¡Feliz Navidad, Año Nuevo y Día de los Rayes!

I just typed out a huge blog and some how lost it, so frustrating!!!! In short, Christmas was low key but good. I'm now in Oviedo, the town I studied in five years ago in the north of Spain. It´s cold, but I´m having fun seeing all my old haunts. I´m planning to go to Segovia to see my other host family and then gradually road trip it back south. Merry Christmas, Happy New Year (make sure to eat 12 grapes at the stroke of midnight as is the tradition here) and Happy day of the Kings (or three wise men- which is a bigger deal here than Christmas)! Make it a resolution to come visity me and HAPPY, FELIZ, HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!

Picking Olives in Andalucia (Check)

I've gotten so swept up in the holiday bustle (teaching the kids “jingle bells” and planning the vacation) that I’ve gotten a bit behind on my blogging. Aside from the excitement of getting my car and driving all over the region, the weekend before last I also went olive picking! Some friends of ours have a grove that’s been in their family for generations; the trees themselves are around 200-300 years old. Everyone here thought I was absolutely nuts for wanting to do it, “it’s such hard work, and boring!” they said, but I kept telling them, “I’m a farm girl, I’m not afraid of hard work.” The tools required for olive picking are as follows: A giant cane (bamboo works well), an oversized comb, and netting. The netting is placed under the tree to catch the olives as one beats the tree with the cane. It seems a bit wrong to violently beat the unprovoking trees senseless and I prefer the much gentler method of the comb. The rhythm of olive picking is composed of the fluid swish of the comb raking through the leaves, the wack of the canes hitting the upper branches and the plop of the olives raining to the ground. After the poor trees were pummeled we all sat in a circle and sorted through the olives before depositing them into an old feed sack. After two trees, we braked for lunch. The mother of the family, a tiny woman with hummingbird like energy, had prepared a feast over the coals of the open fire. No Spanish meal is complete without at least 3 types of meat and potatoes in some form. I’m not sure if it was the sun or the work, but the pork was the most savory, flavorful pork I’d ever eaten. After a few more hours of work the sun advised us that it was time to pack up. This meant carting our tools and sacks of olives up a hill to the van. Having grown accustomed to carrying feed and hay bales while working in California, I hoisted one of the forty pound bags and began trudging up the hill; a sight which absolutely shocked the Spaniards (what, a woman is actually capable of doing man’s work!?!)
Mamá (that’s what I’ll refer to her as since I’m not entirely sure I was introduced to her as anything different) insisted that she pay us for our labor in oranges. So off we set in to the dusk to pick oranges. By the time we arrived to their grove, a bumpy over the river and through the sage brush ride away (it was a good christening for my car), it was completely dark and we had to pick oranges by star light. I followed Mamá who zoomed through the underbrush, periodically shooting up to grasp a particularly large orange. Not wanting us to get scurvy, we filled my trunk to the brim; I some how ended up with three bags to myself. I tried to make orange marmalade this week but it ended up more like a runny syrup, perhaps it will be good on pancakes. Ummmmm, pancakes...

What Holiday Is It?

Thursday was a federal holiday, "el día de la constitución" aside from celebrating the end of the dictatorship and the founding of the new democracy, it meads a couple of days off work. We (the other three American teachers, Joanna, Melissa, Lindsay and I) chose to celebrate the constitutional freedoms by touring around the province with Juan Miguel (one of the teachers from my school) as our guide. The first stop was a scrap of a cove that looked as if it had been torn from the an illustration of Never Never Land; in fact, I wouldn't have been surprised to see a mermaid pop out of the water. Whittled into the bluffs were a series of caves; in one of which were living a couple of Germans taking advantage of Spain's warm suthern coast.
The symbol for the region is called the "indalo" and looks like a little stick figure with an arch connecting its open arms. The symbol itself is thousands of years old and comes from the prehistoric inhabitants of the area. On our way to the mountain we stopped by the sight where the "original" indalo was said to exist. In order to get to the indentation of rock where it was painted, we had to scramble up a steep incline, crunching through dried sage and lavender as we went. Once we finally climbed our way to the top in a cloud of herbs, the indalo was so weather beaten it was hardly visable, but at least we can say we saw the original.
Next up was Aguilas, named for the giant eagle shapped rock that jutts up from the sea.
We made the manditory tapas and pastry stops and then headed for the mountain towns of Veléz Rubio and Veléz blanco. Entering the town of Veléz Rubio was like releasing a long withheld sigh. There was finally a sign of the changing seasons. Living on the beach surrounded by palm trees, the changes are more subtle: the air grows chilly once the sun goes down, the waves become more agitated as if regretfully ushering in the biting winds, and only the bravest of the English can be found fickely consuming weak rays of sun. The mountains, however, tend to be more traditional about their seasons and prefer the old fashion indicators of falling leaves and shades of brown.An impressive castle, which we learned was more for show than protection, perched on the hill top.
We ended the day by observing a fabulous sunset and munching on jamon serrano and cheese; it was one of those infrequent yet completely satisfying moments in life.

A Happy Ending

I FINALLY got my car!!! Bright blue and oh so beautiful! It's not only been a relief for me, but also for everyone I work with who has had to endure the saga, and all of the folks at the bank and the insurance agency in town. There were moments of despair but driving along the coast at sun set made it all worth it. I’m still taking submissions for names; so far I’m thinking Celeste if it’s a girl and Salvador if it’s a boy, ha, ha. Any ideas?

Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire

If it weren’t for the subtle hints, I wouldn’t know it was the holiday season. Although it drops to the low forties at night, the days are still fairly warm and sunny here. The idea of snowmen and reindeer seem, some how, ridiculously out of place. I spent the weekend in Granada ambling through the streets. It was the ghostly presence of the snow-capped mountains (literal translation: “sierra nevada”) slinking behind the Alhambra, the festive lights louring you to the super market, and of course the chestnuts being roasted on every street corner that tipped me off that it is, in fact, almost Christmas.
Although Sundays can be a bit of a bore since absolutely nothing is open, it makes for spectacular people watching. It is still tradition here to dress up in one’s Sunday best and stroll around the town. For the older folks this means fur coats and dapper hats, while the children seem content enough to be paraded about in flouncy dresses and bow ties. I stopped by an antique market full of old coins and stamps; it made me think of my father.
Later, I met up with some of the people from work for a birthday meal for a friend of theirs. We made regional favorites from the area including a “drunken” (rum flavoured) cake. It felt good to be among friends, borrowed as they were.
Last Thursday we threw a real American style house party. I suppose I should explain that here one rarely invites people over. The home is considered a private place and one goes out to be with friends. We had fifteen people over to Joanna's new apartment for our Tex-Mex feast. I made the salsa and guacamole while Joanna made fresh tortillas, steak, soup and dessert; it went off with a bang. Of course it was followed up by lots of dancing; I'm now considered an expert on the electric slide.
As far as word on the car goes, it's been a real roller-coaster. The insurance I found fell through upon further inspection, expelling me into the depths of despair.Yet the twisted vineyard of the Spanish grape vine came through for me again and I got word of an American company with a branch here in Spain that was able to insure me in the blink of an eye. In fact, I now have insurance but no car, I'm still waiting for the money transfer to come through before I can actally purchase it- funny how that works. This afternoon I'll check again to see if it's come through; fingers crossed!

