(#5) 19: Birthday Abroad

In recent years, my feelings about birthdays have been up in the air. On one hand, it's just another day of the year, and you're one year older; who says you need only one day out of the year to celebrate your life? But on the other hand, it's the celebration of an entire completed year of life with friends and family. 

This year's birthday was going to be something interesting: my first time celebrating away from home. In my family, everything is done together: Christmas, birthdays, New Year's, Fourth of July, you name it. So to spend the day without my family was going to be something new. In the days leading up to my birthday, I made sure not to make a big deal about it. I'm not one to go around and provide a weekly reminder that my birthday is approaching. No pre-made plans were set in place, and I waited to see what the day would bring.

I was sitting at my desk on the night before my birthday, exploring the world of Facebook when I looked at the time. It was eleven-fifty pm. With the start of the ten-minute countdown, I had a thought: do I really want to remember the midnight-start of my nineteenth birthday in Valencia, Spain as the night that I sat at my computer, doing absolutely nothing? Hell no. I thought about what I would want to be doing, and without hesitation, I picked up my guitar and ran out of my room. I crossed the street right front of the Torres, and ran to the first opening in the bridge. Eleven-fifty eight. My fingers warmed up. 

Midnight. 

Immediately, I began singing the original I had written about Los Angeles. I sang to the beautiful, Spanish full moon and to the city of Valencia. (This is the stuff of fairytales, man.) As soon as I finished, I heard clapping right behind me. A woman had pulled her bike over to stop and listen to me. I was slightly embarrassed but thanked her anyway. We talked for a bit, before she asked me to walk with her. I paused to think. This is a stranger asking me to walk with her in the middle of the night in Spain after listening to my song...

... Why not? 

We walked through the various plazas in the Carmen district of Valencia. I stopped in various places to play a song, and continued walking. We passed the group of homeless drunk men playing guitar who invited me to play guitar with them...

... Why not?

All of us danced and sang to "La Bamba" and "Come Together." We continued walking until we passed my favorite Irish Pub. She invited me in for a drink for my birthday...

... Why not? 

We talked for at least another half an hour before I realized what time it was. One-thirty. The time had flown by. We walked back to the Torres, where she would pick up her bike and we'd say goodbye. When we arrived, she requested one more song...

... Why not?

After my final song, we said our goodbyes and said that we'd hang out again soon. I'll never forget the amazing start to my nineteenth birthday. 

The day time did not disappoint either. I spent the remainder of the day with my friends. Elizabeth took me to Costa Coffee. Jericho hooked me up with a great haircut. I went to mass for Holy Thursday. Fed the hungry. And the night ended with Colombian food and Poker with the gang. My nineteenth was definitely a night to remember. And just when I thought my birthdays couldn't be just as good as the ones back home...

... Why not?

'Til our roads meet,

Christian Camacho

The Traveling 'Nole

P.S. Thank you to Nahee and Sammy C. for the amazing cake and the wine! 

P.P.S. Thank you to everyone for their birthday wishes!

P.P.P.S. Thank you to Annachiara for a great start to my birthday!

(#4) Crossing the Language Bridge at the Castillo de Alaquas

Tuesday night was a little hectic. Okay, I was swamped. With an essay and project for my Festivals class, on top of a Biology lab exam to study for and a journal due the next day, I knew that it'd be a busy night. (Don't worry, mom. This just builds duress for the readers before explaining the next part. I passed all the assignments with flying colors!) However, I saw the opportunity to take part in a language exchange at the Castle of Alaquas on Tuesday evening... I'm sorry, but how do you refuse that? ("I passed all the assignments with flying colors!")

The bus dropped us off at the curb closest to the castle in Alaquas. If we are being honest here, I had never heard of Alaquas prior to this little excursion. The castle was tucked away in a plaza behind a few alley ways. It appeared small on the outside; not much to it other than the typical castle design. When we entered, however, a different story was told. The castle had been renovated and given a few modern enhancements. It was certainly not as bland as it appeared to be coming from the outside. 

