Everyone loves finales—whether it’s the last episode of the season (someone’s bound to either confess their love or ruin a relationship), the final act of the musical (they’ve gotta have a reprise of your favorite, catchy song), or that sparkling candle on your dessert cupcake (chocolate, obviously). But this finale feels a bit strange. I’ve been backpacking through Spain, living the mochilera (backpacker) lifestyle for almost 8 weeks now, and I'm about to pack my things to head back to the States. I’m returning to a comfy bed, home-cooked meals, and the English language.

The un-creative route is to make your last blog the “what I’ve learned” post. The slightly more interesting (and hopefully deep) is the “what I’m yet to learn.” And while I don’t want to seem pessimistic or negative, I think I’ll have a bit more fun writing about those things that I’ll just never understand about Spain.

1. How many kisses on the cheek are appropriate. I know people say that the Italians do 2, and that many Israelis do 3, but in Spain you’re always left with that, “shoot, now I look like an asshole” or that “oops, didn’t mean to attack you with more kisses” feeling.

2. What’s the point in differentiating between a bocadillo, a sandwich, a baguette, and the many other ways of simply describing meat on bread? The differing prices between each class shifts around from cafeteria to cafeteria. I just want a grilled cheese already!

3. When it’s cool to call someone hombe, amigo, or guapa. I feel like I wouldn’t call some random that I’ve never met, “man.” Greeting someone on the beach as “friend,” seems weird too. And, at least in my Los Angeles, public-school, Spanish education, guapa was always said to mean, “sexy,” yet old ladies working at the local bakery keep calling me guapa. What gives?

4. And,  lastly, how even the busiest, most-productive of citizens can keep down their blood pressure with buses arriving up to an hour late. I’m not just talking long bus trips—I waited an additional 45 minutes to take a 10-minute, 5km bus from the national park to the nearby beach a few weeks ago. I don’t classify myself as uptight, but I just don’t understand how this works out with anybody’s daily routine. Are tardies more-easily excused? Are bosses more understanding? Do I just not know how to read a schedule?

There are probably many more things about Spain and the world that I do not and will never completely understand, but I don’t feel that’s a negative thing. It rather just leaves me with the ability to be constantly learning, constantly exploring, and constantly putting myself in situations where I totally mess up and have to figure out a way to fix things. So there—there’s your happy finale. 

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I guess I shouldn't be surprised. I did spend my preschool years practicing reading by rummaging through the kitchen pantry, and I was always cutting Saturday-morning cartoons to catch Supermarket Sweep. However, I never could have imagined the interest and intrigue I would have at the chance to explore Spanish grocery stores. 

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Why is it that the smart guy is always getting picked on (and this is no reference to the Disney sitcom featuring Tia, Tamara, and little brother Taj Mowry)? I know that I'm not going to be able to bring the world's end of bullying, bothering, or bugging, but it just always makes me wonder. As a self-proclaimed nerd (and proud of it), I luckily have avoided many elementary and high school moments of the dorky kid taking the heat. But yesterday, when visiting Mallorca's Castell de Bellver, learning about the history of the building really struck a chord. 

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A close friend and past LG researcher warned me before the trip that there was no point in bringing along my running shoes (at least for the purpose of running). She told me I would be too tired and worn out to devote any of my extra energy to a sweaty morning jog, and that they extra weight in my already-massive pack couldn't be good for my long-term goal of avoiding Scoliosis. And while she provided a slew of other helpful suggestions (yes--you should book hostels before you get there, and yes, siestas do exist), I couldn't have been happier that I ignored this piece of information. 

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So here's a bit of history for you readers: In the 1982 World Cup, West Germany and Austria were facing off in the final game of pool play and entered the game with the knowledge that both teams would move on to the round of 16 (and knock out the anxious Algerian squad) only if Germany won by a 1 or 2 goal margin. So what did these conniving Eastern Europeans do? They threw the game. Germany scored an early first goal, and then the teams worked together to run down the clock. While this wasn't technically "cheating," the situation was definitely unfair and frowned upon, so FIFA made some alterations. Now, the final games of pool play for any one group are played concurrently. The upside: you don't have sneaky soccer conspiracies that lead to (no joke) protests, fans waving bank slips at players, and flag burning. The downside: if you're an American visiting a European country, in a town overflowing with English tourists and immigrated residents, it's going to be near-impossible to find anywhere broadcasting the US-Algeria game while England's busy playing Slovenia at the exact same time. 

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