The Electric Slide

Ironically it rained all day yeaterday; I am told that it was beautiful in WA. Although I was a little blue to be away from home on Thanksgiving, the feast in Mojacar was great! It consisted of three courses plus dessert! I truely succeeded in stuffing myself on pretty much everything except turkey. Later, we went to a friends house where I taught everyone the electric slide (I knew middle school P.E. would pay off sometime), and Joanna taught the two-step; it was huge a hit! We have big plans to unveil it at the faculty Christmas party, it should be a hoot.
This is High Muckamuck signing out: make a turkey sandwhich in my honor and continue to have a great Thanksgiving weekend!

Happy Turkey Day!!!!

Thanksgiving and not a turkey in sight. Well as it turns out, I'm off the hook for planning Thanksgiving activities for my class, they have an exam today. Which is sad becuase I was actually looking forward to hand turkeys. Completely by coninsciencedence (no idea how to spell that one), the faculty is having a special lunch in Mojacar today. Of course we have to pay for it but it's supposed to be excellent food. The Tex-Mex feast shall have to wait.
The English club went... well. The students were pretty excited to have a club outside of class and they were extremely energetic. It was a bit chaotic and I was hoping to be able to have fun and relax with them but I realized that, more than ever, I have to have control.It was fun though, we made ID cards and they had to come up with nicknames in English. Mine is "high muckamuck" coming from the Native American word meaning "very important person" ya think that sends a clear enough signal to them?
I have to take a moment to relate the glory that is my mother's Curry Pumpkin Soup. If I had to choose one food to eat for the rest of my life, that would be it. To me, it sums up autumn and home all in one. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to continue the tradition here due to lack of suitable pumpkins (remember the Halloween fiasco) but I decided to give the bulbous green squash a try, and it turned out alright; although I had to go to an international market to find dried,hot red peppers (Spaniards shy away from anything that might even be a hint spicey). Which means more soup for me! In short, I am thankful for curry pumpkin soup!
¡Happy Día de Acción de Gracias!

The Beat Goes On

Still no news about the stolen goods, nor do I expect any. Helena and I have to go back to the guardia civil to give them more information (thanks to Dad I now have the serial number for my laptop). We got the locks changed and now are careful to put the apartment in complete lock down every time we leave.Thanks to everyone for your e-mails and comments, all one really wants in a situation like this is sympathy!
In other news, I found a place that will sell me insurance on my US driver's license! Of course it will cost me an "eye off my face" as they say here, but I'll still convinced it will be worth it.Tomorrow I go to put money down on the car! Any ideas for good names? It's bright blue, I haven't decided if it's hembra or macho (male or female) yet.
Last night I went to the parent teacher meeting. It's always interesting to meet the parents, often the students make a lot more sense... Today is my first day of English Club. I'm a bit nervous because I'm still not sure what to do and I feel like there's all this pressure to set the stage. I completely forgot that tomorrow is Thanksgiving! I have to plan a little something for the students. I think Joana and I are going to throw a "Tex-Mex" thanksgiving feast for our friends here. Meaning we will make mexican food and try to country dance (Joana is from Texas). It should make for an interesting Thanksgiving, in which we will truely celebrate the coming together of many cultures. I figured I could throw in some Hendrix and Pearl Jam as my offering, and perhaps see if I can convince any poor soul to play cribbage with me.
Happy Thanksgiving!!!

WANTED: the S.O.B. who stole my leather jacket!!!!

You haven't lived in Spain until you've had the chance to visit your friendly neighbourhood “guardia civil” or police station. Yesterday started out as any other day: it was sunny with a bit of a breeze coming off the Mediterranean, I left the house around 10:15, ran some errands and then went to work. My house mate and I got back around 2:30, ate lunch and then took a sizeable siesta. Helena decided to go for a walk before the light completely slipped behind the sierras and I dedicated myself to leafing through Living and Working in Spain in hopes of finding some solution to my car insurance problem. I'd had the tv on for background noise, but found the chatter of talk shows more distracting than consoling and I decided to put on some music instead. I went over to my laptop but it wasn't there, “that's odd, maybe Helena moved it” I thought. So I checked my room, but it wasn't there nor was my laptop case. “Que curioso” as they say here, and that's when that nagging feeling entered the back of my mind; the onset to panic. I hastened to Helena's room to search for her laptop which was also missing. At that moment Helena returned, “Helena, where are our laptops?” I asked still trying to remain on the off shore of panic. Calmly she observed the scene, then announced, “F!*#$ we've been robbed!” In the minutes that followed we madly dashed about the house taking account of what was missing. The gravity of my laptop would hit me later but in that moment what really pissed me off was that the S.O.B. had made off with my FAVORITE leather jacket- you know the one. He'd also stolen some of Helena's clothes and money. Luckily, I'd taken both my camera and my MP3 player with me that day. We immediately phoned out co-worker who lives next door to see if she'd been hit as well- no, we were the only lucky ones. So of course we did as one does in these situations, we trooped down to the police station to make a report. Ironically, I was able to give a much more detailed description of my jacket than my laptop. Unfortunately, I had all the information about my laptop in the case (as any organized person would) so I have no record of the serial number meaning there's little chance of tracking it. Stupid thief though, he (I am quite convinced it was a man because he stole a pair of inexpensive jeans of Helena but left my much more pricey ones) took my laptop but left the cord (neatly folded) with the adapter, who's going to want an American laptop that doesn't work? Maybe he'll figure it out and return it. We came home feeling as victims do- angry, violated and asking “why me?” A bit later some police inspectors stopped by to investigate the scene of the crime. The deduced that the thief had entered through the door, with a key no less, and worn gloves. There was no sign of forced entry anywhere and although one could have shimmied up the balcony it is a much more obvious way to break in during broad day light. Here's where things get a bit fuzzy and I'm not sure I'm catching everything in Spanish. Helena called the apartment owner to tell here what had happened and some how the story came out that she had been robbed once before hand not changed the locks! If I was in the US I might smell a lawsuit, but here in Spain I'm only left with a sour stench. The have an idea who it may be, some guy who had worked in the building previously named Juan Angel from Sorbas, yeah that narrows it down! Gone is all my music, gone are all my pictures (home, friends, family, NY, England, Nicaragua...), gone is my resume, gone are my lesson plans and activities; everything, gone, gone, gone. !Hijo de puta!
The events of the day made for light sleep and violent dreams. I dreamt that someone had killed Juan Miguel, the math teacher I work with, and that a collection of various people through my past and I were on the run, hiding in gypsy caves. When I woke up this morning I couldn't shake the dream and was revisited by that same nagging feeling when I arrived at 8:00 for class but Juan Miguel didn't show up. I called him later to make sure he was alright, and (no, no he wasn't murdered) but he had fallen last night while running and broken his hip, and “was there anyone free to take him to the hospital?” I don't even know what to think any more.