This and more was explained to us in presentations given by Spanish students learning to speak English. Of course, they struggled in certain aspects, but then again, how different are we from them when it comes to speaking Spanish? I was reminded that American students were not the only ones who struggled with communication, and that Spaniards can be just as nervous to speak to us as we are to speak to them. Even with their nervousness, though, they do manage to show that Spaniards are significantly better at speaking English than Americans are at speaking Spanish. (Trust me, this is the same case with just about any other language in any other country.)

After our grand tour of the older rooms with various geometric ceilings and preserved tiles, we moved towards the more modern, renovated portion of the castle. At this point, I was still surprised by how much we had yet to see. Our guide explained many new walls were added and/or reinforced to meet safety precautions. So of course, why not make it look awesome? We reached the rooftop of the castle and were captured by the quaintness and the beautiful simplicity of the lighting and architecture. 

It was here that a man named Javier gave a speech about the impact of the English-school he was attending within the Castle of Alaquas on his life. As he spoke, his hands trembled. Javier's speech was very well written and I was thoroughly impressed with how well the components of his speech were tied together; I could have sworn he was a writer. Afterwards, we were taken into one of the classrooms and partook in our intercambio (language exchange). I was fortunate enough to get to sit and talk with Javier. To my surprise he wasn't a writer, but working on his engineering degree. He stressed the importance of learning English for an engineer and that he was taking his English classes very seriously. Javier and I became good friends, and I was beyond delighted that I came, despite the horrid mountain of work that waited for me on my desk at home.

The moral of the story is this: your inability to speak another language should not discourage you from trying to interact and learn about someone else's culture. Oh, and if someone offers to take you to a castle, you better do it. No questions asked.

'Til our roads meet,

Christian Camacho

The Traveling 'Nole

(#3) Fallas: Festival of Fire

Waiting at the airport in Bologna, we dreaded the hundreds of thousands of people that would swarm the streets and the endless parties that would go on right outside our windows. Our beds sounded so inviting, and unpacking, for once, was something I couldn’t wait to do. If I’m being honest, although the upcoming two weeks were the most anticipated weeks of our entire year abroad, I was not excited for them… at the time.

Despite our tired thoughts, the thought of Valencia––the thought of being home and being warm–– put smiles on our faces. We got off the plane from Italy. Valencia, Spain. Damn it’s good to be home. However, though we returned home after a tiresome trip, our time of day-to-day excitement and unexpected traveling were far from over: Fallas was waiting for us. When our taxi dropped us off in front of our beautiful Torres de Serrano, we were greeted with a marching band, mini-fireworks, and a newly decorated city. It was already in full swing.

Fallas is a huge Valencian festival that starts on March 1st and lasts all the way to March 19th, the day of St. Joseph the Carpenter. It is a festival unlike anything I've ever experienced. From the Mascletàs, the firework shows that took place in the city hall plaza everyday at 2:00 pm, to la Cremà, the burnings of the Fallas on the 19th. People from all walks of life come to Valencia, nearly tripling Valencia's population, to bask in the glory of the fires from the burning, gargantuan, paper machè monuments called "Fallas." The festival's underlying meaning is to pay homage to the "Valencian Woman." 

I wanted to make sure that I didn't spend too much time eating the things that I could normally eat when Fallas wasn't around. That certainly did not leave me without any food. Food and sweets galore were placed in stands all over city. Among my favorite Fallas sweets were Buñuelos and Rellenos (Chocolate coated, chocolate stuffed churros. A.K.A. It was coated, filled, and essentially was a physical representation of Diabetes). Of course, Paella is a must. Street grillers and barbecues would line the street curbs or inside smaller alleyways; here one could indulge in sausage bocadillos or some expensive (but worthwhile) ribs. Food trucks were featured behind the Central Market, and were frequented by many FSU students on a daily basis. 

While decorative lights are sprawled all along the walls of buildings and over archways between the streets, no lighting display compares to the district of Ruzafa. It was an incredible feat to see. People stood shoulder to shoulder to see the award winning lighting show every night. I saw it about two or three times, myself. This physical closeness was just like the Cremà. All in all, there is nothing in this world like the experience of Fallas.

