Sidecar

New Photos!

2009-09-29T12:16:00.000-07:00

Summer 2009 Pictures!!!

A Cruel April Fool’s Joke

2009-04-01T23:14:00.001-07:00

Yesterday evening dad began experiencing abdominal pain, by 8:00 pm it was so severe that Kehlen and I packed him into the car for another late night dash to Virginia Mason Hospital in Seattle. Unfortunately, we didn’t make it that far and turned around and aimed for Saint Peter’s in Olympia instead. The ER was busy for a Tuesday night, victims of the latest flu virus, due to his condition the triage nurse marked him as ‘urgent’, meaning we only had to wait one hour instead of two.
The pain was staggering and it was hard to be patient as each new nurse asked the same questions; finally, relief came when he got some medicine to control the pain. After that, it was hours of sitting on stiff plastic chairs waiting under the glare of the florescent lights as they rolled dad back and forth on a gurney with a broken rail, first to x-ray, then for a CAT scan. What we discovered by almost 4:00 am was that he was suffering from a urinary tract infection as well as an obstructed bowel.
They decided to transfer him up to Virginia Mason this morning so he could be around his docs and his old friend the nose tube. So far, they’ve loaded him up on antibiotics to fight the infection and are keeping a steady flow of pain meds going to help him wait it out to see if the obstruction will pass on its own. If not, he’ll have to undergo surgery again, which will take him back quite a few steps. So here’s hoping that he can relief from the pain and strength to help his body heal!

Back Home

2009-03-22T14:32:00.000-07:00

Yesterday we brought Dad home! He seemed relieved to be out of the hospital. When they asked him if he’d like to eat something before leaving, he politely turned down the offer, to which the nurse replied, “Yeah, you’ve probably had enough of our cooking”- a truth he did not dispute. Despite being attached to what I call his “ball and chain”, all the tubes and bags which hook up to his bladder every evening, he said he felt detached from the drugs but happy to be home.
At the hospital, he’d been woken up every two hours to be poked, prodded, or injected, making it impossible to get any restful sleep. He woke up this morning after nine hours of uninterrupted sleep, and felt much improved. He was able to eat a normal breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast and coffee. The most impressive feat of the day was going grocery shopping. After a week of only walking from one end of the hall to the other, traipsing back and forth through Fred Myer on a Sunday afternoon was quite exhausting. I know he is frustrated and surprised by how little stamina he has, but I think it’s pretty amazing to be shopping for sweat pants only a week after having organs removed; heck, I’d just be lounging in sweat pants period!

Neo

2009-03-15T10:17:00.000-07:00

We joked before dad went into surgery that his new nickname would be "Neo" like the character in the Matrix, more accurately, for the new "neo bladder". Upon entering the hospital room on Friday, I felt like perhaps we had stumbled into a scene of the Matrix; dad had so many tubes and gadgets hooked up and, in conjunction with the pain meds, I wouldn't have been surprised if he was partially in cyber space fighting Machines.
Despite the pain and exhaustion, his sense of humor remained in tact. He was pretty tired though, so we came and went in small doses.
Saturday I got caught in St. Patty's Day parade traffic on my way to the hospital. I was surprised when I got there to see dad sitting in the well padded chair. Some of the tubes had been removed and he was much more alert (although the tube in his nose was still source of much aggravation). He immediately had me take out his lap top and post a blog. I was there for about 40 minutes, and he remained sitting for the entire time which is excellent because, apparently, the more one gets up and moves after surgery, the quicker the recovery and less pain (seems a bit counter intuitive to me but it seems to be working for him).
I had just enough time to jet home and make it the fire station's annual crab feed! We did a good job stuffing our selves as usual, although I felt sorry for Kehlen who was volunteering and could only watch us and empty our shell buckets (not too sorry though because she got to take the extra crab home).
I was surprised to see snow this morning; finally, remembering that it is supposed to be spring, the weather has now turned to slushy rain. Dad called and, despite the nasal pitch from the tube, he sounded well rested and much better. He has been moved from the ICU to a room on the 17th floor, with a view of Lake Union! Sorry, I'm still not positive which room number it is. He said he had a bit of a rough night as the pain meds ceased for a period, but is doing well today. He even went for a walk up and down the hall twice! I believe the combination of every one's thoughts and prayers with his desire to get the heck out of there a.s.a.p., he's on his way to a speedy recovery!

Success!

2009-03-12T19:30:00.001-07:00

Talked to mom briefly and it sounds like dad's bladder removal/reconstruction operation was a success! No signs of hidden cancer (although they'll have to wait for the micro something-or-other scope results to be sure) and now he's in ICU recuperating. Tomorrow he's supposed to be moved to a room on the 17th floor, so at least he'll have a view! Thanks for everyone's concern and please pass on the good news. I'll be posting any new information on my blog

Thanks!
Lauril

Gallery

2008-12-18T13:42:00.000-08:00

Now that I’m back home and not some place exotic and fascinating, I just don’t feel that my life is worth writing about. I have, however, been wanting to show my pictures somewhere and I thought, “I do have a space and I don’t have to worry about matting and framing.” It’s been snowing unusual quantities here in Olympia, WA, inspiring some seasonal photos. Please enjoy my artzy pics and Happy Holidays!

The Good News Or The Bad News?

2008-08-26T12:04:00.000-07:00

Hey everybody, after a disastrous journey here and a crazy start, things are finally settling down. So I'm driving to CA with the cat, what's the worst that can happen? I lose the cat.

Everything was fine and dandy, Treff was driving me batty with his incessant complaining 'why are the trees moving? Why is my seat shaking? Why is it so hot, you try wearing a fur coat. My litter box is too small...' but all in all we were making good time. We decided to stop for the night in a little two horse town called Lakeshead just north of Shasta Lake. We found a motel that allowed cats and spent the evening watching the Olympics. The next morning, Robin's dad offered to take Treffly for a walk on his leash. Despite Robin's warning that walking a cat is very different and one mustn't pull on the leash, there was a moment of panic and Treffly somehow got away. Unfortunately, there was nothing surrounding the little town but woods. We spent all morning scrounging through the brush searching, all the while visions of Treffly's leash caught up on something and choking him crept into my mind. By mid day it was hot and we had to take a break. We went to the local deli for lunch where the owner offered to copy some flyers; thus the afternoon was spent knocking on doors and passing out 'LOST CAT' notices. By evening I'd completely lost hope. I felt bad for blaming Robin's dad, but I couldn't help it, I thought he understood cats better. We all geared up for another sweep. Robin's dad sat vigilantly watching the trap he'd made, while I headed out into the brush again. As I began to scan the blackberry brambles for a flash of blue leash, I noticed a feral grey cat darting under some blocks of concrete, and thought to myself, 'now that's a good hiding place' but upon further inspection, saw no sign of his orange plumpness. Yet I kept scanning the area and then all of a sudden I saw it, that flash of blue leash, TREFFLY!!! There he was, huddled beneath the slabs of concrete, looking a bit bewildered but otherwise in good shape. After re hydrating him and a can of tuna, we opted not to stay there another night and hauled it out of Lakeshead. And after hours of searching, straining to hear him meow, I couldn't have been happier to hear Treffly’s disdainful remarks all the way to San Fran.

San Francisco is exactly as it's rumored to be, hilly and foggy. I managed to maneuver the truck successfully and was completely exhausted by the time I parked in front of 547 40th Ave. Before even getting Treffly out of the car, I went in to investigate my new dwelling. I was a bit disappointed, it really was in a basement and a bit dreary. I went back out to the truck to get Treff, and what did I find? A 50$ parking ticket! I had been inside probably no more that 10 minutes tops! There's only a two hour break in the entire week when it's prohibited to park where I did due to street sweeping and yet, of course, I’d managed to parked there just during that period, and in a moment of weakness I completely lost it.

The next day was filled with IKEA and unpacking. Robin had put me in touch with a friend who manages a catering company and I got word that there was an opening to work for something called 'Outside Lands' the following three days. I really had no idea what it was, but it was work and it was in Golden Gate Park which is about 5 blocks away so I more than happy to accept. As it turns out, Outside Lands was a HUGE concert, and I was working in the beer tent not far from the main stage! While serving beer and making an ass of myself trying to do simple math (we had no real cash registers), I got to hear (if not actually see) Radiohead, Ben Harper, Jack Johnson, Rodrigo y Gabriela, Tom Petty and Manu Chao to name the big ones. Despite reeking of beer, trying to catch under aged punks and working 12 hour days on my feet with hardly any breaks, it was awesome!

Needless to say, today was spent catching up on sleep and building my IKEA furniture. Things are coming together and the place is looking much less dreary, and of course I'm just tickled to wake up every morning with Treffly purring in my ear.

I hope everyone is doing well and I miss you all! I still don't have a phone, but incase you want to send me a snail mail, my address is:

547 40th Ave.

San Francisco, CA 94121

Oh, these are just the before pics, I'll put up some 'afters' in a bit.

Reunited

2008-08-26T11:33:00.000-07:00

After returning from France, I was home for about 12 days before heading to San Francisco. During that time I was excited to see friends and family, check out the old haunts, eat Asian food and partake in various activities, one of which was horseback riding with my friend Emily on the beach at Ocean Shores. This had been one of our favorite things to do back in the old 4-H days, and although I no longer had my horse, Emily assured me we’d find something ride-able.
The day before our ride, Emily took me out to their friend’s place to “check out what horses and tack they had available”. As we were coming up the drive way Emily suddenly turned to me and said, “I have a surprise; the horse you’ll be riding is Raj!” (my old horse). I couldn’t believe it; I’d sold him over 7 years ago and I’d completely lost track of him, and there he was out in the pasture! I’d like to think he remembered me although he certainly didn’t start whinnying nor jumping for joy, but when I rode him, aside from being a bit arthritic, he seemed to remember it all.
The beach was fantastic, we cantered along the sand, played in the waves (the horses were thoroughly confused that the water was salty and that there was no grass), and jumped over drift wood. It was great to be back in the saddle, although I was really sore, and it was such a wonderful surprise to be reunited with my old buddy Raj. Thanks Griswolds!

