¡Ay, por Dios! What a weekend!

Last weekend I headed north with three other Fulbright friends to Basque Country for a six day long-weekend.


País Vasco, as it's called in Spanish, is a small region in the middle of north Spain that overlaps just slightly with the southwest of France. The region has a long, rich, and tormented history. The Basque people were around before the Romans got their act together, and the euskera (or Basque language) claims to be one of the oldest languages in Western Europe. While the Basque culture may be well established, outside governments have been trying for centuries to squash it. During the Spanish Civil War, Franco's regime it was made punishable by death to speak in euskera. Even today there is tension between the Spanish and the Basque. They are wary of each other, and the stereotypes about each abound. At first I was timid to use my Spanish for fear of insulting a Basque. Luckily the Basque appreciate outsiders who speak Spanish, so I was OK. Conversely, they do seem to hold grudges against Spaniards who haven't learned euskera.

The landscape is completely different from the rest of Spain. To start, there is more green, it's much more lush, and it's very wet. It was such a relief to escape from the monotonous scenery of central Spain. There was grass, a constant backdrop of mountains capped with the first snow of the season, and the smell of green earth. It looks how I would expect the Irish countryside to be.

Our plan was to fly out of Madrid into Bilbao. From Bilbao we would bus to San Sebastian, then head to Logroño (or wine country) before going back to Bilbao to fly back into Madrid. Through our travels we managed to see also Hondarribia, St. Jean de la Luz, and Vitoria (capital of the region). We got very lucky and flew out Thursday night. As we were walking around Bilbao the next day, blissfully unaware, the air controllers at the Madrid airport went on strike with out notice. Hundreds of thousands of people (including my roommates!!) were unable to fly out or in and were unable to enjoy their long weekend plans. The military even got involved and forced the controllers back to work so that by the evening flights were relatively back on track.

So much happened and so many wonderful events occurred that for the sake of not boring you (or overwhelming you), I will try to hit the highlights of our trip.

The People

• Couchsurfing: This was my first time actually couchsurfing--and it was great! If you don't know what Couchsurfing is click here, or for the short & sweet version: it's an online community that connects travelers who offer each other free places to stay and provides a unique way to getting to know a city. Since we were four, we split up. Leah and I stayed with a Himalayan mountain climber in Bilbao, and students in the other places. All the Couchsurfers we met were very nice, open, and provided new insights into culture and perspectives on life. 
• Traveling Company: I really enjoyed getting to know more about my fellow Fulbrighters. We may be completely different in a lot of ways, but we're all Fulbrighters (which says something about our work ethic, how we view education, and our ability to achieve our personal goals). Each person brought their own unique charm and talents to the trip, which helped pass the time and make the trip that much better.

The Food

• Basque Country is known for having great food. I can't argue with that. Since we were located right by the sea, there were tons of delicious seafoods to choose from. In Basque Country they have pintxos (or pinchos  in Spanish), which, simply put, are the Basque version of tapas. Only they are about a billion times better than a tapa. When you walk into a pintxo bar, you see the bar lined, topped, loaded and dripping with plates carrying little morsels of food. They have little sandwiches, fried food, grilled food, gourmet, traditional, pieces of fish or meat on toasted bread--everything imaginable! Traditionally you would walk into a bar, ask for a drink, and then choose a pintxo of your liking. Later, as you were paying, you would tell the bartender how many you ate and you would be charged accordingly. Going for pintxos can be expensive (each pintxo (2-3 bites) costs anywhere from €1.50-3.50, plus whatever you order for drinks). Even locals don't go out for pintxos all the time. 
• While in San Sebastian we met a Peruvian Coucher who took us around the Bay of Biscay and into France for part of the day. He took us to his brother-in-law's restaurant where we enjoyed foie with honey and butter, sliced, cured ham, a HUGE steak, crab-filled red peppers, and other treats. It was very good. 
• We also enjoyed good wine. To start with, even cheap wine in Spain isn't that bad (boxed wine is bad no matter what, across all cultures though ;) ), so if you're willing to pay a couple extra euro each, you can get a decent bottle for pretty dang cheap! One particular afternoon, to avoid the icy monsoon and hail that was falling from the sky in Bilbao, we enjoyed a very fine bottle of wine, then relocated and shared a plate of succulent, grilled meat and a couple bottles more. We had a blast sitting and talking, taking in the people around us, and attempting to huddle under the heater to stay warm.

The Weather

• When I told my Spanish people that I was going to Basque Country for the long-weekend, right after mentioning how well I would be eating, they mentioned that I should bring rain boots--because it rains, and it rains a whole bunch up there. I can attest to that and say, for once, the Spanish were not over exaggerating. It rains so much that Basque's nickname is País Chubasco--Downpour Country! Luckily the ladies I were traveling with had a really good attitude about it: we laughed ourselves silly over it and didn't let it put a damper (tehee) on our trip. Towards the end of our trip, the sun came out more and we enjoyed some very nice days strolling the streets and taking in the vibes and energies around us. 
• I don't know if it's Spanish air travel, or perhaps the cool weather, but both of my flights were delayed by two hours! I had a separate flight from the ladies, so I got in much later than 1) I had planned to and 2) way after they did. Believe it or not: I didn't let it stress me out. I knew there wasn't anything that I could do to change the situation; it was the way it was. So I bought myself a book and got comfortable. Take-off was bananas, though. As we were charging down the tarmac, the plane kept wavering from side to side. When we finally took off, the wings kept tipping one way and then the other. It was pretty shaky there for a minute. Obviously, though, everything worked out and here I am: safe and sound!

The Sights

• Architecture: Well, we saw a lot of it :) No, what I want to say is that the Basque Country has its own personal style of architecture. The buildings aren't as tall as some other places I've seen in Spain, and they use a lot of wood and stone in the facades. In Bilbao, we saw the Guggenheim Museum. This museum is Bilbao's claim to fame. I really liked the actual building of the Guggenheim more than the art inside. I've never seen (or paid attention) a building that mirrored its outsides so well. The outside is all curvy, and the inside is the same way. The inside isn't made up of traditional square rooms--they curve and are caddiwampus. In essence, they perfectly match and complement the art it holds. 
• River Fair: There is a river in Bilbao that essentially separates the city and helps form the different districts. Along the river walk this past weekend, there was a artisan fair. They had oodles and oodles of dairy products, meat products, pastries, snacks, jewelry, woodwork--you know the drill. I enjoyed walking up and down, trying bits of cheese (I have official decided Basque cheese is the best cheese--(almost) ever) and sausages. They even had people dressed up as trolls and giants (I don't know.... they just were), walking up and down the stretch of vendors. 
• Island Gardens and Astounding Views: Sunday we took a little trip all up and down the coast around San Sebastian. Our Peruvian buddy showed us some absolutely astounding and breathtaking views. We saw wild ponies, shaggy and meandering among the slopes of the surrounding hills. We even went all the way to France! (I don't think I'll ever get over how easy it is to go from one country to another here in Europe) We saw St. Jean de la Luz. There they have these little islands connected to the shore by bridges. Each of these little islands is like a garden, and you can stroll along exploring each one. It was beautiful, especially since we were there at dusk and they lit them up at night. I enjoyed watching the lights come on along the coast as it got darker and darker. It was also very romantic and intimate. Definitely a good place for a date. 

