The Little White Village

After spending about five weeks in Ireland, the time came for me to say goodbye and continue on to the next part of my adventure: Spain. I arrived in Spain on July 4 (a little sad to have missed my favorite U.S. holiday) to participate in the G42 Leadership Academy as an intern and student. At the airport, I was greeted by one of the teachers who drove me back to the G42 house where 8 other interns and a few other staff members had dinner waiting for me.

There is so much I would like to share about G42 and what I've been doing here in Spain, but I think the best way to start is to tell you a little about where I'm at and the town I live in.

the gorgeous Costa del Sol

G42 (which you can be sure I will write more on later) is located in Mijas Pueblo, Spain, about thirty minutes from the city of Malaga. If you aren't familiar with Malaga, it is the sixth largest city in Spain, located on the Costa del Sol in a southern region of Spain called Andalusia. Mijas Pueblo, a quaint "white village" set off the coast of the Mediterranean and nestled up in the mountains, is about thirty minutes from the city center of Malaga. Only twenty minutes down the mountain lies the decently large city of Fuengirola, home to the G42 interns' favorite beach (of course!).


If you come to Mijas, surprisingly you might not find too many Spaniards. What you will find, in abundance, are tourists and travelers on holiday from all over the world. Walking the cobblestone streets of the picturesque town you are certain to pass Japanese, Germans, Scottish, Indians - people from all countries and all cultures - shopping, sightseeing, touring, and relaxing. Along the sides of the windy, narrow roads of Mijas, dozens of tourist shops, trinket stores, and authentic Spanish restaurants boast their bright colors to draw in naive travelers who are convinced they need one more piece of pottery, jewelry, key chain, or glass of Sangria. With unmistakable hats, sunglasses, and cameras, excited new visitors are everywhere you turn, adding a lively and bubbly spirit to a sunny and friendly town.

a little restaurant we often refer to as "the blue chair place"

Beginning around ten in the morning, the town swiftly buzzes with excitement as new tourists arrive, coming spend the day discovering the charm of Mijas. And charm it is - at any moment walking down the street you might need to pause and stand aside to let a horse carriage with delighted passengers spin through or to allow a long line of donkeys transporting weary travelers clop by. In addition to the alluring brightly colored Spanish items outside of every shop, you'll be enchanted by the brilliant white of the traditional houses and apartments all through the town. A leisurely walk out to the Lookout Point offers not only a panoramic view of the Mediterranean coastline but also a perfect display of the white village houses stacked up on the side of the mountain, perfectly accented with red tiled roofs, tranquil terraces, and tiny dark windows.

Inside those windows are stories that go back decades. Most of the Mijaños, or citizens of Mijas, have lived in their houses for their entire lives, meaning there are a lot of old folks around! Since most houses in Mijas don't have air conditioning, you will often find the bright green or red doors of the Mijaños propped open while the sun beams down on the whitewashed walls in the heat of the day. In the evening, the streets tend to empty of tourists and instead fill with Mijaños who have migrated outside to their doorsteps and terraces to enjoy the cool and refreshing sea breeze. If you travel down to the plaza at the end of our street, at any time of the day you will always find a group of old men in wide-brimmed hats, resting on benches and beaming their toothless smiles at all the new faces strolling by. A little further up from the plaza sits a bull ring at the top of a sloping hill, a popular destination for tourists to visit during summer stays. During the summer months, trumpets and fanfares can be heard echoing through the streets of Mijas, announcing the beginning (or victory... to be honest, I'm not sure quite yet) of a bull fight.

old men in the plaza

On Tuesdays and Thursdays in the summer, Mijas holds a market in the Plaza Mayor, proving to consistently be a well-attended social gathering that provides common ground for both the locals and the visitors. Local artists and artisans set up booths to display and sell their creations while salsa and pop music boom through the plaza until all hours of the night. At midnight, salsa dancing lessons start, and teenage girls crowd up at the front while young parents with toddlers and holidaying old couples dance shamelessly off to the side or from the back. Spain is a country of freedom; everybody lives life to the fullest and is not afraid to enjoy it. It's a beautiful thing. Last week at the midnight dance lessons, my heart was warmed watching a mother dance with her baby, a lone traveler with eyes closed dancing with all his might, and a British couple with their arms around each other, nodding their heads to the music. Spain allows people to be liberated, to express themselves, to indulge.... and to be happy. It's a place of family, friendship, laughs, good food, rest, and adventure.

