Dear Mom,

You've sacrificed time after time for me to be happy, always putting me and my wants before you and your needs.. No blog post, or phone call, or hug and kiss could ever award you the amount of appreciation you deserve for all that you've done. Since I was four, it's always been you and I, through good times and bad, we've always had each other.. I know I've made mistakes in our relationship, my teenage years were tough (I suppose that's what happens when two redheads live under one roof.) but you never stopped loving me, encouraging me.

When you were sick, I was so scared, but yet you laughed it off, coining yourself as a younger Sinead O'Connor when you shaved your head- you saw cancer everyday at work, but I watched my dear Pop-Pop die from it six years prior. I was blinded with fear that the same would happen to you. I couldn't be there for you like I should have been, and it's taken me ten years to say that I am truly sorry. You needed me the most at that point of your life, and I was so caught up in my own adolescent life, pretending the person I loved the most wasn't sick. It's one of my biggest regrets.

I remember in college, being confused about life, and what I wanted for myself that I would drive home in tears- and you would hold me while I cried, fortifying me until I was strong enough to go back to school. I could always tell you everything, even though I'm sure there were times you didn't want to hear what I was saying, that you didn't approve of what I was doing, but yet you were always there for me. One of the most difficult days of my life was boarding the plane to Europe last year. Standing in Greensboro Airport, tears streaming down my face as I went through security, looking back at you being so strong but knowing your heart was breaking just like mine. We went eight months without seeing each other before I visited the States this past April- it was the longest time we've ever been apart. I missed you all the time. Last year was the first time in my life that I spent every single major holiday away from you, the first time I wasn't able to get in a car and drive straight to you if I was upset, sad, or more often excited about something happening in my life. And yet, when I recently told you I had decided to stay another year in Europe, although disappointed and saddened by my decision you joked that you knew you should have had more than one child. You still supported me, even though my decision went against everything you wanted. Thank you.

I'm sorry for not being the type of daughter who lives up the street, comes over for dinner twice a week, who gets married to a handsome man, has an amazing career and beautiful grandchildren for you to rock to sleep.. Maybe someday, but instead, you've raised a daughter who is zealous for life, who embraces different cultures, people and change, and who is independent beyond belief. You've raised me to be strong even when I feel weak, to think that there is nothing that I can't do, to try things over and over again until I find the one thing that makes me happy even if I make mistakes along the way. You've raised me to be proud of where I come from, of having a mother who would give up anything, and has, just so that I can have the life I want. But most importantly, you've raised me to know, that no matter the situation, the circumstances, or the looming distance between us, if I fall down, you'll always be there cheering for me to get up with grace and pose.

There aren't a lot of guarantees in life, but there is one thing I know for sure- Our relationship is crazy and intense, just like us- but it is beautiful and it's full of so much love. Thank you, thank you, thank you for being my mother but more importantly my friend, and biggest fan. For taking care and loving Porter, and for accepting me for exactly who I am. I am so proud to be your daughter.

 I love you more than words can say. 

Madrid Day 2..

Did I mention it was my first stay in a hostel.. honestly, I really enjoyed it. We met an assortment of great people from all over the world, and it had the feel of a freshman dorm- ah the memories. Much like my freshman year of college, the memory of Day 2 is quite hazy. A very late bedtime resulted in just a few hours of sleep before Chris woke me up out of my top bunk. Oh yes, a bunk bed. The girls were already getting ready and on the prowl for coffee- my drinking partner in crime and I decided to get dressed and venture out into the sun for a cocktail. The most amazing Sangria was had just a stones throw from our hostel.. Chris opted for a screwdriver and we sat discussing the previous night while the girls went to Starbucks. While we were sitting there, at least three homeless people came by asking for money, the last of course being my favorite. It went something along the lines of "hey you, (referring to me at this point..) you need to get some sun.. you are too pasty." Did I get called out by a bum? Seriously? My response wanted to be something along the lines of you might be tan, but I'll always have a roof over my head- I bit my tongue and graciously thanked him for his advice. After a drink, and meeting up with Jennifer, Alex, and our two British friends Owen and Ash, we were off in search of more tapas. A delicious lunch for 10euros a piece, and it was quite the spread- drinks included, and we decided to go on a walking tour so that it appeared that Madrid was more than just drinking hole for us. It was hot out. Really. Hot. Regardless, the tour was fun, the guide was from Connecticut (team USA) and showed us many beautiful places in the city. We cut out a little early from the tour, after two hours or so, and went to get ready for another night in the city. Alex and I decided to search for souvenirs which ended up being a hour walk around the city, talking and talking, and more talking while we never managed to find anything at all. We stumbled upon a beautiful Catholic church in the middle of mass, where we both sat down and dutifully prayed.. it was absolutely stunning inside, and although the service was in Spanish, it never ceases to amaze me how well religion translates no matter where you are.

