stranger in a strange land

Spring Break 4

2008-04-09T18:57:00.001-07:00

[Cate]
12.21. Dan just called me a termite after describing how to decapitate me.
[following is a detailed, captioned diagram depicting just how Dan said he would decapitate Cate. It involves a beak-like structure made from Dan's molar, a headlock, and a suitcase between his legs to prevent any possible retalitory efforts.]
2.14. On train to Amstetten - another we made jsut in time. Passed Dan on way to bathroom with green boxers in hand. We're pretty hungry, but excited. Tired, but excited. Having a hard time spelling and writing. Rations: H2O at an all-time low. Emergency rations [cookies for the folks in Gaming] opened. Had long discussion about who, how to eat. Concluded Emily. Over and out.

[Dan's contribution]
I changed my underwear on the train and it made a world of difference.
Emotionally yours, Dan
In Paris [where he changed flights] I met a turtle named Bob. Now Bob may have been a hallucination but that turtle was !muy caliente! you konw, as far as turtles go. We shared a skone and a cup of coffee. When I proceeded to securities, I ran into a wolf of a woman. She will be referred to as "The Black Widow." I dislike The Black Widow. She was !muy frio! She tried to keep me in the land of Frogs but I was saved by a wise sage who far surpassed the understanding of his peers. The moral of the story is that Charles de Galle is the world's worst airport. Amen.
Tired and travelling, Dan [Cate's note: he wants to play flipcup!]

[My Entry]
3.00. Attnang-Pochheim Train Station
Everyone is getting progressively more tired and hungry. Dan is telling us about his underwear preferences. Cate just said, "I'm just ready to die. Die, die, die." We're stopped at this silly station, oh - now we're moving. Steadily losing the will to live. Cate and Dan are having an intense discussion about whether one can move like a cyclone or like a hurricane. Now they are speaking/chanting the lyrics to one another, with their heads down on the table (awww...) Maternal instincts are being made manifest, but there's nothing I can do for them. Mostly, I want to curl up/die or maybe eat or go for a run right now, but alas, my doom is to sit on this train.
Patiently (enough) yours, Emily
Feeling very homicidal. Cate and Dan turn into 8-year-olds when they are to [here the record trails off. I had to take a stroll down the train aisle to prevent aforementioned homicide. Words were exchanged in tones louder than Cate was comfortable hearing.]

[Cate]
6.35. Made it!!!

[Me]
6.37. No loner homicidal.
Tuesday, 10.35.
All is well. Yesterday evening, we feasted on pizza and started catching up with people. Most delightful. John broke out some beer and amaretto as well. They had met us at the train station, where we all leapt on one another, shouting with glee. Manuel was not wearing black. It was definitely a very joyful experience, seeing everyone. We walked to the Karthause (with others carrying our luggage) and talked, laughed, told stories, etc.
This morning I got up early to work out with John, then I prayed the Office at the Chapel, chatted/worked out a little more with Callie and Cate, showered, and went to class. Dr. Asci's Christian Marriage, to be precise. It was pretty boring, but I got a lot of good practice brusing up my fonemas from linguistics class. Cate and John were talking practically all class. Sheesh. We just foraged a bit from Annie's stores, and now I may do some homework. WILL do some homeowrk. Other plans for the day include Mass, getting food at the Spar, running, sports, homework... a good day.
It truly is beautiful here, though at times the contrast between the monastic architecture and loud, sweats-clad students is a bit jarring. Above all, it is peaceful... now about that Marion... Joyfully, Emily

[Cate]
Were not talking practically all class. Got up at 4, decided to stay in bed. Got up at 6.30, wandered around, fact-finding jog, worked out (felt SO GOOD!), breakfast, class. Saw John NOT pick his hands for 1.5 hrs - wow. Mass was good, talked to the sisters, now planning to continue dominating homework. Emily says I describe a lot of things in terms of domination. Perhaps a lot of things are an enjoyable challenge. Okay. Hume. Tired but exuberant, Cate

Spring Break 3

2008-04-09T18:36:00.000-07:00

[Cate]
9.45p/3.45. Have just realized after our snack that THERE WILL BE NO DINNER SERVED ON THIS PLANE. Fighting off despair and the certain knowledge that my hunger, but briefly assauged by the snack, will soon return in full and growling force. Food supply down to 2 granola bars. Am tempted to... nevermind.
Okay. We're watching a bouncy couple on TV. E says, "I bet they're happy because tey've eaten recently."
Recap 9.00. A man's hand reaches up the side of my seat. My 1st instinct is to scream, run away, and/or bite/punch his hand until I realize he's handing me my pillow and blanket which had fallen behind me. Note to self: chill out. Also, if you're feeling ill during this turbulence, maybe you shouldn't be complaining in the journal. Duly noted.
E has just offered to sing me lullabys. Instead of responding, I wrote that down. My options are: get rather liquored up aor suck it up like an actual 20 yr old.
But I wanna play flipcup! [For those of you who don't know about the incident which caused the phrase "but I wanna play flipcup" to become our universal complaining-phrase... sorry. You are missing out.]
Devotedly, Cate
PS. Had 1st drink [OJ]. Joe, the next one is yours.
10.00. Captain announces that hot dinner is coming. Ashamed, but exulting. There will be no Donner party. Blushingly, Cate

[My entry]
10.02. Am concerned Cate is delirious. She's making comparisons between herself and VEGETARIANS (antelopes... antelopes, she says!) and she just thought that the egg the size of a human being displayed on the TV was REAL. Praying for mental health, soundness of mind and body, etc.
Truly yours, Emily
6.40 AM, Germany time. Nicholas Cage looks like a gorilla in a tuxedo. Just woke up after some snoozing. Cate, being a vampire(ss) is having a harder time of it. Dinner arrived shortly after previous desperate posts. Was wholesome, edible, served with smiles from the happy tripulacion.
I think I'd like to go for a run. Actually, I know it. Soon, very soon. I feel, also, that my handwriting is/has been deteriorating. What, oh reader, will it look like by the end?
Wonderingly yours, Emily
7.35 AM. NC movie over. Pretty sure one of the climactic parts was NC's sidekick receiving shiny red car in gratitude for his service. What sort of message does THAT send? Maybe Project Mayhem's not such a bad idea after all...
Still Awake, Emily

[Cate's entry]
9.15. Woke up [pen dying] Thanks for the purple pen, John...
Take 2. Woke up to seal giving birth a few feet from my face at 8.45. When I realized that waking up entailed being asleep, I was overjoyed. Emily, sadly [pen dying]
Take 3. Having bad luck with pens this morning. Emily, sadly, did not fare as well. Maybe I'll slip HER our date rape pill instead? Night was eventful. I was uncomfortable and the light was in my eyes, so I thought of what my dad would do. I covered my eyes with a blanket and got comfortable. I was really happy when I found a cozy position. I woke up a couple times, once to Nicholas Cage. I woke up for good around 8.45 to some Discovery Channel type deal and, as previously mentioned, the end result of embryology. Breakfast was good - bread, cheese, jam, butter, fruit, granola bar. Ama trifle disoriented. Could be the fact that I again feel as though I were beaten with a baseball bat. Or jet lag. Or maybe Emily gave me the date rape pill last night? All I konw is I missed the coyote's loving embrace. [eew. sick. gross.] Morale is very high and pumped. Toothbrush soon especially makes this Lufthansa flyer excited. Red eye-edly, but devotedly, Cate

[My entry]
11.53, Train, Munchen-Salzburg
Am living in fear of possible date-rape attack. We've made our connections for the mysterious 11.00 route so far - just barely. When Cate and I arrived at the airport in Munich, late, we set off in search of the S-Bahn- no Dan in sight. I left Cate down at the platform and went up the escalator to look (and listen) for the boy. We had 3 minutes to spare. Finally, as I was despairing, I heard Dan calling m y name. I shouted at him to hurry, and he obliged. We held the door of the train open (sacrificing our bodies) so Cate could buy tickets. We got to the true Munchen bahnhof, and I went to buy tickets. First, I had to ask several people if they spoke English. One "a leetle" did, and pointed me to the ticket desk. I waited, VERY impatiently, in line, and got the tickets from the super-chill ticket lady just in time to sprint back to the others and snag the train. It was all most exciting. Dan has been keeping us entertained with the many stories he has already accumulated, and his concerns about excessive perspiration. It has already been a very eventful day, and it's only 12.15. PS. I'm pretty hungry - good thing Cate's breaking out that kit-kat...
PPS. Super-excited.
Emotionally yours, Emily

Spring Break, 2

2008-04-08T17:39:00.000-07:00

[Cate]
7.57. In Dulles. Flight delayed 20 mon thus far. Hoping Dan won't be stranded. Reply. (1) There was no gushing, and it (the convo) was dividd evenly between Dan and me. Dan said we'd have cute kids. (2) The only vulgarity was from the mouth of one ED, who wondered loudly after the priests sat down whether we'd move in together. I assured her we wouldn't live together until after the exchane of wedding vows. (3) Also, I would like to comment on the presentableness - nay, the radiance of ED today (cat call). It would be the greatest honor to be her, but I'll settle for dressing like her. *But I swear it was accidental!!!
Now, a recap. In the last 3 hours, mostly I have humiliated myself.
5.40. Hit 2 men walking down narrow plane aisle with large bags. Highlight: AMAZING man who stowed my bag for me 8 rows behind me and brought it up at end of flight so I didn't have to go back. God bless him!
5.42. WARNING: D-DAY. False alarm, though. But I didn't know THAT till 7.10. Phew.
6.55. As a nice gentleman stops to let Emily and I [corrected to me, with following note: thanks ED. Mea culpa.] go into the aisle, I stand up abruptly and crack my head on the overhead.
7.00. Talk to runway worker about why she's working, make fun of other runway workers.
7.30. Arrive at B45. Sitting next to Potbelly's, which is KILLING me, while waiting to board so I can EAT.
8.10. Thinking of what dinner might be. I hope the coyote can make himself something nice. Morale high but hungry. Obviously one track mind. All my love, Cate

[My entry]
9.00 PM Lots and lots of exciting things have happened since last I wrote. Right now, we're soaring just NE of DC. Cate just replied to the pleasant gurgle of the baby to our left by saying, "If that baby cries tonight, I'll kill it. And I mean 'kill' in the most pro-life way possible." The flight from PIT-Dulles was pretty chill, even though Cate did sort of terrorize a few people with her ginormous backpack, she managed to charm them all, as well. It's pretty impressive how she gets around sandwiched in between 2 backpacks, each about 2x her size. I attracted some attention to myself by choosing steps over the escalator while getting to our gate (B45, baby!) in IAD. Thing is, Cate said "take the stairs!" and my reaction was just to do it. There were quite a few steps, too. It felt AMAZING. As I was to the 2nd to last section of steps, a dude on the escalator said, "I bet you wished now you'd have taken the escalator" to which I replied, "no sir!" He seemed stunned by the response. My quads were definitely starting to burn by the end - so good.
We happen to be seated at the emergency exit row. I think this is for the best. There was a slight scare when the compartment wherein our backpacks (which match) are stored started dripping water - but it was the pushy lady to our left's fault, so all's well. The man on whom it was dripping bore it with much patience, too.
In other news, I'm dying of hunger, tired, and I love Germans/German/accents. That's about all I have to say - and FEED ME!
All my love, Emily
An update: snacking on "salzgebackmischung" and ein bier. I find it both fascinating and marvellous that soon we will be over my home. Cate does not share these sentiments.

