We facebook chatted which meant we are in love and soon to be wed.  He then decided to bring up in casual conversation that he thought blondes were fine, but that brunettes are always more beautiful.  Oh...  Abort mission.  Did you hear that?  It was my hopes and dreams shattering.  Sigh.  With my newfound confidence the group and I headed to the club Pacha. From the stage they were splashing water on people, which people seemed to love but I found it dampening.  (See what I did there?) 

            Naturally, today we were pretty tired, so Leah and I took the day to walk around.  We ended up seeing the movie “Cuando Te Encuentre” (aka The Lucky One.) I didn’t think Zac Efron could get much hotter… until I saw him speaking in Spanish.  The dubbed voice made him ascend to the highest level of guapisimo.   New mission…

It's A Small World After All

It’s been a lazy rainy day here, so what better way to spend it than with my online public diary forum?  Last night, after meeting out all together, the group was heading home via the metro.  It was then that Leah had a guy and a girl approach her and tell her that they would serenade her.  Before she had time to say anything (I mean, what was there to say?)  The girl broke out into song.  The rest of us stood around awkwardly as we watched the performance take place.  After a round of applause, we met the other people who were with the group. 

They were both Spanish and Italian who were studying with the program Erasmus that included University students from all over Europe.  They explained they were heading to a birthday party, to which they eagerly extended the invitation to all of us.  Well, the next stop was ours, but as we were all deliberating, the doors were closing.  I tried to use my Spiderman-like reflexes but to no avail.    The Spanitalians cheered, hoping this meant we would go with them.  Okay.  We had to reach a game-time decision on hanging out with the group of study abroaders from abroad.  Checklist: Were these people our age? Check. Was there an equal number of boys and girls? Check.  Did we have safety in numbers? Check.  Did we know exactly where we were? Check.  Were we dressed for a party?  Not quite.  But do you only live once? Check.  Done deal! So the grupo de Americanos went to the extranjero’s birthday fiesta. 

We met people from all over that were participating in this program—England, Italy, Spain,  Sweden… I think it is really amazing how we all came from places with prospective languages, but that we were all able to converse in Spanish!  I was enjoying meeting everyone, and have learned that all Europeans associate three central things with America: 1) New York  2) Disney World 3) Hamburgers.  God Bless America.  This was pretty interesting coming from people who wear the American flag on their clothes like it’s going out of style.  Better yet, they wear the American flag like it actually is a style.  I am all about patriotism… but it is strange to see it from people who do not even live in your country, and only know the apparent three cardinal rules of Americanism. 

I was just getting into a heated debate with a boy from England over “chips” and “crisps” when we heard pound pound “Policia!”    To my amazement, upon the arrival of the cops everyone cheered.  As in, a celebration.  As in, they rejoiced in the arrival of authorities.  Why?  Because according to them, “Ahora es una fiesta!” Now it’s a party! Oh Europe you have surprised me again.  Apparently, they always get in trouble for music and the police do not do much of anything other than make their presence known.  Turn the music dial down and todo está bien.   It was at that point though that we decided it was getting late and time to head back.  One of the Italian gentlemen said that Cinderella had to go home.  We all know my Disney obsession, and this Italian boy just called me Cinderella.  Swoon.  As they walked all of us outside, a few tried to dance with us while we waited.  When I pointed out that there was no music, they began to sing.  That was really happening.  We were dancing on the side of the street.  Double swoon.  My group and I piled into the taxi and said ciao!

So all in all, thanks to the metro, we ended up making some new friends, and I got out of it a new name.  (Karli proved to be difficult for some reason, so I was dubbed “Carolina” …good times never seemed so good… so good, SO GOOD!)  Ahem, but you may call me Cinderella. 

A girl, a Castle, and Abs

            Yesterday we took a trip north of Madrid to Segovia.  It has to be the most beautiful place I have ever seen.  (I will probably be saying this often.)  As we drove towards the city, the first thing I saw was a medieval castle adorning the skyline.   I knew that I was going to like this trip.  The entrance of Segovia is a gigantic wall of stone aqueducts that you pass through, a recognizable symbol of the city.  We walked through the city, with the little shops, central plaza, and cathedral. When we walked inside of it to take a peek, we had stumbled in on their mass.  Of course the Americans wander in with our shorts and tennis shoes, cameras ready at hand, and Pablo’s booming voice echoing through the rafters.  Well that was awkward.  Continuing on, we made our way to the goal I had in mind: the castle of Alcazar.  If anyone has not learned this by now I have a thing for princess-related things, and royal architecture is high on the list. 