• Winery: On Tuesday, since we were in Rioja (a Spanish wine region) the girls, my Couch, and I went to a bodega. It was a big fancy one that was pretty corporate. Someone had recommended it to our Couch because the place had a big museum about the culture and history of wine. I really enjoyed it. It was a lot of information and some of the more technical language was lost to me (seeing as it was written in Spanish). I also discovered that, hey, you know? I like wine--why not do some more reading on it and see what I can learn? The nice part is that I can drink red wine again. I normally have too many stomach issues in the States to be able to enjoy it. However, the second I leave the country I don't have as many problems so red wine is once again an option! 

So there you have it: I went on a trip and here I am sharing with you! Make sure to check out the rest of the pictures on my Picasa site. 

Coming up soon: Reflections on my first three months here in and Spain--and Christmas with my family!

My First Thanksgiving as Hostess

 I can't remember exactly when I decided that I wanted to do Thanksgiving, but it was pretty early on. I'm not even that big of a fan of Thanksgiving--I just knew I wanted to do it. I'm pretty sure that before Halloween was over, I'd already messaged my Fulbright folk to see if they were interested. And, boy, were they! For once, everyone got as excited as I normally do.


The menu was traditional with a twist. We had turkey, gravy, cranberry and apple sauce, mashed potatoes, etc. but each American brought one dish and some even went gourmet (try curried sweet potatoes!!). As for Natalie and I's contribution, let me put it this way:  If it hadn't been for misreading emails and not being clear enough from the start, we wouldn't have had such a fantastic Thanksgiving feast.


Because I (and most of the other invited Fulbrighters) have to work on Thursdays, we pushed Thanksgiving back to the day after, Friday. There was still plenty to do on the actual Thanksgiving, though. That night Natalie and I baked the pies we'd eat for dessert the following evening. Three in all (apple, pecan, and pumpkin). I don't even like pie--but you know me, it's all or nothing!


Thursday night also proved to be a night of experimentation. As I mentioned earlier, Natalie and I had some miscommunication which left us lacking in the cranberry sauce and fried onion topping department. "But have no fear!" we said, "The Internet is freaking AWESOME!" With a little bit of searching, I found a great recipe for making cranberry sauce out of dried cranberries. It was easy enough to do. You just have to rehydrate the cranberries before adding sugar and spice. It might take a little longer than with regular cranberries, but it was very good. Janel (who was over to help brine the chicken) convinced us into adding more orange zest, making the sauce tangier. 


Natalie and I also poured out hearts into making rolls by hand. We choose two recipes that yielded over 56 rolls! Natalie being the traditionalist insisted that one of the recipes be croissant-like, and I wanted to try cloverleaf ones. The naturally compromise was to make both! The pumpkin cloverleaf rolls were easy. We were a little worried about the croissant ones--the dough was super soupy. Everything turned out just fine, however! We made the cloverleaf ones the night before and the croissant ones earlier Friday. 

I also made applesauce. Accordingly to Natalie, there were a lot of people commenting on how delicious the applesauce was! I think I've finally figured out the best combination of apples to use. I also used 2 different types of apples in my apple pie. It made a world of difference in taste. That apple pie was probably the prettiest and tastiest apple pie I've ever made in my life!


Now, let's talk about brining. Brining was an exciting adventure. Brining is a way of marinating that involves soaking the meat in extremely salty water with other spices and veggies. By process of osmosis (or something like that), the meat becomes infused with the solution and flavors. The end result is a much juicer meat with fuller flavor that doesn't dry out so easily while cooking.


Janel really wanted to brine our Thanksgiving fowl. At first it was going to be just two chickens because we didn't know where we could find a turkey in Spain. Much to our extreme excitement, Natalie and I found a small (abt. 6lbs for € 15 !) turkey in my supermarket. I was ecstatic despite the price. So when Janel arrived to brine on Thursday night, she was confronted with a chicken and a gen-u-wine turkey! I'm pretty sure she did a happy dance and clapped her hands in positive emotion when she saw it. 


The entire week I had been searching out a container large enough to submerge two chicken-sized objects that wouldn't cost me € 40 each. I was beginning to despair when I noticed that my freezer has drawers, not shelves. Even better, one of these drawers was the perfect size for submerging two naked birdies. (When I told the other Fulbrighters how we were brining, I was told it was a very "Fulbright" solution.) We filled said drawer with the brine mixture--and it immediately began to leak! Amateur's mistake. But no fear, there were Fulbrighters and other smart people around! No problem! we said, We'll just bag the birds. We double-bagged the suckers, and refilled the water level. After a slight struggle, the birds sat soaking in the fridge, and we sat around laughing and enjoying a glass of wine. Twenty minutes later, I open the fridge--only to realize that the bottom is swimming in raw bird brine juice. 


Well, shit.


We bagged them in another 5 bags, and even went so far as to duct tape the holes in the bags. We thought we had it down. Oh, poor, little naive us. After Natalie and I went out for tapas (see last post), we came back to find the kitchen floor nice and slick. We were forced to put the birds in individual pots were they were not entirely submerged. We then managed to make two more pies and essentially Clorox the kitchen--finally resting our heads around 2 a.m..


Lesson learned: Sometimes the simplest answer is the best, but when you learn the hard way it's always more fun. Makes a good story, right? Luckily, we laughed through most of it, and even the most germ-aphobic of us could appreciate the humor in the situation. 


The next morning, of course, I got up all excited and ready to go. We had pumpkin pancakes, eggs, and cava--or Spanish champagne-- for breakfast. Can I just say that starting the morning with cava makes the rest of the day much less stressful? I have just made a new tradition: I will always drink sparkling wine with breakfast on Thanksgiving morning. I'm sure it also helped that I had 3 people cooking in the kitchen, and that people were bringing other dishes, that we'd make half the food the night before, etc.--but I think it was the cava.




During breakfast, I presented Natalie with an early birthday gift. It was probably the most selfish, most practical, and least thoughtful gift I've ever given. I bought her a cheesy, touristy "flamenco-dress" aprons. I mean, hey I wasn't going to be the only lame-o (or should I say lame-a) wearing one around the kitchen, and we'd be cooking all day, right? She loved it. 

Frying up some dang good onions

The rest of the day was spent preparing the turkey and chicken, cooking green beans, and frying our own onions. That worked out so well. I really don't like onion rings, but these thin, slightly spiced onions might be my new addiction. Leah (who's here in Madrid researching Mediterranean food) was a huge help. She showed me how to dress, stuff, and truss the birds, she helped Natalie fry the onions, and she kept us on schedule. I really don't think Thanksgiving would have happened without her. So MUCHAS GRACIAS Leah!