The Plot Thickens

Of course I finally finding the perfect car isn't enough, one must also have insurance to drive the car. Here's where things get complicated. As far as I can gather the WA State USA driver's license is not recognized in Spain. Ok, no problem, I anticipated that and got my international driver's license before I left. HOWEVER, my international driver's license is only valid for one year beginning on Oct. 1st 2007. For some strange reason which I still can't figure out (perhaps just to mess with me) ALL the insurance companies in Spain only contract for a minimum of one year. Seeing as how I only have 11 months remaining on my international license, no one will accept me. Leaving me with three options:
A.) Exchange my US license for a Spanish one, an extensive process that takes from 1-3 months and involves a health check, official translation of my license, and of course a lot of dinero.
B.) Find the obscure company that will insure for less than a year (of course at steep price).
C.) Find some kind Spaniard to open a policy under their name.
None of these options sound too likely or appealing, leaving me a bit down hearted about the entire thing. Oh, little blue car, how I want you!

Naranjas

I may have mentioned that there is an orange grove near by with a perfect Lauril sized hole in the fence. This weekend Joana and I decided to take a stroll which just happened to pass through the fence and once inside we had to do our civic duty and taste test the oranges. To be exact the oranges themselves are still green for the most part, it's the mandirins that are ripe. I remember how good the oranges used to taste that my grandmother sent us every Christmas from Florida, but these were in a whole other league. It was by far the most jucy, flavorful fruit I had ever eaten, and to think I have an endless supply just down the road!
Aside from orange theiving, I also went to check out that car (the opal corsa) and I think it's the one! It should be ready for purchase later this week. I can't believe I'm really getting a car! I don't know that I'll actually be able to afford gas once I get the darn thing but at least it's a real pretty, electric blue! Now you may be asking yourself, "is it really necessary to get a car in Europe? Don't they have good public transportation there?" Well, yes, in most places they do, I'm just not in one of those places.The bus system here is a dismal dissapointment as its best. I've actually saved myself quite a chunk of change by not taking the bus due to it skipping stops, arriving late, arriving early, or just plain not coming.Furthermore, it takes over twice the time to get anywhere and it doesn't run at night. I love the beach but as it gets colder sun bathing becomes a less appealing pass time and there are so many hidden corners of Spain I want to explor that really require a car, and that's my rationalization (as many people know I'm a guilty shopper and this is a pretty darn big purchase, I must justify it).
Speaking of pass times, I had my first riding lesson 4 days ago and my legs are still killing me!! I thought I was an fair rider but after my lesson I bowleggedly left wondering if I actually ever knew how to ride.It'll be good to get back into it though. I'm also keeping occupied by setting up an English club. I'm still not entierly convinced that the students have the maturity to join a club, they can't even quiet down during regular class, hevan forbid I present someting actually stimulating, but it's all part of my covert plan to restructure the English Dept from the inside out.I'll have to turn into quite the orange thief in order to sustain myself while I plan my clandestine coup!
Once again no English spell check, sorry. Ya know me, ever the teacher, I'm just testing you.

Holiday Book Drive

The library at the school is a sorry sight and the kids have absolutely no leasure books to read in English. Since the holiday season is approaching, I thought I'd put out a call. What I specifically need are low level, young aduld books.Something with an interesting theme but very simple language.Magazines, and comic books are great too. I'd also welcome kids picture books and books for adults.For a "bilingual" program, I still have yet to see a Spanish/English dictionary anywhere at the school; if you've got one sittng on a dusty shelf somewhere, send it on over! I'm really hoping to transform the program here in any way I can and I really appreciate your help!
¡¡¡Gracias, gracias, gracias!!!

Here's my address:

Atención de Lauril Sachet/Cati Gonzalez
I.E.S. Alyanub
Calle Mayor, s/n
04620 Vera (Almeria)
Spain

Al Alhambra

A Flamenco Halloween

Halloween is just starting to catch on here. We decided to do a small celebration in my classes. Two hours before it was to start I received a frantic call from my director who was worried about the appearance of our pumpkins. The one she’d picked up from her grocer was green with bumps, was that suitable for Halloween? We ended up settling on one that was still green but lacking a bulbous surface. Overall, the festivities went well; a bit chaotic, but I think the kids had fun. We recited a poem, bobbed for apples and carved our green pumpkin. I was glad to have the help of my fellow Americans Sarah and Barbara (my friends who came to visit on their post Peace Corps tour of Europe).

After subjecting my friends to the mad house (also known as my place of employment) I made it up to them by whipping up a killer Spanish tortilla, which I have to say I’m getting pretty good at; then we headed in rental car to Granada. I was on cloud nine driving in Spain; I was like a parakeet whose wings had been clipped and finally grown back! I was ecstatic to be driving again, that was until I got to the infamous European roundabouts. Although I’m pretty sure I created my own lane, we made it through safe and sound.

Thursday was a holiday here, All Saint’s Day, which is really more like ‘Memorial Day’ in the US. Because of this, it was a four day weekend which we filled with all excitement Granada has to offer. The city a fusion of students, Granadinos, Moroccans, and tourists, creating a stimulating and lively atmosphere, but enough of me sounding like a guide book. Thursday morning we practically ran to the Alhambra for our 8:30 entrance to the palace; however, it was well worth the wog (walk/jog). I can’t even begin to describe the intricate beauty of the ancient Moorish palace, nor will I attempt to, I’ll just say that it lies in its ability to reflect intricate designs and precise geometry back on itself. We finished the night off at a flamenco show where the dancer’s feet moved so fast, it made Bill Cosby’s toe tapping look like a sloth in slippers.

After a quick breakfast of churros con chocolate, I sent off Sarah and Barbara to the next leg of their tour. It surprised me how sad I was to see them go. Joana and I decided to stay another day in Granada and spent the rest of our time hiking in the hills searching for Gypsy caves and wandering ´Moroccan' street and drinking tea. I left Granada wishing I didn't have to and more determined than ever to find a car!

The Great Hunt

I woke up this morning with the residue of bizarre dreams clinging to my rational mind; something about an alligator which ended up being a guitar case that then lead to the investigation of a missing musician. Perhaps that’s a sign not to drink whiskey during thunder and lighting storms. Today is market day and I’m going in search of pumpkins; some for carving, but mostly to make into soup to accompany the curry I found on my last excursion.

While things are starting to fall into place for me here (I’ve found out where they show independent foreign films, I started my dance class, I made a killer tortilla Espanola last night, and I can remember about 80% of my student’s and colleagues’ names) I am still lacking a crucial element- a car. Talk about culture shock, not to mention my general ignorance on the theme! Buying a car is never easy; buying a car in another country/language complicates things a bit more. A couple weeks after posting a notice on the board at school that I was looking for a cheap car (that’s about how long it takes for messages to circulate here), I heard through the grape vine that Jose Miguel (who I thought was named Juan Angle for about a week- good thing I got that one straightened out) had a cousin who was a mechanic and had cheap cars. So we took a trip to see the cousin with the cars (or rather car singular). I’d heard that second hand cars here are much more expensive than in the US, but I was still in disbelief and thought that if I only looked, I could find a good, cheap car. However, it turns out that a ‘good’ cheap car doesn’t exist. The car I saw was about 1,500 euros, diesel, and from the stone age. In fact, I was surprised that there was a motor at all; a hole in the floor to run Fred Flintstone style would have seemed more appropriate. However, the cousin had another car at another shop in another town; so off we went, we just had to find Gorge to show us around. Well, Gorge was no where to be found so we decided to look at the dealership next door. As the temperature outside dropped, so did my aspirations of finding that magical combination of reliable and cheap. As I looked at one car after another, a fog of disillusion and indecision began to settle into the crinkles of my gray matter. Finally, Jose Miguel put an end to my desperate wanderings and we headed back to Garrucha, me feeling overwhelmed and a bit awkward for having inconvenienced Jose.

