The South.

I have to say, if I were a Spaniard and I had to listen to everyone rave about Andalucia all the time, I would pull my hair out. After all, there are so many charming gems throughout Spain. But southern Spain really is the idyllic, whitewashed postcard you've seen on TV (or on a postcard?). It's one of those rare places that's actually as divine as advertised. I'm saying all of this only having been there twice...

Andalucia in purple

I felt a twinge of jealousy as we drove through Andalucia. You see, when I applied to teach English here, I listed Valencia as my preferred region, and I wanted Andalucia to be my second. But because the application wizards wisely group the most popular regions together so applicants can only choose one, I couldn't list Andalucia. So, I put Cataluña, home to Barcelona, as my second choice. I haphazardly selected Extremadura as my third option as a last resort. I was confident I wouldn't end up there. Funny how things change. I'm happy in Extremadura; I really do like it here, but seeing Andalucia in all its mountainous, beachy glory was heart-wrenching -- like seeing your ex with a supermodel.

Enough of that sappy stuff.

One of my roommates lived in Marbella, a resort city in Andalucia, for more than two years. Rachel (that's her name) went back to the States in December 2011, returned to Spain in September and had been itching to head south since we settled into Don Benito more than a month ago. The hang-up was that there's no direct bus from Don Benito to Marbella (there aren't many direct buses from Don Benito to anywhere outside of Extremadura, save Sevilla). A long, complicated bus trip can eat up a lot of valuable time when you've only got a weekend to visit. Rachel isn't comfortable driving a manual vehicle, and neither am I (I'm not 25 yet, either, so we'd have to pay a bloody fortune for me to drive anyway). Our British roommate does drive a manual, of course, but she's only 23.

That's where Boston saved the day. When I say "Boston," I mean a girl from Boston - a friend of a friend - who's also an auxiliar here in Extremadura. She and her friend, an auxiliar from New Zealand, were interested in a southern road trip. She was over 25, drove a manual and, as it turned out, she's awesome. What a score, right? On a Friday morning a couple of weeks ago, the five of us (an auxiliar from Texas was also part of the group) packed into a European compact and hit the autovía (highway). The plan was for each of us to pay 44 euros for the rental and for some gas that was already in the tank. I didn't think that was a terrible deal, although we'd thought we could get one cheaper. In the end, Boston's credit card ended up getting charged a whole bunch more because we didn't fill up the tank before returning the car - at some point, it seems, the pricing breakdown may have been lost in translation. Or we got ripped off. I'm somewhat inclined to favor the latter explanation...Oh well, what's another 19 euros anyway? (That's what I keep telling myself so that I don't panic every time I realize I'm blowing through money like it's Monopoly currency.)

Gosh, I sure have blabbed on for a while already without providing any real information about our trip.

Because Rachel knows southern Spain well, she recommended we make a pit stop in Ronda, a small town about 60 kilometers from the Costa del Sol, en route to Marbella. Literally the "Sun Coast," the Costa del Sol is the tourist-saturated, über popular stretch of beaches in the Andalucian province of Málaga. Ronda was more or less on our way, and it was too cold and rainy for a beach day anyway, so we decided to spend the afternoon there. SO glad we did.

The drive to Ronda was lovely - the landscape was in constant flux, a gradual evolution from plains, to hills to tree-covered mountains that slid into valleys. As we got closer to Ronda, the road became a sometimes frightening twist through the mountains; locals hugged the bends with ease, but their speed made me a bit nervous. Luckily, Boston was comfortable at the wheel.

We passed one of the "El Chorro" valley's beautiful turquoise lakes en route to Ronda.

If I say a place exudes Spain, do you get what I mean? Because Ronda does just that. The town of about 35,000 people has pre-Christ origins; it officially became a city during the reign of Julius Ceasar; and it was once ruled by Muslims but was then conquered by Catholics. Ronda's sloped cobblestone streets wind through rows of white stucco homes with small wrought-iron enclosed balconies extending from their second floors. Mountains and green, yellow and brown hills envelop the town. It's as picturesque as it gets, really.

Despite the crush of tourists (there were a TON the day we were there, despite the intermittent downpours), Ronda still feels tucked away, overshadowed by the sand and sun of the Costa del Sol. But Ronda is no secret. Ernest Hemingway wrote from there. For the part in "For Whom the Bell Tolls" when the townspeople toss Fascists to their deaths, he allegedly used historical events in Ronda as inspiration (during the Spanish Civil War, lots of people in Ronda were slaughtered, and some are said to have been thrown off the bridge into the canyon).