the view from my balcony

The only downside is that the rest part seems to come at the most inopportune time, at least for my schedule. In the past few weeks, I have come to view Mijas as the city that never sleeps. Up until two or three in the morning, people are out eating dinner on the streets, talking in the square, or blaring music. And even if they're not, city workers will be sure to provide whatever noise might have been lacking - like the trash truck at 2 am or street sweepers a 7 am - all great services, but at completely inconvenient times. I suppose the reason it is such a bother to me is because of the location of our house. G42 owns two houses on Calle San Sebastian, a beautiful street near the center of Mijas. In fact, it's so beautiful that it's the most photographed street in all of Southern Spain. That means that at all hours of the day, there are Europeans, Americans, and plenty of Japanese tourists in bucket hats and armed with cameras meandering down our street, peering into our windows. And since we often leave the door open to circulate the air, we even have a few uninvited visitors come strolling into our entryway every now and then ;-) To perfectly illustrate how popular our street is, I can tell you that the very first day I arrived in Mijas, I walked out onto the balcony outside my room (hanging over onto the street) to hear an British girl about my age proclaim, "This is such a gorgeous street!" She then proceeded to nudge her boyfriend and point up to me, the "girl on the balcony," as I stared questioningly from above. "Smile for a picture!" She eagerly shouted as she pointed the camera nose at me.

our house is right next to the wine museum

This happens all day, every day. Some of the interns told me they used to try to get out of the way when people were taking pictures, but they don't even bother anymore because it would virtually mean being unable to walk to our front door. On the flip side, however, we live on an absolutely gorgeous street! The view from my balcony (even if it often includes tourists taking pictures of me) and from our front door is what people travel miles and miles and sometimes halfway across the world to see! In addition, our house is right next door to a wine museum, so we have made friends with the owner and often take leisurely breaks during the evening to pay him a visit and drink some delicious Spanish wine. Everything in the town is less than a five minute walk from my doorstep, and I can get to the beach or hike a mountain within 20 minutes. One of my favorite parts about our house is the terrace we have in the back, the perfect place to hang out on a warm summer's evening and eat tapas and play games with friends.

I feel so lucky to be able to live in a place like Mijas, but I'm not here for all fun and games! It is an absolute bonus that we get to enjoy such a stunning and magnificent place, but the real reason we are here is to fill our minds and grow our spirits. We attend classes everyday and have been working hard to read, learn, and write, growing into the men and women God created us to be. I will share with you soon who I'm living with and what our daily schedule is like, plus a little bit about what we're learning and what exactly G42 is all about, so stay tuned!

Up on the Mountain: Part 1

I have had some astounding moments with nature while here in Ireland. I'm in a country that is known for its landscapes and natural beauty, and I am fortunate enough to see and experience this beauty on a daily basis. No matter how many times I drive past the sparkling harbor in Schull or the green rolling hills in the countryside, I never cease to appreciate the incredible sights around me. Over the past few weeks, I've had plenty of opportunities to visit some popular tourist destinations that are well-known for their spectacular views and gorgeous environments. Since I have so many great experiences to share with you, I will be posting this blog in two parts, so stay tuned for more stories in upcoming days!

My first tourist visit, a few weeks back, was to Mizen Head, the most southwestern point in Ireland and the most western point in all of Europe. However, it's not necessarily the significant location that makes it so famous, but rather the incredible terrain and landscape that mark this unique point. As one Irish woman told me, a visit to Mizen Head is almost a spiritual experience. After a visit, I would definitely agree.

It was a bit of a drive, but I thoroughly enjoyed zooming down the windy roads and feeling like a master of the Stick Shift. :) When I got to Mizen Head the area was about to close, but they let me go through anyways, telling me I was the last person to enter the park for the day. That meant I had a quiet walk down to the bridge by myself, only passing a few other people who were already on their way out. Luckily, the guard at the entrance told me to take my time, so I didn't have to rush through it. I walked through the park down a path around the side of the mountain and came to a fork. One side of the path went up a steep hill and the other side was about a hundred steps lining the edge of a cliff and leading down to somewhere I couldn't see. Since most people were coming from up the stairs, I decided to go that way and began the long journey down the steep flight. Out to my left, the ocean stretched out as far as the eye could see. As I descended, I came across a nice old couple who stopped and offered to take my picture in front of the sea and cliffs we were walking on top of. We snapped a few photos and I continued on my way to the bottom.