Yet, I remain hopeful for the grape vine has proved fruitful once again (sorry, bad pun). Aurora (who is one of the sweetest people you could ever hope to meet) mentioned to the auto shop teacher that I was looking for a car; who then passed the message onto one of his friends who has a garage. The word in the garage is that they are going to be getting a ’99 Opal Corsa in good condition for a decent price, and they’ll call me when it’s available. Here’s hoping!

Q&A

I'm opening a Q&A session to give you a better idea of the set up over here. My official title is 'language assistant' which means I work with a teacher who is teaching a specific content and I help them give the lesson in English. I have 8 hours in class and 4 hours of prep time with the teachers. I work with two different groups of students, basically the equivalent to 6th and 7th grades in: math (oh the irony),science,English,and social studies.The 6th graders are cute and pay attention for the most part;however, by 7th grade they begin to turn and it's much harder to persuade them that it is in their best interest to sit for hours on end listening to other people talk about seemingly unimportant things. I honestly feel like I spend 25-50% of the time just getting them to settle down and shut up. I'm slowly realizing how much more I like working with adults. Yet it's nothing compared to what Joana, the other American from the same program, has to go through. By pure chance I ended up with the bilingual program and she ended up teaching in the regular Enlish classes for the highschool aged kids. To start with, Joana is only 20 years old, so it creates for a wierd dynamic trying to be the teacher when you are practically the same age as your students. From what I understand, her students are mostly rejects that didn´t make it into the bilingual program but for some reason are still obligated to take English; apparently they're horrible. Therefore, I'm thankful that I have the group I do. More on this topic later, but right now it is break time and I have to go eat my mini pizza and fresh squeezed orange juice that I order everyday.

I Heart Markets

I was utterly dismayed to realize that there are no good, cheap clothing stores here. Vera and Garrucha are pretty touristy areas with tons of old English folk; hence, I am restricted to over priced, old lady boutiques- how depressing! Therefore, I was overjoyed on market day to find myself surrounded by cheap clothes, shoes and jewlery. I have to say though, my most exciting purchase was a bag of fresh curry! It smelled so good I contemplated putting it in my underware drawer but decided against it. The market here webs it's way through the streets and offers a little something for everyone, and a little everything for me. I treated myself to candied almonds but I'm still a little overwhelmed by the olive selection, perhaps next week I'll tackle that one.
Aside from the market I had a pretty relaxed weekend; a little too relaxed for my taste. I've made a pact with myself to never spend another weekend here without a car! There's just too much to see and it's certanily not in Garrucha.

SORRY NO ENGLISH SPELL CHECK

Here's What You All Have Been Waiting For...

Here's my address!!!

To send me packages it's best to mail them to the school care of my director:

Atención de Lauril Sachet/Cati Gonzalez
I.E.S. Alyanub
Calle Mayor, s/n
04620 Vera (Almeria)
Spain

Letters and postcards can go to:

Lauril Sachet
C/Salcillo, 4, 4 bloque
1 Piso, apart. 71
04630 Garrucha, Almeria
Spain

I want to say thank you to everyone for posting comments! I'm glad to know I'm still able to entertain from a far.

Global Warming or Just Me?

I was told when I got here that it only rains about 7 days a year, well that was a lie. When I went out to catch the bus this morning I was greeted by friendly flashes of lightning; that’s when you think to yourself, “oh boy, it’s going to be one of those days” and in fact it was. I either missed my bus or the bus missed me (things don’t run punctually on the best of days here, add in a bit of rain and no one knows what to do- heaven forbid it should ever snow!). Luckily, through a bit of miscommunication I ended catching a ride to school with one of the teacher’s spouses. At school, the internet wasn’t working due to the "storm", and following suit, the printers decided to go on strike too. However, things seemed to be looking up; I was excited about my first dressage lesson (a style of horseback riding) later in the afternoon, I’d finally found where they offer belly dancing, and I saved myself a euro by hitching a ride home with one of the teachers (a bit of foreshadowing perhaps?).
After having spent 15 minutes on the phone with the ticket agency for the Alhambra (a different story for a different rainy day), my money hungry cell phone notified me that it was time to be fed. I desperately needed to call the stable to see if my lesson was still on after the deluge, so I set off to the bank to withdraw some cash and recharge my phone. Well if it isn’t the darndest thing that the key pads to enter your pin number aren’t backwards here! After a couple of weeks of not continually using one’s pin number,things become a little…jumbled. I knew what numbers made up the combination; I just couldn’t remember the order. Unfortunately, the mathematical probability of guessing the correct combination within the three chances allotted by the bank was not on my side; as a result my account has now been frozen. Time to assess one’s stock and options: 8.93 euros to my name, plenty of spaghetti with no sauce, and no phone credit to send out an SOS, plus housemate gone for weekend- this is not bueno. First order of business, find somewhere to get more phone credit. Well, at 4:00pm that doesn’t leave many options. The only places open during siesta are ATMs and the grocery store; grocery store it was! Thankfully, they did sell phone credit there and, yes, the minimum amount was 5 euros, leaving me with a grand total of 3.93 euros! I called the stables and my lesson had been cancelled; better seeing as how I wouldn’t have been able to pay them anyways. Then my thought process went like this: it’s five pm here which means it’s 8:00am in the states, I’ve got to get a hold of the bank. In order to call the bank I need a calling card and a landline or a computer with internet and a microphone. Well, the only person I know who has either is my director (internet access is depressingly scarce here). I called Cati but no answer; I sent her a text message, still nothing; damn, I forgot it’s still siesta! Nothing to do but wait I guess. Finally the clouds have cleared the sky, but have seemed to accumulate instead just over my shoulder. Come on Cati, please wake up from your siesta and call me! The sun’ll come out tomorrow…rig
You'll be happy to know that this did have a happy ending. I got a hold of Cati, went to her house, used their phone and got my account unblocked no problem! Note to self, write important numbers down!

Pictures!

In order of appearance:
- My place in Garrucha (living room)
- My room
- My view

A MEDITERRENEAN VIEW

I found a place! I moved into an aparment in Garrucha with one of the teachers from the school. If you’ve ever wondered what it’s like waking up with a view of the Mediterranean Sea, it’s spectacular. I keep expecting it to be a projection screen that, at any moment, will roll up to reveal concrete and Wal-Mart. Yet the scene I find myself in is completely real; the palm trees move in the wind, the waves make noise as they slap the shore, ships glide without aid of pullies or wheels, and the sun has most definitely left its mark; therefore, I deduce that it is not a dream.
Yesterday I stuffed myself with paella. One of the teachers and her husband took Joana (the other English teacher and I) to Gabo de Gata where we met up with the director of our program and her family. Gabo de Gata is best known for its nature reserves and immense views. I saw flamingos with their stilt like legs and loopy necks, and a white mountain of salt contrasted against the brown sierras and blue sky.
The day before we went to the near by village of Mojacar; perched on a hillside, it’s almost entirely made up of white buildings. The guide book describes it as, “A teared wedding cake cascading down the hill.” It was picturesque in the way that aged white buildings are when contrasted with fuchsia flowers, blue tile, and palm trees. Joana described it as giving off a “creepy” vibe. I myself wouldn’t call it ‘creepy’ as much as ‘nostalgic.’ It possessed the quality of a place where time stands still; yet the surplus of tourist shops devoted to capturing that essence some how negated it. I did learn an interesting tid-bit though, apparently Walt Disney was born in Mojacar and then adopted by and American couple; leave it up to Spaniards to take credit for that one.