A few memories...

2008-04-07T04:19:00.000-07:00

I've decided to update this thing with some excerpts from our Spring Break 2008 journal. It was kept throughout the week, and really contains some literary gems. My editorial notes are in brackets.

[Cate's first entry]
Sunday, March 1
7.45. Woke up groggily to Emily coming down the stairs.
8.00. Got up. Felt like I had been beaten severely with a baseball bat. Also felt hung over. To the best of my knowledge, was neither.
8.15. Went to Joe and Jeremy's with Emily, in my pjs. Exchanged tearful goodbye with the coyote. Exchanged goodbyes with Joe, Jeremy, et al.
8.30ish. Went to Donna's.
8.30ish-10.30ish. Emily displayed astonishing disrespect toward me adn my significant other (hereafter abbreviated S.O.). [By "significant other," she is referring to the pelt of a coyote which Joe brought from home. Further studies will be done in order to determine in what way she considers it to be her S.O., and the coyote's presence will haunt the entire Spring Break.] Dan and I analyzed, discussed, were grateful for my relationship with my S.O.
11.00. Back to 1502 Parkview. Dan showered. Tried in vain to find acceptable flowers for Joanie's birthday. Listened to rap with Dan, Emily, Mary.
12.00. Drove to airport.
12.30. Dan strips on airport sidewalk. I worry because he is at that time very rapable (rapeable? rape-able?)
1.00. 1502 Parkview. Shower. In haste/cold, remove 30g tissue from body with razor.
2.00. Attempt to dry hair. Unsuccessful. Mary will straighten hair.
2.15. Mary begins straightening.
2.50. Mary finishes. [This process made us late to...]
3.00. Meet Mark behind K/C.
3.15. Spill .25L of H20 on pants. Butt area.
3.30. Get to airport. Doubtless ocntract warts, the herp, and maybe foot mono as I walk across airport security line w/o socks, having forgotten to put them on in the car. Also, of course, have wet pants still. Security tells me he won't give e a hard time. Very grateful for this, wondering if it is because I (1) have wet crotch area adn (2) announced that I have a medical disability as I walk through the metal detector to forestall any problems with the allergy serum I'm smuggling for the TOR sisters and (3) am shifting nervously from foot to foot trying to minimize contact with STD covered floor.
3.50. Get to gate C51, just in time to wait 115 min for flight.
4.45. Thinking of coyote. Hoping Dan arrived safely/hastn't revealed himself (more). Hoping Emily speaks more quietly if she intends to continue telling strangers to "Pull up your pants, son." Morale is high, but patient. Hoping for good movies and dinner on flight to Munich. Signing off with much love, Cate.

[My entry]
4.51, 2 March 2008, Day 1: Operation We're Finally Here
I start writing with much trepidation, aware that my entry will, doubtless, lack something of the comedy and insight of Cate's entry. However, journal I shall...
For having done nothing all day, I feel as though the day has been going on forever. In a way, I guess that it has; you could say it started way back in December with the purchase of our plane tickets. However, I won't write about all that has transpired since then. I will start with this morning.
It was extraordinarily normal morning, except for the fact that I awoke a little bit confused about where I was. I got up 10 minutes before my alarm was set to go off (6:50). From there I prayed, dressed, and got my bags all ready to go. Cate had said we'd head to the boys' around 7:45, so at 7:42 I tiptoed down the stairs, only to find Cate in a semi-comatose state. After a mildly to moderately entertaining conversation with her (in which we ascertained that she could definitely succeed were she to decide to become anorexic), I finally got her alert enough to tell me what to do. I called the boys, and found that (unsurprisingly) they were running late, and would not be kicking Dan out until about 8:30. We headed over, therefore, etc.
At breakfast, Cate could do nothing but gush about the blasted coyote. It was getting obscene (she was saying they would have cute kids...) and Dan was egging her on. I must say, I was a little shocked by the vulgarity, especially in the presence of two priests (Frs. Don and Joe), who had entered the Diner moments after us. After much conflict, the hooligans saw the error of their ways, and stopped talking about the Blasted Coyote (hereafter referred to as BC). Nevertheless, it was a LONG breakfast.
I don't really know what happened after that; we went back to the Projects. Dan was clumping around "showering" for about six hours. He came down, looking very sharp, and proceeded to expose himself in order to extricate his passport (much less sharp). We got him to the airport, wishing him a fond "hasta manana" and returned to teh house to make Cate look presentable.
Here I would like to digress, and mention that I have looked presentable all day, and the only thing it's gotten me was the question from Mary, "did you sleep in those clothers?" AMAZING, as my shirt still has the press lines in it.
Back to the house... Mary straightened Cate's hair, and another six hours later, we went to meet Mark (late). He brought us along to the airport (driving a little bit like my grandmother) and wished us a fond farewell. We got throuh security and to our gate w/out the least issue.
One last digression: nobody has any faith in me. I printed off Cate and my boarding passes, and have since been asked NO LESS than 84,000,000,000,000,487 times whether or not such a socument would acutally get us on the plane. As thought I were completely naive...
Ok, time to sign off. We should be boarding momentarily! Love and Peace, Emily
-Update from plane: forgot to mention previously that we have perfectly matched colors on: blue and white, brown shoes, gray socks. I had told Cate what I would be wearing days in advance, and doubtless (knowing my impeccable fashion sense/style) she decided to copy me. They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery...

In the final stretch

2008-04-02T16:27:00.001-07:00

Spring Break has come and gone, as has Easter. And here I am, back at my post in the LLC. It's a busy night. There were people babbling French, and now Jamie is in, writing his Theology paper, and asking me about what Hindus believed (as though I knew).

As for me, life goes well. I've been working on the Franciscan art of "making dates" with people, and have had more coffee, lunch and dinner dates, not to mention running and study dates, in the past week or two than I care to think about. It's nice, because it means I actually see people, but it is sort of odd always having somewhere to be. I prefer to live a more wandering existence.

Tonight has been a very successful night at the LLC. I invited multiple people over (after a brief pre-work counseling session) and so I have had many delightful distractions during "work." It's been so successful that now we are here after hours studying some more. Frau E-D stopped by to say "hi" and was terribly pleased to see us all here, appropriately studying. She does work terribly hard; I can't imagine being around here at 10 of 9.

Cate gave me helpful advice about how to seduce boys... well, she told me that I shouldn't have four other boys around. Good Grief. Now I'm listening to Dan and Joe discuss their plan for out-breeding the Muslims. UNbelieveable. Cate's bemoaning her ahead-of-the-game status as I stare at my Marion book in disbelief at how boring it is. I'm also questioning whether I ought to read it, since it's become a trend in my class to preface any statement with "I didn't actually do the reading, but..."

Ok. Time for me to sign off. I'll do my reading, like the good student I am. Uh-oh... they're talking about killing off all non-Irish peoples... better skidaddle.

Back in the swing of things

2008-02-13T16:15:00.001-08:00

Well, as I sit here, "working" in the LLC, I cannot help but reflect on... all the things I could be doing. See, I would try and get some work done now, but the thing is that it's so cold in this room that I am worried that if I stop moving I may die. That is why as I type this, I am also doing an aerobics video. True story. I think I'm going to try and think about/reread some dear Locke this evening, however, as I am, after all, a student.

I was considering today how I spend my time, and the breakdown is highly amusing. I think I wound up with more than 24 hours, which means I must be exaggerating somewhere. Here it is:

6.5-7.5 hours: sleep
4-8 hours: school
3 hours: prayer
2 hours: eating/cooking
1.5 hours: working out
8 hours: doing nothing at Joe's

Now, I know there must be some hyperbole somewhere, but I'm just not seeing it.

Anyway, onto more important things - like the LLC. I've decided it's the center of a major drug network. You hear me rightly. Think about it - there's never anyone here except the regulars, who always make obscure comments in foreign languages as they exchange wads of cash for plastic baggies. Ok, THAT might be made up. But still, it's a shifty place. Way shady. I should probably have a security guard, since I work the graveyard shift (6-9 baby!).

Well, that's about all I feel like writing. I'm moderately ashamed that I'm even updating this. Mildly to moderately. But we all have to indulge in a little self-importance every once in a while, right?

Now off to do homework! Hurray!

A letter from your working girl (a tribute to Ignatius Reilly)

2008-01-07T19:20:00.000-08:00

Dear Attentive Readers,

Today was another demanding day in the office. The strenuous environment is really starting to wear on my delicate nerves. Today, the girls (that is what I fondly refer to my coworkers as) were in low spirits. After two three-day holiday weeks, we are back to the horrific Monday-Friday grind, and they are all working overtime in that sweatshop. Of course, I am not, since my poor constitution would hardly support such activity.

As I was exerting mind and body in the ever-changing and challenging battle between myself and the files, I started pondering the conditions in which I work. I started thinking so involvedly about this, in fact, that I had to stop working and sit on a stool for a few minutes. This posture also offered the benefit of resting my knees, which really aren't up to the strain of filing for hours on end.