An adorable tourist shop hawking Spanish ceramics. It was so hard to resist buying them.

Ronda is known for two things: the massive gorge that slices the town in half and its bullring, which is heralded as one of the most beautiful and historic in Spain. We didn't see the bullring, but the canyon was amazing -- "gorge"-ous, to be punny. Luckily, the rain had stopped and the sun was peaking through the clouds by the time we started sightseeing after a long lunch (we each ordered the "menu del dia" - menu of the day - which is usually two or three courses and dessert for between 7 and 10 euros, generally. Every restaurant in Spain is required to offer one, I'm told. My first course was spaghetti; second was white fish and fries and I had coffee for dessert.)

The "Puente Nuevo," or "New Bridge," spans the gorge in striking fashion. It's amazing how bridges can be so beautiful, isn't it? Calling it "new" seems like a bit of a misnomer, considering construction began in 1751 and finished in 1793, but it's named that because it replaced its predecessor, which collapsed and killed about 50 people. The bridge is made of stone taken from the canyon below and stretches about 320 feet from top to bottom.

Good thing I didn't fall backward off the ledge, eh?

I couldn't fathom living on the edge of the gorge, especially if I had children. It made me nervous enough just looking at the water below from a secure lookout ledge.

I don't feel like it's that crazy to think a storm could wipe these buildings right off the edge.

After getting our fill of Ronda, we hopped in the car and headed toward Marbella, which is about 45 minutes from the city of Málaga, where my little sister will be studying Spanish in the spring. As we descended through the mountains and got a view of the coast, I couldn't help feeling envious of my sister's placement in a large city with great shopping and, most importantly, the beach. But I really do mean it when I say I'm happy here in Extremadura.

Marbella is the epitome of a resort city. High-rise apartments line the beach, it's easier to find a tourist than a local and the nightlife rages into the morning. Even so, I liked it. It felt alive with that electricity that cities have and towns lack. Don Benito is a lovely place to live, but it doesn't have that there's-always-something-going-on excitement. Marbella does.

We didn't do anything notable in Marbella. We walked a lot and sat at the beach, and that was quite fulfilling. We tested the infamous nightlife on Friday. It was fun, but because it's not the high season, there weren't all that many people out. Still, we didn't make it home until around 5 a.m. You see, Spaniards have a strange way of doing things: They go out at 2 in the morning or later, stay out all night and then sleep the next day. I have boldly claimed I'm going to start a revolution to get them to go out earlier, but I'm not sure how to organize such an uprising. Wouldn't it be better for everyone?

Marbella has an incredible Casco Antiquo (old town) that oozes charm, so we strolled through there on Saturday evening. It's an adorably romantic area with lots of small restaurants and fashionable shops. The romantic aspect didn't serve me well considering I was there with other girls, but it was cute nonetheless.  

Couldn't quite capture the "cute factor" with my iPhone.

After a few hours spent lounging on chairs at the beach (it was too cold to swim) Sunday, we hopped in the car and headed back to Extremadura. On the journey home, we stopped at a gas station, and Rachel bought some gummy, stringy candies covered in that sour sugar stuff. You know what I'm talking about, right? Anyway, ever since then I've been addicted. I can't pinpoint why. I've bought three packs in a span of a couple of weeks. I actually had to put them down earlier so I could finish this blog. Ugh.

Well, that's all folks. Next up, tales of Lisbon! As a teaser, I'll tell you Lisbon was weird.

Buenas tardes, 
Teresa

Sweet, sweet Sevilla

Forgive me for my tardiness on this one, folks. I headed south to Sevilla about three weeks ago, I do believe, and I've yet to tell you the tales of my trip. So here goes nothing.