“SHUSH UP POR FAVOR”

Aside from exploring the surrounding areas, I completed my first week at school. All the teachers are incredibly generous and friendly, although I still can’t remember a single name. My students make up the ‘bilingual’ program which pretty much means that once a week I come into their classes and we try to speak all in English. The kids are from ages about 11-14 and fortunately seem pretty enthusiastic about me being there. As predicted, I have to develop my disciplinary skills. I know that if I’m pretty strict in the beginning, I will save myself a lot of work later on down the road. From what I observed, a significant amount of time was wasted in each class just trying to get the kids settled down, quiet, and focused. I was surprised to see what a Spanish classroom was actually like. I’d expected them to be more old fashion in their approach in that the class would be well controlled, involving a lot of memorization and text based techniques, but that wasn’t really the case. It’s as if the school system has been caught half way as the educational methodology pendulum swings from teacher to student centered approaches and. It seems like they want to incorporate more interactive methods but don’t have the disciplinary structure in place to pull it off. Things seem chaotic and unplanned, but perhaps that’s just because the teachers aren’t sure what to do with me yet. I find myself walking a tightrope of seeing what needs to be done and doing it, and not overstepping the teacher’s authority (not that they have much). It’s my observation, in general, that children here don’t grow up with the same sense of consequence. They tend to be very spoiled, and I don’t necessarily mean that in a derogatory way, but that they are used to demanding adults’ attention and not the other way around. I’m actually excited to experiment with some classroom management ideas and look forward to reshaping the learning environment. A part of me says, “Oh, you’re coming in with your American view points and prescribing a remedy for what you perceive as a problem.” But that’s what part of what the cultural exchange is about right? Plus, when I see teachers using methods to quiet down the students and they aren’t affective, why should I waste my time dealing with the consequences? If I’m only in a each class one day a week, you bet your bottom dollar that I’m going to do everything possible to ensure the optimal learning experience. Does that sound idealistic or what? Any ways it’ll be interesting to see how this pans out; shall we just say, “to be continued…”?

The Scoop

The answers to all your questions:
- I am still looking for an apartment. I´m hoping to find something in Garrucha a small town near Vera but right on the beach.
- I haven´t officially started working yet, the school is still organizing my schedule but I´m told I´ll start for sure tomorrow.
- I´m in search of a scooter but I may end up with a bike depending on prices.
- I went swimming in the Mediterrenean this weekend, it was fabulous.
- I have a cell phone, the number is (34) 699 35 47 35 remember that Spain is 9 hours ahead of the west coast and 6 from the east.
- Applying for my visa extention was a piece of cake. We (my self and the other american teacher at my school named Joanna) accidentally went to the wrong place and it worked in our favor; they went ahead and did it for us and I think we ended up bipassing a huge line!
- My cold is completely better (yeah for the nasal wash!)
- I don´t have consistant internet access yet so I´m not sure how great I´ll be at keeping in touch but I´ll do my best! I´ll write more and post amazing pictures that will make you green with envy as soon as I get a chance!
¡Hasta Luego!

Vamos a Vera: First Impressions

Apparently many westerns, such as, “The Good the Bad and the Ugly,” were filmed out here because it looks so much like the South West- dry, and cactus covered. Vera is small; I walked right through the main plaza with out even realizing it. It is pushed up against the Sierras de Something-or-Other and there is a large hill complete with giant Jesus statue that glows in the dark. Vera is a haven for northern Europeans seeking a warmer climate. Sitting in the plaza Mayor (after passing through it for the second time) I was surprised by how many blond haired, blue-eyed children I saw. It's growing on me though and the people are extremely friendly. I’m staying at a B&B run by a friendly British couple, Dave and Jilly. Jilly says to call her ‘Mother’ and has been taking care of me while I try to kick a cold (although I have sneaking suspicion that I’m allergic to cigarette smoke). I was told that it only rains here about 7 days a year!!! Coming from WA that’s almost inconceivable; yet, I’ve only been here hardly 3 days and so far it’s rained for 2 of them. Today was especially exciting as our lunch was accompanied by claps of thunder, pelting rain and even a bit of very confused hail. I guess the weather was just trying to ease my transition. I finally got to see the school I’ll be teaching at. I met all the teachers, but don’t remember a single name. I’ll meet the students on Monday; that’s the most nerve racking part anyways. I also opened a bank account (although I don’t have any money in it yet- baby steps you know). Saturday I’m planning to go to the beach, that is if it’s not raining, and look for an apartment. Tomorrow I have to get up early and go to Almeria

(the biggest town in the region) to apply for a visa extension, let’s hope it’s not nearly as bad as applying for the visa itself!

All Roads Lead to Granada

When I got off the plane I told myself that it was Ok to get a taxi; I’d dragged my bags so far already that I deserve a break, but I’d keep me eyes open for a bus just in case. The truth was that I was intimidated by the idea of catching the right bus and going to an unknown destination and was alright with the convenient yet more expensive option of making that someone else’s job. I saw the sign for the taxis first on my left but I turned right and went for the buses; just to see what the situation was. As it turned out, the bus was extremely east to figure out, basically a pick up and depository system of “English” tourists (all variety of tourists falling into that category). Getting to the hostel its self proved to be a bit more difficult as the road was blocked by a parade celebrating the patron virgin of Granada. Slowly and somberly (hardly a “festive” mood although that’s what they kept referring to it as) mostly olderly women, holding long white candles flowed down the street carried by the beat of marching bands. Like a motor boat interrupting spawning salmon, I excused my way right through the middle of it; trailing my 55lbs suit case in tow. Parched from the plane and the walk, I finally made it to my hostel and checked in. To my dismay what was described over the phone as a room on the “ground floor” actually ended up being up two flights of narrow stairs; however, I am forever ecstatic about the weight training opportunities that keep presenting themselves. After a nice hot shower, I felt much relieved yet surprisingly hungry; I may have forgotten that Spain was an hour ahead of England, but my stomach hadn’t. I’d remembered passing a tapas bar on the way and decided to check it out. The place was healthily busy and I seemed to be the only foreigner, both of which I took to be good signs. A little overwhelmed at the selection and the prices, I decided to treat myself since I’d saved so much by taking a bus. I ordered a glass of vino tinto, red wine, from “la Rioja” one of the best wine growing regions, and fresh chorizo (something I’d been missing for the past four years). The food was excellent and as the bar filled up, so did I. The bartender’s voice projected over the din as he shouted out orders. I asked the couple next to me if they had any idea where the “sultan’s street” was, the place I’m supposed to go tomorrow for my orientation. They were unable to help me, but very kind. I returned to my hostel and continued my search for the elusive “Hotel Abades Nevada Palace” with the assistance of the clerk (who consequently is also the housekeeper and speaks about five languages). In the end we decided that it would probably be best for me to get a taxi seeing as it was a bit outside of town. Running up to my room I grabbed a light jacket as it had gotten a bit chilly when the sun when down and decided to be out with everyone else- roaming the street. I walked past the cathedral and helped myself to some mango gelato. Unfortunately, I am not yet on the Spanish time schedule and yawning, decided to call it an early night. Though extremely different from Granada, Nicaragua where I was earlier this spring, the scraps of music wafting its way up form the street along with the smell of corn roasting on the corner are oddly reminiscent and comforting.