We were so on top of our schedule, we had time to do decorations. While I did flower centerpieces, Natalie, Leah, and my roomie Laura made a "Happy Thanksgiving" banner with turkey hands. We laid out fall-colored napkins, put out candles, and wrapped gold and brown vines around wine glasses. It was a good break before everyone arrived for dinner.

Dinner was set for 7pm because my roomies had to work. We were only an hour late! It was excellent. I think I might never get a big turkey, and instead just get two small ones. Much better. The other guests arrived, bringing with them their own versions of Thanksgiving. We had cheese and fruit to start, followed by an extremely tasty meal, and then dessert. Raquel expressed her enthusiasm, saying she'd seen Thanksgiving done on Friends and had always wanted to try it herself.


As it was Thanksgiving, I wanted to do a blessing over the meal. As hostess, I felt that it was my duty. However, as I took a deep breath to start, I started to tear. I excused myself, and went to the bathroom. The hardest part for me was knowing that everyone out there was wondering what was going on, but that I couldn't pull myself together. I'm not sure what made me cry--maybe a combination of not eating much throughout the day and wine. Or maybe it was missing people. I can't explain it. I was pretty embarrassed, but my friends were pretty good about it. Two came to check on me, and in the end it was all good. No one mentioned it (though Raquel did turn to me when I got back and laughingly said "So what are you thankful for?" I was like "....not now please"), and overall it was one of the best Thanksgivings I have ever had.


The next morning, I woke up and found my hands itching to get started creating food. I had spent the last 72 hours or so making something, and to suddenly not have anything to make was disconcerting.


I recognize that Thanksgiving in Spain would not have happened without the help of my American friends (who brought food, cooking knowledge, and decorations). I can also say without shame that I am immensely proud of myself. I know I'm good at throwing parties, but that was absolutely amazing! There was such a sense of accomplishment. The coordination (which I really feel like was my part in this whole thing) went off seamlessly. There was plenty of food, wine, conversation, and the stress wasn't awful. It was such a positive experience that I want to repeat it. 


Now, if I could only work this gift into a career....

Happy (although belated) Thanksgving to everyone! I hope yours was as wonderful as mine!

The Week Before Natalie's Visit and Parts of Her Visit

Oh goodness, I have a lot of catching up to do. I'll try to keep it short and sweet--but you may just have to allow yourself to get lost in my life for a while.

Here it goes!!!

Two weeks ago, I spent most of the week preparing for the arrival of Ms. Natalie. Pretty much ever since Natalie decided to be Super Awesome (by which I mean, she decided to come visit me for Thanksgiving) we've been planning and, most importantly, deciding on the menu for our very first solo Thanksgiving. Natalie (and may I also give a very special shout-out to Mama Bundschu--THANK YOU!) did spectacularly. She arrived on the 20th, unloaded her bags and became "The Girl Who Brought Thanksgiving to Spain." She also coordinated with my mom and delivered a package of winter running clothes and Jiff's peanut butter--It was like Christmas came early!

As you can see, everything one would need for the feast took up at least half of Nat's precious baggage space.

For most of the week before she came, I attempted to distract myself by being more social than usual (hard to believe, I know) and neglecting my work (though, I did make this balling Where the Sidewalk Ends handout). Here's some of the activities that I participated in:

• I went on a mid-week run with my friend from the Hash.
• I attempted (for the 2nd time) to figure out how to listen to live jazz. There are probably 3 different places within 2 blocks from me, but every time we try to get together, our plans are thwarted.
• On the Thursday before Natalie's arrival, I took another field trip, but this time with the bachilleratos, or the kids in their last two years of high school, to the play One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. The actors were all native English speakers, and I was extremely impressed with how excellent their stage accents were. The disadvantage to such excellent accents, of course, was that there were times when it was difficult even for me to understand all the lines delivered. I think the students did pretty well, though. There were times when you could tell they didn't, but generally they seemed to be getting the drift. The play was a bit.... strange... at parts, to the point that I couldn't relate. Most of those "strange" scenes were related to a bit of post-modern critique on the effect that the medical drugs had on mental health patients. 
• I went to the doctor (finally) and got antibiotics for my sinus whatever. Nice guy. Don't think he appreciated the fact that I could tell him all my symptoms and what I thought I had (though I did explain that I could be wrong, and he was the doctor).  I feel better, though, and that's the point. :)

The only other memorable part of my week was my second Adult ESL evening class. A couple of weeks ago, I was informed that I would be leading the conversation aspect to a course in Basic English. The enrolled "students" are actually my colleagues who enrolled this course to potentially improve their salaries. I would also hope that some are taking it to actually learn the language. 

At first I was a little miffed about teaching these classes--they didn't tell me I was supposed to be doing so until the Thursday before the first Monday class, and no one knew who the professor giving the course. I also wasn't tickled about having to come back to school in the evenings. Luckily M.C. took pity on me, and has rearranged my schedule (again) so that I have a good chunk of time between my last class with the kids and the time that I start with the adults. She also has included this hour and a half into my work hours.

The silver-lining is also three-fold:

1. I get to teach adults--regardless of how basic their level is. Preparation isn't bad and I have a syllabus to go by
2. I only live 20-30 minutes away from my school, depending on the mood of the metro gods and how fast I decide to walk.
3. There was an immediate, positive difference in the tension at my school after even the first class. The staffroom isn't so claustrophobic now. It's like those who were intimidated by English before now have a way to tackle it--and they want to try! It has at least made the tension between the teachers better. 

Then Natalie came! I went to go pick her up at the airport, and it was marvelous! She's such a trooper. We came back to my place, we ate lunch, took a nap, and took it easy. (Memorable moment: After our 2 hour nap, Natalie starts to open the Coke that I'd given her way back at the airport--and it sprayed EVERYWHERE!!! I remember sitting there thinking---"What the heck?!?!? Natalie!!! Make it STOP!"). She got to meet some of my hash friends that night. The Sunday after she arrived, we went to a fellow American's house and had a scrumptious Thanksgiving meal as a precursor to our own. Later in the week we went to Alcalá de Henares (my second time, her first) and wandered a bit. Natalie came to school with me on Wednesday and met M.C. and some of the teachers that I work with. We did way too much shopping (we both found boots!!). And we cooked the most amazing Thanksgiving meal (more to come in the following post)! We did a lot of dancing, singing, and just hanging out. On Wednesday, we went out to my favorite tapas place and had Brie cheese and caramelized onions. We also tried goat cheese with guacamole. She tried the amazing combination known as patas bravas. I'm starting to get a hang of tapas-and I like them a lot more now. I spent everyday waiting to get done with class so that I could run home and have an adventure with my friend. It was good to have a bit of home with me, even if it was just for a week. 