Breakfast of Champions- SANGRIA

Infamous insulting bum

Walking tour

Walking tour.. Amsterdam plus London

For those who don't know, for the past month Madrid specifically has been protesting the government for the rights of citizens. My understanding is that the unemployment rate is at a record high- with 35% of citizens without a job, most of them college graduate who can't find work. In the square near where we stayed, Puerta del Sol, thousands of people have been camping out for weeks- assembling to discuss what can be done to help the working class, and those that can't find any work. On the Sunday while we were there, all the protesters were ordered to pack up their belongings and head home, if they have a home that is. It was really fascinating to walk through the camps, talking with those who wished to tell us about their cause. It was amazing to experience and although protesters typically have a negative and violent connotation, I never once felt threatened. The crowd was peaceful, their hope for change, and as an American I appreciate and respect their dedication to making a better life. Later that evening while we were getting ready to go out, we heard chanting in the street near our hostel, as we looked outside into the dark, we saw thousands of marchers in the street.. repeating their list of wants, standing up for what they believe in. I had goosebumps just watching these people, this unity of citizens from all ages and backgrounds joining into a single voice. It was something I'll never forget.

Cheering for the cause

Marchers

Another night in the city. Lots and lots of inappropriate whipping hair back and forth dancing with friends from all over.. My flight was leaving at 9am, so I knew it was going to be a tough morning- but I didn't count on an hour of sleep and then a forty five minute taxi ride to the airport. Twenty minutes to spare before my gate closed, but made it just in time. As soon as I buckled my seat belt, I was fast asleep-dreaming of another trip to Spain.

Love.

Too much hair whipping. Seriously.

"I remember my first beer..." Day 1

Amsterdam in Spain and creepy Jack Sparrow

Madrid. You. were. incredible. Words can't describe the amount of fun I had this past weekend, how often I laughed hysterically, danced until cankles were present- (yeah, I didn't need to point out my own since Jenn was rocking a pair..) slept seven hours in two nights and met some really amazing people. Saturday morning came early- 5:15am wake up call to take the bus to Schipol for my flight at 8:55am.. I had no problem getting up, although the bags under my eyes indicated otherwise, I was absolutely psyched for my first trip to Spain with three awesome friends. I was traveling two hours earlier then the rest, so I was solo for a couple of hours after arriving into Madrid, but no worries- I simply found the terminal I needed to meet them at, purchased a can of Spanish beer, and headed out into the hot, sunny midday to enjoy getting some form of color while I waited. Simply killing two birds with one stone. My fellow Amsterdamer's arrived, and we were off to the hostel via "Mama Jenn" who basically can find any location, in any direction, without any help, in possibly any country. She should be a tracker. We were off to the metro, where she already knew the route, the stops, the changes of direction.. perfect, that means the rest of us could slack off and play around while she led the way.

On a side note, public displays of awkwardness. It is not okay, while on the metro, or anywhere else to be honest, to dig into your nose and then wipe whatever you  have on the poles that people hold onto. Seriously, if I see you do it once, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt- maybe you are suffering from temporary insanity. But if you do it three times, I'm going to stare inappropriately and talk very loudly about personal hygiene and why it is absolutely disgusting. Sometimes a rant is necessary. First impressions are key.

Hostel bunk beds

We arrived in the Puerta del Sol square around two, and began looking for the hostel. It was a recommendation from a friend of Jennifer's who also went to Carolina, Sam, but presently teaches English in Spain. Personal tour guide of sorts. We walked up and down the street, looking for number 16, once, twice, (did I mention this was my first time staying in a hostel and I was already slightly intimidated prior to the missing address?) As usual Chris and I were prowling for alcohol, Alex making inappropriate jokes and Jennifer consulting blackberry navigation. After the third unsuccessful loop, and the professional tracker not being able to locate the destination I became a little panicked. . And ta-da number 16, although it's no surprise we didn't see it the first 2544 times.. it was a lone door, heavy wood, very indiscreet. We buzzed the hostel and they opened the door.. as we walked into the entry, the jokes began about the "decor" and general cleanliness.. the jokes ceased after we walked up six flights of steps, breathing heavily, luggage in hand. Chris muttered under his breathe he was going to inflict physical harm to the person who recommended this little spot to Jennifer, who happened to be Sam.. We checked in, checked out the spot, talked to a few foreigners, bought a warm 1euro beer from the clerk and were off for lunch, preferably tapas! The front desk clerk recommended a place.. and he was spot on, after a twenty minute walk with, big surprise, Jennifer leading the way we found an absolutely packed tapas bar. For 6euros we had a massive beer, and a plate overflowing with delicious spanish tapas per person. It was heaven, so good in fact, we came back the following day with new British friends, Ash and Owen. After lunch we headed to meet Sam, who was going to show us around for the afternoon, which proceeded into the evening.. Went to a beautiful park in the middle of Madrid, similar to that of Central Park- rented boats, which resulted in the girls having to row much more than we thought acceptable. At some point of the afternoon, Sam mentioned there was a Taco Bell in the city.. I'm not a huge fan of T.B but Jennifer and Alex apparently have a deep rooted love for the American fast food chain. You'll never guess where we had dinner at? Oh yeah. Taco Bell. In Spain. After a quick alcohol run, shower, and pre-game at our hostel, we were off to find the nightlife of Madrid. As many people may know, Spaniards are known for their siestas and their long, late nights out. Literally, it's a city very similar to Amsterdam- not a lot of sleeping, a whole lot of dancing and partying. We left the hostel around midnight (keep in mind fellow Americans, in the States it would be one hour and forty five minutes till last call..) however, in many European countries, bars or pubs stay open until the very wee hours- 5am or later. We went to a couple really great bars, dancing, drinking and exploring the city. 630am bedtime for night number one.