The medieval castle still had most decorative items amazingly intact, from the tapestries, to the embellished ceilings, to the murals.  We walked through the courtyard, and I could only imagine what it would be like to have actually lived in this castle so long ago.  “Oh, yes, let me look out my window overlooking my kingdom.  I believe I will take a stroll through the courtyard. “ However, this was medieval times so it probably would be more like “It’s cold and dark and I can’t breathe in this dress and excuse me as someone paints a picture of me looking solemn…”  We then had the option to go up to one of the towers for a better view, which I obviously obliged to, for when one extends to you an invitation to ascend a medieval tower, you simply do not say no.  Common knowledge.  It did not take climbing the tower, though, to have amazing views.  As great as they were in Toledo, Segovia put them to shame. Somehow, everywhere you went you were looking out over the beautiful architecture, plaza, our rolling green hills, all with mountains in the distance.  This could be para-, para-, paradise. 

We walked past a group of kids our age sitting outside of their car, looking all cool, doors open, blasting music.  What music?  Grease.  As in, the musical.  You could tell they felt awesome when we all started singing along with “Summer Lovin.” Oh yeah. The coolest.  For lunch, we went to the famous restaurant “Candido.”  Do not worry.  There were no unexpected incidents this time.  Located next to the aqueducts’ at the entrance of the city, we looked out through the stain glass shutters to the square below, with a vintage merry go round, feeling very classy as they poured my “Coca Cola Light” into a wine glass.  Cuando en España…

When we left, there was still one more stop before we made it home.  To my delight, it was a palace.  Castle and a palace in the same day?   Sure, I will take that.  The property was amazing, with rose gardens, fountains, statues, and the sight of snow-capped mountains in the distance.  We went down the tree-shaded paths to explore the property.  Remember, now, we were with Pablo so he was not going to leave one rock or obscure shrub unexplained. 

That night, we went out as a group.  It proved to be quite entertaining, so here are some “that’s just Karli” moments to leave you with.  One group of Spaniards dubbed me “Barbie” and that gained popularity.  The men here are very… romantic and try to woo the American girls with their calls of “Te amo!”  Um, adios chicos.  I was fortunate enough to have my friend pretend to be my novio, when necessary.  Even though he is not even attracted to, well, chicas.  I must say, we put on quite the convincing act walking arm in arm in the streets of Spain, with our sweet sweet words of amor.  Cannn you feeeel the love tonight…

At the restaurant we were at, the waiter came over and told me I was driving him “loco”.  I chalked it up to laughable as the group continued talking.   He came over once again, and I consented to giving him a kiss on the cheek, to which he pretended to faint.  Smooth, hombre, so smooth.  Before I left, he came up to me and lifted up his shirt to reveal his (actually quite nice) abdominals, telling me he thought I should see them. "You have your body," he said, "I have mine." Well.  Gracias?  The group left in riotous laughter. I feel like in the US that is basis for being fired, but I have a feeling I’m not in Georgia anymore.  

Frozen in Time

Today we took a little excursion to Toledo, a town “frozen in time,” as they say.  I could not have put it better myself.  I felt like I hopped into a storybook.  Cinderella would have been so proud! Surrounded by a stone wall, the entrance adorned with a coat of arms opens to a quaint and beautiful city, complete with stone streets, narrow allies, and not to mention the amazing views, considering it is also known as “City on a Hill.”   It looked just like a medieval city.  Think like a giant permanent Renaissance Festival, only without the completely disturbed people.  (Though we did see some strange looking gypsies.)

 Just to add to the Medieval feel is the fact that one of the things Toledo is known for is its sword business. (Yes, there apparently is a business for that.)  They even made the swords used in Lord of the Rings, so you can use that bit of nerd trivia in casual conversation. There were several stores that sold them, but I imagine a large medieval sword in the suitcase would not go over well through customs.  The other thing they are known for is mazapan, a sweet bread they make.  Naturally, I had to try it.  The best way I can describe it is the consistency of shortbread, with the sweetness of a sugar cookie, but an overall more almond-y flavor.  It was a bit sweet for my taste, but it would have been better filled with chocolate… as I feel about most things.