I'm on my way!!!

The day has actually come, I'm on my way to Spain!!! I'll be flying into Granada at 6:00 pm tonight!
Katheryn and Kate have been lovely hostesses here in Slough, taking me on a whirlwind tour of England yesterday. I wish I had more time and I'm already thinking I'll have to come back soon. Well gotta go!

It's Bright in Brighton!

Ha, ha, terrible pun I know. But it's true the entire time I was in Manchester it was forebodingly gray and rainy, but as soon as I arrived in Brighton it's been sunny and beautiful; however, don't confuse sunny with warm, Brighton is on the coast and extremely chilly!
To recap Manchester, Helen and I had a spectacular time. On the way to the Wenslydale Cheese Factory I definitely give her gold start for driving!!! Turns out the "B" highways here are one lane, windy, hilly, death traps worsened by the pelting rain, at which, for some reason, the speed limit is 60 mph. A perfect recipe for car sickness, there sure was some beautiful scenery and the cheese was great! I was sad to leave Manchester; I really felt at home there and was having so much fun with Helen and her house mates and it just made me think about how much more difficult it is to cultivate friendships when there is a language barrier involved; that's definitely something I know will be challenging in Spain. With all the intricacies of language, and the subtleties of humor, I know I can pretty much kiss my sense of humor as I know it good bye- I think that's the most frustrating part but something I look forward to getting better at.
Back to Brighton; I'm here visiting my cousin Brianna at the university of Sussex. Staying in the dorm is taking me back and a part of me wishes I was still in college. Yesterday we walked all over the town and explored the beach and shops. As Brianna also enjoys photography we had a great time taking candid shots and capturing ridiculous British signs like, "Don't feed the birds they may become aggressive in search of food." We're going out again today after I put about five layers on, the wind is really blowing out there. Tomorrow I'm off to Slough to visit another friend, Katheryn. I figure by the time I actually get to Vera, I'll probably have moved about 10 times! Oh, according to the weather report, Vera has been in the 80's all week; I can't wait to live in a warm climate!!!
Cheers (that's what you say here)

The pitfalls of travel

In theory traveling for a month before going to Spain seemed like a fabulous idea: one-way tickets are so much cheaper, I get to visit family and friends, and I see a lot of neat places; all of which are true and I've been having a wonderful time; however, there is one major pitfall- luggage. It's hard enough packing for a year (or more) adding to that the laptop, books and teaching materials; yet schlepping it all around as been a lesson in endurance, strength and packing! Did I really need all those T-shirts? Was it absolutely necessary to bring my 4lbs dictionary? After the London underground and hoisting my 65lbs suitcase up and down stairs I've decided ENOUGH!!! Tomorrow I'll be sending off a few boxes to the school in Spain. Now some of you may be asking, "why didn't you just send it from the States where the dollar is cheaper and save your back?" Well, I've been asking myself the same question for quite a while now too. The answer is that I wanted to talk to the school and make sure they knew I existed before sending my entire life over in boxes, and it wasn't until recently that I was able to finally contact them.
So enough with my rant, here's what I know about the school so far. It's some what of a "bilingual" school, and the students have to pass this English test so my main job will be assisting the teachers in helping the students prepare by providing authentic speaking practice. The director also mentioned that I might be teaching the teachers and helping them out with their English as well. I still don't have a clue where I'll be living but apparently apartments are easy to come by in Vera. Supposedly, there is also another language assistant coming. I have no idea if this person is from the States, English speaking or what, but it'll be interesting to have someone else to share the experience with. That's about all the information I've got, and now back to our regular programing...

From New York to York

Sorry it's been a while since my last posting, this is the first time I've had internet in a while. Well, N.Y. was awesome, I was sad to go- I was just getting the subway system down (I only got on one going the wrong way once!). It was comforting to be around old friends. Robin and I got to go to Emily's school and talk to her students. Aside from telling loads of embarrassing stories (sorry Emily) I also came to the conclusion that maybe teaching teenagers won't be that bad. I also got to help Robin prepare for her party that the film company she works for was putting on. Unfortunately, I couldn't attend though since my flight to Europe was at the same time.
Now I am currently in Manchester staying with my friend Helen. She's gotten the week off as well as a car so we've been all over the place! The landscape is beautiful here; even greener (and wetter) than Washington. The hillsides and dotted with sheep, all of which still have their tails. I've ridden on my first double decker bus and I'm getting used to calling chips- crisps, and cookies- biscuits. We also went to see a musical called 'Blood Brothers'; a compelling story about twin brothers separated at birth with a tragic ending that emphasises the divide created be classism; both Helen and I were in tears by the end. Yesterday we went to York which is nothing like New York, although very pretty. Today we're resting and decided to make soup and biscuits (the American kind) which apparently they don't have over here. Well, my internet time is just about up.
Cheers!

Does the Squeaky Wheel Get the Grease?

It finally came, I've got my passport and visa! I actually have it in my hand!!!! Was it all those faxes of complaint I sent or did they just get their act together in time? Does the squeaky wheel actually get the grease? I'd like to think so, but we may never know. This means I'm off to England and legally! Thanks for everybody's support and thoughts!
I've been having a great time in N.Y. Jenn and I went to see a show called 'The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee,' (yes- I thought it was a good idea for me to see a play about spelling) it was so much fun! I walked all over Washington Heights and found an amazing park with cloisters (way better than Central Park in my mind). I also got to meet some of Jenn's nursing friends who were a fun group of gals; we went walking around the meat packing district and I had my first celebrity sighting- Heather Graham (she was the blond in the Austin Powers movies)- she was just getting a cup cake at the Magnolia Bakery like anybody else.
Now I'm at my friend Emily Persky's in Queens. My other close high school friend, Robin, is also visiting and last night we went out to a Greek restaurant and had an amazing dinner. Oh, yesterday we went to a show in Brooklyn to see a group called 'Harry and the Potters' a couple of brothers who have a punk rock band and sing songs about Harry Potter; among the titles are 'Voldermort Can't Stop the Rock' and 'S.P.E.W.' it was hilarious. Tomorrow we're getting up a the crack of dawn to go to Emily's school where she teaches to meet the kids and talk about our jobs- I don't know I'll be very convincing at that hour though! Well Emily and I are going to the supermarket to get some things for dinner- I'm craving vegetables; I'm missing all the fresh produce from home! I'm leaving for England on Tuesday- Wish me luck!!!

