Amid the paper writing, final studying, and presentation prepping, it looks like I've given up on writing the kind of full entries that I used to create for my time in Nicaragua and Namibia.

In Nicaragua, my days at pre-school didn't exactly wear me out the way courses here do. After a day of trying to coax kids into recognizing and naming colors and praying that today will indeed be the day that they will be able to write their name, I couldn't wait to take the bus back into town and spend the sweaty afternoon in the fanned and quiet shelter of Cafe Email just off the plaza.

In Namibia, I found myself struck so deeply by some of my experiences that I wanted to share them with people back home fully, and I felt that if I didn't have the time or energy (or internet access) to do that, I didn't want to write an entry. I didn't want to try to explain if I didn't think that I'd be able to fully convey my experience.

Here, the truth of the matter is that after writing an essay, writing an entry don't always sound appealing. Pure and simple laziness. I also feel like my study abroad experience this semester is much more standard issue than my time in Namibia and South Africa. It is easier to image my life tucked into this charming little rainy gray dutch town, spent alternating between classes and trips to the typical tourist destinations.

Still, I do want to document this, and to share a little bit of what life is like. So, I am going to try to keep it up, even if that just means writing lists like the last entry, or very incoherent musings about my days here.

Like today. I think I had a very belated realization about a cultural difference between dorm life here and back in the States. I seem to be the only one who walks around in my pajamas. I go into the kitchen to get breakfast as early as 7, and everyone I come across appears to be showered and dressed. Is it not appropriate to walk around in my purple gym shorts for extended periods of time?

Speaking of being culturally awkward, on my last trip to Barcelona and Rome, my friend Molly was teaching a friend of hers from uni in London how to identify Americans immediately. Best indicators? North Face fleeces, Jansport (vs. eastpack) backpacks, flared jeans. Then Molly and I would try to gauge our obvious American-ness at any given moment. Every city I visit feels flooded with study abroad students from the US, so there are plenty of opportunities to practice.

I did get a compliment a couple of weeks ago that meant more to me than I could have ever imagined it would this time last year. After months of being told that I speak too fast by people for whom english is a second language, a floor mate told me that I speak slower than most Americans. It felt so good to know that I am finally learning how to communicate, and I wasn't even making a conscious effort to slow down my speech for him.

Barcelona to Roma via Gramaldi's 22 hour long ferry service

In Barcelona, I took the long way to get back to my hostel and ran into La Padrededa. This is another one of Gaudi's masterpieces in a city that sometimes felt like an homage to his architecture.

In Rome I went for a morning walk and stumbled upon the Colosseum.

I ate baby octupi, called pulpitos. (My time in Namibia made me much more adventurous in the meat department)

I went to my first Easter Sunday mass, which happened to be at the Vatican. In a thunderstorm. The pope had a heat lamp; the huddled masses all holding umbrellas and standing in puddles not.

I slept for 16 hours straight (with the assistance of dramamine) on a ferry ride across the Mediterranean with an on board casino, multiple swanky looking bars featuring lounge singers in the evening, and a pool.

I realized that I need to be pushier in lines. I always end up at the end, and sometimes that means standing out on the runway for 20 minutes in hailing rain.

I remembered how much I love to travel.