We walked about the very grand, very imposing, very beautiful architecture.  It has been a place of inspiration for many artists and writers, due to its romantic and classic feel.  (Does a certain Edgar Allen Poe or Cervantes ring a bell?)  Since it is so old it has a lot of legends and stories.  One included the story of a French soldier who was enamored with one of the statues in the Cathedral because it looked so real. When he leaned into to kiss her, the statue punched him in the face.  It might not be the best example, but you get the point.  Don’t kiss statues…? We even got to go in the University of Toledo, where, needless to say, we did not do a very good job of “blending in.”   We went through the Santa Iglesia Catedral Primero, an extremely ornate cathedral.  Another one of my favorite stops was a rose garden, straight out of Alice in Wonderland, at a spot that overlooked the river surrounding the city.  (See?  It even has a moat!)

The only problem about the trip was our tour guide, Pablo.  He was very knowledgeable, but knowledgeable to the point where he talked about every single thing in extreme and annoyingly unnecessary detail.  He even stopped at postcard stands to describe what was on the postcards.  No, I’m serious.  Apparently, he was horrible at reading body language, because after walking in the heat all day (and remember this is a “city on a hill”) we were a bit tired.  He is coming with us on our trip to Segovia, and all I can say is I certainly hope he knows less about that city…   

I had my “ah-hah” moment today when we were enjoying gelato in the plaza, and it went something like this: I am eating gelato in the plaza. In Spain. Life is so good.  Okay, so it was not very profound, but it didn’t have to be.  I just appreciate las cosas sencillas de la vida! 

Expect the Unexpected

What a wonderful feeling it is to wake up in the morning and be in Spain.  The whole group met and did some quick sight seeing.  We passed the Plaza del Sol, Plaza Mayor, y Palacio Real.  The plazas are central hubs surrounded by stores and restaurants, and we will be touring the inside of el Palacio next week, so more to come on that! I must say I have become a master at the “walk and snap” (taking a picture of something mid walk.)  I picture myself like Elle Woods: “waaaaalk… and snap!”  It was brutally hot, but so cool to walk past such amazing old architecture.  Strolling past a building I thought for sure to be a royal castle, I look at the sign: “Biblioteca.” Library.  Everything is just so much more beautiful. 

 We finally stopped to eat at Botín, the oldest restaurant in the world!  I remember seeing it on Food Network, so I knew it had to be good.  After being seated I easily downed a glass of water, followed immediately by another.  I guess I should have bought a water bottle from the tourist-targeting street vendor.  All that walking (and I mean a ton of walking) built up quite an appetite in all of us.  We were filling up on las entradas before realizing we still had the actual main course ahead of us.  Then, the unexpected happened. 

Here we are, sitting in this beautiful historical restaurant, when a poor gentleman in the group started looking… ill.  Seated right in the middle, he tried to get out as quickly as he could but did not make it.  He tossed his “galletas” right in the middle of the restaurant.  Needless to say, none of us exactly had an appetite after that.  Like a champ, he made it back and sat down, despite encouragement to go home for a little siesta.  Everything was fine until the unexpected once again took place.  This time, though, it was all over the girl sitting next to him.  I have no idea how she handled it so calmly.  Lucky me was sitting at the end of the table, where I saw the whole thing.  The whole darn thing. So, at this point, we are already the conspicuous American group in this old, very nice (very expensive) restaurant, and we have had someone get sick not once, but twice.  I think an impression was certainly made.

When the main course was brought to the table, no one touched it, partly because of the incident(s), and partly because it was a number of baby pigs.   “It’s…smiling at me.”  (Christmas Story, anyone?)  Our hunger was rekindled, however, when the chocolate ice cream found its way to the table.  There is always room for helado.

After the restaurant ordeal the next goal was to find Real Madrid jerseys for the game.  I had to look like the true fan that I was. This did not take very long, considering they were sold in about every other store.  The game itself was insane.  I was completely unprepared for the sheer magnitude of the stadium as it opened up before my eyes.  This was like Sanford on steroids.  We walked up and up and up and up to our seats.  I thought I might get a nosebleed from the change in altitude, but luckily I contributed no further shenanigans to the day.  The fans chanted the entire time, and when Madrid scored a GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL, the whole place blew up in excitement.   Although I don’t know the first thing about fútbol, it is easy to get swept away in it.  I learned, though, from talking to other aficionados that this game was amazingly calm.  What?  Men are dancing with their shirts off!  Apparently there is usually some sort of fight, explosion, or police intervention (or all of the above)… so I guess I’ll take the dancing men.  What was even more of a production was the celebration ceremony that took place afterwards.  There was a light show, opera singer, introduction of each individual player, confetti, singing, the revelation of a large balloon to represent their 32^nd championship victory, the entire stadium singing “We are the Champions,” (yes, by Queen; and yes, in English) and each player gave their own little speech.  Mind you, this was a three-hour game, along with nearly an hour of the celebratory ceremony.  These people take pride in their team, that is for sure, and I have to appreciate the spirit.  Vaya Madrid!!   