From Apple Country to the Big Apple

New York City- What a whirl wind! I arrived last Sunday exhausted from schlepping around my over weight suit case, laptop and carry on. I was mortified to realize I hadn't tipped my extremely friendly taxi driver but grateful to arrive at the hotel where my mother and aunts, Shauna and Sandra, were waiting for me. We spent three days walking, going to museums, sight seeing and just eating, eating, eating. I didn't know it was possible to gain weight in only three days, but I guess it is! French food, Italian food, Thai food, (good) American food... It was superb! It was lovely to see family members I'd never met before and to have an inside connection. My mother's cousin, Vincent, who is an art dealer, gave us passes to MOMA and the MET (where we had lunch in the trustee's diningroom). We got to see more art than we could handle. Vincent also showed us around his impressive gallery where many of the paintings were abstracts- something I just don't "get"; I guess one doesn't need to be great, just original (that's assuming you think something that looks like a kindergartner did it is "original"). Later, he and his wife, Gabrielle, took us to a jazz club which was a real treat- that I could "get". I also met my grandmother's cousin,Carol (not sure what that makes her to me) who lives near Central Park and has a fabulous view; then of course we all went out for an other grand meal. And time certainly does fly when you're having fun! Everyone else headed back to their respective coasts early this morning and I entered the next leg of my trip. I'm now at my friend Jenn's (the one I went to Nicaragua with) apartment in Washington Heights. In about a half hour we're going to head to Times Square to try to get cheap tickets to a show tonight- well better go.

P.S. still no word on the visa

The Saga Continues

As many of you may have heard, I'm in a bit of a fix concerning my visa for Spain. For those of you unaware, let me re-cap:
First I shall start by explaining that in order to get a visa for Spain one must apply in person at the nearest consulate; for us Washingtonians that just happens to be San Francisco. But before even going to the consulate you must have an assortment of documents (in a specific order and presentation) even to think about making an appointment. Among those being your passport, clean bill of health, absence of police record (with the official state seal called and Apostille of the Hague-what ever) and a letter from the school in Spain saying that they have accepted you for the position. Needless to say, by the time I had all these documents in place the soonest appointment I could get was for August 3rd.
The appointment itself seemed to go without a hitch. I had a lovely trip to San Fran and enjoyed myself tremendously. When I asked the guy doing the paperwork if my visa would be ready by Sep. 9th when I was leaving for N.Y. he assured me that he had the date on the application and gave me a number to call in case I hadn't gotten it a week before I was to leave- I should have figured it out then.
So a week before I was about to leave and still no visa (remember that they have my passport too). I call the number the guy had given me but oddly enough it just transferred me to a voice mail which was full- well that was no help. I then proceeded to call the various numbers for the consulate; yet experienced the same phenomenon- full voice mail boxes and no real people. On the off chance that I did get the one receptionist fielding calls for the entire northwest region, they were curt, uninformative and ended in being transferred to one of those black hole voice mails. I discovered how difficult it is to defend and assert one's self in another language, above all over the phone. After a few days of this it got pretty old to say the least. E-mailing was out of the question as well since their e-mail was suffering from the same gluttonous state as the voice-mail. I began taking to faxing but to no avail. In a desperate panic I called my state representative's office only to get, "wish we could help but the Spanish consulate isn't part of the US government so there's nothing we can do." I got similar responses when I tried to call the main consulate in WA DC, "Sorry, but you're out of our jurisdiction." Even the people in my program are unable to penetrate the web of Spanish consulate. Now I'm in N.Y. and am supposed to leave for England less than a week!!!! I have a few choice words I'd like to share with the consulate- if I could only get a hold of them!
Well, wish me luck; that's about the only thing I've got going for me at the moment.

Kitty still needs a home

Odes to Charlotte

There once was a Honda named Charlotte

Who was just a shade off of scarlet.

As her value decreased,

She got great gas mileage at least!

Now sold is that ‘92 starlet.

Charlotte is gone at last.

Not once was she to be outclassed.

She drove near and far,

Oh, what a faithful little car!

And how she could go so fast.

'92 Honda Civic for Sale

After my 3 month hiatus I'm back to blogging! I spent the summer teaching full-time at SPSCC trying to generate enough dough to fuel my travel addiction. I was pretty disgusted with myself at the end of the quarter when my major occupational complaint was that I couldn't stuff myself at any more end-of-the-quarter potlucks! Nevertheless, I'm looking forward to the new challenges of teaching English as a foreign language in Spain- and by challenges, I mean teaching high school.
I'll be in a small town called Vera in the region of Almeria, Andalucia. From what I can tell, it's extremely small, dry and rather un noteworthy. However, it is relatively close to the eastern Mediterranean coast, so you'll know where to find me most days! Aside from Almeria, the closest well known city is Granada. Along with the normal travel apprehensions of tying up loose ends, packing and making sure one's visa comes in time (sounds a bit redundant after the whole passport ordeal doesn't it?), I still have yet to hear from the school where I'll be working and I have no idea where I'll be living; yet, in the grand scheme of things it seems like such an minute detail... right? At the moment I'm more involved with my prefunk travel plans where I'll be spending about a week and a half in both New York and England before becoming homeless in Vera. More on that as it unfolds...
In the meantime, I've got to mock pack, practice my Spanish, gather teaching materials, and oh is there anyone out there who would like to foster a wonderfully overweight, tremendously lovable older kitty? Or perhaps you're in need of a '92 Honda Civic (180,000 miles/$1,800) anyone? Anyone?

Fighting the Urge to...

For anyone traveling to or from Nicaragua, I would not recommend the four flight rout- it's a bit exhausting. But I'm back in one piece and have began reflecting on my travels.

I find that I keep fighting the urge to:
- Put on bug repellent before going to sleep
- Trow away toilet paper
- Honk all the time when driving
- Greet everyone with "buenas"
- Consistently take pictures

I am enjoying:
- Running water
- Food that is not fried
- Washing machines
- Green
- Understanding everything
- Not being tssss, tssssed at (the sound men are constantly making in attempts to get your attention)
- Not being perpetually sweaty and sticky
- The quiet

Things I'm Missing:
- The noise
- being warm
- Not being able to tune things out (there were a few conversations on the airplane I would have rather not understood)
- Meeting new people everyday
- Funky tan lines
- Mangoes and pineapples
- The exchange rate
- Major rain storms
- Counting how many times I hear "Si tu estuvieras" each day (a popular song)
- Eskimo (the ice cream)
- Natural fruit juices
- Being around kids
- Passing volcanoes
- Geckos everywhere
- Sitting in rocking chairs outside in the evening and just chatting

Things I think are strange:
- Fat animals
- People talking on their cell phones for extended periods of time (In Nica no one has phone plans they just buy minutes but it's expensive so everyone has a cell phone but no one ever has money to talk)
- Refrigerators that aren't used for storage
- Having to make appointments to see anyone here
- Thinking that people are continually trying to rip me off

La Epoca de lluvia

Everyone kept telling me that we were on the verge of "la epoca de lluvia" the rainy season, a fact the brown landscape around me seemed to be denying. There are only two seasons on Nicaragua, summer and winter, dry and wet. Sure enough, it was like someone had turned a switch to winter. The air filled with anticipation and then with little warning it began pelting rain. Coming from a state notorious for rain, I thought I'd seen it all but the rain here is warm and there is not the pretense of rain as often fills WA days, it just rains as if it's got a job to do. It is proceeded and followed by a suffocating, sticky mugginess that clings to your body and oozes out your pores. It is cruelly ironic that with all this rain, my family in Santo Tomas is still without water. No bathing, no laundry, no washing dishes, nothing.
On Tuesday Dawn and I took a van to Managua to the hotel I was staying at across from the airport. On the way there we began to see mounting flashes of lighting accompanied by occasional claps of thunder. Then biblical rains began to fall. The lighting cracked so close that I felt like a cartoon character; my heart leaping out of my chest, followed by my skin, and leaving my naked body behind. We bid our fellow passengers a hasty good bye and good luck and sprinted from the van to the hotel; in the 50 seconds it took to make the dash it looked as if I'd decided to take a swim backpack and all. I am now a believer in the epoch of rain.