Sevilla is almost directly south of Don Benito, about 150 miles. By car it would only be about 2 1/2 hours, but we went by bus. That took slightly more than four hours. I got a tad "bus sick" during the trip - in part, I think, because I was staring so intently at the south-of-Spain scenery as it whizzed by - but the illness cleared up pretty quickly when we arrived at the Plaza de las Armas bus station, which was only a couple of kilometers from our hostel. (If you ever travel to Sevilla, make sure you know which bus station you're arriving at/leaving from. There are two: Plaza de las Armas is mainly for national/international routes, while the Prado station generally houses regional buses for Andalucia. The two stations are only about 2 1/2 kilometers apart, so it's not terrible to move between them, but if you're in a hurry to catch a bus, you don't want to show up at the wrong place. However, judging by what I've experienced so far on multiple bus rides, the bus will leave at least 15 minutes after its scheduled departure, so you'd have some spare time. Had to get that dig in there, although I'm saving my public transport grievances for a separate post.)



View Larger Map

Our hostel, Sevilla Urbany Hostel, was about a kilometer or so (0.6 miles) from a couple of the main sites in Sevilla: the Cathedral of Sevilla and the Real Alcázar (the royal fortress). It was a bit of a farther jaunt, about 2.5 kilometers, to the Plaza de España. Additionally, Sevilla Urbany is very close to a great shopping area with H&M, Mango, Stradivarius and other too-awesome-for-me-keep-out European stores. I made it away from there with only one sweater, so I think that's pretty good.

Sevilla is a beautiful mix of Spanish and Moorish architecture; my friends (a girl from my tiny Nebraska hometown who is also teaching here in Spain, a Brit and a girl from Kansas) and I spent much of our time wandering around, and that was OK with me. But the walk to the Cathedral was particularly beautiful.

The beautiful street leading to the Cathedral

I love this architecture.

I have to say, though, as gorgeous as the walk to the Cathedral was, it didn't outshine the Cathedral itself. I know a lot of people are bored with churches; after all, Europe is overflowing with decadent religious spots. But this one is not to be missed. Trust me, I've seen Notre Dame in Paris and St. Peter's Basilica in Rome, and I was much more enchanted by Sevilla's gem. To be fair, I visited those other churches more than four years ago, and I'm naturally inclined to favor Spain, but really, the Cathedral of Seville is pretty awesome. Look for yourself.

It is absolutely HUGE.

That's me trying to show the massive scale of the doors.

Here's an informational excerpt so you learn a little something while you hang out on my blog:

The Cathedral of Seville (Catedral de Sevilla) is an expression in stone of post-Reconquest confidence and wealth. Built on the site of a mosque, it is the third largest church in Europe and the largest Gothic building in Europe. It also boasts the largest altarpiece in the world.

History

Built on the site of a grand Almohad Mosque, Seville's cathedral was built to demonstrate the city's power and wealth after the Reconquista. In the planning stages, a member of the chapter is said to have commented, "we shall have a church of such a kind that those who see it built will think we were mad."
Inspired by this goal, the canons of Seville renounced all but a subsistence level of their incomes to fund the construction. The cathedral was completed in just over a century (1402-1506), quite an achievement given its size and Gothic details. It was probably designed by the French master architect of Rouen Cathedral.
Along with the city's Alcazar and Archivo de las Indias, Seville Cathedral was designated a World Heritage Site by UNESCO in 1987.

Seville Cathedral was built on the same large, rectangular base-plan of the mosque it replaced, but the Christian architects added the extra dimension of height. The result is an astonishingly large building that breaks several size records. Measured by area, Seville Cathedral is the third largest in Europe after after St. Paul's Cathedral in London and St. Peter's Basilica in Rome, but measured by volume, it surpasses them both.

The total area covers 11,520 square meters. The central nave (the longest in Spain) rises to 42 meters and even the side chapels seem large enough to contain an ordinary church.
Two parts of the mosque were thankfully preserved in the cathedral: the Moorish entrance court (Patio de los Naranjos); and the Giralda, originally a minaret, converted into a bell tower. (See our separate La Giralda article.)

The cathedral is entered via the Puerta de San Cristóbal on the south side, just inside of which is the tomb of Christopher Columbus (Cristóbal Colón). Columbus was originally buried in the cathedral of Havana, on the island he had discovered on his first voyage in 1492. But during the upheavals surrounding the Cuban revolution in 1902, Spain transferred the remains to Seville.

A monumental tomb was sculpted for the explorer's new resting place in Seville. Sculpted by Arturo Melida, it was designed in the Late Romantic style and is held aloft by four huge allegorial figures representing the kingdoms of León, Castile, Aragón and Navarra. There have long been doubts about the authenticity of the remains in Columbus' tomb, and DNA tests are currently underway to find out if they really are those of the explorer.