Belves

2008-07-26T10:50:00.000-07:00

Well, I was pleasantly surprised to receive multiple inquiries as to when I might be posting another blog. I was sure my parents were the only ones actually reading this (and I even had my doubts regarding that) so thanks everyone for the support!
As predicted in the last blog, my departure from Spain was more sweet than bitter. I left on a chaotic but wonderful note (would Spain be any other way though?). My parents came and I took them to as many of my favorite places and introduced them to as many of my favorite people as I could without overwhelming them. I finally found a home for my car although I had to practically give it away to a dealership; I also learned that I had paid almost triple the value when I bought it, madre mia! Talk about learning the 'cowboy' way. Although I may have lost more than I'd like to admit in euros (damn the exchange rate!), I felt I was extremely fortunate in the friends I made and I don't think it's hit me yet that I don't know how long it will be until I see them again.
It's such a long trip to Europe that we had to see as many people as we could while here, so we hopped on over to Germany. We got to visit with my friend Denise and her family which was fabulous. That strange thing happened which occurs with really good friends, it had been years since we'd last seen each other, but once together, it was like no time had passed, like we were back in high school giggling about boys, musing about the world, and putting off studying biology. It was hot and muggy in Germany and I was used to the slow easy pace of the Spanish way, but good German wine and beer helped fend off the heat and and punctual, efficient German rhythm.
After Germany, we made our way to France; however, there was a transition in the middle involving RUNNING through the Paris underground schlepping five suitcases and squishing toes, dogs and probably small children along the way. I'm still not sure how we made it except that we'd met an angel along the way who had graciously offered to help us (we must have looked like we needed it). He assisted my dad in purchasing the metro tickets, forced the automatic gates open so we could run though with all the luggage, lead us through the maze of stares, twists and turns, hauled our suitcases, and lead us to our train with only a minute to shout out out thanks. So Elion or whatever your name was, God bless you, you should be receiving some major travel Karma!!!
Although quite the adrenalin rush, I wouldn't recommend the experience and we were quite relieved to arrive to Belves, located in the Perigord region, where my grandmother's cousin has an incredible house. This small French village is just like you imagine it. Today happens to be marked day and the hum of neighbors conversing, of venders promising, of silverware clinking at the cafes, float up to where I'm sitting, like balloons being released, carried on the breeze by Frank Sinatra blaring from the tourism office. There's the strawberry woman who compulsively arranges her flats, and the goat cheese stand which makes your mouth water just walking by it. Belves is a medieval village with it's covered market square, surrounded by the "coutellerie" knife shop, the pharmacy, hair salons, cafes, butchers and creperies. It's the perfect setting for a play, and despite its quaint feel, there is quite a bit of drama. The honey lady's husband ran off with the butcher's wife, a bitter sister suing over house hold pets in hopes of gaining recognition from her dead brother, the all day pigeon shoot that resulted in the massacre of almost 400 flying rats. Then there are the tourists and the expatriots, hoping that they can play some minor role. And everyone I've met seems to be in the process of renovating their scrap of history: a five hundred year old house with a medieval toilet, a thirteenth century watch tower, an old forge destroyed during the revolution, a barn... everything here and everyone has a story, it's not hard to stay entertained.
I'm a bit disappointed sometimes though that I'm not speaking as much French as I though I would. Those who do not speak English as a second language, are English or Australian or American. There's a sort of picknick market here on Wednesday nights where, if it weren't for the foie gras, the confit du canard, crem brulee, and bad accordian music, I'd think I was in England. I have sought out a few people to pester with my clumsy French though. There's a Parisian couple who have a wonderful dog named Zebulon and insist I come swim in their pool, "well if you insist!" Then there's a couple, oddly enough from my university town, who are, of course, restoring a home here. Anne is French, so we have a deal that I come learn masonry and help grout the rock walls, and she'll speak to me in French. I'm not sure who got the better end of the deal, but I'm learning all sorts of new skills! I've also found a french teacher who is wonderful and gives me lessons twice a week, and to supplement that, there is Madam Carcenac, the 83 year old retired school teacher with whom I have a conversation hour every day free of charge, simply because she enjoys it! So I am improving which is encouraging.
In short, my days here are spent ambling through the countryside taking pictures, keeping up on the town gossip, cleaning for my hostess, enjoying her fabulous cooking and copying down as many recipes as I can, slapping mud on walls, and making vocabulary lists which I've put up all over my bathroom. I'm also doing a fairly good job at getting anxious to see everyone back home, move to San Francisco, get a job, apply for grad school... alas, time only goes as fast as the church bells dispense it here, and in a medieval village, that's not too fast.
Enjoy the photos! Sorry one of them is sideways

Bitter Sweet

2008-05-29T12:02:00.001-07:00

When it comes to endings, to saying good bye, it’s so cliche but the term bitter sweet does seem appropriate. Today was some how my last day of classes. My younger students showered me with gifts and kisses and I practically had to peal myself away, while the older ones (something strange happens between the ages of 12-14) hardly seemed to acknowledge I was leaving. The bitter is that I felt I spent more time disciplining students than actually teaching them. Bitter because I don’t think I did a very good job, although I’ve realized that there are a lot of factors that contributed to this that were out of my control. Bitter because after seven months, I feel my students still have no idea who I am. It was sweet though that they honestly seemed sad to see me go. Somewhere amidst my stern reprimands and botched activities, they hopefully saw my intent; although I also recognize that by dedicating themselves to celebrating my departure, they were getting out of working. The excitement of future plans is also sweet. If anything, this year has helped to focus my perspective and goals.

Very few, lucky people are born knowing what they want to do. Most figure it out along the way though. But how does one go about making such a dedicated decision? How does one come to be a teacher, a nurse, a computer programmer? Perhaps it was a class I’d neglected to take in college, but I feel like I've been wandering through the fog for years now only to stumble upon a clue now and again. In Spanish the question, “What do you do for a living?” is “To what do you dedicate yourself?” and I find that this more accurately reflects today's society that I find myself participating in. I didn't declare my Spanish major until I had completed it. I've never been one to do things the easy way, as Sandra would say, “you're just doing it the 'cowboy' way”. Being here has made me reevaluate my goals. I went into teaching because it was a logical step. I wanted something to accompany my Spanish major that would allow me to travel.

I remember Roberta from the writing center saying that it was important to tell writers what parts of their papers were good, not only to boost their confidence, but so that they would know what to keep and build off of. Recently, in the midst of my existential crisis, my friend Emily gave me some great advice, she said, “Just go with your gut. Often we try to talk ourselves in or out of things and forget to listen to our intuition.” I began to think about this and I realized that I often make decisions this way, but for some reason or another, I'd gotten out of touch with my gut. I came here with the objective of improving my Spanish and I knew that that would take more than 8 months, so I was prepared to stay a minimum of 2 years. I was so intent on that goal that I started to get tunnel vision. I didn't ask myself, “Why is this so important to me?” It was just something I had to do. I was comparing my abilities to what I thought they should be in relation to everyone else, always a dangerous path. I lost touch with what I enjoyed about language learning. It just became this beast I had to conquer and the more I fought it the more I resisted. I became miserable. The prospect of staying another year utterly depressed me. The more I investigated my employment options, the more trapped I felt. I would be confined to teaching children, working illegally and even if I landed a decent job I enjoyed, I'd probably get paid very little. Basically, the only reason I'd be staying would be to improve my Spanish and that had been my goal for so long that I couldn't see any other possibilities.

So I decided to follow Emily’s advice and change the way I thought about choosing a career path. I thought about not choosing a profession, not choosing a career but just looking at my natural abilities and finding something that is compatible with them. Once I made that shift, where there had been few possibilities, suddenly things started sprouting up. I realized I really don’t enjoy teaching children; excellent, so I’ve found I can cross that one off the list. I began to think of the things I'm naturally good at and what I enjoy. When I look at the assortment of jobs I’ve had over the years, I am able to recognized a pattern of the things I like and do well. Among my varied resume my favorite jobs have been working at the writing center and teaching adult ESL. I am an extreme global thinker, meaning my mind needs the big picture in order to understand the pieces (perhaps that explains why I was terrible at math. I’m convinced that if they’d taught math theory sophomore year instead of geometry I would have had a much more successful math experience). Anyways, I get really excited when I can connect theory to practice and then turn around and communicate that. I like working with people and I think I’m good at it because I can see the bigger pictures but also have empathy for the individuals point of view, something which is not easy to do. And the communication that happens to connect the two is what I find fascinating. That’s why I loved working at the writing center because it is so idea based, and for me the most exciting part of teaching is planning a lesson based on theory and then executing. Of course language fits into that idea well because apart from communicating, it’s dealing with patterns that fit together to create something intangible yet vital.

Well, it’s all very exciting for me to realize after 25 years how my own mind works and what I’m good at, but how does that translate to a career? Perhaps it is being in a classroom but I really got the yearning to go back to school. Excellent, so now I know that I want to go back to school, I’m looking for something that involves global thinking, proactive communication, languages, and lets not forget creativity. After spending time in a warm climate I realized that my ancestors must have been from the Sahara. I do love the heat, but I also found that, perhaps, small town living isn’t for me. And then I remembered, what about that international grad school in Monterey California that I’d considered? When I’d looked into it a year ago I thought I was interested in getting a masters in international education or ESL; however, there was another school in Vermont that was more specialized in that field so I forgot about CA. But once I shifted my sights off teaching, I discovered that Monterey actually has more things I’m interested in, and it’s in a better location. It offers four distinct programs: interpretation\translation, international policy, international education and ESL, and international business.

Language majors have pretty much two main paths to choose from, teaching and business. I went into teaching because of my prejudices towards math and the cooperate, “Donald Trump” attitude towards business. Teaching has been excellent and I’ve gained a number of skills, but I’m ready for a new challenge and Monterey’s responsible, conscientious approach to international business may be just the match for my skills (ok I’m starting to sound like I’m writing my application essay). Having made that decision, I am able to breath a huge sigh of relief. Of course by the time I had figured all this out I had missed the application dead line, but this gives me plenty of time to work out the details. Unfortunately, the school is extremely expensive and I’m extremely poor so I’ve decided to move to CA for the coming year so that I am eligible for additional scholarships. Sweet! I won’t be stuck working illegally for chicken scratch in Spain! I feel like an archaeologist, but instead of uncovering clues to the past, I’ve made a major discovery in terms of my future.

