Club Paradise


At this time last week, I was somewhere over the Atlantic ocean praying that the aircraft wasn't on it's way to it's demise after unexpected turbulence forced the seat belt signal to reappear. It's always a sketchy experience when you're 30,000 feet above ground, or in this case water, and that illusory safe tube of metal you're trapped in begins to shake. Don't even try to tell me those flimsy blow-up life vests under the seat will save us in an emergency. Not happening!

In all seriousness, a week is in the books. 1/12 of the semester in Spain is complete. Where did the time go? I'll tell you, the time has been spent swimming in the streets, sitting helplessly on buses and boats with an endless amount of Erasmus students and hour long walks that were once upon a time only supposed to last 20 minutes. For the most part, it's been heavenly!

I've learned a lot about myself and different aspects of life since stepping off that plane in the Spanish capital. For example, beer is healthier than soda. It's no David vs. Goliath debate but if the two squared up on the back of a McDonald's place mat depicting nutritional facts, the beer KO's the soda.

Also, Americans are not nearly as hated as much as people think. I mean sure we get a bad reputation because we feel we can walk all over, speak as loud and be as arrogant as we want and no one can understand what we're saying. Wrong, everyone can understand to a degree what we're complaining about. We come off as uppity snobs, even though that's not the truth for half of us. For the most part, Cantabrians are delighted to meet an American.

I mean seriously, my host mother Loli would rather adopt 20 abhorrent Americans than spend time with one of those excessively inebriated Erasmus students. All they do is party! Hey, her words, not mine. 

Seriously though, they're not making a great name for themselves throwing a shindig at Club Paradise. It's bad enough it reminds me of the awful Drake concert "Club Paradise Tour" I attended back in 2012. I'll save you the pain and will not go into why I resent seated concerts.

Well in all honestly, the 10 minutes at Club Paradise wasn't all that bad. They played a decent song, admission to watch a few bozos bounce from wall to wall was free and just when I thought I knew everything about myself, I came to the realization that I'm a pathological liar. Actually, that oh so sweet neighbor I mentioned a few stories back arrived at the verdict for me (Over-exaggeration). Supposedly I had mentioned that the walk back home along the coast was 20 minutes tops, not cold and sand-less yet I don't have any recollection of it. The way I see it, she should have been overly thankful I offered to fend off attackers with my menacing Totes umbrella. Funny the way that works. 

All (hopeful) joking aside, the week has been good to me. I had my doubts about signing away my spring semester to the hands of the Spanish. There was a lot I was going to miss but there's also a lot I have gained. Don't let the evening news scare you, if you want triumph, happiness and an authentic churro, I say go for it (The churro being the least important of course)!