The huge interior of the cathedral, with a central nave and four side aisles, is lavishly decorated. Gold is everywhere. But at the same time, there is a sense of overall simplicity and restraint in decoration, for the grand monuments are confined to the side aisles and the huge nave is left mostly empty.

Source: http://www.sacred-destinations.com/spain/seville-cathedral

Most incredible organ I've ever seen.

Incredible views from the belltower.

While posing for a photo outside of the Cathedral, I got hit by one of the ubiquitous horse-and-carriages that flood the area. Yes, you read that correctly. I literally got hit by a horse and carriage. The wheel ran into my body quite forcefully, and I was knocked to the ground. The hordes of tourists around me looked on in horror and slight amusement. The carriage driver didn't apologize. HE HIT ME AND THEN DIDN'T APOLOGIZE. I still can't believe that part, but it gets better. Afterward, he solicited my friends and I to pay for a ride. Are you kidding me, sir? I cursed at him in English, but he didn't seem to care.

Quite close to the Cathedral is the Real Alcázar, which is a gem, too, although I preferred the Cathedral (my friends preferred the Alcázar, so different strokes for different folks, I suppose). We arrived at the fortress on a Sunday morning and spent about 45 minutes or so waiting to get in. I can't imagine what Sevilla is like in the summer, during peak tourism season. Must be God awful.

Some facts about the Alcázar (also referred to as the palace): 

Soon after the Almohades, a Moorish dynasty, gained control of Seville in 1161, they embarked on a building frenzy. They constructed a number of baths, towers, a lavish grand mosque and a fortress-like palace known as the Al-Muwarak (the Blessed).

In 1364, after the Reconquista - the reconquest of Moorish Spain by Christians - King Pedro I commissioned the construction of a new palace, the Palacio Pedro I, at the site of the Al-Muwarak. Craftsmen from across Andalusia created a magnificent interior in Mudéjar style, arranged around a number of patios. Over the years, other monarchs kept expanding the palace, resulting in a diverse complex with different architectural styles. The top floor of the palace is still actively used by the Royal Family.

Source: http://www.aviewoncities.com/seville/realalcazar.htm

Also an interesting tidbit (Wikipedia is the source):

The Casa de Contratación (House of Trade) lies off the la Monteria [a part of the Alcázar]. It was built in 1503 by the Catholic Monarchs to regulate trade with the New World colonies. The Casa dealt with trade related legal disputes on trade with the Americas. The "Casa" includes a chapel where Colombus met with Ferdinand and Isabella after his second voyage. The chapel houses The Virgin of the Navigators, one of the first paintings to depict the discovery of the Americas and one of the earliest paintings to depict Columbus.

Entrance

The inside was full of gorgeous tiles.

We walked to the Plaza de España after visiting the palace. A Welsh guy we met on the street had mentioned that the Plaza was worth visiting, but I wasn't super enthused to see it. I've seen lots of European plazas, and they're generally just large, open spaces surrounded by buildings a few stories high. They're generally great for people watching but not much else. The plaza in Sevilla is a glorious exception. It was built for the 1929 Ibero-American Exposition. Today the building is used for government offices and museums, for the most part. The plaza is inside the lush Maria Luisa Park, which would be worth wandering through if I ever make it back.

After visiting the plaza (I think it was afterward; my chronology is all messed up, it may have been before), we made a quick stop at the Macarena church. Further proof that no one does gaudy like Europe:

Our final mission in Sevilla was to eat churros con chocolate, a very typical Spanish treat. They looked like intestines but tasted so much better. 

This has gotten to be a pretty windy post, so I think I'll leave it at that. If you don't take away anything else from this post, remember this: Sevilla is worth a visit.

Buenas noches,
Teresa

Travel details: 

How we got there: I took a bus through the LEDA bus company from Don Benito (Extremadura) directly to Sevilla. It lasted about four hours, and the price was 18.75 euros each way. Make sure to purchase a return ticket immediately upon arrival in Sevilla, regardless of where you're returning to. Buses fill up fast, I'm told. If you buy a round-trip ticket with "vuelta abierta" (open return), make sure you make a reservation for a specific departure time at the station upon arrival. Sevilla also has a train station, if you prefer that route. It's also quite easy to rent a car in Spain if you're 25 or older, but I have no idea what it'd be like to drive in Sevilla.