Now all I’ve got to do is focus on relaxing and being on vacation. My parents are coming in a few days and I’m really excited to share my life here with them. Dad and I are going to road trip to Portugal! On the 20th of June we’re heading to Germany to visit family friends and then I’ll spend 6 weeks working on learning French! So in the end, I think this transition is more sweet than bitter and I find myself coming full circle seeing as how, once again, I’ve got to sell my car! Gabriel García Márquez would have something to say about that...

Agua Amargas

2008-05-11T11:37:00.000-07:00

One thing I love about Spain is the caves. There is something so primitive about them yet they endure for hundreds of years. These ones are from prehistoric times, the most interesting feature is the carved in furniture, shelves, and cubby holes. Enjoy the photos!

A List for San Juan

2008-05-11T11:26:00.000-07:00

The 23rd of June is Saint John’s Day (el día de San Juan); yet surprisingly, it has more Pagan roots than Christian and corresponds with the summer solstice. Apparently, the beaches fill with people and bonfires. The tradition is to write all your negative thoughts on a piece of paper and to burn them in the fire which is then followed by jumping over it. Other versions of the rituals include collecting the ashes and putting them in a vase with a specific type of flower. Having gone through a rough couple of months, I’ve decided to start my list ahead of time.
If I fell in love with Spain the first time, well I’m now ready to file for divorce. Why this drastic change of heart? Working and living in a country is an entirely different experience than studying abroad and living in the shelter of a host family. I have been exposed to the much uglier, yet more realistic side of Spain. Is it any better or worse than the U.S.? I really can’t say, but I have definitely become disillusioned. In the beginning, things would happen at work or at home and I’d be bothered by them but couldn't’t really attribute it to anything, except perhaps bad luck. But after awhile, when the same types of things kept occurring, I realized that what I was experiencing had more to do with larger social and cultural patterns than my own fortune. As I began to see my mishaps as a whole, this is what I came up with:

Category I: The Educational System
Just as health care is crippled in the United States, the education system here is struggling to pull itself forward, but due to structural and social instabilities, its threatening to topple and any point. I shall start with the structural failures.
The life of a civil servant: In an attempt to avoid the unequal distribution of teachers, resources and skills, and to assure a job to all teachers, Spain’s solution is this: teachers are given positions based on a lottery/point system. Basically, it’s a genuine three ring circus, complete with juggling, flaming rings, monkeys and ferocious lions.
Flaming Hoop Numero Uno: Graduate from the university with a bachelor’s degree.
Flaming Hoop Numero Dos: Complete a Pedagogical Aptitude Course that covers basic educational theory, followed by a short practicum.
Lion, Tigers and Bears “Oh My”: Los Oposiciones. This is the mother of all exams that is comprised of three parts. This is an exam that tests your knowledge of the subject you teach. HOWEVER, due the high number of applicants and competition, the tests are outrageously difficult!!! To give you an idea, the level of knowledge required is equivalent to that of a university professor in the U.S. (although here, they will never teach the majority of the material they are tested on). For example, if your especiality is history (albeit contemporary, prehistory, medieval…) you are tested on ALL history; that’s to say the entire world’s history and I’m not exaggerating. There are 71 themes related to each subject and a lottery determines which of the 71 you will be tested on; therefore you must study them all. People spend months, even years studying for the Oppositions. It is normal to fail, a matter of luck if you pass and common to take it multiple times.
The Monkeys; Step Four: If you haven’t passed the Oppositions that doesn’t mean you can’t teach (if this were the case there would be hardly any teachers) it just means that you are a temporary or “substitute” teacher. Here’s where the show just begins and the point system comes into play. As a temporary teacher you can be sent to anywhere within the community (equivalent to a state). So imagine that you have your house and family in Seattle; well, whether you like it or not, you get sent to Walla Walla for one, two years or an indefinite amount of time. If you reject the offer you get bumped to the bottom of the list and might end up unemployed. It doesn’t matter if your mother is being treated for breast cancer or your wife is pregnant (real situations of some I know).
Juggling: Passing the Oppositions isn't the only thing that determines your value. One can also receive points based on service time, if you’ve taken extra training courses, have a doctorate or any publications. All these things can earn you points which will eventually factor into your final placement. Then based on your points and the exams, you are then assigned a permanent position, although there is still little one can do to influence where that final destination may be. I have a friend who passed her exams a few years back and still hasn’t received her permanent placement.
Would you do all this for a steady, permanent job? The Repercussions: As you can imagine, this system, although quite entertaining, causes a ripple effects:
i. The teachers are far from their homes and families and generally unhappy.
ii. Who knows where they will be next year so why invest in the development of future programs? Why rock the boat and stick up for injustices? Why try to better your community and establish nurturing relationships with your students?
iii. Due to the extremely brief practicum, most teachers are given very little instruction on actually how to teach and are basically thrown to the wolves.
iv. They are not hired they are sent somewhere like soldiers so there is not much alliance amongst the teachers nor are they their based on their merit nor ability to actually teach.
v. If one is studying for the all consuming Oppositions, that is their priority, and they lesson planning (although basically non existent to begin with) is reduced to nothing and the quality of the classes suffers.
vi. Basically, every year is like starting with a new staff with the exception of a few people. For those few who remain it means they must carry the weight of keeping any existing programs or projects alive. They have much more responsibility but are not compensated and rarely recognized for it and continuously have to incorporate and train new staff. While those who are there temporarily have to adapt to each institution with its hierarchy of directors and ways of doing things.
The Time Warp:
The School: Unfortunately, the school I'm at is long overdue for a remodel and has a striking resemblance to a juvenile detention center. There is supposedly a library, but it is locked, as is the one shelf with the books. The books themselves are from the century before Christ and the majority lost their covers somewhere back in the Middle ages.
Technology: They decided to enter the twenty-first century a few years back and got computers in many of the classrooms, yet most of the students still don't know how to type.
Methodology: Most of the teaching strategies are still centered around reading text, translating it and answering questions. There is little interaction with the information and the thought of catering to different learning styles is unheard of.
“Spain is just a bit slow”: Failure to recognize different learning styles is less surprising than the fact that they are completely blind to learning disabilities. A child with A.D.H.D. is called “nervous” where as a slightly autistic one just has “problems”. I'll be the first to admit that the U.S. goes a bit overboard with these labels, but naming them is the first step to helping a child. I can really identify with the frustration I see many of the students going through. Here is a prime example of how old school ways of thinking don't meet new school needs.
One of those most pressing needs is accommodations for immigrant students. More and more students who don’t speak Spanish as their firs language are entering the school and no one is prepared for the additional resources required. There are students who come from Africa who may never have learned to use the Roman alphabet nor even to read and they are just thrown in to a class. There is “language support” but it only lasts a few months at the most and must be recommend by the teachers. Of course, when one sets up a student for failure, one is really setting up the entire system to fail. Maybe it’s still too soon to see the repercussions, but what will eventually happen is that those students who are forgotten about and left to drowned academically will develop a sense of resentment which will eventually fuel greater problems.
No Frills Added: Whether for lack of resources or imagination, there are no school sports, no clubs, no band, no drama, nothing extracurricular here. On the bright side, that makes for less clicks, but it also makes for less opportunities in general for students to develop their character.
No discipline = Lord of the Flies: There is absolutely no established disciplinary system here. Meaning, when a student is acting up, there is no “study hall”, no talking to the principle, no visit to the school counselor (they don’t exist), no Saturday work, nothing. The reason being that the teachers are considered “responsible” for maintaining control in the classroom. Perhaps this logic worked in the past, but now with larger class sizes and a more complex student body, putting all the responsibility on the teacher is not only unrealistic, it’s setting the stage for a bigger problems down the road. The only solution they have for bad behavior is to send a note home to the parents which as we are now discovering, most of the students forge any ways. Aside from the informative parent notes the teachers can give “partes”. Students can receive up to 3 partes before they are expelled. But you know, “so and so really is a good kid” and the teachers don’t want to be the cause of a student being expelled. So basically, there are no consequences for bad behavior.
It wasn’t until recently when I couldn’t hold it in any longer and let loose at the teacher’s meeting (I just happened to be using a computer in the room and didn’t realize it was a meeting, classic Lauril) that I expressed my utter surprise and disgust at how the students acted in class; I told them that what I was observing was NOT normal. They came up with a set of very clear rules and consequences and shared them with the students. Things went great for about a week and then teachers and students slipped back into their old ways. In the words of Sebastian the crab from The Little Mermaid “Teenagers, you give them an inch and they’ll walk all over you.” According to Caesar Millan (The Dog Whisperer) success is achieved by giving: A) Exercise B) Discipline and then C) Affection. In this case I’d have to agree (exercise may being mental in the classroom setting of course). If I learned anything from horse riding it is that consistency is a must. If you talk the talk you’d better walk the walk, practice what you preach... the clinches could go on. It’s obvious that if the teachers just set up a system to support discipline and then followed through with their threats, things would drastically change. But alas, here’s where I get to the sweeping generalizations about Spaniards that I’ve developed throughout my experience which may explain how the situation got to where it is.
Spanish children are EXTREMELY SPOILED!!!! Everyone agrees that in that in the past 15 years things have changed drastically but no one can exactly say why. Some attribute it to technology saying that with with MSN, cell phones and such, it’s easier for children to entertain themselves and parents have less and less control. However, I’ve witnessed parents give into their children’s demands time and time again, coddle them and re enforce bad behavior. In my opinion, a temper tantrum should never be rewarded and a seven year old should not still be drinking from a bottle, but maybe that’s just me.
Along with being spoiled, the children have absolutely no work ethic. The truth is that learning a language is work; although I try to make it as fun as possible, one can not learn without working. But the second they have to make any mental effort they simply shut down. There is no curiosity for learning. They don’t have after school sport nor clubs, although some play on private teams, this means that they are not learning how to work from the “normal” sources. They have very minimal house hold chores and as stated before the sense of consequence is very slight. If you wonder what happens when children with a relaxed work ethic grow up, continue reading.

