Dear Diary,
I am on the island of Mallorca, in Spain. Julia and I are staying with her mom´s best friend who lives in this tiny hillside artists town called Deia. We are spending the day at the nearby port town on the beach with the german tourists, but now it is raining cats and dogs so we had to take refuge in an internet cafe. When it rains here is REALLY rains. Julia and I are trying to use our Spanish, it is almost working. I just need to stay for like 5 more years and I will be somewhat competent.
The other day our hostess left us in her car so she could go into a store really quick to pick something up. She was parked illegally, i knew this because the crankiest spanish woman ever kept driving around the block and yelling at me. me being in the front seat and all I was clearly responsible for the car being parked in her special spot. But in spanish i told her that i´m sorry and i don´t have the keys to the car. It was my first spanish language victory on this island.
In 4 days i fly to copenhagen to take the train to sweden. This trip is unreal. I spend so much time fantasizing about traveling but now that I am actually doing it seems perfectly natural. Although lately the fantasy has been about car camping in Washington. There is nothing I would like to do more right now. This is amazing and all, but I am getting a bit homesick.
Love,
Diana