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Written by Tyler Thompson
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Wednesday, 14 February 2007 |
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The train
ride from Florence to La Spezia was not remarkable; musty air hung in the compartments
while the train rocked us wildly from side to side. The normally picturesque landscape
outside became a
sickening blur when viewed with a focused eye. My friends and I attempted to catch some sleep
while our fellow passengers carried on conversations in various languages, harmonizing in a
lulling, rhythmic hum
that merely put us into a fuzzy daze.
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Last Updated ( Sunday, 11 March 2007 )
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Written by Cynthia Kane
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Wednesday, 21 March 2007 |
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I had been living alone in Madrid for the last four months studying literature, theater and art at la Universidad Complutense. I had been spending my days in El Prado looking at portraits done by Velasquez and Ruben or in La Reina Sofia lost in a Dali or a Picasso. If not in the museums I was outside sipping café con leche and smoking Fortuna cigarettes while reading a book or watching people on the street. Although it took time to adjust to myself as my only companion, I became quite comfortable with eating alone, traveling alone, sleeping alone and well, simply being alone. So when Mauricio, my boyfriend, wrote saying he had booked a flight and was coming to visit, I leaned back in the rolling chair at the internet café, put my hands behind my head and wondered, “Am I ready to share?”
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Last Updated ( Wednesday, 21 March 2007 )
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Written by Katie Edwards
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Saturday, 10 February 2007 |
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Well it was the flight from hell. From Nashville to Chicago, from Chicago to London, and London to Lyon. When I was waiting for my flight in Chicago a cute little Indian boy was running around the waiting area. When I boarded the plane, I found that my seat was right next to the sleeping peaceful body of the same boy.
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Last Updated ( Thursday, 22 March 2007 )
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Written by Cody Roberts
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Wednesday, 21 February 2007 |
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I didn’t want to be bothered. The sun had already peaked and the warm of the Spanish afternoon had absorbed what little energy I had left. It had been over a month since I’d arrived in Alicante, a bustling, mid-size metropolis about two and a half hours southeast of Madrid. The city is situated next to the sea and I’d only have to stumble out my door and wander fifteen minutes downhill towards the sloping coast to dip into the blues and greens of the Mediterranean. The crisp sea air mingled with familiar putrid smells; an interesting mix of open sewer, dumpster, and car exhaust all enveloped by the smothering Iberian heat.
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Last Updated ( Sunday, 04 March 2007 )
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