Category II: “I Can’t Function Without My Siesta,” Results of a Relaxed Work Ethic
Public transportation leaves much to be desired. The buses normally run late or sometimes just don’t come at all.
I have 9 euros and 44 cents in my bank account and I was supposed to be paid 6 days ago!! No one seems to be too concerned about it but me.
Plan your meals ahead on the weekends because everything will be closed on Sundays.
If you want anything at a restaurant, be ready to shout it out, the waiter will not come otherwise.
Libraries (if you can call them that) aren’t even open on the weekends. The librarian just upped and quit, so now it’s closed.
I’m still waiting on a couple of letters. The mail carrier likes to wait to deliver until a pile accumulates so I tend to get everything all at once.
The highways are strewn with road kill; yet under closer examination, the Spanish road kill greatly differs that of WA. In Olympia, one will typically run across (pun intended) deer, raccoon, Opossum and the occasional unfortunate porcupine. Here the highway victims are almost exclusively made up of dogs and cats (with the occasional fox thrown in which we always joke about saying “well, there goes the last fox in Spain”). The reason being is that, in most cases, according to the Spanish mentality, a “pet” is more animal than member of the family. An animal’s job is to be an animal and an important part of that is to breed. Spaying and neutering is seen as barbaric, it’s basically taking away the animals purpose to live (plus, it would be a petty matter to spend money on). As a result there is an over abundance of stray cats and dogs, many of which meet their end in the glare of headlights.
There is garbage everywhere. Again, I can expect this from a country with less resources but Spain is supposed to be “modern” and “developed”. Recycling has just come to this country, but there is still quite a bit of confusion as to how this works (apparently Styrofoam is recyclable). In the 1970s Almería (my province) decided to boost its economy by putting a number of greenhouses up (what else is one going to do with all that wide open desert?). It worked wonderfully, where there was nothing before, Almería has now become Spain’s bread basket. These stretches of greenhouses are known as the “sea of plastic”; however, once they are no longer in use, they are left abandoned and the wind carries off the plastic, choking up the rivers and tangling in the cacti.

Category 3: The Racism
With the opening of the EU has come a flood of immigration from many eastern European countries, especially Romania. There is also a work visa agreement with many Latin American countries so large numbers have emigrated from Ecuador, Colombia, Argentina… Of course many Africans also undertake extremely dangerous journeys to make it to Europe. In addition, there is the “British Invasion” consisting of all the Brits who buy up the coast and move to Sunny Spain. All this immigration has happened within a relatively short time period, about the last 10 years, and the Spaniards who were under a nationalistic dictatorship for so many years aren’t exactly sure how to react. Of course nationalism is based on exclusion not inclusion, and although the dictatorship ended over more than 30 years ago, many people aren’t as quick to update their world views. To give an example all Asian people are known as “Chinese” or more commonly and socially acceptably “pigs”. All Africans are known as “Blacks” and all whites are “Giris”. The director of my school is of the old way of thinking and has openly, in public settings, blamed problems on the immigrant students and made racist comments. In addition, today they still celebrated a holiday called “The Moors and the Christians” where they rein act the conquering of the Moors; this would be similar to dedicating a day to “The Cowboys and the Indians”. Once again, I’m not saying that these problems don’t exist in the States, but it’s more commonly recognized what is politically correct and what isn’t.

Minor Grievances:
a. Bad dental hygiene is common and socially acceptable. The mixture of coffee, cigarettes, ham and infrequent brushing makes for some pretty putrid bad breath at times. Luckily, things are changing and most kids go at most once a year to the dentist. There are just certain people I have to talk to in well ventilated areas.
b. Speaking of hygiene, I feel pleasantly surprised when there is hand soap in a bathroom! Toilet seats are nice as well, but not always to be expected. And I find that if you leave food out, it just lasts much longer than in the States, how curious…
c. The cigarette smoke has honestly gotten better since I was here 5 years ago, but I still miss smoke free cafes, bars, bus stations, everything. Although many facilities have converted to non smoking, it is common to see a non smoking announcement and someone smoking just below it.
d. You can’t drink the water here, I would expect this of Nicaragua, but honestly, even if you wanted to the water tastes so terrible here. It is filled with lime scale, so much that my hair has turned brittle and dry. Joanna’s water heater broke after only a year and when opened up they found actual stones. Luckily, I found a public fountain in the next village over and I’ve taken to filling my water jugs there (I feel so authentic). But isn’t drinkable, free water high up on the list of basic human rights?

Well San Juan, more or less that’s what I’ve got. I think there really is something to this, it is a relief getting this all out, now I just can’t wait to burn it! Was I completely naive before? Or am I completely jaded now? Is the U.S. any better off? Maybe our history of confronting the challenges of education and immigration is longer, but aside from our extensive politically correct vocabulary, are we any closer to equality and social responsibility? What do you think?
It wouldn’t be fair to finish this without at least mentioning at least a few things that I still appreciate about Spain:
1. Tapas!!!
2. Fanta Limon
3. Ice cream
4. Fresh fruits and veggies from the market (yes, I am aware that my first three items on the list are food)
5. The beach!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
6. Having so much history all around
7. The marble promenade (the biggest marble exporting company is near by so there’s lots of marble all over the place)
8. The people are always willing to help if you need anything.
9. Siesta
10. A more relaxed pace of life
11. Cheap shoes
12. Lot of Catholic holidays

Plagiarism

2008-05-08T13:04:00.000-07:00

Hi Everyone,
Well it's been so long since my last post that I wanted to put something up. I have to admit I'm cheating though. My friend Helen came to visit me for England and she wrote such a nice, informative review that I asked her if I could use it. Although I haven't been posting much, I promise I've got something huge in the works, a bit of a "reflective summary" of my time here I guess you could call it. In the mean time please enjoy Helen's account of our trip:
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> My friend from Olympia Lauril has been over in Spain for about 7 months now. She is there to work as an English assistant in a Spanish school, and is living in a town called Garrucha which is located in the south east of Spain on the coast of the Mediterranean. It is in the autonomous community of Andalusia, in the Province of Almeria. So last Thursday I headed off to Spain to visit her.
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> I left Manchester at around 8 in the morning although my flight was delayed so ended up getting into Spain an hour later than I was scheduled. Once I arrived we headed into the town of Almeria. It was quite warm as soon as I got off the plane. And even though Lauril swore it wasn't that hot, compared to what I had just come from in Manchester it was roasting. The province Almeria is the only desert in Europe with average year round temperatures of 19 degrees Celsius. It was probably around 25 to 30 degrees Celsius the whole time that I was there. We walked along the shore and then headed up into the town to go to the castle which is called the Alcazaba. It is a Moorish castle built in the 10th century. It is up on a hill in the centre of the city. In such a dry region it was surprising to see the amount of flowers and plants that were located in the Alcazaba. There were the ruins of a well that had been used to get the water up to the castle. It was pumped using a donkey walking round in circles and then the water was kept in a holding fountain and used in the gardens and in the house in the castle. The water features were pretty stunning, all the paths had channels of water running down the middle of them, and there were pools and fountains up in what had been the living area of the castle. It said that it was very important that there be water because of the Muslim faith of the castle builders. there were also some cats that were wondering around the castle, they were quite cute, although scared of humans. The middle part of the castle was where everyone would have lived. There was a grand open palace type place that now has the gift store in. This would have been where the king lived when he visited the city. Then all around this area were the ruins of the house of the inhabitants of the castle. There was a reconstructed house in where all the ruins were. It had 4 rooms around a central courtyard, but really the courtyard was also a room. It would have been covered with a sun shade made of fabric, and was the main living area of the house. The houses even on the hot day were quite a pleasant temperature. The top part of the castle was had been added on when the Christians conquered Almeria in the 16th century. There was a distinct change in how the castle was constructed, and looked a little more like other castle I have been to. It had a large open courtyard with a tower in the middle and guard towers built into the walls. After exploring the Alcazaba we went back into the town to get lunch. We wondered around the streets trying to find a certain restaurant that Lauril had been to before. She called up one of the teachers that she works with, who is from Almeria, he gave us some directions but we still weren't able to find it. We ended up at a little street bar and had drinks and tapas, before Lauril friend showed up and showed us around Almeria a little. We then had some really amazing ice ream, and headed back to the car. Garrucha is about a 45 minute drive from Almeria and is on the east coast of Spain whereas Almeria is on the south coast. She lives in an apartment just outside the centre of Garrucha, it is about 500 feet from the Mediterranean, and basically there is just a road and the rest of the apartment complex between her apartment and the sea. That evening we walked into Garrucha and had some Tapas, and walked along the beach.
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> Friday is market day in Garrucha, so we got up and headed to the market which is huge. There was one street that was cloths, shoes, jewelery, and other non food items. It probably went on for about 5 or 6 blocks, and then on the street below was the food market. With all the fresh produce form the region. It was a really good market, and fun to walk through and hear all the people trying to sell things. We headed back to Lauril's for lunch and then in the afternoon we headed a bit north to just out side the town of Cuevas de Almanzora. Here we went to and archaeological site called Fuente Alamo. It dates from the Bronze Age and is from the Argaric culture. The site was build into the side of a hill. It would have had a small community of house that were terraced into the side of the hill and at the top was where the higher class people lived and the fortifications were. It was quite a trek up to the top of the hill, but worth it for the views at the top. It was so silent and peaceful. You could see for miles, and it was understandable why the location was picked. There would have been running water there (although now there was just a dry stream bed) and you could see for miles from the top of the hill. Some of the walls had been partially reconstructed and so you could see what the layout would have been. As well as the walls of the buildings there were sandstone graves where remains would have been places, there were all collected in one area just outside where the building were. What was also really neat about this location was the amount of marble that was just lying around on the ground. It seemed to be some of the main building martial for this area of Spain, with marble sidewalks in Garrucha. We headed back to Garrucha and then went out for the evening to Mojcar. Mojcar is the next town south along the coast from Garrucha and the old town is built onto a hill over looking the water. It actually reminded me a lot of the pictures that you see of the Greek islands, with the white houses perched onto the hillside. We had a wonderful dinner there in a restaurant that had an amazing view over the valley floor to the other towns, and then explored the town a little.
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> Saturday we met up with a few of Lauril's friends. There were 3 girls from the US who are over in Spain on the same program as Lauril is, as well a Spanish guy who lived in the same town as 2 of the girls. He drove one of the cars while we went in Lauril's. We headed off to Cabo de Gata, which is a national nature reserve. We went to the lighthouse first which is located at the farthest southeast point in Spain. The lighthouse is on a rocky headland at the point. We had our lunch just off to the side of the lighthouse although almost got blown away it was so windy. We then navigated an extremely narrow road on the side of a cliff, to go and see some Flamingos. The Flamingos were located in salt marshes. These had been created to extract salt from the Mediterranean. The flamingos were quite far away but my camera managed to get some pretty good pictures of them. You just have to know what you are looking at. We then headed off towards another small village within the nature reserve to go to the beach. The beach is called Playa Monsul. It was a pretty big beach, and there were a ton of people there enjoying the nice weather. I went swimming at this beach, and really enjoyed it. We then took the coast road back to Garrucha, where we went out for drinks and dinner, where I tried the local delicacy of deep fried squid. I didn't really like it but I can say I tried it.
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> Sunday we headed up into the mountains but first we went to another beach where we had a picnic lunch. The beach was also quite full and unlike the one that we had been to on Saturday there were a lot less waves, as it was in a protected cove. It was also full of people, enjoying the nice weather and the beach. We then headed towards Velez Blanco where there was a castle to see. The drive was very pretty as we drove over the hills and through some orange and olive groves. We didn't end up getting to the castle in time to see the inside as it closed at 2 and we didn't get there until nearly 4, but it was a nice castle to look at from eh outside, and then we went into the town to look around. The town was perched onto the side of a hill with the castle at the top with the village below. It was a really beautiful town, with quite a lot of greenery because there were natural springs in the hillside. There were 3 4 fountains that we visited where the water came straight out the hillside. We had a nice ice cream in a restaurant where one of the fountains was and then headed back to Garrucha. We had an early night as I my flight was at 12 the next day but Lauril couldn't get me to the airport because she and to work, I had to take the bus to Almeria. It was a 2 hour bus ride along really winding roads all the Almeria and then I took the taxi to the airport. I got back into Manchester to be greeted by although not hot weather, muggy weather. We are still having nice weather at the moment, and it isn't that great to be stuck in an office.
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> If you want to see pictures from this trip they are on my flicker page in the album named Spain.
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> http://www.flickr.com/photos/didotwite2001/