I will now proceed to go into more details about our visit as told through the Thanksgiving Day Saga....

 Be prepared!

Toledo, Mar-zee-pan, and "Cloistered" Nuns

Katie and Anni posing with the D&G of the age

Yesterday morning, I sacrificed a Saturday morning of sleeping in and surfing the Internet in favor of a Spanish history lesson. Adventure time! I packed my rucksack (British for "backpack") with a packed lunch, my camera, my trusty Uno cards, and set off for the bus station. There I met Jayson (fellow Fulbright), Katie (my Lovely Hash Companion), and Anni (the Hapless English Girl). We bordered the bus and three-quarters of an hour later (British for "45 minutes later"), we got off in the magical land that is Toledo.

Before I go further, let me explain all my British translations: I may have spent the day with English-speakers but the entire day was a language lesson. Therefore, I will share with you all the British words I learned in the same way that I share with you Spanish ones.

 

Practicing my Fulbright Scholarship-ness

Toledo lies 70km (43.4 mi) south of Madrid. and was founded by the Romans sometime in the "Bronze Age" (that's exact timing for you, there). Throughout the course of history it became known as "the city of the three cultures" because of the Jewish, Muslim, and Christian communities that all resided within its walls. Its Golden Age was during the 11th century, under Muslim rule. After being reconquered by Christians, it became the capital of Spain until the Catholic monarchs moved their court to Madrid in 1560.

My experience of Toledo was heavenly. Toledo is a city of narrow side-streets and medieval architecture. I was in love. Pedestrians and cars fight out right-of-way, leaving walkers attempting to squeeze into the stone walls. Swords and other medieval weapons hang in every shop window--making you think that Toledans must have a thing for violence, until you learn that Toledo's steel production was world renowned in the 16th century.

You really feel like you've stepped back in time. We visited the cathedral, saw the outside of a mosque (couldn't find our way in), walked around the famous Alcázar (Spanish-Arabic for "fortress") twice, and saw the oldest synagogue in town. El Greco (a famous Greek painter who moved to Spain) resided there back in the day, but our timing was all wrong: all the museums dedicated to him were closed for renovation. So instead we went for the next best thing--mar-zee-pan (as my friend Katie would say, marzipan for us American folk). Toledo, apart from being well known for its ability to craft metal in ways to kill others, is also known for that soft, sugary delectable that so often comes on Christmas Cake (fruitcake). Naturally this reality means that every shop sells some form of mar-zee-pan. So which is the best?

Jayson, of course, had the answer: The Cloistered Nuns. Of course, we said to ourselves, of course cloistered nuns make marzipan.

When we finally found the place (after much walking and questioning of the locals), we were beside ourselves with excitement and anticipation. We had heard tell of a turnstile revolved in such a way that you never saw who gave you the marzipan, and they never saw you. We decided what we wanted and made Jayson order. We rang the bell.

A quick snap of the turnstile with the nun's back turned

Nothing happened.

We rang the bell again.

A light came on and the smiley-est nun you've ever seen appeared, asked what we wanted, waited for Jayson to put the money on the turnstile retrieved the money, and gave us our order. Disappointment.

Until we ate the marzipan :)

It was a great day: the weather was excellent, the company amazing, the sites, history, and views of the surrounding countryside were all breathtaking.

And I got to see a "Cloistered" nun.

Katy Perry, Linkin Park, and Hot Chocolate (Pudding?)

The last few weeks have been a blur of work and dancing the night away. Which means that I've been trying to catch up on sleep. :) Now that I've managed to catch up on sleep, I've been able to actually do things. So here are some of those events:

My school has a garden out front. It's not an English garden, but more a wild, tangled, overgrown stretch of land that holds, among other plants, small cherry tomatoes, rosemary, lavender, a cactus and an olive tree. At the beginning of October, the elderly gentleman who maintains the area came to my bilingual group during P.E. and asked if we couldn't help him pick the olives!

It was the best P.E. class I've ever had!

The kids had so much fun... the tree is a different case, the pobre. The students got creative with how to gather those olives hiding in the uppermost branches. I was also surprised that such a bunch of city kids knew how to climb trees. I got to take pictures with the school's super fancy camera that I have no idea how to work. After they were done collecting olives, the caretaker gave them a lecture on olives. I believe he said that there is only one type of olive, and that black olives are no different from green olives: it's just that they dye some of them, or that some are harvested before others. Sort of like seedless grapes.











Last weekend, the hash was pretty tame as far as a course goes, but utterly bananas when it came to the weather. We drove out of the city, into the beautiful Spanish countryside. It was the first run in awhile that you couldn't see some part of Madrid will out running. We started on a hill, where it was essentially snowing, then ran down to where it wasn't so stormy, and back up the hill where it was raining. We even ran though a village, like a real one. As an American, I don't think there is anyway to understand what the heck a village is. You just have to run through one to understand. I wish I had brought my camera, because it was absolutely, breathtakingly beautiful.

After the hash, Katie (my hashing sister) and I went to the free concert being hosted in Madrid by MTV. This year's Europe music awards was held in Madrid, and so there were lots of famous people around. I had a friend swear she saw Justin Bieber... though he was speaking fluent Spanish to some pre-teen Spanish girls and he didn't have a body guard. The place (La puerta de Alcála) was packed with people. Katie and I were separated from the people we came with, and after attempting to relocate them, we gave up and sat on a terrace outside and drank wine. We could still see the stage, but everyone looked really small. If we stood up, though, we could see a big screen with closeups of the stage. It worked out. I got to hear Katy Perry and Linkin Park. Katie and I had a blast!

Coffee break while the kids are on a trip

Finally, the two most recent gastronomical experiences I have had are palmeras and hot chocolate. Palmeras are Elephant Ears. I've never had them before, but they were so good! This pastry is flaky, and just slightly sweet. You can get your's plain, covered in chocolate, or in a sugar glaze. They have just the right amount of flake, crunch, and fluffiness. I didn't have my camera with me the day I tried hot chocolate. Hot chocolate is straight up hot pudding. It was quite tasty, but rather heavy and not as comforting as American hot chocolate. Worth the experience though!

I am also (impatiently) awaiting the arrival of Natalie!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! sooooo excited. We're going to do Thanksgiving... and... I ... just.... can't.... waitttttt!!!!!

Just a few updates! If anyone has one of their own... please let me know!

"What a Beautiful October Day!"

Thank you for all the comments (and reads) that I got on my last post. It's always a good reminder that 1)  words really do reach others, and 2) that there are people out there as passionate as yourself. Since the last post, there have been numerous, deep, lovely, comforting, and challenging conversations. I received a wealth of advice, personal anecdotes, and felt the love being sent from across the ways. ¡Gracias!