Where we stayed: Sevilla Urbany Hostel, in an eight-bed female dorm. Sevilla Urbany was pretty clean and reasonably priced. We each paid something like 12 euros a night, which included a bare-bones-but-decent breakfast of toast, juice and cereal. I would stay there again. It was centrally located, within walking distance of the sites, and it was very close to what we dubbed "America Square" (horribly ethnocentric, I know). "America Square" had Starbucks, Burger King, McDonald's and a load of Spanish eateries, too.

What we did: We visited the Cathedral of Sevilla, the Real Alcazar and the Plaza de Espana. We also wandered a bunch. If you're visiting town, definitely visit those three places. BUT, be sure to bring your student ID if you are/have recently been a student. The Cathedral is 8 euros for an adult and 3 euros for a student 25 and under. The Alcazar is 8.50 for an adult, I believe, and 2 euros for a student.

It's getting a wee bit chilly

Everyone here keeps reassuring me it won't snow, but at the same time the refrain "the cold really hasn't started yet" seems to be on repeat around here. Apparently December and January are worse, so I'm trying to mentally brace myself. To be sure, it's really not that cold here at the moment. There have been a few mornings around 40 degrees, but the afternoons are usually around 60 or higher. I know what you're thinking: "Teresa, you're from Nebraska. Forty degrees is nothing." You might be right, but the difference here is the lack of insulation from the cold. And the lack of heating.

I live in a lovely apartment, but we don't have central heating (that's not entirely uncommon around here). The average low during Extremaduran winters is 39 degrees, which is pretty chilly. My apartment windows aren't double-paned, either. I live with my landlords (a British girl and a Spanish guy) and they've provided a heap of blankets to keep me warm, so I'm all sorts of comfy when I'm in my bed. But I kind of wish I could go the whole winter without showering. Seriously, there's nothing worse than showering when it's cold.

The solution around here for homes without heating is the "brasero," which is basically a space heater that goes underneath a special table specifically designed for that purpose. Some braseros are gas; some are electric. Ours is gas. I keep telling my Spanish roommate that the brasero scares the heck out of me. It really does - I just can't understand how it's a good idea to put a gas-powered flame underneath a table and then cover it with a blanket.

The table and the aforementioned blanket

The brasero underneath the table

The "bombona," or the gas tank

Sorry that I kind of sound like a whiner. My landlords really have made every effort to make sure I'm comfortable, so hopefully this doesn't sound like I'm complaining about my home. I have a great living situation, but that doesn't keep Extremadura temperatures from dipping toward freezing. Here's to a long, cold winter.

(As a sidenote: Recommendations for any auxiliars placed in Extremadura: Pack a few pairs of really warm socks, sweatpants and sweatshirts. You'll be glad you did.)

Buenas noches,
Teresa

I guess I'm a teacher now

So, as you likely know by now, I'm here to be an English language assistant. I work at two schools in a town called Miajadas, which is about a half-hour drive from Don Benito, where I live. Because I don't have a car, my transportation situation is quite complicated. Even complicated might be an understatement. My mentor has organized a network of five teachers, including herself, who bring me to/from school throughout the week. I also take the bus a couple of days a week, when I don't have to be at work until late afternoon. I only work 12 hours a week, technically speaking, but I spend many more hours than that at school, hanging out between classes or waiting for a ride.

You're wondering, "What does she do when she's in class?" Good question. Because I'm an assistant, I have no hand in developing curriculum, determining what we'll cover in class, grading or disciplining students. That fun stuff is left to the teachers. My role, in its simplest form, is to talk to the kids and get them to speak English. Sometimes it's like pulling teeth - understandably so, because it can be intimidating to converse with a native speaker. I know the discomfort. 

At the public school, I teach English, social sciences and math. I've got a pretty good handle on English, but the other two subjects are by no means strengths of mine. However, I prepare and improvise quite well. My students are in their first, second and third years of ESO, which would loosely translate to sixth, seventh, eighth and ninth grades in the U.S. My youngest students at the public school are about 11 years old. I think my oldest are 15 or so. To be candid, when I was assigned that age group, I cringed. They're getting acne. Starting to like girls. Getting clique-y. Reaching puberty. However, I'm happy to say I've been pleasantly surprised. The kids in the first-year ESO classes are actually quite cute, and they're under the impression that I'm funny. They might even think I'm slightly cool, but I can't say for sure. The older students are pretty good, too. In general, they haven't yet hit the "too cool for school age," although a few of them make it clear they'd rather not be in class.