Catching Up

2008-04-15T10:13:00.000-07:00

I've been meaning to write all about my marvelous week that followed Semana Santa but I've been consumed with job hunting for next year, tutoring, filing taxes and enjoying the sun. In short it was fabulous! Of course the best part was seeing my friends from the U.S. I met up with Robin and Erin in Madrid and although we were there for less than 24 hours we managed to stay in a fun hostel, go to Reina Sofia the big art museum with all the Picasso paintings, and pay too much for bad pasta.
We then road tripped down south to a town where another American friend lives and witnessed the tail end of the Semana Santa processions. As good holy week participants we even went to mass on Easter Sunday.It was really interesting,especially seeing the babies being baptized, but I don't think I'm ready to convert yet. After Huercal Overa we finally came home to Garrucha. Tuesday, my birthday, was wonderful! I took Robin and Erin to school to meet the kids who were surprisingly well behaved, then we went to the (real) Italian pizza place for lunch. After filling up we went cave exploring! The caves are covered in Gypsum and make for a neat trek. At one point we turned off our head lamps and everyone sang happy birthday, that was a first! Later we topped the evening off with tapas! I was completely overwhelmed by the birthday wishes and gifts I got from everyone both at home and here; for one day I really did feel extraordinarily special!!
Unfortunately, my friends were only about 9 days so we raced to Granada so they could see all its splendor. We stayed at another great hostel, ate more tapas, went to the Arab tea houses, and wondered around the city. I was so suprised at how fast the time went by and before I knew it I was seeing them off at the bus station. The ride home was lonley and I realized just how much I miss everyone!!!

2008-04-03T12:08:00.000-07:00

Semana Santa

2008-04-03T11:33:00.000-07:00

My deepest apologies for the tardiness of my post; with that said, here's a description of my introduction to Semana Santa or "Holy Week"

Sevilla:
Orange blossoms, wax, velvet, gold, somber, sweet, pink, red, black, white, ancient, crowded, trumpets, drums, incense, bare feet, cloaks, crosses, anguish, sweat...

These are the words that describe Semana Santa. The streets are steeped in orange blossoms and history. Wax from the marcher's candles covers the cobble streets, causing the cars to squeal mercilessly around corners for the entire week of Semana Santa and the one following. The traditional outfit of the procession marcher's is a white cloak, velvet cape and the distinct pointed white cap/mask not unlike those of the K.K.K. My previous knowledge of the resemblance didn't stop chills from creeping down my spine. Each procession (there being about 8 a day) consisted of hundreds of the "nazarenos" or K.K.K. look a likes and three floats. The "floats" are actually giant sculptures of scenes from Jesus' life, death and resurrection, and can take up to fifty beefy men, called "costeleros", stuffed underneath to carry each one. As the band bangs out the rhythm of despair and the horns wail of suffering, the costeleros awkwardly shuffle, causing the float to sway to the beat of the music. From the balcony of Helena's downtown apartment, the puffs of incense wafted up, mixing with the orange blossoms and the murmur of the crowd. It was in this mixture of celebration and overwhelming show that five days ran together, blurred with Portuguese port, torrijas (the french toast like dessert typical of the holiday) and tapas. All in all, I'd have to give Sevilla and Semana Santa a gold star.

Have I completely lost it?

2008-03-14T06:14:00.000-07:00

Exciting news flash:
1. Training to run a 10K in April: I've never been particularly "athletic" and getting in shape in 6 weeks is a lofty goal and perhaps a bit crazy. I may end up walking but luckily for me, I'm a very fast walker.
2. Semana Santa (Holy Week): While in the US it has become known as "spring break" here it still maintains its religious roots. I'm heading to Sevilla tomorrow to stay at my house mate's apartment there. She lives right in the middle of the city and apparently the processions pass right under her building! Sevilla is the place to be for Semana Santa so I'm looking forward to the celebrations. On Thursday two friends, Robin and Erin, are coming from the US to visit!!!! We'll spend a night in Madrid and then hopefully go camping if the weather holds out in Cabo de Gata. Monday the 24th will be back to work but luckily the girls with be staying with me in Garrucha for the week. On the 25th I turn 25!!! Can you believe it? I'm hoping to go cave exploring. Thursday and Friday we'll do up Granada before they head home and I go into serious running mode.
I foresee some good blog entries...

2008-03-06T05:01:00.000-08:00

2008-03-06T04:55:00.000-08:00

more pics

2008-03-06T04:52:00.000-08:00

more of Morocco

Under African Skies

2008-03-06T04:42:00.000-08:00

Thursday marked the beginning of the five day holiday celebrating the autonomous community of Andalucía; how did I celebrate? By leaving Andalucía of course. Leaving the country and continent in fact, and traveling all the way to Africa. It sounds much grander than it really is. We (my two American friends Joanna and Melissa and my two Spanish friends Julio and Juan) drove 6 hours to Malaga where we traded the car for a more water bound form of transportation to cross the Straight of Gibraltar to Morocco In reality, we crossed to Spain. There are still two Spanish cities in Morocco, Ceuta and Melia; therefore, setting foot onto the African continent was a bit of a let down. Seeing as we were still officially in Spain, we had to take a taxi (paying in euros) to the border where we were deposited in to a sort of mayhem. The distinction between “first” and “third” or “developed” and “developing” nations couldn’t have been more blunt. We wandered a bit dazed through the out stretched hands of women carrying literally everything they owned on their backs and and the swarm of men competing to establish themselves as our guides and or taxi drivers.
Naturally, all of us spoke Spanish; in addition, Joanna has studied classical Arabic, I’ve got a bit of French under my belt and then there’s English of course. Some how between the four languages we negotiated a taxi to the near by city of Tetouan. You’d think that with multiple languages to aid in the communication, one would understand better; however, we still couldn’t help feeling that we were being cheated out of our Durham (the currency of Morocco) but then you stop and think, “Wait, I’m trying to haggle over 2 euros” and it puts things into perspective.
As we arrived to our hotel in the ancient Mercedes cab, school was just letting out and the streets were swarming with children. What immediately struck me and continued to impress throughout the trip was the sundry of colors: women in bright vails and skirts, men in robes with pointed hoods, the green of the Moroccan flag reflecting the lush landscape, and shoes of every imaginable tone and shade. 17 euros a night got us a triple room in a 3 star hotel with private bath and breakfast included, not to mention an incredibly helpful staff who walked our weary bodies directly to a sandwich shop for dinner.
Friday morning, after our hefty breakfast of Moroccan mint tea, fresh orange juice, an assortment of pastries and yogurt, we set out to explore the city and its market district know as the “medina” which was originally a fort built to keep out the Spanish. The strategy back then was to build like a labyrinth to confuse invaders (or those with an extremely poor sense of direction) but I was so awed by the sensory experience of the colors, sents, and sounds that I didn’t mind getting lost. Joanna and Melissa haggled over scarves, while the boys learned that not everyone who approaches you really wants to be your friend, and I gorged my self on olives and photo opportunities. Upon finally stumbling out of the medina we found our selves at the royal palace just as prayer was being called. I felt obtrusive witnessing such a spiritual act yet completely awed at the same time. There were hundreds of men filling the plaza, each with their own prayer rug with shoes neatly placed beside. The sound of the mass simultaneously rising and bowing was like a collective inhale and exhale, and when they began chanted together, even us western bystanders could feel the presence of Ala. Suddenly it was over; they bid fair well to each other, picked up their rugs, put on their shoes and dissolved back into the city.
My house mate had told me of a mountain town that was a must see called Chefchaouen, so on Saturday we crammed into another decrepit taxi and headed south. Chefchauen was like a story book village and as a result, much more touristy. The town colors are blue and white meaning they can be found in the buildings, tiles, and hand woven rugs and blankets that line the streets. We opted for less grand lodging at only 5 euros a night and enjoyed sampling couscous, Moroccan soup and mint tea at the various hole in the wall restaurants.
Once again, we found ourselves dazzled by the colors and sents of the market place: beads, scarves, leather, iron, animal skins, fabrics, mint, curry, cinnamon, incense, dirt, shit, donkey… Melissa and I succumbed to the offer of henna painting and wandered into a woman’s house where her daughter sat us down and, with a syringe, coaxed the thick paste into intricate designs on our hands. We walked to the waterfall where women were washing their clothes and past herds of sheep and goats as we made our way up the hill to a dilapidated tower. From the top one could see the village, mountains and country side. I was surprised by how lush the vegetation was; coming from Almería Spain where it is so dry I expected Africa to be a desert (I guess I’ve got to travel further south to find that). Since Morocco is a Muslim country, and therefore dry, much to Juan’s dismay, there was not a beer to be found anywhere and we had to celebrate the setting sun with yet another glass of sweet mint tea. So sweet in fact that honey bees decided to invite themselves to our party, rather impertinent but they felt they had a claim to get drunk on sugar as much as us.
It would have been easy to have gotten lost in the story book land of tea, blue and white, but the 5 am prayer call also signaled the embankment of our return trip home. It was like seeing a film in reverse: the taxi back, crossing the boarder, the ferry, the car ride and then finally home again, back to my clean bed, hot shower, bills to pay and a new day of spoiled children to teach. At least now I can say I’ve been to Africa.