Reflecting on some of the advice I received, I realize I have to be mature and admit that I'm going through C.S.--*scary music* Culture Shock. I also realize I've been in denial about it (Don't worry, I am not discounting my last post in anyway. I am merely beginning to understand why my reaction to ignorance might have been so strong). It still surprises me that C.S. has come so soon... I thought it would have taken just a bit longer to hit. Like try December or January. Searching my soul for why Mr. C.S. has been haunting me, I stumbled across the answer--my work. I am used to going to class in a foreign country, I am used to expecting there not to be American brands in the supermarket, I expected cultural differences, but the environment I have encountered at school (er, work) has made all the difference.

There is a tension between administration and faculty at my school that has been incredible hard for me to handle. I may be that fun-loving, spunky, outgoing, opinionated person that we all know and love, but at my core, I just want us all to hold hands and go skipping to llaollao (oh my gosh best frozen yogurt ever). That just doesn't happen at my school.

Instead, I sit through weekly meetings where the tension could be cut with a knife. I am a peace-keeper and it takes all my energy to not mediate the situation...or burst into tears. The class bell sounds like the bell they ring for a tornado drill--which means that I immediately go into fight-or-flight...every 50 minutes. I am dealing with an expectation for myself (being the first kick-ass Fulbright TA at my school!!!!) and my limitations ("Uhh, yea... I can improvise a lesson... Oh. You want handouts, too?... gotcha...") mixing with Spanish education culture. And then there's the fact that I can't make photocopies the day of: I have to have them ready 24 hours in advance (why can't you just push the d*&^ button?!). Or the kids' lack of behavior. The little stuff like that. The inconsequential matter that builds up without you realizing it, until you start feeling down and you can't explain why.

Now I will proceed to go all Elizabeth Gilbert on you:

Luckily, God (or whatever you want to call the It of the Universe) has a way of clearing the heavens and bringing my fuzziness into focus. First came the thought. It was a thought that just appeared in my head, simple clear and as repetitive as a Buddhist chant: If you're going to ask questions, you better make time for the answers. All day, every day, in the small quiet parts of my head, my heart kept chanting. I translated it into Spanish and stuck it on my wall where I could see it.

Well, I found myself saying to Me one day, perhaps we should make some time... it sounds like we want to. That's when I became aware of my general apathy, how I was extremely lethargic after not feeling like I accomplished a whole lot. I blamed it on the weather. I blamed it on a lack of exercise. I blamed it on too much exercise. I blamed it on hunger. I blamed it on feeling blah. But despite it all, I couldn't sit still.

The past two weeks I have done nothing but surround myself with people, or busied myself with work. If I wasn't with someone, I was making plans to go somewhere with someone. I was anxious when people wouldn't text me back, or would tell me that A and B got together, but they didn't invite me. That's when I realized I was running, and it was time for me to sit and do nothing.

Being Sam, I naturally had to plan this time to Just Sit (you can laugh). I decided Retiro was a good place to do it, and so that's where I went today. It was the perfect autumn day. The sky was blue with white puffy clouds, there was a fierce wind, and the leaves were a'changin' and a'fallin'. I even crunched through a few. I spent most of the day thinking, "What a beautiful October day" (...oh dear...). I took my lunch, and eased into sitting. It's a process for me, if you don't know.

As I started to feel the knots in my shoulders relax, and my mind clear, an unfortunate event took place. Just know that it was disturbing. As I fled from my bench deeper into the park, I started to curse Madrid and Spain and My Life. I was angry. I had tried to sit still, I had tried to start rediscovering the pleasant aspects to living abroad, hadn't I? Why did that have to happen to me? TO ME?!?!

Just let it go, Sam. It could've happened anywhere. Just let it go.

That's what the voice told me. It was persistent, from deep within, and all around. It helped calm me down. I just need to let go of the fact that there are people who hate the States for no reason. I just need to let go of the tension in my school: I can't do anything about it, I don't need to fix it 'cuz it ain't broken, and it's not my fault. I just need to let go of all those little annoyances at school, in my piso, in my daily life here in Madrid.

What a relief.

I can't say I'm completely out of my funk, but it helps that my Fulbright people are coming out of their own. It helps to know that my feelings are probably related to culture shock, and that I'm not the only one experiencing it. Therefore, this next week I'm just going to try to let it (whatever that might be) go. There's a city to be discovered, there are people to meet.

And I'm going to be ok. :)

I'm done apologizing for the way you think my culture is

Living abroad has its ups and downs, that's just a fact. I would like to start this post by saying that

1. I recognize that I'm living in Spain, and not everyone gets that chance,
2. My life is a full one: I have work that is (more or less) fulfilling, a social life, and people who love me unconditionally

That being said, this week has been a hard week. I'm woman enough to admit that. There was the emotional strain of being away from loved ones, realizing what that meant for me in the future, a long week with the kids, and, even with my extreme social calendar, just feeling a bit out of touch with my homies here in Spain.

One of the aspects that I love the most about living abroad here in Madrid is my international community. I have met Germans, Brits, Belgians, Finnish, French and Spanish individuals to name a few. My core group of Inters (as I will call them now for the hell of it) are extremely amazing people. They are open, respectful, and all have great senses of humor. They each add color and spice to life. 

Some of their Inters (or ones I meet in travel), however, are the exact opposite. Normally, I can avoid such people, but this week God planted several (and sometimes repeatedly) in my path. Due to such individuals, by Sunday I was emotionally and physically drained of having to defend the USA and my culture.

I am trying to look at this past week as a strength-building exercise. 

As an American (which in itself is a loaded word) living abroad, I believe that it is my duty to represent the USA as honestly and openly as possible. I know I can't change the world's opinion, but I do have the ability to influence the people I meet. Sometimes this sense of duty is one that I take on myself (i.e., teaching culture in school). There are times, however, when it is thrust upon me by ignorant sleeze-balls who have misinterpreted television and movies. They seem to think they can one-up me. 

Sorry jerks don't know who they are messing with. 

Maybe it was Julie Rogers-Martin and all her "while you're out on a Colombia Pres Youth excursion, you are representing Colombia Pres.... so don't disappoint me" talks, or maybe it was my eye-opening experience in Argentina, but being a "prepared" American is something that I strive for now. I attempt to be aware of my culture, how that manifests itself in me, and to prepare counterarguments from the ignorant.

So what am I getting at? I learned this week that I might be taking other Inters' opinions on the States personally. I mean, there are only so many times that you can hear "Americans are soooo stupid and ignorant" while you're standing talking to someone. Do I see the irony and humor in such statements? Yes, but that doesn't mean there isn't a bite. It saddens me that those from the States are seen as people who don't listen, who are worldly unaware, who are woefully ignorant of other cultures, when some of the Inters I talk to are self-fulfilling prophecies. 