Sitting in my Spanish Festivals, Satire, and Fire class, my professor explained that Fallas is an experience that cannot be put into words. At first, I had no idea what this guy was talking about, primarily because I had just returned from a long trip in Italy and the idea of two weeks of endless partying just exhausted me even more. But coming out of these two unforgettable weeks, I know what he means. I feel like this blog post isn't the most accurate one I've written, because while I can explain Fallas to you, you (the reader) haven't experienced Fallas. No two experiences are the same. I'm so sad to see perhaps one of the greatest times of my life come to an end, but rest assured, this will not be my last Fallas.

'Til our roads meet,

Christian Camacho

The Traveling 'Nole

(#2) Spring in Italy: Spring Break 2016

This video was made by me and is about my Spring Break in Italy.

(Note: I do not own the rights to Chocolate by the 1975.)

While reading an article on the train during our week of traveling, I read a word that caught my attention and has stuck with me since: Wanderlust. Wanderlust, according to Merriam-Webster’s reliable (and seemingly always quoted) dictionary, is defined as “a strong desire to travel.” I never knew there was a word for such a powerful feeling. “The travel bug” is what I always referred to it as. But it makes so much sense.

...............

The top of the Duomo in Florence.

For the entirety of the ten days I had for Spring break, I embarked on one of the biggest adventures of my life: seeing twelve different cities in Northern Italy. To be honest, I wasn’t sure just how much traveling would go into this trip. The thousands of counted steps and endless train rides were worth all the tired days and nights (though my lower body would strongly disagree), as we traveled through a country whose vibrant green beauty seems yet to be appreciated. To shed some light on just how much traveling my friends and I got ourselves into, here’s a list of the cities we were so blessed to see:

            -Bergamo

            *(Train transfer in Milan)*

            -Genoa

            -La Spezia

            -Riomaggiore

            -Vernazza

            *(Train transfer in Pisa)*

            -Florence

            -San Gimignamo

            -Chianti Wine Region

            -Siena

            -Monteriggioni

            -Venice

            -Bologna

Twelve. Twelve cities. And in between the spaces of the list above are hundreds of kilometers of traveling, countless hours spent on regional and private trains, and an overwhelming amount of stress. But despite our complex schedule, the stories we can bring back and tell friends and family will travel so much farther with us down the road.

Florence.

One thing I’ve noticed about Europe in general is how drastically the scenery changes in such a short distance. Each city, though only a short train ride away, provide its own unique character or persona. No two cities were akin to the other. The flavors changed. The people changed. The adventures changed. And we had to change along with it.

Chianti wine Region.

Genoa provided some of the best pesto sauce in the entire world and is where I met the newest love of my life: Focaccia (an Italian cheese bread). Florence, where the pesto definitely not like Genoa’s, was a historical powerhouse unlike anything I’ve ever seen. The house, cliffs, and quiet landscape of the Cinque Terre region (Riomaggiore and Vernazza) were perhaps among the most beautiful things these adventurous eyes will ever see.

Wine tasting in the hills of the Chianti wine region with the Italian sun hanging high and dry behind blue skies and green pastures is one of the coolest things that I can say that I have done. I feel so blessed to have been able to go on such an amazing adventure and see the things I have seen.

Monteriggioni 

Wanderlust. It’s a guilty, irresistible temptation in the best way imaginable. A burning passion and desire to want to see the world in all it’s glory. To stop sitting on one’s ass and find oneself out of his or her comfort zone. To find something unexpected, confront a challenge, or face a path that seems uncertain, and just say “**** it, why not?” That’s what this trip has taught me. Because, honestly, saying “why not?” and doing the things you never could have imagine you would do can take you to some of the most exciting places and experiences in your lifetime.

Wanderlust took me to twelve gorgeous cities in Northern Italy for Spring break, and with that, I’ve had the time of my life.

'TIl our roads meet,

Christian Camacho

The Traveling 'Nole