In search of spring

2008-02-26T04:41:00.000-08:00

We drove into the mountains in search of spring. The skies were gray, that was a good sign. We didn't know where we were going. We ended up in a little village, completely deserted at siesta time. We parked the car across from an abandoned farm house; our curious feet decided to explore. It must have been a handsome home at one point; some obstinate blue paint still clung to the walls, attempting to maintain its dignity. The only remnants left behind were a decaying briefcase filled with tiles, a lonely shoe consumed by ashes and a shiny new red tractor. Feeling like trespassers, in this tiny hidden town, we quietly picked our way up a hill towards the mouth of a cave. As we scuttled our way through the rocks, I can across a wild flower in bloom.
The cave was small, no more than a cubby hole really, but if offered us refuge. The dirt and musty sent had a calming effect on my whirling mind. Outside the wind was picking up, signaling the start of the late afternoon and limited daylight; there was still more to explore. One path lead up and the other down. A teatherd donkey skeptically watched us make our way up the next hill. Suddenly, like an alarm clock going off in the village, the ice cream truck announced the end of siesta.

Carnival

2008-02-14T03:04:00.000-08:00

Sorry, things got a bit out of order. This was supposed to be the first entry about carnival in Aguilas which explains the "Musona". The next day are the pictures in the wig, the last day was the parade. Then there was a picture of the parade here in Vera with my students.

Carnival is ushered in by the “Releasing of the Musona”. A mythical and terrifying beast that is half human, half animal, half civilized and half wild, representing the duality within all of us. Although its form varies from year to year, it is often related to that of a bear which comes out of hypernation about the same time of year. The musona must be coaxed down from the castle to the town below through the chants of “musona-na, musona-na” and the bellows of conch shells. Those who take part in the theatrical coaxing, dress in pegan-like costumes adorned with shells, straw, and bones giving the event an eeri, ancient feel.

2008-02-13T11:08:00.000-08:00

Artzy pics of the mining town and mountains

Carnival

2008-02-13T11:07:00.001-08:00

Carnival was to be repeated on Saturday. We bought our last minute costumes at the corner store (for me this involved a pink wig and mask) and headed back to Aguilas. This time, however, there was no Musona nor morbid, pegan costumes; instead, it was a blaze of bright colors and feathers. The true spirit of Carnival lies in the freedom of the costume. Once the costume is put on, the wearer is filled with a certain sense of liberty that accompanies the shedding of one’s normal appearence and adopting a new, more excentric one (whether it be a crossdressing nun, a disco queen or Waldo). Carnival is like Halloween for adultes, except instead of candy you get alcohol (and it’s not free). It was a theatirical night which ended with a scene of us, make-up smeared, feathers limp, and strands of synthetic pink hairs everywhere, waiting over an hour for a plasticy hamburger (literally, mine had a piece of plastic on it).
However, that didn’t stop us from coming back the next day to see the parade. Having danced in a parade myself, I know how much energy and pep is necessary, but this parade lasted 5 hours! I have no idea how the dancers did it, in heels no less and most of them being children. Apparently, the Rio de Janeiro style is really in now: Samba, sequins, feathers, and flashy colors. Some of the costumes were amazing and some of the adult dancers were very talented, but on the whold, there’s only so many (1) little kids you can see in too much make-up and skimpy outfits before it becomes just plain creepy.
Luckily, for the kids in the pueblo where I teach, “parade” still means dressing up in adorebly goofy costumes and being lead down the street through the camera flashes of the parent poperatzi. By the end of the week I was so carnivaled out that I now understand why the 40 days of lent suceed it.
Aside from carnival, a decectible earthquake and working on my c.v., life has been pretty tranquila here. I’m still making a fool of myself salsa dancing once a week and I tried to trim my own hair (it went about as well as the time I tried to cut Kehlen’s hair and then had to pay for it to be fized at a salon- only this time I lack the funds to cover teh damage). This past weekend a group of friends and I went to this deserted mining town. The houses were all in ruins and there was a beautiful, yet ghostly feeling; I kept waiting for a tumble week to roll by but none did. We also stopped at the space obervatory up in the mountains, and although it was day and we couldn’t enjoy the unubstructed view of the sky, the view of the surrounding mountains crinkling their way to the sea was breathtaking.
Oh, and I’ve been out sick for the past two days with my weird throat thing (those of you familiar with in know my treatment, it’s rather gross)

2008-02-13T10:53:00.000-08:00

Carnival Pictures:
- The Musona (This will be explained later, the program I'm currently using doesn't recognized the entry I wrote about this day of carnival since I used a different computer program, what a pain!)
- Participants of the "release of the musona"
- Me, pretty in pink
- A cute group of witches
- Rio style

Pretty, pretty pictures

2008-01-24T02:09:00.000-08:00

In order of appearance:
Happy New Year!
Mountain Pass to Asturias
Toledo
Playa Las Negras (A beach not too far away)

And Now for the: “What-the-Heck-Am-I-Doing-Here?” Phase

2008-01-24T01:48:00.000-08:00

Oh, my poor blog has been suffering from such neglect; well they say no news is good news although I’ve never been partial to that saying myself. These past weeks have been something between a siesta and a flat out wog (walk/jog). Working only “twelve” hours a week means less occupational stress, but it also means that those questions I either went in search of or avoided by coming here (such as “what do I want to be when I grow up?”) have more opportunities to breach, puncturing the calm surface with their dorsal fins. “Why did I come here?” “Is my Spanish improving?” and “Am I being an effective teacher?” are three of the most frequently spotted members of the pod. Perhaps it’s the lack of distractions that leave me feeling fragmented (consequently, my recently acquired expenditures, i.e. car, plus my meagre salary, equal a decline in extra curricular activities that require monetary compensation). Luckily for me, I’m in such a beautiful place and I do have a car that, so as long as I can afford gas, distractions aren’t too hard to come by.
I’m always surprised by how American I am. Without the occupational stress to fuel me on, I’m not quite sure what to do. Create some I suppose. Having taken a back seat as a teacher in a system I fundamentally disagree with continues to be a challenge. I’m also impatient with myself and the rate at which my Spanish is improving. I’ve seen the language acquisition charts and I know that I’m at a plateau right now and the frustration I’m feeling is a precursor to great growth, blah, blah, blah, but it doesn’t stop me from feeling frustrated. After much reflection into why I’ve been feeling so raw these past weeks I’ve come to some conclusions. The first being that I still enjoy teaching (although I now know I greatly prefer adults) and that this experience has only consecrated my beliefs on teaching pedagogy. I can’t revolutionize their entire system, I can only offer ideas and that’s all the effort I’m willing to expend at the moment. I prefer to dedicate myself instead, to searching for additional employment. I’ve always wanted to get into translating but I’ve been hesitant, apprehensive that I my skills are not good enough. However, what I’ve realized is that there are a ton of English here, and only a handful actually speak Spanish, so there is definitely a market; I’ve just got to find a way in! By pursuing this goal, I’ll be forced to accelerate my Spanish and it’ll also cushion my budget some. I feel relieved having finally pinpointed what was bothering me, and to have a direction in which to focus my energy.
Aside from my mini crisis, I’ve actually been doing a lot of interesting and fun things. A couple of weeks ago I went to a flamenco concert and saw a very famous guitarist named Tomatito. I’ve also been checking out some of the beaches in the area which are spectacular and I can’t wait until the weather gets really nice (although I can’t complain, I did go sun bathing last weekend). I also went hiking through these boulders that were coated with gypsum, giving the landscape a dazzling, ethereal effect. There was a hippy community living there and one of the members, an English architect, had constructed various structures from the bamboo like canes that grow in the stream. They are something like a jungle gym and you could climb them like a monkey. Unfortunately, my precious weekend was marred by my third encounter with the law. The Guardia Civil pulled me over to do routine checks for documentation. I had with me my U.S. driver’s license, my international driver’s license and my insurance, but I’d left my proof of purchase and registration at home (stupid, stupid!). Alas, I got off with a small ticket, a “gift” according to the officer, but I have to go to the capital city to pay it. Doesn’t the officer get it that me trying to find my way through the city is punishment enough? Anyways, I’ve been wanting to go there again and I still haven’t seen the castle there. In short, that’s the summery of what I’ve been up to psychologically as well as physically these past few weeks. I hope you enjoy the photos, they are long overdue.

I Love Crunchie Bars!

2008-01-13T08:46:00.000-08:00

I found a new internet place that has crunchie bars! They are these English candy bars that have some sort of honey comb center covered in chocolate. When I was in England I bought about 10 of them to bring to Spain, but my supply ran out long ago; therefore, I was pretty excited to find them here.
Anyways, to continue my previous story; after Toledo we headed back to Andalucía. I was never happier to return to the sunny coast. I spent the remainder of the vacation going to the beach and hiking and hanging out with friends.
I was dissapointed to learn that they don't really do New Year's resolutions here. So I shall share them with you:
1. Learn to salsa dance really well
2. Work on my harmonica skills (it's such an underplayed instrument and I think it's going to make a bang on the music scene any moment now)
3. Start doing translating work
4. Get decent at beach volly ball
5. Learn to spell better :0)

I know, I've got some pretty lofty goals, but gotta aim high. The first week back to school was tough; I'd gotten used to waking up at a humain hour during vacation, and it was difficult to readjust. The kids seemed well rested after their break and were relatively well behaved. Everyone around me has been sick, and I'm fighting really hard not to join the crowd but I can't hold out much longer captin, I don't have the power! I hope you've managed to avoid the cold, flu and ect. I promis to post some pictures soon.