Estoy Aquí!

      I literally danced with joy when my suitcase filled with a month’s worth of my life came to 50 pounds even.  I said hasta luego to my parents and was off for Madrid.  Oh yeah, there was that brief nine hour flight in between.   I slept for a grand total of none of it.  I made a valiant effort but ended up watching a movie, two tv shows, listening to music, and even read my entire text for class. How reading about politics in Spain from the Spanish American War to today in Spanish did not put me right to sleep I will never know.  After following the weather religiously, I had packed and planned for weather in the low seventies.  Hola, surprise heat wave!  It was about 90 degrees… and will be for the rest of the trip.  Ay Dios mío.  But the point was I had arrived!

        I was greeted by my host mother, Juliana, who is one of the sweetest people I have ever met.  When I told her my name, she was surprised because her granddaughter just made a drawing of a girl she named Karli.  Could be spooky; could be destiny.  I’ll pick the latter.  When we arrived to the swanky little apartamento, she gave us a tall glass of OJ and chocolate cookies, then showed us how to work our blackout curtains and gave us time for some much much needed sleep. When we woke up, Leah and I decided to explore.  In order to do so, we had to brave the daunting metro.  The map looks like a three year old art project, being a mess of colored zig zag lines and random letters.  But, hey, when in Spain...

        My blonde hair seemed to be quite the spectacle.  Gracias, chicos, I apprieciate your calls of rubia guapa.  Still, I was a little offended that everyone automatically assumed I was a foreigner. I haven’t the faintest idea what gave it away.  Poor Leah could totally pass as a native, but with me by her side, she fell victim to “American by association.”

         Our first stop was La Gran Via, where all of the best shopping is.  I ogled at the beautiful clothes but restrained myself in preparation for later purchases.  The more practical choice was a hair dryer. Why? Because Leah and I may or may not have blown up an outlet attempting to use ours.  You can only imagine how difficult it was to translate that one.  But I digress. 

          After this, with a few hours to spare until dinner, we decided to go to El Parque de Retiro.  It’s huge and absolutely beautiful.  A lake with couples in adorable little boats, gardens with picnics, a concert in a giant gazebo… and that was just half of it.  I could have done without quite so many couples shamelessly in amor, but once again, I digress.  We returned home to a huge spread of food, that I could only eat half of, which was already twice what I usually eat.  I had to convince her repeatedly that I loved her food, I just apparently did not have the stomach of a Spaniard.  What is America doing wrong?  Anyways, I am going to bed muy contenta and ready to see the fútbol game tomorrow!  Let the loco begin!

Shocking

Just thought I would share one of my “that’s just Karli” moments to give you guys a little taste of a day in the life.  There is a feeling that comes over you.  When your Latin roots take over your taste buds.  And you desire el fuego of the Mexican sun and the soul of the Tango.  It encompasses you. Overwhelms your very being.  It was a chips and salsa craving.  And as so many of you know, this craving cannot be quelled and simply will not be satiated by anything but chips and salsa themselves.  Whatever the justification, (Salsa has, like, no calories; Salsa is made with tomatoes which are, like, a fruit/vegetable enigma of healthiness; Salsa has other known and not-so-known palatable pleasures) the siren call had to be heeded. 

As a diligent college student with no concept of free time, and for whom multi-tasking is the only way to get something done, I decided I could make this excursion useful by studying Spanish.  (Appropriate, right?)  Off I went to Willy’s Mexicana Grill, because, with a name like Willy’s, you KNOW it’s authentic. My plan, however, to mindlessly munch on the crispy tortillas in solitude while scouring una palabra despues de la otra, was foiled in that it was “Trivia Night.”  The yells and excitement of the beer-pitcher fueled team members was not ideal.  Though the issue may seem trivial (ha) I decided on a change of plans.  I took my bag of chipos back to my car and drove toward a God-forsaken part of the parking lot.  I climbed into the back seat and nestled myself between the back seat and the front seat, where no pedestrians or bypassing cars could see me.  I opened up my book, I dug into the chips, and there I did my studying. What you might view as an all time low, I view as ingenious.   Besides, this could not be an all time low because it actually gets worse from here. 