To you Inters who get under my skin: Take your own advice. If you think Americans are ignorant and closed-minded, and you dislike that tendency so much, then why are you, too, closed-minded? If you want to talk smack about my culture and me, be my guest. But you better be open to the defense. Don't expect me to take it lying down. I can't represent everyone in the States (Isn't that what makes the States so damn interesting, so unique?). We have so many people, cultures, thoughts, and opinions. I can, however, share with you what I know. 

I wonder if this is how the French feel when visiting the States.

It takes a very unique and strong American individual to live abroad. You either have to be a completely ignorant and closed-off American or be able to take any negativism with a grain of salt. Deep down I know that I will return to live in the United States. I tell Inters that I will because I want to be in my culture, that I want to be speak in my own language. Really, though, it's because I don't want to wake up hating my nationality.

Being abroad has a strange effect on me. I would say before Argentina, I couldn't identify with the word "patriotic." But being abroad makes me more proud of my country than I can express. While in Argentina, my struggle was how do I fit myself into an international community as a respectful proud American when everyone else hates America? From that experience I learned that unless I find my own way of loving and respecting my culture, how will others? I realized I can admit faults in my culture, and still love it. Just because some outsider sees the USA negatively, doesn't actually make it 100% evil or a horrible place (sorry Al-Qaeda).

So, the question of this week is: How do I continue to represent myself and my culture, without taking the imbeciles so personally? Ojalá I´ll find a way.

I also hope that I've expressed myself in such a way that I come off as frustrated and not arrogant. I know I don't always listen, I know I'm not always respectful or open to other cultures. We're all human.

Shoot, maybe that's what I need to remember when I talk to one of these clowns: You are human, too.

Again, I understand that this mood, this struggle, is more in the moment than a serious issue. I am an extremely lucky girl. I have such a great support system (that means you!) both here and back in the States. I appreciate all the love that you send me, verbally, in prayer, in thought. All the Enlightened Love makes its way over the Great Pond, and I feel it filter into my heart, thus warming my soul and recharging me.

Thank you so much to everyone!!!! 

Sharing Halloween with the Young'uns

Fridays are my days off. Today I went in to school because I wanted to share with two of my classes the wonder of that good ole American holiday: Halloween. It was quite the adventure getting the celebration ready.

Naturally, after baking a fantastic zucchini bread (I still have teachers asking me for the recipe), I decided my best endeavor would be to bake some treats. I therefore gathered my strength, channeled my mother's creativity, and set off on an adventure.

My adventure taught me several things:

1. They don't sell powdered sugar in bulk in Spain--I probably spent 8 Euro just on powdered sugar. 
2. Food coloring isn't hard to find (which opens up a lot of doors to fun times).
3. Brownies are easier to make than I first suspected.
4. Halloween is just super awesome.

I made graveyard brownies and a carrot cake (because while a pumpkin spice cake seems more appropriate, I know cooking your own pumpkin isn't as easy as) with a cream cheese icing Jack O'Lantern face.Gabi, the other T.A. at my school, helped me out.

At school we got the kids to bob for apples and made them say "trick-or-treat" before they got some of my homemade brownies. They had a lot of fun. One class even repeated the scary stories they had read in class a few days before. 

The kids' faces of excitement were worth coming in on a Friday.

Field Trips and Day Trips Spanish Style

If there's a Spanish phrase you should learn it should be one like this: La vida es chula. Life is awesome.

 This past week has been an excellent learning experience about how Spaniards travel. Both were distinct and informative.

My adventures started on Thursday with my school. I was invited to join a field trip to see the countryside of Segovia. You, astute reader, might remember that I made a trip to Segovia a few weeks ago with some of my Fulbright peeps. w00t. This time I didn't see the city, instead we went 10km outside the city and say the Palace of La Granja, or the Country Palace. La Granja, as it's referred to, looks like a mini Versailles and has acres and acres of gardens. The gardens play host to hundreds of fountains, each with its own theme. The trees were also in the process of changing. Most of Spain's landscape is distinguished with shrubs and pine trees. Naturally, as a girl who grew up with fall, I am currently missing my North Georgia mountains and the vibrant reds and oranges that are currently exploding all over the Appalachian foothills. 

Back in Spain there were trees at La Granja that whose leaves were changing and falling. Dad (and Jo Anne and Donna) would be so proud of me. As we were walking around, I looked at the ground and noticed a leaf that looked familiar to me. I doubted that Spanish royalty would have imported the trees, so I asked my Coordinator if she knew what type of tree it was. She said she didn't, but that she did know it came from the States! Look how smart I am. Now that we were on the topic of trees, I also became aware of other leaves that looked familiar. I knew that the one I recognized was a type of maple. Upon further research, I found out that the tree that looked familiar but that I didn't quite know was a (Yellow) Buckeye (It may not have been an Ohio Buckeye, but Go Buckeyes!--now I've made everyone previously mentioned + my mom happy).

Now that I'm done obsessing over trees, I'll explain how this walk through the gardens took place. I arrived at school at 9 am and waited for the bell. (Side note: The bell (which is more like a siren) literally sounds like the tornado bell we have at our schools. I still haven't gotten over it. Every time it rings (especially if I'm outside), I jump and attempt to take cover. My fight or flight senses take over and I have the desire to run for cover. The kids always get a good laugh) Once we had put everyone onto 2 buses (some 100 kids and 6 chaperons) we started the hour and a half drive to Segovia. We had to go through some windy roads (which I didn't find that windy), and some of the kids started getting mareados, or dizzy. We got lucky, though. The teachers on our bus came prepared with little bags. The minute one kid started saying they were dizzy, the teachers were up in a flash passing out bags and coaching the kids on breathing. In the other bus one kid puked in the aisle. 

Gotta love kids. The minute we stopped, everyone was miraculously ok. We got to the gardens. That was when the head of the school told 100 ten-to-twelve year-olds that they had 45 minutes to romp the garden as they saw fit. I think my eyes popped out of my head. MC wasn't shocked, but she did question why we didn't go into the actual Palace (the head of the school doesn't like doing...As an American I love that type of stuff). She also asked why we didn't at least give the kids maps so 1) they didn't loose themselves and 2) why didn't we do a short tour of the gardens and then let them play? Too much work seems to be the answer.

Luckily we found every kid. After that adventure, we headed off to have lunch in a park area. It was really beautiful. There was this shallow, wide creek that wound with lots of rocks. There were cliffs and the typical Spanish pine, which is super tall with a few branches jutting out toward the top. There were also trails that you could explore. We had lunch. Then the head of the school again told the kids to go for it... just to be back at 3:30. Then he promptly went to lounge in the sun, while some of the others had a siesta. 

Can you say liability?

MC and I went on a walk after lunch. I learned that she got her Master's degree in teaching from a school in Massachusetts. Once I heard that, I understood why she wasn't like any other Spanish teacher I'd ever met. MC is type-A, all for the kids Spanish teacher I've met so far. As she put it, learning English must have rubbed off some culture on her (no wonder we get along!). I couldn't agree with her more. From my own experience, I think the only way to really learn a language is to adapt part of the culture within you. You just won't get it otherwise.