At the Catholic school, I work with elementary students mostly, but I have a couple classes with first-year ESO kids. I only help with English courses there. It's hard not to notice the difference in maturity and behavioral control between the ESO students and the elementary kids, who are between 7 years old and 10 or so. The youngins have a pretty good understanding of English (much better than most children their age in the States), but they simply don't behave as well. It's hard to keep them focused, especially when they're just so curious about me. They don't want to read about Javier and Maria's trip through the forest. Rather, they want to ask me, the blonde alien, questions about where I'm from, my favorite sports teams, my favorite color and whether I have a boyfriend (I've been asked those questions a lot thus far in all of my classes). They want to tell me about their dogs, their cousins who live in England and their dad's cousin's uncle's cat's trip to the United States. I'm sorry for the sarcasm here. The kids are adorable, really, but they're just that: kids, and kids will be kids, whether they're in a public school or a private one in Spain or America. They're exploding balls of energy, and if their fuse gets lit, duck for cover.

My degree of control over the lesson varies by class in both schools. In most of them, the teacher tells me what is on the docket for the day, and I decide how I'll teach it. In the English courses, there's usually some sort of reading material to look over and discuss. The formula for the non-English classes varies a bit more.

In the social sciences course, for example, the instructor one day said she wanted me to teach about the geography of the United States. The textbook, which is in English, had a world map but no specific information about my country. So, I improvised. For an hour, the students and I looked at the map, determining where different points of interest were and how they related directionally to each other. I showed them California, Nebraska, New York and Washington, D.C. and explained how California was west of Nebraska, D.C. is east of Nebraska, etc. They told me what they knew about each place, which admittedly wasn't much We talked about the Rocky Mountains (I explained the mountains gave the Colorado Rockies their name), the Appalachians and the varying regional climates. I kept it interactive, making sure the lesson was as much a conversation as a teaching/learning opportunity.

In that class, I've also taught about feudalism. Yes, medieval feudalism. You can imagine how hard it would be to get these kids to care about hundreds-of-years-old work/live situations in Spanish, let alone in English. But it went quite well, actually. I asked for volunteers to read, and I corrected pronunciation along the way. I also stopped whenever I saw what may have been a tricky word, and I had students who understood the word help me explain it to those who didn't. After we read, I put the students into small groups - each group was assigned the role of medieval lord, priest or peasant - and they told me what their place would've been in society. Did they own land? Did they pay taxes? Did they work the land? It ended up being a great learning activity, and they had to talk. That's the most important part.

For a math lesson about multiplication, division, addition and subtraction, I used word problems to practice vocabulary and math at the same time. To teach about digit placement (ones place, tens place, hundreds place, etc) I wrote a MASSIVE number on the board. That number was the U.S. debt. I wrote each individual digit from the debt on a card and gave one card to each student. I then asked, "Who has the digit in the billions place?," "Who has the digit from the ones place?", etc. The kids had to recognize where the billions, ones, tens, thousands place was, bring their number to the front of the class and write "billions," "thousands," "ones," etc., above their digit in the correct column. It turned out to be a great interactive activity - and a quick lesson on American debt.

Next week I have to teach about medieval trade relations and the area of triangles and squares. Wish me luck, and let's hope a bit of creativity and inspiration hits me soon.

Anything you want to know about Spanish schools or about my job specifically? Ask me!

Buenas tardes,
Teresa

I just can't think of a befitting title

Could this quote sum up my scattered, nomadic lifestyle any better? I think not.

“Anything I've ever done that ultimately was worthwhile...initially scared me to death.” - Betty Bender

Spain is terrifying, glorious, want-to-pull-my-hair-out frustrating, breathtaking, homesickness-inducing and disheartening all at once. But that's adventure, right? With adventure comes that anxiety of "Is this the right bus?" With adventure comes that satisfaction of, "Yes, that was the right bus." With adventure come those tears when you can't find the milk at the grocery store. And with adventure comes that "did that really just happen?" feeling when you accidentally say you're pregnant instead of embarrassed (yes, that happened once). 

Let's raise a glass (figuratively, of course) to adventure, whatever that means in your life. Cheers. 

Buenas noches, 
Teresa