Another important goal was reached today in the area of office improvement. I brought in a book to work and read with my peripheral vision while sorting down the stacks of papers. I must say, it's possible that my productivity suffered, but work was made for man, not man for work. In fact, as I read the plaintive story of Jim Burden and Antonia, it is possible that I had to stop working entirely for a brief span, to recover from a weeping spell.

I am trying to inspire the girls to revolt. The tyrants at Human Resources are making them change over to a computer-based time card system, and it has totally disrupted the delicate balance that we had achieved in the office. Additionally, nobody can figure out how to fill out my time sheet within the new system, so I am uncertain as to how I will be paid. I suspect a conspiracy on the part of the capitalist hounds in middle-management. They are probably filling their own coffers with my hard-earned wages.

Tomorrow is election day here, and I am concerned that all the candidates are actually out to destroy our country. Why can't people see that what we need is a benevolent dictatorship? Run by someone close to the people, yet... above the people... someone like me. Today on the way to the YMCA, a group of hooligans who were apparently demonstrating their support of Ron Paul accosted me as I was waiting to cross Main Street. One tried to give me propoganda, and another (addressing me as "sweetie," the vile beast) implored me to "end this war now." As though their sentiments could crack my logic.

Well, I fear that other responsibilities must now draw me away from this missive. Keep me in your thoughts as I go out again to face the cold, unfriendly world.
Always,
Your Working Girl

Thus every beast, by some good spell, in the stable dark was glad to tell...

2007-12-27T17:00:00.000-08:00

Against my principles, I have decided to update this thing. The title comes from one of my favorite Christmas ditties; I love "The Friendly Beasts."

So I'm back at work at good old NGM. And I must say, it is hilarious, how happy everyone is to have me back. They really do hate filing. Today Anita was filing some with me, and I could tell she was bored stiff so we got talking, and I told her about one of my methods for combatting boredom. What I do is think about things I like doing, and gladly do for hours, and imagine how quickly the time seems to pass when I'm engaged in those activities. So at the beginning of the day, I think about the time that will pass until my break at 10.30. Three and a half hours. Well, if I were skiing, that would pass in two shakes of a lamb's tail. So I just try to think about that, and do the same with the other divisions of time throughout the day.

Anita really liked that idea, and as there were about two hours left in the work day, I suggested that she might "watch a movie" (her only ideas were going to the laundromat or going shopping... eew). So she selected "It's a wonderful life" and updated me about what part she was at in the movie as the time passed. It was, needless to say, hilarious.

In other exciting news, it snowed today. Also, I finally cleaned my room, which is wonderful and exciting. Oh, and it's Christmas!

It was sweet because this year we got to spend time with the WHOLE maternal side of the family again, and there is never a dull moment when we all get together. Actually, first I went on Christmas Eve to the children's Mass, and listened to their screechy, off-key, (and delightful) choir. Next we went to my grandmother's for our Christmas Eve tradition of "appetizers" which are gifts which are always, always pj's. I played some guitar with my dear little cousin, and then we went off to my grandmother's church. We ended up all getting separated, and I sat in between my oldest aunt and youngest uncle. They proved to be amiable companions for church, as they were adept at muttering amusing comments throughout, and my aunt was great to harmonize with on the carols. The pastor who preached was very sweet and well intentioned but made me angry with one comment. He was talking about longing and such and said, "it's like the desire that every boy has to hear from his father, 'I'm proud of you; you're making a difference.' Or like the longing every girl has to hear, 'you're beautiful. Period.'" Oh PLEASE. Because girls can't make differences, and boys can't be pretty... The last church of the night was midnight Mass, with the immediate family. I would say more, but I'm afraid I might have slipped off during parts of the service... like whenever I was sitting. Or kneeling. And also once when I was standing...(sorry for falling onto you Dan!)

Christmas was nice, once the uncles stopped feuding. We played carols, with too many guitars, and then my cousin on violin. I must say, she has improved drastically since last I heard her play (5 or 6 years ago). I guess that's what happens when one takes lessons and practices...

Um yes. Other pertinent dribble... I think I'm housesitting for my uncle's three dogs, which means I should probably seek counselling for masochistic tendencies. I'm trying to fix my grammar and spelling. I'm reading a book that a priest who was at Dachau wrote and it's making me feel like an ingrate. And that's about it for now. I'm going to bed early tonight, so as to not fall asleep in my cubicle tomorrow, so I'm off! Adios!

Despedidas galore

2007-12-17T08:03:00.000-08:00

I am almost done with goodbyes. Finally. Honestly, why must everyone make them so drawn out? Best to just leave it at an "hasta la vista" and be done with it. Last night was the CLU farewell/Paola's birthday/Christmas celebration, which was quite fun. Fra, Valle and I handled food, which was delicious (thanks to Fra, not to me). We made a shrimp salad, zucchini, bruschetta, and little bundles of cheese wrapped in ham for starters, then pasta a la vodka with salmon, and then rice with squash. Traditional Christmas sweets and a champagne toast followed.

All through dinner, I was told that I had to sing a traditional American song, because I was leaving, and it was "tradition." I knew very well it was not tradition. However, I decided I would be agreeable and play something, though I do not really know any "traditional American" songs, at least not all through. So I had David pass me the guitar and I sang the first song I learned on guitar, "Angel" by Sarah Maclachlan. And I must say, I sang it well, and after I finished there was actually silence for a few seconds, before David said, "Emily, why did you not start singing for us until two days before you leave? You have a voice de puta madre." So that was very weird, but affirming. Sort of.

Today I spent the morning visiting my favorite places, after getting up slowly. We had a going-away lunch with the school, which was fine. I went to the Sorolla exhibit with Katie, then came back home, where I am now contemplating how I will fit the last bit of junk in bags. So maybe I'll go work on that. Tomorrow morning, I head back bright and early to the states, which means, I guess, that this is probably my last entry. Say a prayer that I make all my connections!

Paz y bien.

2007-12-16T04:35:00.000-08:00

It's really funny how things work. So, for my birthday, my lovely amigos sent me a care package, including several children's toys. While I have since enjoyed the presence of these toys in my room, the time has come to pack, and the toys simply could not return with me (well, with the exception of the slinky, of which I am particularly fond). I was faced with a dilemma... what to do? How can I honor the magnanimity of this gift while also honoring space constraints? So this morning, I brought the megamen, playdough and such over to the church, which was having a charity yard sale of sorts. When I asked if I could leaves some toys for the sale, the girl (who was about my age) acted pleasantly surprised. I went and did the whole Mass thing, and when I came out, she came up to tell me that the toys were huge hits and already sold. I explained the circumstances that led me to leave the toys at the church, and then she asked my name, and I explained I was from the states. It was one of those alternate dimension/Twilight Zone moments- I could tell right then that if I hadn't told her I was leaving Tuesday, I would have gotten an invite to a young adult group at the parish or something. Weird.

Then, I ran into some CLU-types who were selling belenes for charity at another table. So I bought one (see, mom, I do listen to what you say!).

This morning, I packed almost everything. All that's left is the clothes I'll be wearing the next few days, basically. And, praise God, it all is going to fit, and I don't even think it's too heavy. I've started reading the spanish translation of Dickens' "A Christmas Carol" which I found in my room, because I don't feel like wandering Valencia today, as it is icky out. I am continually impressed by the selection of books here. I'm also starting some poems by Vincente Aleixandre, which were given me by my Quijote prof in exchange for Bene's Advent reflections, but I don't feel quite ready for anything that academic yet. First, I will enjoy the beauty of Dickens, which, surprisingly, translates rather nicely to spanish.

Off I go. Paz y bien.

It wasn't THAT cold

2007-12-15T08:36:00.000-08:00

So, I just got back to the house after a nippy dip in the Med. Fra, Valle and I decided it would be fun to swim in the sea in December. Actually, I decided it would be fun, and la influencia convinced them that it would be, also. And it was. I ran down to the beach, so I was overheated on arrival. The water was, I'll admit, a little cold, but it was just a fun, whimsical thing to do. And how many people can say they went swimming at a beach ten days before Christmas?

This morning I met Valle at the Mercado Central and introduced her to Greek food, which, weirdly, she had never had. We nibbled on baklava and those delicious stuffed grape leaves, and then I had to go to my last English Mass. It was the hugest battle of wills seen thusfar. Last week, only three of the choir (not Sr. Alma) had been present and they had ok'd Christmas carols with Fr. Rutgers, because, well, a lot of us are leaving and it's a nice thing to do, even if it's not 100% liturgically accurate, or whatever. So Sr. Alma showed up and tried to take over, muttering "no, this cannot be. There are hundreds of Advent songs!" while she frantically flipped through her songbook trying to find one. She finally tried to teach us one but it was impossible, ugly, and even she couldn't hit all the notes. So then Wu Lin showed up and asserted herself, effectively saving the day, though it was obvious Sr. Alma was miffed. Afterwards, some of them were going to Japanese food together, and they'd just assumed I'd be able to go, but Adela was expecting me for lunch, and, more importantly, she was making my favorite food that I've had, definitely here, possibly ever (delicious roast of something with apples roasted with it... soooo good). So I bid my farewells and they are all such dears. Fr. Rutgers hooked me up with some Opus Dei prayer cards and the email address of his seminary buddy who's a priest in the US. I'm not really sure if he actually expects me to contact this man, or what I would say to him, but it was very sweet regardless. He also assured me that he's praying for me, and my sister who is not Catholic, and he encouraged me "you must do something about that, if you can." Right, padre, I'm on it...

Now I am going to do some fun reading (!) and relax - I am exhausted from my afternoon's adventures! And tomorrow I have the whole morning free, and I'm not setting my alarm clock... which means I'll probably get up around 8.

Paz y bien!

My last chocolate dinner with Adela, and my last time in the study center

2007-12-14T12:49:00.000-08:00

In the wise words of the Cranberries, "time is ticking out." I have three more days of Valencia, then I return to the land of cold and snow. I'm looking forward to skiing, and working, and I'm really looking forward to next semester, though I guess that's still a ways away. Whenever I picture my future activities, I find myself planning how I will say things in Spanish, then I realize that I don't have to. So I'll think, for example, about going to the grocery store, and asking where the harina and azúcar and... shoot... what's the word for baking powder!? And then I realize that 1) I know where those things are in the store back home and 2) the word for baking powder is baking powder!