We also saw children falling into the river, trying to build dams, and climbing the rock faces. Oh city children. Some kids went so far off that they couldn't hear you if you shouted. Oh city kids. At least they had a blast and were able to go off exploring. Was I freaking out on the inside, you might ask? Well, no. I knew I wouldn't survive unless I disconnected myself from it. MC worried enough, though. She and I also marveled at how we had the PE teacher with us (who'd been the spot before) and yet he didn't take the kids down a trail (he thought they'd be bored). 

After we managed to round them all up, we headed back home. And that was a Spanish field trip! I talked with Emily, who also went on a field trip. She said things weren't as chaotic at her school, and that things were a bit more planned. My guess is that the teachers in my school just don't care. Personally I think that makes them look completely pathetic. MC is in charge of another field trip in the next few weeks, so we'll see how this one compares.

On Saturday, I went on a day trip with my roommates and Emily. My roommates tenían ganas to "do tourist," as it's roughly translated. For an explanation of what "tener ganas" means, check out the link to my friend Janel's site. We went to Alcalá de Henares, which is where Miguel de Cervantes (the man who wrote Don Quixote) grew up. It was only 40 minutes to the northeast outside the city on the cercanías, or light rail system that reaches into the towns outside Madrid for commuters. The town holds a university that was built at the same time that the "New World" was beginning explored, thus becoming the model for many of the oldest universities in the North and South American continents. We got to see Cervantes home and cheesed it up in front of the statue commemorating Don Quixote and his faithful servant Pancho. 

All of these things the experience did not make. What was the greatest part was hanging out with my roommates for 11 hours. We arrived, decided we needed a coffee, saw the cathedral, bought some handmade bracelets from children raising money, took a tour of the university, decided we needed a tapa (which involves a drink), decided we needed to do some shopping, decided we should probably go see Cervantes house before it closed, goofed off, decided we needed another two tapas in a great place, then I decided I needed to buy 4 new pañuelos, or scarves. I think it may have been the wine with the tapas. Wow. What a day! 

I appreciate my roommates and new-found friends. They are caring, funny, welcoming, opinionated, and all have great senses of humor. I got super lucky.

Other news bulletins:

Ana and I are going shopping on Monday. I´m in desperate need of long sleeved shirts. As I was packing for Spain, I realized that I was going to have problems. However, I'm looking at this as an opportunity to gain a little European style. I've been dressing differently, and it has made a difference. More Spaniards come up to me assuming I'm Spanish. That's always a good feeling. I joke with my roomies that they need to make me look more European and take me shopping. Ana is taking me shopping. Raquel gifted me this awesome vaquera, or jean jacket. Jana dumped a pair of jeans (which I can squeeze into), a few shirts, and a super cute black jacket on me. I've been so surprised with how open and loving my roomies are. 

I cooked dinner for 10 people on Friday. It was just pasta, but I did it right. I made garlic bread, penne, gnocchi, and a red meat sauce. Here in Spain, they don't have the thick, chunky red sauce we're used to in the States. Instead they have this thin, flavorless stuff. I brought the flavor. I was really proud of myself. It was hard work, but completely satisfying. 

La huelga and the peculiarities of my piso, or why I love it

After reviewing my previous posts, I realized that I had left out one of the most important events that has happened to me while I’ve been here in Madrid. On September 29^th, there was a general strike here in Madrid. As an American, a general strike is a foreign concept. Unions strike, employees working for companies strike, factory workers strike, those crazy hippies protest, but a general strike, one where everyone (well those who are interested) can strike is a bit weird. In Spain, I believe everyone (except I believe doctors and such civil servants) are allowed to strike. This includes teachers. The day before the strike, there was a teachers’ meeting where one of the teachers was trying to convince the others that we should all go on strike. The day of the strike I went to work, but a lot of students weren’t there.

I had only been in Spain at this point for 15 days, so I wasn’t looking to cast the first stone. From what I gathered, Spaniards are going through many of the same budget cuts that American’s are facing.

After living the strikes, though, I have to say I am not a fan. What disturbed me most was the destruction that the strikers left behind. All over Madrid the strikers spray painted S-29 (the date of the strike) and different “messages” to the government all over buildings, windows, and cars. A big group of people marched from one plaza to the capital building. At one point they marched up my street (the pros and cons of living on a big street). Someone so sweetly spray painted all the ATMs on the street. Many are still unusable. There were also a lot of stickers that stated the date of the huegla and they were stuck to EVERYTHING!!! I felt bad for all the peoples’ whose property was damaged.

In some towns, they burned tires in the road to create road blocks. In other places, the strikers broke windows to shops that were open. Some strikers even tried to prevent people from going to work, often resorting to violent measures. As you walked around town on the 29^th, you’d see stores with their storefront grates partly down with someone standing guard, ready to close shop if any of the protestors came around. The idea was that the strikers were forcing shops to close. Ana explained to me that in the eyes of the strikers, what mattered most to the government were the cifras, or statistics. If the government didn’t see high enough numbers of people “participating” in the strike, they could use the excuse that “enough” citizens were happy, and therefore the strikes would be futile. A little extreme if you ask me.

On the other hand, my piso is tons of fun! I will now tell you what you probably would want to know before visiting:

First: our toilet. Luckily, this epic adventure has finished.  To flush our toilet, you pull up on a knob located on top of the tank. This knob is connected to a long metal rod that essential pulls the plug at the bottom of the tank… or however it is that toilets work. When I first got here, you had to fish with the rod to hook whatever the rod was supposed to connect to. Sometimes you stood there for quite some time wondering if you were going to have to leave a “present” for the next because you were too frustrated to keep trying. Then, about two weeks ago, the whole contraption just… broke.

Please remember that we are 4 girls to one bathroom. And we basically go through a roll of toilet paper ever 12 hours (hey… don’t judge me! I use the allotted 2 to 3 squares, depending on the need). We had to pour buckets of water into the toilet to get it to flush for a couple of days. Then the landlord came over and took off the back cover. He said he’d return with a part in the next few days. 12 days later he still hadn’t returned. Oh landlords. So for the past 12 days we’ve been reaching our hand into the tank and pulling up on the broken part to get the toilet to flush. Sometimes tank water splashes back up on you. That really bothered Raquel. But it was just tank water. I mean, saves you a hand washing! Ha. That was a joke. No really, I promise!! Want to try this cookie I just baked?

The landlord came back today and fixed it. So now my toilet is normal and boring. I almost miss my old, more exciting toilet. Almost.