As I rounded the corner, I finally saw the view that everyone had been telling me about. The famous Mizen Head Bridge floated gracefully in the air, stretching out its white shining beams from one magnificent cliff edge to another. Below, turquoise water rushed in from the ocean, crashing against jagged rocks and forming a small pool at the cliff's base. The wind blew fiercely as I stepped out onto the bridge. I gazed out at the massive cliffs before me and in a moment knew exactly what the Irish woman had meant about this being a "spiritual experience." I felt completely overwhelmed by the strength and majesty radiating from this grandiose terrain and considered the power and might of the God who created them, painting each stripe on the rocks by hand and stirring the sea to form each wave as it collided with the land below. No other word could describe how I felt except "small."

Growing up in Arizona, I climbed mountains all the time. Living in Texas, I saw unbelievable storms that ripped apart buildings and destroyed sections of cities. Still, none of that even slightly compared with the true majesty that exploded in front of my very eyes. All I could do was stand still, letting the wind whip through my hair, the sea breeze spray across my face, and the monstrosity of the great cliffs consume me. It was stunning, breath-taking, awe-inspiring. It was God's power and the most beautiful demonstration of His splendor and glory.

I continued across the bridge and ascended back up another ramp on the mountain I had merely been looking at a few minutes before. I briefly toured the signal station (like a lighthouse, but not as tall and not nearly as cool) and walked past it to get to the very tip top of the mountain at the very farthest edge. The farther I walked, the windier it got, until eventually the wind was so strong I could barely stand up. I reached the top and stared out over the edge, making sure to do a full 360 in order to get every angle of the view in.

Someone told me a few months ago that one of the places I needed to visit while I was in Ireland were the Cliffs of Moher, the famous location for The Princess Bride's Cliffs of Insanity, the sixth Harry Potter film, and the proposal scene in Leap Year. I had been determined to go to the tourist destination because I knew how magnificent and beautiful those famous cliffs are. In the moment I stood at Mizen Head and looked out over the sea, I lost every desire to go, because I knew that what I was seeing was just as spectacular, if not even better.

I took a deep breath and took in the beauty of the green, rocky cliffs triumphantly projecting from the foaming sea below. My attempt at taking pictures completely failed. A camera with a limited lens cannot possibly capture beauty that is so grand and so huge. As I tried to snap a picture of the monstrosity of nature in front of me, I realized that this would be a moment I would not be able to specifically share with the world through the art of photos. I guess you'll just have to take a trip there yourself ;-)

Another memorable place I visited was Garnish Island, a small island right outside of Glengarriff Harbor, not too far from Bantry Bay. Meg and I, plus two of our friends, loaded up in the car and drove out to the town of Glengarriff to take the 15 minute ferry over to the island. On the ferry, we passed a tiny place called Seal Island, but the tide was so high when we passed that Seal Island really just looked like a rock in the middle of the water with two or three seals on it. I still enjoyed seeing the funny creatures lazily basking in the sun, taking an occasional dip in the water to cool off. 

When we arrived at the island, we realized we wouldn't have much to do unless we visited the botanic gardens covering the whole of the island, so we bought tickets and entered in. Before beginning our walk through the gardens, we sat down in the Cafe to have a quick lunch and some tea, and then continued on our way. The map showed us areas around the gardens called Happy Valley, the Jungle, the Walled Garden, and Martello Tower, so I knew we could be expecting to see some exciting places.

We started out walking through somewhat of a forest, fighting our way through the trees and shaping our own path as we went. Not sure where it would lead us, we finally found our way back out into open air, only to find ourselves looking straight up at an abandoned old house hidden at the back of the wood. One of the girls commented on how it was the perfect setting for the beginning of a horror movie. Nevertheless, we had no fear and explored all around the property, even enjoying the nice view from the private pier at the end of the road.