This morning I got up, and the first thing I did (after my necessary OCD activities) was write my honors exam. After typing away for two hours, I realized that I hadn't addressed the question, but I definitely proved I read all the books, and I think that's the real objective, so I think I should pass. After that, I went into town, and passed a few very agreeable hours wandering around stores and such. I'm not really one for the whole Christmas shopping experience, but it was sort of neat how the whole town is on the streets and such. I had a very lovely conversation with an "artesan" vendor of those toys that are like - traps? and you have to take them apart- they're made of nails and such... anyway, he was very kind and taught me how to undo a few of the games.

We had our charade of a graduation this evening. It's all just so self-serving. One of the profs delivered a lecture, the first good one I've heard since leaving FUS. It made me almost appreciate modern art. Then Valle got up and lauded the program, then we had to sing some silly song in Latin. Then I went to say my goodbyes to Belén and Olivia. Olivia was very sweet, Belén was very seven.

Now I'm going to bed, as bright and early I'm heading off to the Mercado to show it to Valle, and then I have the always-exhausting but generally entertaining English Mass. We're going to be caroling, and I am supposed to "bring the guitar" but it really just complicates things since Sr. Alma usually starts the songs in another key and then everything just ends... awkward. C'est la vie. Off I go, have a good night.

And I'm not saving anything.

2007-12-13T06:45:00.000-08:00

Ok, I am now officially done with all my classes at the center. Yippee!! And I'm throwing away all my notes, and all my papers (hey, I still have them on my computer). I'm also throwing away the dossiers that we had for the classes, which contain no useful information, and lots of typoes. Of course, I still have to write my Honors' final, but that's a task for either tomorrow or Saturday. It's the only final I care about, and I feel as though I won't do it well.

Unfortunately, I still have to go back to the center tomorrow for some stupid graduation ceremony. Who makes graduation obligatory!? But I had a coffee with Toni from the program after our final, and it was nice and I really felt affirmed that I made the right choice in going back. He is staying for the year, and is supposed to be taking classes at the Católica, but I guess it's looking like it probably won't work out, and there are very few classes that are actually offered, as it's mostly an education school. It's amazing how everyone feels lied-to by the program. As I was heading home for lunch, Shane, who is one of the students with the least Spanish-ability, stopped me to ask my advice. One prof just handed him a note saying she was going to fail him on his final paper for the class, and he doesn't even know how to respond. I, of course, had no advice or answers... I just told him to talk to Carol.

Anyway, I am just very relieved to be (practically) done. And with honors... it's crazy - we always joke about how we don't really STUDY our honors books, etc., but having done it all alone for a semester, I really appreciate just how much other people's insight adds to my reading experience. How shamefully cheesy.

That being said, I suppose I'm going to siesta, then think about the Renaissance. Xavi and I are meeting for one last time this evening, which should be nice. Saturday we're singing Christmas carols at San Juan del Hospital, which should be delightful. Maybe I'll buy a Santa sweater to wear, and reindeer antlers. Or maybe not. Hasta ahora!

Three down, one to go

2007-12-12T09:21:00.000-08:00

Today was just chock-full of fun. It started with my Islamic Iberia final (that's right, I'm DONE) which went just fine. Then I went for a run, had lunch, and headed to the linguistics final. It was quick, and so in between that final and Grammar review, I went to the student bar around the corner for some refreshment. No, really. See, we were joking in class about how it would be funny to go get some three-for-one-euro beer at Cafeteria Castillo in between exams, so I did (with another girl who didn't have another final). Carolyn and Hannah from my class didn't believe 1) that I would do it, or 2) that I drink alcohol (I must really seem like a puritan!) so they swung by, too. Then I took my grammar review exam, and now I just have to study for 20th century, take that test tomorrow morning, and then I'm DONE with school for the semester (I also turned in three papers today).

I received a sweet sort of email from my future roommate this afternoon. She's a freshman. Yippee. Studying math and drama, which could mean anything. I'm trying not to think too much about the fact that she entitled the email "Hi I am your future roommate" and I'm trying not to judge her based on the fact that she's not on facebook. I'm also trying not to judge myself based on the fact that I judge people based upon whether or not they're on facebook. But really, in the grand scheme of things, there's not a whole lot I can do about it anyway, so I may as well have a good attitude.

Yesterday I said goodbye to Jaime, which was really heart-rending. And Toni forgot to come by to say goodbye to me! How is it that he can list all 50 states, but can't remember to come Tuesday to the old people park? Oh well. Not much to be done about that, either. Also, Luis gave me a book, "Sombras del Paraíso" by Aleixandre. This was because I gave him my copy of the pope's book about Advent. What a dear he is. I never did borrow his bike...

Oh what else? I started cleaning all the jounque from my room up. I threw away about 30 pounds of tourist pamphlets and other papers. I broke out a suitcase for the stuff I won't use in the next five days. Which I guess is most of my stuff. I'm not sure how my books are all going to fit, as I've acquired some here... speaking of books, I need to finish reading Paradise Lost so I can write my flipping honors exam. And I should probably be studying for my final. So off I go, God bless.

Where was I again?

2007-12-10T23:37:00.000-08:00

Ok, I know... it's been a while since last I updated. And a lot has happened. But I'm just going to write about my trip to Italia right now. First some background information: the only things I knew about this trip were that I was going with Fra (Francesco) and Valle (Valentina) my two Italian Erasmus-student friends, to Rimini and Milan for CLU's "Advent Exercises" (whatever that is) and maybe for a night at Fra's house. And we were to meet at the airport, at 2.

I got to the airport early, as Fra and Valle, being Italians, have a skewed conception of time, and I ate my little packed lunch there. Valle and Fra came, practically on time, and we got our tickets, which wound up being something of a hassle. Fra had handled all the travel arrangements and had accidentally booked two tickets in his name instead of one in mine and one in his. So he and Valle laughed at the overt patriotism of my passport as we waited. I asked how to say "thank you" and "nice to meet you" in Italian. They laughed at my pronunciation. I asked them to say it in English. They stopped laughing.

Anyway, we met David, a Spanish student from CLU here, and Fra's mom at the airport, and Fra drove us to Rimini (very, very quickly). David kept talking about his girlfriend, and himself, and how guapa she is. They actually got engaged over the weekend, but it didn't really seem to be a big deal. Weirdoes. We arrived in the nick of time to the exercises, and I went with David to the "foreigners' ghetto" where we got translation walkie-talkies and sat in a foreigners-only part of the room. There were a ton of people - like 3000 - there. The English translation was handled by some chick who did not actually speak English, and my batteries died, so I just listened to the Italian and understood the majority. I've decided that "church" is actually a language, of which Spanish, Italian, and English are just dialects. We went to dinner with Cristina, David's girlfriend/fiancee/whatever, and had to wait for them to smoke every time we changed activities. It was like this: leave conference, smoke before getting in the car; drive to restaurant, smoke before entering; order, smoke; eat, smoke; leave, smoke before getting in the car, etc. It just seems like such an inconvenient bad habit. There was another session at the conference (I used the Spanish translation which was molto bene) and then we hung out for a little while with Cristina's friends, getting to bed at a rather ungodly hour, although the conference avvisos had suggested 12 as an appropriate bedtime.

Saturday we had to get up at something like 8.15 and I had no trouble waking up, but Valle and the two Spanish girls we were rooming with had severe problems with getting up. We went down to breakfast, then headed back to the conference. I must say, it was a little odd, the way the whole thing was set up. Carron, the head of CLU, was the only person who presented, until the very end when there was a brief testimony from a woman who works with AIDS patients in Africa. And he just sat up there at a table, in front of all of us, and talked for multiple hours at a time. I don't think I made it awake through any of the sessions (sound familiar, mom?). After lunch (during which we had an intense conversation about political correctness), we had a small group of sorts with the spaniards we signed up with, and it consisted in people presenting their questions about the talk to this older man, who I think was a priest, and him telling them "Carron has already answered you! Weren't you paying attention?" then asking people to quote Carron on specific topics. I kept throwing in my two cents, offering Paul's and Julian's opinions to the mix. I'm pretty sure it was unusual/inappropriate for anyone except the priest guy to add anything but questions to the conversation, but I just can't help myself sometimes. David had told us he had a "super-pregunta" (yeah, whatever David...) and he asked about why we have to have silence in the car ride to and from the conference (a rule we didn't follow). He was effectively shot down with "oh, so you know what's best always?" Oh, snap.

Sunday started similarly (Marta, necesitas levantarte ahora- el bus va a salir ahora misma!) but we had to leave the conference abruptly before Mass because David's ride to the airport decided not to show. I informed everyone (to their great surprise) that we still had to go to Mass somewhere since Saturday's Mass was for the Immaculate Conception. We dropped David and Cristina at her house, and went into Milan, (faccamo un giro) which was beautiful. It was all cold and overcast, with the leaves falling off the trees, etc. We all agreed that it felt much more like Christmas than Valencia, with its 23 degrees on December 7. Francesco gave us a tour of the Duomo (which was great, since he studies architecture) and we went up onto the roof. He showed us the opera house, and the covered shops where there's a mosaic of a bull in the floor, upon whose cojones it is traditional to spin three times for good luck. He got us roasted chestnuts and we sauntered through the brick streets. We were greeted at his house, which was the first actual house I've been in in Europe, by his parents, champagne and a little snack. His father speaks at least some English (I imagine more than he let on... the only words I heard were "nice to meet you" and "where are you from") with a charming British/Italian accent. He has a very large mustache. Fra's mother talks a lot, and was entertaining to listen to. We walked over to Fra's church for Mass, then came back to a huge dinner... since Fra's studying in Valencia, all his friends came to see him. And the food was amazing. At one point in dinner, Fra's father took off his sweater, revealing a red adn black checked shirt, which prompted the question, translated from Italian to Spanish "eh, Emily, como se dice en ingles... uh, el hombre que quita los árboles?" which is to say, they were calling him a lumberjack. They all made fun of him for a while, and I must share one thing I've noticed - things that are laughable or considered "below" mediterranean culture are left untranslated. It wasn't funny to call Fra's dad whatever the word for lumberjack is in Italian, but in English it was hysterical. "Horas felices" don't exist, but happy hours do. "Sex shops" line the streets of Madrid... and maybe I'm crazy, thinking that it's in any way important...