Our shower is also exciting. The shower head is one of those that detaches. For whatever reason, you leave the shower head down when you’re not showering. Then, when you shower, you put it in the holder-thing. I assume it’s just a “European” thing. Besides, at least I have a holder thing. Some of my fellow Fulbrighters don’t have one so they have to hold the shower head while doing their washing thing. This past Saturday morning we were awoken by a neighbor claiming that water was leaking from our bathroom into her apartment. She wanted us to turn off the water. We told her we’d call the landlord, but there was no way we could turn the water off—we’re four people to one bathroom! I think someone said we’d try to conserve water.

There is some weird plumbing going on here. For example, whenever you wash your hands in the bathroom, there’s a sucking noise that comes from the drain in the shower. Same thing happens in the kitchen. If you use one of the two sinks, there comes this weird churning sound from near the washing machine. If you live in my piso, you’re used to the place talking back to you.

The salon is where everything happens. Everyone hangs out in there all the time. I came home the other night to find the salon door closed and all my roommates sitting in there on cushions, wrapped in blankets watching “Letters to Juliet.” It was cute. We also hang our clothes up in the salon when we run out off room on our balcony. Nothing like underwear hanging around to start a conversation.

So there you go, a few details about my life in Spain. Hope you enjoyed them! Updates to come: school (I get to do the volcano experiment! You know the one where you put baking soda, liquid detergent, and vinegar all together?), my weekend, and the Hash. You know, all those details about my life that you live for. :)

Spending el puente in Valencia

This weekend I had a 4 day Fall Break. Everyone had a three-day weekend, but mine started a day early, seeing as I don't go into school on Fridays. The 12th of October (today) is not only the day that Columbus "discovered" the Americas, but it is also Madrid's Patron Saint's Day (Our Lady of Pilar). This year, the holiday fell on a Tuesday. The Spaniards then asked themselves: who wants to go to work on Monday after relaxing all weekend only to have one day off? Voila (that's French)! Monday became a "bank holiday," which means that schools and banks weren't open.

I then took off for Valencia. Valencia is an old Roman city, taken over by Christians, won back by the Moors, reconquered by the Christians. It apparently was also a stronghold for the Republicans (those who opposed Franco) during the Civil War. It lies to the southwest of Madrid, and is a short 50 minute flight on Ryanair (a budget airline). It was established by Romans in 138 BC on the banks of the Turia River. Valencia is known for hosting the world's largest aquarium (sorry Atlanta!), the Parks of the Turia River, and claiming ownership of the original Holy Grail.

My mini-vacation buddies were Brittany (who went to Berry with me, and is now doing a graduate program here in Madrid), and two of her friends from her program. The company was pleasant. The highlights came from the city itself. The biggest attraction is the City of Arts and Sciences, a huge, sprawling complex of five white-washed buildings set in a basin with reflective pools. It looks very futuristic and reminded me of the setting for the movie Aeon Flux. The entire complex is impressive and beautiful in its own way. In this complex is a science museum, the world's largest aquarium, an IMAX theatre, a dinosaur exhibit, and something else. We went to the science museum, the aquarium, and the dinosaur exhibit. The aquarium was fascinating. We got to see a dolphin show and I turned instantly into a five-year old. My favorite trick was when the dolphins tossed their trainer straight up in the air, at which point the trainer did a flip, and dived back into the water. It was thoroughly enjoyable. The dinosaur exhibit was a bit of a joke, but still enjoyable. The science museum was interesting, partly due to the fact that it was interactive. I learned about memory, light, sound, and (randomly) Hiroshima. You know, typical topics addressed at a science museum...

We also got to see the Holy Grail. Apparently, the Emperor Valerian brought it to St. Mary's cathedral in the 3rd century. He brought it from Rome, where it had rested since St. Peter brought it from Jerusalem. The chalice itself is a made of dark alabaster. The base of gold and gems was added during medieval times. Naturally there are those who are skeptical. The room that the Chalice is held is a side room off the main nave. When you enter, it's smoky and has this very old feel. There are pews facing the altar, behind which there is a plate of (I'm assuming bullet-proof) glass. Then there's the Grail. Being there made me think of my Mom, because I remember her reading tales of King Arthur and whatnot. Poor sucker: he should've gone to Spain. Ok, but seriously, it's fun to say "I've seen the Holy Grail," but having seen it takes the excitement and mystery out of the tale. I think I'll probably always assume that the real one hasn't been found, if nothing more than for the pleasure of my imagination.



Friday was October 9th, which is also the Day of the Valencian Region. In September of 1238, King James I reclaimed Valencia from the Moors. On October 9th, King James I marched into the city and held mass in the newly "purified" mosque, thus converting it back into a cathedral. We experienced a procession from the town hall to the church. Various political dignitaries marched along with people dressed in traditional Valencian costumes. The prettiest were the ladies dressed as part of the Valencian court. I stood next to a woman from Valencia and she was kind enough to explain the procession to me. I did have a heard time understanding, though, because it was vocabulary that I was unfamiliar with. I learned a lot though!

The architecture was also beautiful. I feel like it's what one would expect when they think of Europe. You had the modern building next to the stone one next to wrought iron balconies. Valencia also has a fair amount of street art, but not graffiti per se. The entire city has this slightly creepy theme to it, and every artist seems to incorporate that theme into their personal work. The beach was also super excellent. The first night we went the weather was really stormy. The second time Brittany and I enjoyed a fabulous breeze and strong sun. I didn't have my swimsuit, but I enjoyed laying in the sun while Brittany read Don Quixote. At one point, a woman walked up to us and offered a foot or neck massage for € 5. She had one of those posters that shows the pressure points on the foot. Don't worry, she wasn't creepy, she was just someone who offered a massage rather than those guys that go around selling sunglasses. If I hadn't needed to buy dinner later, I totally would have taken her up on it. 

This weekend I got to know Brittany in a more personal context. She'd always been around in the Spanish department and we had a few classes together, but seeing her outside the context of school, sharing a language and culture that we love was fantastic.

A quick note on the flight for those who have never flown Ryanair. Ryanair is a budget airline that has extremely strict weight restrictions, flies all over Europe, and offers extremely cheap fares (sometimes starting at € 8! ). The "downside" is waiting in lines at the airport, potential cancellations without reimbursements, late flights (like our return flight to Madrid at 11pm...), and no assigned seating. This means that if a flight is overbooked, people tend to rush the plane to try to get a seat. The captain sometimes even starts a chorus of applause after a flight as a way of saying, "We actually made it!" It's always an adventure with Ryanair. 


The flight to Valencia really was quite fast. By the time we got into the air, we had only been flying for about 20 minutes when the captain would announce preparation for landing. Brittany and I were amazed! I know realize that the flight itself is probably 25-30 minutes long, but that taxiing from/back to the gate in Madrid is what take so long. Madrid has one of the longest tarmacs I have ever encountered in my flight life. It easily takes 10-15 minutes to taxi either way. So those of you planning to come visit, don't get all excited the minute you touchdown: hold your horses, you have a good 10 minutes of just riding in the plane as it drives to the gate. That's a weird feeling. 


More pics on Picasa!