Back to the daily grind

2008-01-08T10:03:00.000-08:00

And now for a more complete version. Christmast was Texan, that's to say I spent it with Joanna (the other American at my school) and her family who were visiting from Texas. We ate fried chicken and mashed potatoes which it turns out are a different kind of potatoe- great for Spanish tortilla, terrible for mashing; it turned into a type of glue. Joanna was sick with the stomach flu and our gifts were all wrapped in garbage bags, but we managed to have a decent time of it. After Joanna's family headed back to the Lone Star State, Joanna and I headed North to Oviedo. It was a bit strange seeing friends I hadn't seen in five years. Alex, the little boy of the host family I was staying with was two when I last saw him; now the baby fat is gone and he's a spoild rotten seven year old; a bit dissapointing actually. I must say I agree with Woody Allen in that Oviedo remains the most beautiful and charming city in the world (I wonder if they'll erect a sculpture of me now). Although I never realized before just how wealthy (and a bit pretencious) the city is; we were happy to escape all the old ladies in fur coats to spend a day in Cudillero the picturesque fishing town.
On New Year's eve we watched the fiesta on tv that takes place in the Plaza del Sol, Madrid's main plaza and Spain's equivalent to Times Square. As the bells tolled midnight, we tried to stuff our faces with a grape for each chime. If one succeeds, it's supposed to mean good luck for the new year; I started laughing and failed misserably. After choaking on grapes and washing it down with cider wine (a regional must) Joanna and I headed to my old watering hole the "Asturianu". I don't recall paying for a single drink, but I sure had a January 1st sized hangover the nest day.
We had planned to go to Segovia to visit my other host family, but they had all come down with the flu so we decided to for go that stop and instead broke up the 11 hour drive by spending the night in Toledo. This was my fourth trip there, but I never feel like I get to see everything. It's one of the only cities where you can find evidence of the Christians, Muslims and Jews living in one place. Oh darn, I'm getting kicked off the computer. To be continued...

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

2007-12-31T10:56:00.000-08:00

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)

2007-12-20T00:23:00.000-08:00

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?

2007-12-10T02:51:00.000-08:00

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

2007-12-10T01:28:00.001-08:00

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

2007-12-03T01:31:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-23T04:01:00.000-08:00

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!!!!

2007-11-22T00:53:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-21T02:00:00.000-08:00

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!!!!

2007-11-15T02:02:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-15T00:36:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-12T01:15:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-08T00:28:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-04T23:34:00.000-08:00

A Flamenco Halloween

2007-11-04T23:25:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-04T23:23:00.000-08:00

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

2007-10-25T01:25:00.000-07:00

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

2007-10-22T01:27:00.000-07:00

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...

2007-10-22T01:18:00.000-07:00

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?

2007-10-22T01:12:00.000-07:00

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!

2007-10-14T23:31:00.000-07:00

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

A MEDITERRENEAN VIEW

2007-10-14T23:25:00.000-07:00

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”

2007-10-14T23:22:00.000-07:00

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

2007-10-08T06:25:00.000-07:00

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

2007-10-04T13:30:00.000-07:00

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

2007-10-04T13:24:00.000-07:00

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!!!

2007-09-30T01:23:00.000-07:00

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!

2007-09-27T03:39:00.000-07:00

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

2007-09-27T03:18:00.000-07:00

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

2007-09-23T05:35:00.000-07:00

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?

2007-09-16T14:58:00.000-07:00

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

2007-09-13T11:12:00.000-07:00

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

2007-09-13T10:40:00.000-07:00

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

2007-09-02T15:53:00.000-07:00

Odes to Charlotte

2007-09-02T11:49:00.000-07:00

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

2007-08-26T10:03:00.000-07:00

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...

2007-05-25T09:14:00.000-07:00

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

2007-05-25T08:44:00.000-07:00

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...

2007-05-21T09:25:00.000-07:00

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

2007-05-21T08:47:00.000-07:00

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

2007-05-17T09:29:00.000-07:00

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

2007-05-17T09:03:00.000-07:00

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?

2007-05-15T15:02:00.000-07:00

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!

2007-05-11T10:32:00.000-07:00

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

Giant Big Freak Toes

2007-05-11T10:13:00.000-07:00

As some of you may know, I´ve always been a little self conscience about my big toes, referring to them as my "giant big freak toes" well my vanity taught me a lesson...
Last week all the girls were going to the salon for pedicures. I´ve never had a pedicure before (why display my freakish piggys?) but I decided "what the heck, when in Nicaragua... right?" And they were very pretty; for a day...
By the next afternoon I began to notice some swelling and redness. I went to the pharmacy where they promptly recommended some antibiotics. Since I was on my way to Ometepe I figured I´d take the pills, keep them clean and think nothing of it. However, the pills severely irritated my stomach, so much that I was afraid I wouldn´t be able to clime the volcano (not logical thinking, I know). By the time I got back to Granada I could hardly walk! Fortunately, one of my friends here is a doctor. She made a house call, numbed my toes and started slicing away! I can´t say it was the most pleasant experience but I´m recovering and feeling much better now. I documented the entire thing but sadly my pictures got erased some how; I know you're just devastated! Never again shall I complain about the size of my big toes; my botched pedicure cured me of that!

The Island of Ometepe

2007-05-11T09:25:00.000-07:00

Last week Jenn and I ventured to the Island of Ometepe. After a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants bus ride, a sick-to-you-stomach ferry trip, and two Dramamine later we arrived on the island. At which point we were promptly smothered by guides, hotel representatives and guys who can "find you anything you want" (except moto rental at a decent price). We decided to head for a less claustrophobic region and took another bouncy, jaw rattling bus ride to the village of Altagracia. It was a sleepy little town with rooms for $2 a night and cheap food. The biggest event was the boxing fight between the American Floyd something-or-other and the Mexican La Joya. Basically there were a lot of drunk men shouting, it was quite the cultural experience. After La Joya lost, we decided to get out of there pretty quick.
The next day we met up with our guide Silvio who took us to see petrogliphs, the beach, and an awesome swimming hole where there was a rope swing! That night we stayed at a place on the beach that was beautiful although some what isolated (we ended up playing a lot of cards). The next morning we woke up early (believe it or not) and met up with Silvio again; this time for a hike up the smaller volcano Las Maderas. The hike itself wound through forests that had been slashed and burned to make way for rice and bean crops. The view of Concepcion (the main volcano) was stunning with its crown of clouds. At the top Silvio shared a mango with us (of course we hadn´t thought to bring food); after finishing the mango he grabbed a stick and began digging a hole. He then placed the pit in the hole, covered it with dirt and sprinkled it with water saying, "In the future people can enjoy this view with more shade."
On the way back to Granada I was so impressed with myself because I didn´t get sea or car sick once! Maybe I´m cured...

I´m a potter

2007-05-08T11:52:00.000-07:00

Last week we went to San Juan de Oriente where 90% of the inhabitants make a living off pottery. We got to go to one of the homes where they make this exquisit art. Each piece takes about two months to make and are have detailed echings of the different flora and fauna from Nicaragua. The process begins with clay from the area (predicted to dissapear in the near future due to global warming) then it is thrown on the wheel and sculped into various shapes. I got to try my hand at this and as it turns out I´m not half bad; although nothing like the oldest brother who can whip out about 60 in two hours. After it is dried, polished, carved and colored, it goes into the oven. The oven takes a particular kind of wood and can only be run by an expert (in this case the matriarc or the family). It was like straight out of a Mister Roger´s episode! Of course I bought a few pieces for dirt cheap and was very touched when the family gave me a jug for teaching their son English. Maybe I´ll become a potter for my next career?

I won! I won!

2007-05-02T09:26:00.000-07:00

I was accepted into the North American Grant Program in Spain!!! I'm going back to Spain!!! And I got my first choice, I'll be in Andalucia!!!! Basically, I'll be a TA in K-12 classrooms teaching English and living off practically nothing, but I'll be in Spain! I need to figure out the dates exactally, but I'm hoping to stay in Nicaragua as long as possible and then head for Spain. Big thanks to everybody who helped me in this process!

R.I.G. Rest in Granada

2007-04-29T15:19:00.000-07:00

Today Christian took us to the cemetary which is suposed to be the most beautiful in Central America. I don't doubt it; it was incredible to see so many ornate monuments and statues honoring one's life and death. It is so different from the cemetaries in the U.S. For one, as opposed to having individual plots, it is separated into families. The graves build up wards like buildings, not outwards like the spacious ones in the US. At the entrance sits a woman selling flowers and shielding herself from the sun. Today was cooler than yesterday by seven degrees, still stiffling at 90. Although it may be as hot as hell, its beauty makes it a peaceful resting palce.

mi familia

2007-04-29T14:41:00.000-07:00

I just have to take some time to rave about my host family. My host mother, Marta, is a fabulous cook! Last night she made us Nacatamal, a typial Nicaraguan dish. It is similar to a Mexican tamale but is wraped in a banana leaf and stuffed with pork, rice and vegetables; very tasty! My host father, Roberto, scolds us for trying to clean our own room and enjoys giving out marriage advice. The oldest sister took us shoping yesterday at the market; she made me buy some shorts because my, "legs are too white." When she asked me this morning why I was putting on sunblock I replied that it was because I didn't want to get skin cancer, at which she was very surprised to learn that one could get cancer from the sun. Our host brother Christian has been a wonderful guide and taken us all over the city. The next brother is Lesli who is 17 and attends university; I was happy to discover that he likes to play cards, but a little dismayed when he beat me at E.R.S. The youngest sibling is Roberto Carlos who is 7 years old; we've been enjoying drawing all over floor with chalk and reading stories. Finally, there is my host sister's baby who is 1 and a half. He gets really excited when ever there is music on TV and loves to dance. I feel so lucky to have ended up in with them!!! Here are some pictures, in order of appearence: Christian, Jenn my travel buddy and Marta, Roberto Carlos and Lesli. I'll have to post pictures of the rest of the family next time.