So dinner passed. One of Fra's friends started playing guitar, and everyone had a singalong to 90's pop songs (Emily, do you notice our perfect American English when we sing?) Then they went off to play playstation, and I talked with Marta, who was enthusiastic to practice her English. I played guitar, and they approved. Finally we got to go to bed.

Monday, Fra took Valle and me up to "the lake" which means Lake Como. So I almost went into Switzerland... The lake was lovely, and Fra was, again, an excellent host. We saw the impressive Duomo there, and feasted on olive bread, wandered through the streets, then headed home for lunch. And even though I had pasta at almost every meal, it was sooo good that I didn't even get sick of it. After lunch, Fra watched MTV and Valle started asking me about my life in the states. She didn't even believe half of the things I was telling her, and decided she'll have to come see for herself. I then read Milton while they watched Dragonball Z. Then it was time to go. We had one last cappuccino at the airport, then boarded our (slightly delayed) plane. And the rest is history.

Now I need to do some studying, then head to Godella. I think I'm skipping my afternoon classes, because the time would be better spent cleaning up papers and studying for the tests that will be challenging rather than sitting in grammar review wishing to be, oh, anywhere else. Today's my last day with Jaime, which is sort of sad. A week from today, I will be on a plane heading back to teh states. However, I'll go ahead and deal with that reality when it comes. Now - off to study about Muslim wetnurses or some sort of unacademic nonsense like that. Paz y bien.

First communions and my last 14 cents...

2007-12-01T10:51:00.000-08:00

The last 14 cents of my phone card, anyway. For the full, tragic tale regarding that article, just ask. So today was little Anna the incredibly shy and nervous army brat's first communion, and it was truly lovely. When I arrived at the church to practice for music, I found Sr. Alma, and, to my surprise and delight, two girls from my program. We smirked and snuck furtive glances at one another as she and her incredibly powerful (though not always incredibly tuneful) voice powered through various church songs from the seventies (oh yes, we sang "peace like a river..."). There was a battle of wills between the three older ladies, Ross, Alma, and Ling, who all have different tastes and philosophies regarding choirs and choir direction. Me, the three others from the program (another showed up a little later) and Ronald used all our strength in restraining our laughter. The farcical practice ended with the fastest-ever version of "Now thank we all our God" as we tried to all sing the same melody, and then Ross leading a prayer asking blessings over Anna's "first confirmation" (she's protestant...) and then we all scurried into the choir loft at 12 on the nose. The singing was actually vastly improved, because there were four young voices with the same accent that more or less drowned out the others. Well, Ronald actually doesn't need to be drowned out because he is quite good and doesn't have a strong accent when he sings - but Sr. Alma was just beaming with delight the whole time. Afterwards, she attributed it all to Ling's excellent ideas about choir direction, and Ross' prayer. Then, Fr. Jan came up to me, just ecstatic about the music, and proclaimed in front of the other choir members how well the girls from our group sang. It was a little awkward, but very hilarious, and Ross and Ling took it very good-humoredly. We all went to a little reception afterwards, which was just so nice. There is truly an abundance of good people in the world. Also, Ling is organizing something of a goodbye lunch for me the Saturday before I leave - we'll also be singing carols after Mass. I guess she knows the owners of a Chinese or Japonese restaurant or something- she said both so maybe it's just Asian food, generally - so one of my last meals in Spain might be Chinese food. Too funny, how things work out.

So then I came back here for lunch proper, and thought I'd just rest my eyes for a moment and wound up taking an hour-long nap. I blame it on the wine from the reception. Then I went over to Valle's to study, and I'm making some progress on my stupid papers. Tomorrow MUST be the day for it. I swear, all I'll do all day is run and write. ALL DAY.

Oh, so while I was at Valle's she told me something disturbing - European students see no problem with plagiarism and cheating. I was typing away at my paper when she asked me if I copy/paste. I was like - well, I sometimes use a lot of quotes...? But no, she was definitely referring to just lifting paragraphs, or pages, from other people's work. HONESTLY. We got into a non-combative debate about it, wherein we mutually scandalized one another. I was scandalized by how unconcerned she was about the consequences of cheating, about what it reflects about a person, about how it's dishonest, lying, disrespectful, and she was scandalized because I said that if I knew someone was cheating, talked to them about it, and they didn't stop, I'd tell the prof. In the end, I basically said, "professors are people too" and she didn't really seem to believe me. Weird.

Tomorrow will be a day of renown as regards studying. I intend to write the rest of my papers- so about 20 pages. Maybe I can do it. Maybe not. Perhaps I'll try and finish one of them tonight, so as to lessen the amount of stuff to do tomorrow. Discipline. Yes.

Advent starts... in five minutes when I do evening prayer. Let's make it a good one, shall we?

The beginning of the end

2007-11-30T14:45:00.000-08:00

So as fatalistic as that sounds, it's true- the Cabaret tonight marked the beginning of the end of the semester. But let me try to do this in an orderly manner...

This morning was occupied primarily in trying to do work. And I did, indeed, make some headway on my DQ paper, which is good. Tomorrow I'll work more on those delightful things. Valentina wants to study together, and I'm not entirely sure how much studying would/will get done over at her place, but it's probably better for the spirit than hanging out here. Tomorrow is also the first communion of Joann from Michigan's daughter, Anna, at the English Mass. I am off the hook guitar-wise for that (yes!) because I just can't handle a battle of wills with Sr. Alma, and I think we'll sound better not trying to use guitar. So that's delightful.

How did I get to tomorrow without first telling of today? Anyway, I walked downtown and prayed for a while, where I saw Ling who told me about Mass plans for tomorrow. Then we lunched, and I had Jorge classes. They were... normal. Which is to say boring and bad but whatever. Afterwards was the Cabaret... it was quite lovely watching everyone rehearse hurriedly beforehand, and work together and such. I completely understand why other people do the whole theatre thing- working together like that creates such a lovely bond between people. When the thing actually started, I was the second act, following Justin, who played and sang "Losing my Religion" (very well). I went, and it really went fine, good, even.

We were the only musical numbers, so they then announced the "Migueletes de oro," or the winners of the two writing contests (narrative and poetry... the Miguelete is the tallest tower in Valencia and sort of a symbol of the city). And, ladies and gentlemen, I am now an award winning poet... jajaja. Yes, I won the Miguelete de oro for poetry, and was given a book for my labor. I had to read my poem (or part of it- it's a little lengthy so I refused to read the whole thing) and the whole thing was quite awkward, but such is life.

Following that were various skits, which were all pretty hilarious. I must say, people put a lot of work into this thing. I was quite impressed by them. And afterwards, everyone was all congratulatory and companionable (yep, just made that word up) and jolly, and my Islam class went out to dinner with Valle, which turned out to be pretty nice. It was good just to spend time together, in a context that wasn't strictly class, and wasn't strictly social. We all shared about our experiences of the semester, our host families, etc. I can't say the food surpassed Adela's cooking, but, then again, few things do (oh, and since I wasn't here for supper tonight she decided to postpone our chocolate-for-dinner until tomorrow). And I just realized, we are now 13 minutes into the month of December. Sheesh. Advent starts tomorrow and I'm still trying to iron out what my Advent discipline(s) will be. Probably it doesn't much matter, as they are usually dissolved within a week (sad but true).

Yes, so that was my day, and tomorrow I'll be good and get work done after Mass. I think I'll run in the morning, it just feels so good to run in the cooler air now! I love fall. Ok, I'm off. Paz y bien.

19 days and counting

2007-11-29T13:19:00.000-08:00

It's really surreal, how little time I have left... but anyway - what happened today?

Really, it was something of a reassuring day. I started working on the history paper that I was sure would leave me completely desolate and angry at life, and I got about three pages written, which is a fine start. Bravo. I got to run, and that was magnificent. Adela, of course, tried convincing Miguel Angel today at lunch that he, too, should start running. They've recently been discussing his weight a lot, because I guess he went to the doctor and gained a kilo or something. When they start these charming family discussions, I just pretend I can't understand them anymore.

I had my charming Jorge classes in the afternoon - or, rather, linguistics and a grammar test. And in linguistics today, Carolyn and Hannah started playing "boob tag" while we were working on sentences in a group. It was more than a little awkward for Jackie and me, who both spent the entire quarter hour we were supposed to be doing these silly exercises completely dissolved in laughter, with our heads on our desks (a posture which offers the added benefit of leaving certain parts out of reach). Then we got a detailed explanation, in broken spanish (with muttered english words for clarification) about the differences between C's and H's bodies... TOO MUCH INFORMATION. Roommates should not get THAT close. If I had been less tired and restless in class, it might have been scarring, but as things were, I just spent most of the class laughing so hard that I was in tears, at the utter ridiculousness of it all. Then I finished my Grammar test in a record-breaking 7 minutes. As I went to turn it in, Jorge looked only mildly surprised, and I heard a few classmates muttering, "are you serious?" Then when I left, someone made a comment I didn't hear and the class burst out laughing... suspicous? very. Oh well.

I next went to rehearse in the salón de actos for the cabaré tomorrow. It went fine, and I'm just ready for that to be over. As I was leaving the center, I ran into the prof who runs the poetry contest, to which I submitted on a whim, and he insinuated that I would have to read something tomorrow. Oh, joy. So tomorrow evening will probably be moderately traumatizing, and I haven't even said the most interesting thing - my Islam class is having dinner with Valle! I'm still not sure if I'm excited about this or dreading it, but we'll all be there - 9 girls (y todas guapas, as Valle says) adn Valle. He chose the spot, and has informed us that he's excited because none of his friends will believe that he went out for dinner with 9 girls. What a weirdo. None of us can decide if he's a viejo verde, or if he's just Spanish.

That being said, I think it's time for a little bit of Paradise Lost, and then sleeeeeep. Hopefully tomorrow I will surpass today's productivity. God-willing. Have a great night, y'all.

Is it really Wednesday already?

2007-11-28T13:14:00.000-08:00

I can't believe how quickly time flies by. And the parts that drag are always the ones you wish you could skip altogether (like class) while the things you wish you could prolong indefinitely are gone in two shakes of a lamb's tail. Tomorrow I am really going to force myself to buckle down and do some research for my various end-of-term papers (eew, gross) though all I want to do is wake up, breakfast and run, wander downtown, go to church, watch people, maybe have a croissant or a coffee... yes, that would be nice. But alas. Probably I'll run, and I might make it to church. Only time will tell.