Tapas bar.. 

Big beers with tapas

Park 

Taco Bell in Spain

First night out in Madrid

American girls.. 

"How many tennis players does it take to screw in a light bulb?.."

...... "What do you mean it was out? It was IN!" Oh tennis.. I fondly (or maybe not so fondly) remember you from when I was seven. My Mom was one of those parents that wanted her child to try a little bit of everything, dabble in this, dabble in that, and only stick with the things that I felt really passionate about. So, I tried tennis, and ballet, flute, violin, gymnastics, cheerleading and horseback riding. Tennis lasted probably six months, and that's being generous. I just never saw the appeal of a ball being catapulted at you at an ungodly speed (yes, even at seven I was dramatic..) Recently, we've had a guest at the house that has been staying with us, that is addicted to tennis tournaments. So, I spent the last two weeks watching the French Open, which astonishingly, I really enjoyed. (TEAM ISNER!- born in Greensboro, NC.. My tennis eye candy..) And more surprisingly, I'm so excited for Wimbledon at the end of June.

tvguide.com

That being said, there is a "parent/child" tennis tournament coming up in Zandvoort where all three of the kids play at least once a week.. Emma has requested that I be her partner, therefore I have been talked into practicing nightly with whichever kid will have me. I couldn't possibly say no, it's such a sweet request, and yet, I feel as though I have to exceed any expectations so I don't have the entire Dutch tennis community laughing me and an 11 year old off the court. Therefore, I've worked on my backhand, forehand, net shots, SLAMS, and just about any other tennis technique possible. Jacob and Emma have been extremely encouraging, and helpful.. and soon, I will be subjected to nightly games out on the tennis court. What have I gotten myself into?

Trial Run..

I think that I have more days off than I work. Seriously. I mean, who complains about that sort of thing- but sometimes I feel extremely guilty that I live in Europe, explore Amsterdam regularly, travel to other amazing countries, and get 12 weeks vacation throughout the year? I'm still waiting for someone to tell me I'm being Punk'd.. Last week I had a five day weekend, this weekend, I have three days off which will be spent in Madrid.. So, of course, we (Jennifer, Alex, Chris and I) had to give Amsterdam a trial run of what Madrid is anticipated  to be. As a result.. I've spent the last four days nursing multiple bruises and my pride from an incident involving slippery steps at Escape, high heels and maybe one too many sake bombs.. My God. I might be too old for this. But, let's face it.. if you don't go out often, when you do- you should do it right. I had the. best. time. this. weekend. And if it was any indication of how much fun our time in Madrid will be then I can't wait.. Saturday morning can't get here soon enough.

blog.wanderfly.com

International tour guide..

The absolute coolest part of living abroad is being able to show your friends and family around for a good time. You actually feel like one of those paid tour guides, but you drink a lot more, and you like the people you're with. Tonight is no exception.. an email from my good friend Kaitlyn who is an American in London resulted in me happily volunteering to take her friend Corey and his two friends out in Amsterdam while they Euro-trip. In this situation I don't even have to know Corey, or have met him prior to tonight to know that we're going to have a great time. One. Kaitlyn is awesome, so it's already guaranteed that he'll be awesome..Two. Amsterdam is awesome. It's a win, win situation. So, fellow readers, if you have a friend visiting the Amsterdam area, I am always up for a night to show them my favorite places in the city!

PS: Coco's has karoke tonight- you get a free shot just for signing up to sing.. I'm hoping I can convince these three American boys to belt out a few songs :) I'm sure that multiple interesting and hilarious stories will follow this evening.. STAY TUNED.