When I went to start my car… it wouldn’t.  Try it again.  Nope.  And again… nada.  By now it is about 10 at night, and I am stranded in a sketchy parking lot alone with a belly full of chipos.  There was only one course of action: call the best friend. The one who I trust can do just about anything.  The one I knew would not judge me for just having ate alone in my car in hiding while studying for my exam.  After a brief explanation of the situation, after some brief laughter on her part (shame on mine), I asked if she knew how to jump a car.  She left me with an assuring, “I’ll Google it and be right there.”  Perfecto.  Soon, the beacon ray of hope shined through the darkness--Emily’s car.  It was then that my mom called and I recounted to her what was taking place.  Her words: “Do not touch anything. You will electrocute yourself."  With that boost of confidence, two blondes set about on this adventure of jumping a car.  Step one: lift the hood.  Great.  I didn’t even know step one.  After much deliberation, I found the mysterious little button.  Now we were talkin.  Red on red.  Black on black.  Easy enough.  And with the same emotions I feel Dr. Frankenstein must have experienced, it was ALIVE! Mwa haha my car LIVES! 

Thank goodness for good friends and Google.   Together, they make the world go round.  So I guess the moral of the story can be interpreted in two ways: 1) Do not give into your naughty food cravings.  Karma will bite you in the butt.  2) Do not ever attempt to do anything by yourself like a loaner, no matter how easy, or simple, or basic, or common-sense it might seem.  At best, you will mess it up.  At worst, you will be electrocuted.  

Peaceful Easy Feeling

A Beatles enthusiast, closet composer, Civil War buff, and chocoholic—these all describe none other than my father, Rick Barnett.  Among other things, (including a rather distinct big toe) I definitely get my taste in music from my father. When you see someone like me you would probably imagine my favorite music to be from someone like Taylor Swift.  The truth is, yes, I do like that music, but my favorite music is from the 60s and 70s, a genre foreign to most people of my generation. That’s what I grew up listening to, whether it was from my dad’s huge record collection played on his authentic juke box, or compiled on his “Rick’s Mix” CDs.

I’ll never forget the first time I ever had a boy at my house.  My dad comes down the stairs, strumming his guitar: “What kind of music do you like, son?  I can play anything.  The Beatles? Led Zeppelin? You name it I can play it. I can just stay here for a little while… play a couple tunes…”  I don’t know what’s worse--this or cleaning a gun. 

My dad not only has a talent for playing music, but also writing.  In fact, he has written an entire rock-opera.  It has taken him 15 years, and he is now casually writing a novel to go along with it.   Who does that? Called Midnight on the Run, it involves vampires.  I know what you are thinking—Forgetting Sara Marshall. Well, no. No puppets.   But it does have a Christian redemption message.  He simply got to the vampire craze before everyone else.

This long spiel brings me to my point that we just saw the Eagles in concert.  Of course, I love the Eagles, (thanks to my Dad, obviously) but my dad was in his element.  He insisted we show up three hours (HOURS) early. But I gotta love the enthusiasm.  It was the 40^th anniversary of when their music hit airwaves.  That’s incredible.  A 40-year music career!  Most music careers today are about two weeks long (often deservedly so.)  They consist of a one-hit wonder that gets overplayed on the radio or that you download to your iPod and listen to until you hate it.  Though they did not play my all time favorite song, “Waiting in the Weeds,” it was a great concert.  I just can’t believe I got to see such music legends.  Amazing concept: sounding just as good live as on the record…  

Look Who's Talking

I had never pictured myself as being “trendy” enough to write a blog.  I figured I would have to be looking at the computer through thick-rimmed glasses in an obscure coffee house drinking a mocha choca bla bla, for that was the world of the bloggers.  Well, I at least wear glasses (check) so I figure that’s excuse enough.  Not to mention my upcoming studies in España! Some things in life deserve proper documentation, I suppose.  A faux vintage Instagram photo and a 140 character tweet can only do so much. This is a bit of an experiment, because I am still an old-fashioned pen to paper kind of chick.   However, since I am convinced that my colorful life should be a TV  show, this might be a good place to start.  I could become a die-hard trendy blogger.  I could write 11 more sentences and never touch the thing again.  But I have had so many awesome experiences in my life, I feel as though I need a way to tell my quirky, surprising, exciting, sometimes even embarrassing tales.   It’s like… a very sad… handwritten book.  But hey, that’s just Karli.