Mombacho, Mombacho, Mombacho

2007-04-27T11:23:00.000-07:00

Mombacho is the name of the volcano that presides over Granada. At one time it was inhabited by pumas which have since been hunted to near extention. Mombacho does host a variety of other endemic species, none of which were bold enough to grace my camera though. However, I did get to see some amazing plants; trees so intertwined they looked like a nervous system and the smell of sulfer and heat took me by surprise as i leaned over an open volcanic vent.

Last night I got to ride a scooter and for all the bugs in my teeth, I couldn't wipe the smile off my face!!! I gotta get me one of those. This weekend we are planning on spending time with our host family and going to a baseball game; it should be cool. Hope you enjoy the pictures!

Warning: No More English Spell Check

2007-04-25T15:22:00.000-07:00

I'm a terrible person for not writing sooner but I've been so busy! First I should warn you that i no longer have english spell check, so my creative spelling will come as no surprise to many of you. With that said, I'll try to give a brief description of my travels thus far (although we've done so many fabulous things that it seems a chore to write it all; therefore I'll do it in list form):
- Arrived in Managua Friday night. By six pm it was already dark and as we were landing the weather was described as "smokey" due to the fact that many people burn their trash (Dad, i don't recommend you go there, it's an enviormentalist's nightmare).
- Was met by my friend Dawn at the airport, for which I was very grateful. It turns out you have to haggle with the taxi drivers here (a skill I have yet to master).
- We spent the weekend in Managua melting and visiting with Dawn's numerous friends; all wonderful people.
- Visited the dump and saw the people who live there including the children who make a living separating the garbage.
- Ate at pizza hut- talk about being confused!
- Tried to get used to the idea the 100 cordobas = about $5.50
- Tried to get used to the idea of throwing toilet paper in the garbage and not in the toilet.
- Cold showers (they feel great in this heat).
- The electricity going off at night.
- Went to a prison where during the sandista revolution 400 people were inprisoned and killed. Some of the cells were so dark that when the prisoners were released they were completely blind.
- Swam in a beautiful crater lake.
- Took a cramped, crazy bus ride to Granada
- Spent the night in a beautiful hostel
- Went to Spanish class at the language school Casa Xalteva.
- Went on a tour of the isletas, saw a few monkies.
- Met our host family THEY ARE FABULOUS!!!
- Tried fried cheese for the first time.
- Fell in love with daily fesh made juice. There are some great fruits here that I've never seen before.
- Explored Granada and took some awesome pictures that I'll post as soon as i can.

I can't believe I've been here less than a week; it seems impossible. My friend Jenn and I are having so much fun here that we are planning to stay in Granada another week before heading to Santo Tomas where we will meet up again with Dawn and see what the sister city organization (with olympia) has been up to. I have already gotten job offers to teach English which puts my mind at ease. So far i've only gotten a slight sun burn! Well, I'm just about spent. I'll try to write more often so I can give you more exciting, detailed accounts.
Hasta luego!

Be a Devout Boy Scout- A Guide to Passport Success

2007-04-18T12:09:00.001-07:00

Go look in your underwear drawer, between your mattress, in that safety deposit box or where ever you keep your passport and check the expiration date. If it expires anytime within the next year (or you don’t have one) my advice is to renew it now!! Why this excessive measure you ask? Here’s my story.
It all started about 8 weeks ago when I took a look at my passport and realized it expired in 2009. Now I know that’s a ways off but I really have no clue how long I’ll be abroad and when I’d have a good chunk of time again to renew my passport, so I decided to be on the safe side and get it over with. Little did I know that I would come dangerously close to postponing my trip. As it turns out this is probably one of the worst times in history to apply for a passport. Due to the new regulations that you now need a passport to go to Canada and Mexico, along with the commencement of travel season, the Dept. of State is receiving twice the amount of applicants as usual. So by the beginning of April when I still hadn’t heard anything, and I began to get a little anxious. I followed all the proper steps: I called the agency (after about 10 tries I finally got through only to wait 20 min. before reaching anyone), I sent an e-mail, and called my congressmen’s office, but the response was always the same, “It’s currently being processed but I’ll put a note on there to rush it.” Well call me a cynic, but by Monday the 16th when I still hadn’t heard anything I decided to take matters into my own hands. As a last resort I headed to the passport agency in Seattle; I’d heard tales of people going to this magical land and getting their passport the next day. Armed with my birth certificate, flight itinerary, ID and everything else I could possibly need, I entered the building that would be my home for the next 8 hours.
To make a long story short, they said they could not locate my passport in the system but I could reapply if I liked, it would be $97 and could I return at 2:30? Seeing no other alternative I conceded. As it neared 5:00 and the cleaning crew entered my name was finally called from behind the bullet proof window. I never knew a few pieces of paper could be so beautiful! As I oood and ahhhd at the pretty colors, I left Seattle (during rush hour) about $130 lighter (after parking) but one passport heavier. Alas, was it really worth the peace of mind?
Just this morning came a knock at the door as the mail carrier handed me a flat package from the Dept. of State containing, low and behold, my passport! Call me “Ye of little faith” but I sincerely doubted my pleas were being heard. So the moral of the story is 1) Apply now if you will be needing a passport anytime in the near future (i.e. if you’re planning on visiting me), 2) I know it seems counterintuitive but have faith in the system; remember that the “squeaky wheel” does get the grease if it squeaks loud enough, and 3) as the boy scouts say, “be prepared,” it just might take a trip to Seattle to assure that matters are taken care of. On the bright side, I guess I now have a back up passport- Nicaragua here I come!

Count Down

2007-04-17T18:20:00.000-07:00

Two more days until I head to Nicaragua! Welcome to my blog. This is where I'll be weaving my travel tales. I invite you check in from time to time and see what I'm up to. Please share this address with anyone you think might be interested and I look forward to your comments. Wish me luck!

2007-03-26T11:51:00.000-07:00

2007-03-09T10:38:00.000-08:00

Life After College

2007-02-22T11:37:00.000-08:00

After having completed my Spanish major I asked myself, "now what?" How the heck am I going to make a living off my mediocre Spanish abilities? I soon came to the conclusion that I need another skill. The road signs pointed towards business or teaching. Well, I was petrified of teaching. You see, I'm not a particularly gregarious person and I know how much work it takes to be that amazing teacher (and being a perfectionist, I would settle for nothing less). However, I was even more petrified by the prospect of econ and math courses, not to mention a future in a cubical- so teaching it was! Teaching English as a Second Language (TESL) became an obvious choice since A) I already spoke English, and B) Most importantly, it offered exciting travel possibilities.
So, I enrolled in Western’s intensive summer course; intensive being the key word. I jammed as much knowledge into my grey matter as I could, ultimately discovering that English is a CRAZY language and the importance of the phrase, “I’ll get back to you on that.” With only my practicum left I was ready to hop on a plane and begin my adventures teaching abroad. Alas… Reality came along and shook me upside down, but all that came out was one thin dime and an I.O.U. to the Department of Education for 14,000 dollars- adios Espana! Seeing no other reasonable alternatives, I resigned to “live with my folks,” a slight taste of failure rising in my throat as I said it. I soon learned that I couldn’t just walk into any academic establishment and demand a TESL practicum; these things take time and paperwork to establish. Instead, I opted to volunteer for a quarter at South Puget Sound Community College (SPSCC) until I’d gained their trust and the appropriate arrangements were made. This turned out to be a wise decision as it allowed me to observe another teacher and become familiar with the program. This also gave me time to do volunteer teaching at a nonprofit org in town, providing me with completely different approach and atmosphere. By the time I began my practicum I’d had thoroughly steeped in everything I’d learned at TESL and absorb new knowledge and experience from my volunteer work. I felt prepared, competent, and confident. I was extremely lucky to have, not only a great teacher as my practicum mentor, but also a wonderful person. It was an amazing experience and we got along well; so well in fact that she recommended me for a position the following quarter!
It was the first day of the quarter, of my first day teaching, in a brand new classroom! I began with an ice breaker; you know the one- you say your name and something about yourself, then the next person has to repeat what you said and add their own information (turns out not such a good idea if you are doing it with more than five people). About half way through it began to drag along and one of the students stopped the game, stood up in my face and announced that she had, “something else to do.” I was horrorstruck! I felt as if she might as well have said, “You are too young and incompetent to be teaching this class.” Of course I tried not to let it show and began with the lesson. Things started to look up; I’d written all over the white board and students seemed engaged. Then strike number two; I went to erase the board but it wouldn’t come off! I’d written all over the entire (brand new) white board in permanent marker! I could have sat down and cried right there, but instead I laughed. And that’s when it happened, the students laughed with me. The tension dissipated, there was literally no erasing my blunder, and yet we had all bonded in a sort of way. The ability to laugh at one’s self in not only an invaluable quality in teaching, it is life saving. Consequently, I learned that if you write over a permanent marker with a normal dry erase it will come off (be sure to file that one away somewhere).
Another aspect of teaching that had made my knees go weak and my eyes widen was the amount of planning involved. I’ll be the first to admit I AM NO PLANNER. Rather, I prefer to put my faith in the spontaneity and magic of “the moment.” My lack of prioritizing planning was amplified by that fact that I was working full time at a stressful job on top of teaching (those loans weren’t going drink a Red Bull, grow wings and fly away). My planning was like the ozone layer, still there but with a few holes threatening to increases if I continued at the same rate. I quickly found that this didn’t fly in teaching and was grateful for all I’d learned that whirlwind summer at TESL. Having clear content and language objectives are imperative to the success of any lesson. Nothing beats realia, and the careful progression of activities and skills is where you gain you student’s trust. If I ever feel unsatisfied with a class, ninety percent of the time I can trace it back to poor planning. But let’s not dress spontaneity up in the black sheep’s fleece quite yet. Being a teacher requires you to also be perceptive to your student’s needs. You can have everything planned down to the last millisecond, yet have to throw it away if your students aren’t ready. Sometimes it is better to take a step back than forward.
Despite my aversion to planning, it seems I have set myself up quite nicely. I have taken a jaw breaking bite out of those loans; I have taught a number of subjects and gained the experience to make me a marketable employee (not to mention I’ve gotten to spend some quality time with the fam.); finally, I am now ready to hop on that plane and begin the adventures of teaching abroad. The beauty of TESL is that there are always new challenges, always something to improve, and always another realm to explore.