After taking our jaunt off the beaten path for a bit, we had to climb back over a fence to get back into the gardens. Once there, we followed the manicured paths and walked through the well-kept gardens traveling all the way from Happy Valley through the Jungle to the famous Italian Garden. We enjoyed several different areas including rocks and trees that the girls fearlessly climbed, a hidden cove with waves splashing at our feet, a gazebo on a hill overlooking the countryside below, a garden of roses surrounded by a wall, and beautiful statues and buildings in the Italian gardens. After wandering around each garden and appreciating the diverse charm of each one, we all collapsed onto a green stretch of grass outside one of the buildings and basked in the sun until it was time to catch the ferry back.

A week or two later, I visited a well-known location in the Bantry area called the Bantry House. I had seen it on my very first trip into Bantry, the first day I arrived in West Cork, and I had been wanting to go ever since. My schedule could never match up with anyone else's to go (or the weather), so I ended up driving over on my own one day while Meg was at work. When I arrived, there were tons of tourists outside the house taking pictures, relaxing in the sun, and enjoying the beauty around them. I went into the main entrance and bought a ticket to enter the house.

The Bantry House is a historic house of Ireland that was once inhabited by the White family as a second home, starting in the 17th century. Over time, the house was expanded by its inhabitants, including Richard, the first Earl of Bantry. Even now, descendants of the White family still live in the house and are kind enough to lend part of it to the public for tours, concerts, weddings, and special events. As I was touring, I felt like the house was awfully small on the inside for the size it looked on the outside, but now I quickly figured out that we weren't seeing the whole house, only a small part. I absolutely loved what I saw though! I wandered up several grandiose staircases and pondered what it must have been like for the families that had actually lived there. All the historical furniture had been left exactly in place, so walking through the house made one feel like they were walking right into the 17^th century. As I ascended one of the staircases, I heard beautiful music flowing through the halls. Searching around for the origin of the sound, I came across a library with closed glass doors. Inside, a young man about my age was magnificently playing the clarinet. You can imagine my ecstasy.

As a clarinet player of at least 10 years, there is no music more exciting for me to hear than that of my very own roots. I awkwardly stared at the guy playing, just listening to him practice and run through his warm-ups. Even from that, I could tell that he was good. Eventually, I got up the courage to open the door (completely disregarding the sign that said not to disturb the musicians) and give him my compliments. He was from London, was 22 years old, and has been playing clarinet for 17 years (you can do the math). He was at the Bantry House preparing for an ensemble concert that evening that was put on as part of the West Cork Music Festival. I had originally been planning to go to that concert, but tickets were a bit expensive so I had started to reconsider. After getting pretty much a private concert from this guy, I figured I didn’t really need to pay the money anyways! He continued to play and I listened to the whirl of notes and wondered how he could possibly play so fast and with such good tone, and then I moved on to see other parts of the house.

Since the house was small, I headed outside to the gardens and walked around there for a while. It was later in the afternoon, so most people had gone home already, leaving me as one of the only people in the gardens. After walking through the rose garden and the stables, I made my way to an impressive line of stairs leading up from the garden, so high that the top was almost out of sight. I saw a sign that marked the upward path as 100 Stairs, and was immediately up for the challenge. Taking my time, I made sure to pause on each landing and take a picture of the incredible view. Nothing compared with what I saw from the top though. Once I arrived to the very top stair, I turned around (panting and puffing of course) and looked down at the Bantry House below me. You could still almost hear the faint tunes of the clarinet drifting upwards towards the forest behind me. The house stood sumptuously at the bottom of the stairs, eclipsing the sea and mountains in the distance behind it. It was a lucky family who got to see a view like that every day.

I trudged on into the woods behind me with the intent of having a nice hike and some thinking time. Plodding through some mud, I followed signs to a lookout point. Unfortunately, when I got to the lookout spot, all I could see were trees and a tiny window to Bantry Bay below. Instead, I took pictures of the sheep that were glaring down at me from a hill beside me. I wandered all over the grounds, finding a tree from 1789 (it was labeled) and a hiking path that led to some office buildings (I guess I went a little too far outside the gardens…). Eventually I returned to the Bantry House, went around to see the gardens in the front of the house, and then went home for the evening.

For a few more stories about my Irish adventures, check back in a couple days to read Part 2!