Today, 2/3 of my classes involved food! In Islamic Iberia, we had a field trip to Mercadona, then feasted on membrillo with cheese and various pastries that used spices that Muslims brought to Spain or something like that. Oh, and Sunny D, which is very Islamic, of course. Valle as much as told us that he's about out of material for the class, so we've begun to goof off more than normal. Today he made the two girls in the class who have boyfriends tell us about them, just to take up space. In DQ class, Luis brought us chocolate turrón, which is "the only thing" he likes about Christmas. We started watching yet another movie in 20th century, and I'm about to drive my head through the wall. It's just horrific- how many morbid movies about war can we watch, anyway?

Enough complaining. I am to the last bit of honors reading (wahoo!) and that is most exciting. Tomorrow we have the rehearsal for our cabaret, which should be... interesting. Probably this whole experience will be a real lesson in humility - the posters went up today, and they feature a woman who looks like she's probably a prostitute sitting backwards in a chair, surrounded by the various acts. The songs I am singing (folk/religious songs I picked up from church here and was TOLD to play by the prof in charge) are listed right after "Losing my religion" which is delightfully ironic. I am going to make an effort to steal one such poster, for posterity's sake. I am just continually amazed by the people in my group. Yesterday Jorge was 15-20 minutes late for our second class, and I was about to go to his office to see if he was there when everyone else just decided to leave (after writing on the board "anoche, Jorge compró mi novia" to continue the constant joking about prostitution that there is in that class). Literally thirty seconds after they left, Valle adn Jorge came to the class, and saw that it was just me and one other girl, about to leave also. They took off down the stairs to round up the troops, and I heard Valle ask Jorge about the sentence on the board and Jorge was like "no tengo ni idea!" Oh, Jorge, how close you skate to trouble.

Well, I suppose that's about all I have to say. Adela and I lamented the consumerist feast Christmas has become over dinner, and I'm contemplating how I'm going to really keep Advent this year. Time will tell, time will tell.

I'm going home in less than three weeks. Wow.

Breakfast for dinner, American style

2007-11-27T16:24:00.000-08:00

This evening was an adventure, as I got to cook for Gino, his roommate Javi, Francesco, Paola, and Fra's roommate, Carlos. After pondering what would be a good thing to cook for many moons, I decided on a family favorite, breakfast for dinner. I went to Mercadona, ready to shop, and I even had maple syrup, since Adela offered it to me on the way out!

Shopping for an American meal was actually more challenging than expected. The menu was as follows: pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, homemade applesauce for dessert. Pretty easy, right? Well, sort of. I couldn't just get pancake mix because 1) it's weird here and 2) it's against my religion. So I looked up a recipe online and prayed that it was a decent one. Also, I wasn't 100% sure about how many people I was cooking for, or what things would be in the house. Fortunately, I assumed there would be almost nothing. The bacon was all weird, too. And as a sidenote: before tonight, I had never actually made homemade applesauce. I asked the helpful Mercadona employees about almost every item I had to buy, since it's not really a well-organized store, to my mind, but they were so good natured about it that I didn't even mind.

Off I marched to Gino's neighborhood (I didn't actually have his address...) grocery bags in hand. After calling everyone whose number I knew, I finally got Gino's number, and he told me he'd be there in ten minutes. When he arrived, breathless and apologetic, he said he had been working so long that he felt like an american. Very funny. Upon arriving at the kitchen of his house, it became very apparent that I was in a bachelor pad: the entire sink was filled with dishes- clean, dirty, and in-between. I haven't seen a kitchen so dirty since my trip to Steubenville this summer (just kidding!). So Gino started hurriedly cleaning up, while I tried to reassure him it was no big deal. Anyway, eventually I got the kitchen to myself and it was just heavenly. Of course, there were NO measures whatsoever in the entire house, so I had to entirely guess about amounts of things on the pancake recipe, but there were more or less adequate pans, utensils, etc. And everything turned out pretty well, miraculously enough! Everyone was, at the very least, very complimentary (especially Fra's roomie, who kept exclaiming in his broken spanish how wonderful everything was). I must say, though, I have never seen anyone drink wine with scrambled eggs before...

Even the experimental applesauce was really good, and the chileans had the idea to put maple syrup in the mix, and it was sooo good! After dinner, we got into a heavy religious discussion, which was dominated by Javi, who was practically shouting about how he has blind faith and that's good, but he wants answers sometimes!!! I mostly just listened, and started thinking about the essay I have to write for DQ tomorrow... and eventually we were allowed to leave. I guess that the evening was a success, because next week, Gino and Javi are going to make chilean food for us. Yippee for food! And what's more, I was not allowed to do the dishes, though I tried! It's a good thing, too, because the sketchy bacon is, I fear, staying on those pans...

Now I had best actually write that essay I've been thinking about. Ciao!

Passive-aggressive mothers and hyperactive four-year-olds

2007-11-26T11:59:00.000-08:00

Well, today was... long. After my morning classes, I decided to call my friend Amalia, the mother of the girl I'm no longer giving lessons to. This is because she said last Tuesday that she would leave off an envelope for me at the school with my pay (her apartment is literally just across from the school). No envelope came. Anyway, the line was busy but I received a text promising pay. Very good. I had lunch, did some homework, went back to school, still no envelope. Just before my DQ class, I got another text, saying she left the money with Laura, and she would give it to me when I went over there. Whatever, that's fine. So I got through class (and I'm starting to see what my DQ final paper is going to look like) and headed up to Laura's. And I did indeed receive my pay. Some of it was in coins (and not 1 E coins...) but it was all there. Thank you Amalia.

Belen and Olivia were completely out of control today. Olivia at one point picked up her toy gun and started shooting me (not maliciously, but come on, it's supposed to at least resemble a class). When I made her relinquish her arms, she started shouting "es mi casa!" and ran to her mother, who Belen promised me would be mad with Olivia, not me (though I definitely wasn't concerned and, in fact, was sort of apathetic at that point). And indeed, scolding sounds ensued. So it was basically an hour of miniature explosions, and me constantly restraining Belen from tattling on her sister. Needless to say, I am glad to be home.

Actually, though, something really struck me in my DQ class. We were talking about don Quijote in the second part, and Luis commented how don Quijote always insists on not caring about what people say, but then is embarrassed by Sancho, and other such contradictions, and I said something like, "well, to some extent we all contradict ourselves because we're all trying to achieve some ideal, like don Quijote, and we always fail... like Paul - 'the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak.'" At which my prof (and I think most of the class) gaped. "You're trying to be perfect?" was the question presented me. And it was then that I had a slight existential crisis. Other people, are, apparently, not trying to be perfect. Granted, I didn't get into this with my class, but I'm sort of ruminating. I think that the underlying miscomprehension comes from different understandings of what "perfection" is. Maybe my class thinks I mean that I want to be the best at everything, or to do everything perfectly. Such is not the case. All I want is to develop whatever gifts I have in whatever direction God wants me to develop them. And I want to love people well. That's all. Maybe I'll try to explain that to my class. Probably not. The really funny thing is that when we were talking about this, several people said they were "perfectionists" (even though they're not striving for perfection) and I am certainly NOT a perfectionist, though I am trying to perfect myself (or allow grace to work with my nature... whatever). So I will keep on keeping on, unworriedly trying to be perfect. Or something like that.

Gosh, I just love life.

2007-11-25T08:37:00.000-08:00

So I'm back in Valencia, kinda-sorta working on my paper for Islamic Iberia, and I'd rather not, so I'm updating this silly thing. This morning Becca and I did indeed go to the Rastro, where I acquired a goth t-shirt featuring "Emily the Strange" who has her fists raised to heaven, and is saying "Are you there, God, it's me, Emily" which I bought as an inside joke between God and myself. I never actually read the book "Are you there God, it's me, Margaret" but I know about it from the literature computer game I played when I was young, Alien Tales. I could even offer a brief sketch of the plot...

After the Rastro, Bec and I bought bocadillos to go and parted ways. Really, it was a very nice visit, and I just loved Madrid and the windy fallness of the weekend. I am also glad to be back here, though. The train ride was without complications, and I finished the book on Advent by Bene (more on that later). I returned to walk in on lunch with two former students who stayed with Adela, who were very nice. Then I took a little nap, and had arroz con leche and coffee and chatted a little with Adela (who offered about 12 times to get me more food). It's good to be home.

About the Bene book - I recommend that everybody read it. It's called, "The blessing of Christmas: Meditations" (or that's a direct translation from Spanish anyway) and it's just sooo good. For me, it served as a reminder of things that I tend to forget. And it, again, drove home the theme of "waiting with hope" which has been much on my heart for the past, oh, forever.

I also happened to find out that Sara Groves, one of my very favorite Christian musicians, has a new cd out, so I went ahead and purchased that on itunes. She never disappoints - I recommend that everybody look up the lyrics, at least, to "When the Saints" which gave me chills listening to it. I don't think this cd is as good as some of her earlier stuff, especially her last cd which was just spectactular, but it's nice to listen to regardless.

Ok, time to work in earnest! God bless you all! Happy feast of Christ the King!

More Madrid

2007-11-24T11:41:00.000-08:00

Today was quite fun! First, Bec and I went to the Palacio Real, which was really sweet (I listened in on a tour in Spanish, so I got a lot more out of it than if I had just read the silly captions) and then I went on to the Cathedral. I really do like it, though it´s more modern than most cathedrals that I´ve seen. Anyway, as I was wandering back to the hostel for lunch, I saw a "theological and philosophical bookstore" which had me completely captivated for the better part of an hour. I nearly bought Maurice Blondel´s "Action" in Spanish, but came to my senses in the nick of time. Instead, I got dear Papa Bene´s Advent meditations, since I have an obsession wiht Advent of late. I really just wanted to buy the whole bookstore.