A three hour tour...

Yesterday I scraped myself out of bed to meet the 4:00 am bus headed for the atlantic coast. A group of about fifty people from three different groups in the commnuity boarded the big yellow school bus for a five hour trip to La Laguna De Perlas. Stepping off the bus was like stepping into another country. Chontales, the region where Santo Tomas is located, is relatively dry and dusty; yet the atlantic coast is tropical and wet! Most surprisingly the people speak creole along with Spanish. It felt more like Jamaica than Nicaragua and it was surreal translating for our spanish speaking friends in their own cournty. The samll town was filled with umbrellas headed on their way to church and a sense that time ran on a much slower clock. We walked half hour to Awas, an indigenous hamlet on the beach. We swam in the shallow bay where the water was warmer than the rain and flung handfulls of sand at eachother. For lunch we ate fish stew, a speciality of the region. After which we ventured into the village where we were promptly met by Orlando who introduced himself as the head of tourism. The tour itself primarily consisted of turning in a 360 degree cricle and ended with one of the men shimmying up a coconut tree and cracking some open for us to drink. Due to an oncoming storm we had to make a quick dash back to the bus; our arms filled with loaves of freshly made coconut bread. The trip back was long and precarious since the road conditions were poor and the old school bus ailing. Yet with crossed fingers we made it home tired but safe. If I had more time to spend here I would definitely love to go back to the atlantic coast- alas!

El Chancho

On Satruday we went to a friend's farm to celebrate an early Mother's day (which is May 30th here). I've been living under the impression that I was raised on a farm (however small), but after spending a day at Doña Arora's I realized what I grew up with is a mere shadow of farm life. We started the day be taking water from the creek and watering each plant individually. Upon returning to the house we discovered the main event of the day; the butchering of the "chancho" or pig. We got to witness the process from beginning (pouring hot water over it to loosen up the hair for a close shave) to end (delicious). Although I documented it all, I'll spare you the photos (I think you've probably had enough with the toe pics alone; I wouldn't want to discourage anyone from reading my blog). We ate the meat with tortillas and home made cheese from the farm. Later we learned to make Nacatamales, the traditional Nicaraguan tamale that is wraped in banana leaves! We brought a cake to share with the family in honor of all the amazing mother's here; women who truly do it all in a form that is so amplified from my experience in the U.S. All in all it was a humbling and satisfying day.

Bitter Sweet

I had planned to spend the summer here in Nicaragua, but after receiving word that I got the position in Spain I´ve decided to save my self $100 bucks and come home on my original ticket. So I´ll be back in O-town on May 23, less than a week! This will give me an opportunity to earn some money before leaving for Spain. On the one hand I´m looking forward to coming back (clean feet, less mosquitoes, not sweating all day, flushing toilets, and running water just to mention a few things) but on that other hand I´m really going to miss it here. The people are as warm as the weather, it is honestly beautiful and I can eat mangos to my heart´s content! But as they say, "the beat goes on." And my travels aren´t over yet!

Bug Bites

Despite my mosquito netting, I ended up with about twenty bites on my legs last night. Apparently it was an all you can eat buffet; prime white meat imported from a far! Life here in Santo Tomas is very tranquilo and the people are truly of the "mi casa es su casa" mentality. I´m getting quite good at bucket showers! Although, the latrine takes some adjusting to... My toes were doing great until yesterday when blisters suddenly appeared where the infection had been (not a good sign). I´m trying to keep them clean and hope for the best; I´ll spare you all the pictures this time.
Yesterday we went to la finca (the farm) that is run by the Comitte for Community Development (CDC) and got to see the various animals and plants there. They have this animal that is a cross between a sheep and a goat (apparently from Africa) that is called a "peliguay" which supposedly has very delicious meat. I was also cured of my notion that pineapples grow on trees. If I had more time here, I´d love to work on the farm. They have a series of water filtration pits where once the water has been cleaned it is used by the women of the village (those who don´t have access to water in their homes) to wash their clothes.
After the farm we went to Rosaura´s house (some of you may remember her, she was one of the last delegates from Santo Tomas to come to Olympia and she is a fabulous singer). Her family welcomed us into their home (her father had cooked home made pizza) and they sang revolutionary songs for us. All the family had such strong passionate voices that I was tickled pink I had remembered to bring my tape recorder!

School bus anyone?

I've done so much traveling lately my head is actually spinning! Last friday I went to Las penitas which is a beach on the pacific coast. It was beautiful! My friends and I decided to take a tour of la isla Juan Venado, which literaly translates to "John Deer Island". We saw lots of mangrove trees with their cascading roots, a few iguanas, some croc eyes, lots of neat birds and on the way back a dog eating a gaint sea turtle. After our fabulous escape to the coast we went to Leon, another beautiful but hot colonial city, and then to Managua. We stayed in Managua and ate at a Korean restaurant- it was so exciting to eat a different kind of rice, without beans, and the food was delicious. The next morning we dropped my friend Jenn off at the airport. I was sad to see her go, but glad that she would soon be returning to the land of clean feet! From Managua we went back to Granada to pick up my things and then headed to Managua again to catch a bus to Santo Tomas.
With all this travel I've learned a few things about the buses here. First there is no national transportation system, it's all individual so the drivers are competing for the passengers. Then there is the price of gas, which is expensive, as a result they pack in as many people as they can onto the bus. If someone is trying to rush you onto a bus, it's probably because there's a competing bus for the same destination that will probably get there faster. Always have small change, that way it's harder for them to rip you off. Dawn and I got charged over double the price on our way to Granada. We were robbed and Dawn let them know that, way to go Dawn!!! Always sit next to a window if at all possible. Don't sit on the floor behind the driver's seat, turns out you'll be sitting right over the motor which makes for some hot buns! Although the "express" buses are small, about the size of an airporter but they cram in over 20 people, most of the buses here are old school buses. It makes for a nestolgic ride. On the plus side, there are always vendors selling snacks. I wish we had that in the U.S.! Now I'm in Santo Tomas, Olympia's sister city. I haven't seen too much so far but everyone seems really friendly.

Lucky You!

I found the pictures, hope you don´t have a weak stomach.