At the hostel, Becca informed me that she´d already eaten, so I went to the most local looking cafetería I could locate and had the BEST bocadillo EVER. I think that when I go back to the states I´m going to have to start making tortilla española bocadillos for myself, I just think they´re delicious. Anyway, following that transcendent experience, I walked down Huellas to the Parque del Buen Retiro. Huellas was basically my dream - it´s a literary neighborhood, with loads of used bookstores and cafés and famous quotes etched into the street. The park was just what I was craving - a little bit of quiet and solitude, and crunchy leaves to walk through. Capital.

I met Becca back at the hostel, and we walked along Gran Vía and such, then had some tapas, but she seemed tired so we have already called it a night. Tomorrow I guess we´re going to hit the Rastro, and then I´m not going to another place where items are sold for another year and a half. I´m so tired of stores! But they seem to be Becca´s primary interest...

Ok, now I´m going to go read some more Advent meditations- I´m really surprised by how much I´m liking this book! It may mean that I have to revise my Gadfly article though...

Paz y bien

Being cultural in Madrid

2007-11-23T23:58:00.000-08:00

Right now, I´m in the hostel in Madrid, listening to Billy Joel rock out on the TV, and savoring the croissant I just polished off. Yesterday, Becca and I got in sometime in the afternoon, and we went to the Thyssen, which impressed me much more now than I remember four years ago. I think it´s because I know so much more now about the context historically speaking and such. Also I know most of the saint and mythological stories now, so it´s a little more meaningful. Becca seemed pretty bored, but she was a trooper about it all.

Afterwards, we headed in the direction of the Cerveceria Cervantes, which Valle said has the "best tapas in the world" but it was sooo early (only around 7) that it was deserted, and I was distracted. See, this place is right across the street from the Basilica of Jesus de Medinaceli, and there was a line that went halfway around the block to get into the church. So I told Becca I could amuse myself for the next few hours and she went back to the hostel, while I investigated. I asked an elderly lady why there was a line, and it was to venerate the Christ statue because we´re in the novena of Christ the King. So I, of course, joined the line. And when I got into the church, two things struck me especially. 1) it was totally packed, with more than 500 people, I´d day. 2) I´d been there before. Four years ago mom dragged me to church there, I think for Ash Wednesday, the day on which the only thing I was allowed to eat was one half an orange - remember that mom?

So I and the old ladies venerated the statue and went to just a lovely Mass with organ and choir and so many people - it really made me remember that Advent starts in a week, and it´s time to really think about that, what that means, etc. Then, I went across the street to meet Becca, though I was a little early. The place had literally two seats unoccupied, so I snagged one, saved the other, and waited. The waitress was good humored about it, and Becca came pretty soon. We had some delicious tostadas, then wandered around various sites for a while, before calling it a night. Walking around Madrid is sort of weird, because I have been almost all the places, but most of them were last seen about four years ago, so it´s a little disorienting. I remember exactly where mom and I stayed, and where we went to breakfast, and such... though without a map I´m completely helpless to find anything.

Today I think I´m going to hit the Prado, and the Royal Palace, trip through the park, and I´m not really sure what else. Only time will tell. A siesta may also be in order later, too...

And one more thing...

2007-11-23T00:41:00.000-08:00

Nobody in Spain believes that Becca and I are sisters, and most people think I'm older. Fine.

Thanksgiving

2007-11-22T23:13:00.000-08:00

Well, yesterday was a very interesting day. I actually think of it more in scenes than as a composite, because the various parts were so radically different. I spent the morning with Becca, we went to the IVAM (modern art museum) which was a mix of things I was able to appreciate, and things that, because of some defect in them or in me, I was not able to appreciate. One room had an interpretation of the rape of the Sabine women, and it was rather... oh, ominous or... well it just shook me up a little - it was all done in metal tubing, the figures were slightly larger than life, and the women were in silver, the Romans in black. Anyway, as we left that room, Becca commented on how she thought it was interesting, and I agreed and she was like "but you've never seen the Rape of the Sabine Women. It's in Florence." And I explained to her the actual history, and that I had seen a photo of the statue, and there was a weird moment of silence and then we moved on. Not sure why I just shared that, but it struck me as being rather telling of our relationship. Also, there was an exhibit from a Valencian artist, which I really enjoyed because many of the scenes were from Godella, only about 100 years ago - it's funny how things stay the same, and how they change.

After lunch, I had class, but first I caught a few family members on instant messenger. And I don't like Thanksgiving very much, I don't understand the point of parades and the concept of watching a parade on TV annoys me, and I hate football, but I got a bit nostalgic for America while "chatting," especially with my grandmother, who offered, as a cure to my home-hunger, to "imagine me cutting up the turnip for dinner, with the BIG knife." Thanks, Ging, will do.

Class was a little wild, as always, and afterwards Becca and I went to our program's Thanksgiving dinner. It was sort of like Thanksgiving. There was turkey, beans, peas, potatoes, sweet potatoes, and pumpkin and turron for dessert. No cranberry sauce (only vinegar and oil - blech) and when I say pumpkin for dessert, I mean pumpkin - they cut the pumpkin in half and roast it, and you know, it was not half bad. The profs and such were there too, but they sat segregated a ways, except Jorge, who received many invitations to go out on the town afterwards.

We left the dinner and headed out to get some Agua de Valencia (because honestly, who leaves Valencia without trying some!?) and while out, ran into Gino and his friends. We joined forces and went to a place that "forgot" to tell us when we entered that they were closing in 20 minutes. So then we went to another place, and while we were there, a group of kids, our travel-advisor types and... Jorge came into the pub. It was pretty funny. Becca and I left a little bit early, because we were beat, and I fell asleep the minute my head hit the pillow. Which means that now, I really need to go clean up my room and pack!

I hope everyone had a good Thanksgiving. Bec and I are off to Madrid! Valle recommended the "best tapas place in the world" to us, so we'll go there, and I guess do the museums and who knows what else. Then Sunday it's back to Valencia, and Tuesday, I'm cooking "American food" for 8 people (and I'm still not really sure what that is!)

Paz y bien

I forgot the best part!

2007-11-21T23:55:00.000-08:00

I woke up this morning realizing that I hadn't mentioned the box. When the polish woman went back home, Gino gave her a box, closed with a little padlock. He has the key, and said that his plan was if they ever were to be together, he would give it to her, and she could open the little box and find the letter and gift enclosed inside (how romantic is that!?). He also said that he had hoped she would break open the box to find out, but alas, she did not. I think that is all. Also, I am supposed to be cooking "American cuisine" for them some time next week, but I haven't the foggiest as to what that is. They all think it's just hamburgers, and, on reflection, I'm starting to think they're right.

An international affair...

2007-11-21T16:09:00.000-08:00

Today, Becca and I had the pleasure of supping with some CLU types, and co. I left the inviting to Valle, and it wound up being Gino (from Chile), his flatmate (also chilean), Paola, Francesco, and Valentina. We had the luxury of being driven, too! So Gino brought us to a typical sort of place where we had tapas, etc. And he told us an exciting story about his weekend...

Apparently there was a polish woman who lived a few years in Valencia, with whom Gino was pretty sure he fell in love. She returned to Poland. Time has passed, and he misses her - he might love her! What's a man to do? Clearly, he should fly into Krakow and take an 8 hour bus ride across Poland to surprise her... which is exactly how Gino spent last weekend... he decided that he had to see her again, so he secretly came to visit and surprised her, and in the end, they're not going to be together, but he was exultant in his failure and broken-heartedness. He just kept saying "I was really living! I was really alive!"

So that was very endearing. We had lunch here, then I had to go get train tickets (the bus company is still on strike!) for Madrid this weekend. Then I had class, then I taught the darling Belén and Olivia, then I met up with Bec and the rest is history. Actually, I was worried today's English lesson would be bad because I arrived just in time to see Olivia smash Belén's playdoh creation, and she definitely started crying. But amazingly enough I was able to distract her and make them both chill a little. Kids just take everything so seriously! It reminds me of one time when my younger brother was jealous of my high pinball score on the computer (which, I will remind the world at large, was greater than 6 million points) and decided that rather than bettering himself and trying to beat me fairly, he would just erase the high score board. There was much trauma and gnashing of teeth that day, because I was a child and took it all very seriously. I will admit, however, that a score of more than six MILLION points on pinball is pretty impressive, and certainly requires more ability than making some silly playdoh face. Honestly.

Hmm. I'm not really sure how I got there... but tomorrow is Thanksgiving, which is a holiday I associate with bad food and good desserts. Becca and I will be eating with the school, and God only knows what that will be like. The people at school are much harder to get along with and make pleasant conversation with than the people of CLU. Uf. Ok, I need to go to bed. This has been an update, for which you can all be thankful (ja, ja, ja).

I quit!

2007-11-20T13:20:00.000-08:00

Today I had the extremely liberating experience of quitting a job without giving two weeks' notice. I decided to get out of the Lucía situation. Now, this was all very awkward, but it had to be done, and I am soooo glad it's over. But let's do this chronologically.

This morning I was very lazy and did very little before going to Godella to visit with Jaime. Or is it Jaume... I learned an important thing today: in Spain, it is customary to always translate names. So when Jaime talks to his chums in Valenciano, they call him Jaume [chow-me]. But when he talks to people in Castellano, he's Jaime [hi-me]. Weird. NOBODY calls me Emilia, it's always [eh-me-li]. And I got to thinking about it and they even call Prince Charles of jolly old England Principe Carlos. We don't call Juan Carlos "John Charles!" Oh, well. Yet another oddity of Spain (or is it an oddity of America...?) Regardless, I had a good, but abbreviated time with Jaime as it started to rain. It was sort of nice having a little free time.

Lunch was, as always, delightful, and I survived my Jorge classes. I must say, with every class that passes, I more and more appreciate the comic duo that is Hannah and Carolyn. They are roommates and they sit next to me in both Jorge classes. And they constantly crack me up, because they are really interested in learning, and are constantly surprised by the things they learn. Additionally, they always accidentally use phrases that have sexual innuendo in class, and it's hilarious because they genuinely have no idea what they're saying. In English, they are among the foulest mouths in the program, but they are entirely innocent in Spanish. It's very endearing, seeing them struggle so good-humoredly at making sense of it all.

So then I had to go quit my job. I was very ungracious about it. More or less I walked in and said I could not continue because I felt like I was doing a mediocre job (true). Amalia wasn't overly happy, but I think she sort of saw that it was for the best when Lucia, when asked if she would like to have one last lesson, hid herself behind her father and shook her head solemnly. I was very careful to blame myself entirely on the failure of the lessons, though Amalia, to the end, insisted that I was doing well and Lucia was learning. I just couldn't put the kid through any more.

Then I went to meet up with Becca, who caught the train in from Barcelona. We had a nice dinner, and tomorrow she gets to experience Adela's cooking. Yessssss. I feel like it will be great fun, and miraculously, we're getting along pretty well, although I almost feel as though Bec's already bored with Valencia. Vhatever. Tomorrow night I'm going to gather all my internal resources and take her out I think, and we'll sup with the Erasmus types, I'm pretty sure. Then Thursday is Thanksgiving, which will be celebrated with the program. Oh sheesh. It will be very different from our average Thanksgiving. I actually am not a huge fan of this particular holiday, but I do love baking pies. Or, to put it more accurately, I like watching my grandmother bake pies and eating the extras from the crust with jam. Yum.

I think I'm going to snag a flan from the kitchen, write some silly essay about Ziryab, and go to bed... Paz y Bien!

Adela's cumple!

2007-11-19T13:33:00.000-08:00

Today was Adela's birthday, which ended up being great fun. In the morning, she seemed shocked when I remembered it was her birthday. Anyway, in my Islam class, Valle brought in chocolate filled and covered croissants, which was delightful, and we listened to a lot of music, which was boring. Then in 20th century, we were watching Franco's propaganda movie, "Raza" and I full on fell asleep. I mean, I was OUT. So suddenly it was the end of class, and Valle was asking me some question, and I just had no idea what was going on, but honestly- it was warm and dark and boring.

I ran to pick up a few flowers and a card for Adela, and a card store that was just closing (lights were off, they were headed home for lunch) let me run in and grab a card (I must have looked desperate) and so I came home to Adela and Pepo, the ex-boyfriend of Laura, cooking. Pepo is in town for a few days, but he's currently studying in Rome, and he supplied the pasta for the meal. Present at lunch were: Adela, Miguel Angel, his girlfriend María (very nice), Laura, Pepo, and Laura and M A's father, who supplied the wine (which came in a dusty bottle - it was older than me - from 1982!). For lunch, we had delicious pasta with fresh parmesean and then chicken and it was just so good and THEN we had chocolate cake, AND ice cream, AND truffles, and coffee. See, Adela is very into chocolate, so that's what almost everyone gave her for her birthday (it is what she asked for). I was also offered cognac, which I declined. It was all very lovely, and when I left at 5.10 for class, all of them except M A (who also had class) were still sitting and talking.

Class with the girls was a little bit exhausting, but it was payday which made it less painful. They decided that today's english lesson would be singing along to the soundtrack of "High School Musical" which was really cute, because they know all the dance moves, and seeing Belén in her school uniform, and Olivia in her pj's dancing along and singing words the meaning of which they were oblivious to was very heartwarming, especially when their older sister joined in. I then went to CLU where I caused something of a problem because I said that I thought the reading made it seem like we must not have free will, and nobody really answered me. I think that I caught them off guard, since I went from being silent for two or three meetings to letting loose a storm of words right at the beginning. And my questions still aren't satisfied, and I still don't understand anything about grace or free will, but I decided halfway through the meeting that I should stop trying so hard to understand, since it is sort of like Augustine and the Trinity - I'm sure it can't fit in my head. So all I've done is planted the seeds of skepticism in Valentina, who told me that my comments really made her think. May God have mercy on my soul.

I think those are the main highlights of the day. Oh, I also found out that I'm assigned to Marian hall right now, which is an impossibility. If I can't get moved out, I will be off campus, somewhere. I wish there were someone in Clare I could bribe to move.

Ok, off to do a bit of tarea before going to bed - Becca comes tomorrow (oh boy!).

Oh, Adela

2007-11-18T12:36:00.000-08:00

I do cherish my dinners alone with Adela! Today, some monks were on the tele talking about some liquor they produce, and she started talking about the nuns from her town, who made pastries and communion wafers, and embroidered sheets for newlyweds. So I got to hear all about how she used to go to the cloister, and ring the bell and announce herself and then they would pass out to her the "restos" from the communion wafers (the dough out of which was cut the circles) and she would snack on it. Oh, it makes me nostalgic for a time I know wasn't as good as I like to think.

I read again at Mass this evening. And I witnessed a female EMHC for the first time since I've been here! Also, I'm pretty sure the priest in his homily said that all of these readings about punishment should not be taken literally, because "Dios no castiga" but I am going to pretend that I just didn't understand what he said and continue going to St. Al's. I would end up at the only liberal church in the city. Because the church here is actually uber traditional - in fact, as Luis says, the bishop is more catholic than the pope. He won't allow people to leave the church! So I am sort of proud to go to my heretic church, where the lectors are me, teenage boys in hoodies, and girls in miniskirts, and God doesn't punish...

So I only have 40 or so pages of the 300+ that we were randomly assigned for Quijote this weekend. Actually, Luis told us that he didn't expect us to finish and we could just read summaries online, but I feel like having integrity, so I'm doing it all. I also have to comment on an article for history class that can be reduced to the sentence, "Franco was a sad, chubby little man who had short-man's syndrome and a nasty temper." However, I feel as though Valle would not quite appreciate that. So off I go to be diligent, etc.

I forgot to mention...

2007-11-18T03:22:00.000-08:00

The most exciting thing about the English Mass business meeting was that we got locked into the terrace!!! I guess we were taking too long and the gatekeeper wanted to go home for lunch. Fr. Jan had to make a call, and we got out of there without too much trouble, but it was pretty funny. The end.

The English Mass business meeting, among other things

2007-11-17T23:46:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I played again at the English Mass. Which means, of course, that I got there 20 minutes early, to prayerfully practice and prepare myself to play (alliteration!) and had to try and maintain order as other people trickled in, then Sr. Alma STORMED in, messed up all my papers, and demanded that I play a song I hadn't practiced in a long time, which is in a key too high for many singers. Wunderbar.

We did marginally better than last week, however, as I was finally allowed to start the songs with guitar rather than Alma starting to sing, oblivious to the correct note on which to begin. Following Mass, we had our business meeting, and Sr. Alma couldn't make it because she had to study (as if that were an appropriate excuse!). It was quite lovely; Ross brought little sandwiches and cucumbers and carrots, Ella, a Polish lady, brought some Polish sweets (and her adorable son, who was a delight to watch scamper around), Wu Ling brought drinks, and other contributed various junk food and we all bantered for a while before Fr. Jan came up. It was in a wicked sweet building, too, adjacent to the church, and up on a terrace (more on that later).

Fr. Jan brought us to order, as I was hearing about wine making from Ronald, and the poor man is terrified about joining our choir with the former musical talent, Elizabeth, who he referred to as "our Irish soprano." Hehehe. Anyway, I think that we'll have a little caroling party the weekend before I leave for Christmas! And while, in a way, that is against my principles, since it's silly to sing Christmas carols during Advent, I don't really care that much. It should be nice; they are all rather lovely people. I'm a little concerned about preparing for Anna's first communion, since I won't be here next weekend, but time will tell.

Last night, I went over to Valle's for dinner, and two of her friends were visiting from Italy. They were all very kind, and for a little while, I was actually speaking English! See, it was a couple, and they both spoke better English than Spanish (though Valle and her flatmate Ana don't speak any English, really) so while Ana and Valle were doing dishes, I got to speak the mother tongue. Apparently the girl (whose name I don't recall) lived in Ireland for a little while - so her English was quite good. They were both just very charming people, so even though it was many hours of time away from school, it was probably all for the best. Also, I got to help cook, which was a very welcome change! I think I'm going to cook tex-mex for Ana and Valentina soon. That will be quite the cultural experience for them...

Ok, off to read, write and run. Peace!

I'm like a magnet to crazy people

2007-11-16T11:59:00.000-08:00

So I decided to go to St. Al's instead of St. Max's tonight, just to add variety to my life, and definitely busted up a holy hour (oops!). Then, I saw my good friend Anne. Yes. So she's definitely trying to recruit me to join Regnum Christi. No, thank you. She stopped me after Mass and asked why I hadn't returned her call, and if I'd gotten her message. Honestly, I'd forgotten she called and I'm just not of a mind to be trying to be friends with her. Anyway, I explained that I'd been traveling when she called (true) so I just had forgotten.

She proceeded to tell me about how she'd just gotten back from a Regnum Christi discernment retreat where there were lots of consecrated and they all had wonderful, powerful stories, blah, blah, blah... I got to hear about one Mexican consecrated who went against her father's wishes to be consecrated (isn't that usually frowned upon, rather than lauded?) and then I got to hear about how people really NEED to give their lives to God and dedicate themselves to him... Yes, Anne, thank you. I'll keep that in mind. Uf. So she's a little odd, but what can you expect, she is from Ohio, after all :)

Anne also invited me to grab a bite with her, but I declined, on account of homework, so I'd best get on that, else I be a liar.

Nothing new under the sun.

2007-11-16T05:05:00.000-08:00

So right now I'm both reading King Lear and an overview of medieval Muslim philosophy and I am continually struck by how little we humans change. Allow me to elaborate. Lear talks about a couple basic themes: the power of words, and their meaning; the family structure and familial ties; and the role of... oh, tradition, or something like that, in society. And those are all issues that we STILL are all confused about and are (sort of) trying to figure out. And Muslim philosophy and mysticism seems to be just a sort of synchretism of Greek thought, with a dash of Christian and Jewish influence. In the book I'm reading, the author quotes (as though it were novel) one text from the Muslim mystical tradition which says, "If you know God as you should you will walk on the sea and be able to move mountains." Hmmm... now what does THAT sound like?

In a way, it's all a little annoying. I was hoping to read something new and novel in this philosophy, so I could write some sort of exciting and groundbreaking paper for Valle, but I'm just going to have to write about how it's all just the same. And what's more - he ALWAYS talks about how the Muslims advanced everything SO MUCH because they weren't afraid of truth (unlike the Christians) and they were enlightened, and blah, blah, blah... but this book that Valle lent me talks all about the various intellectual persecutions undergone by Muslim philosophers. Averroes spent the last years of his life in exile and his books were ordered to be burned! I honestly don't think Valle's even read this book! I just don't even know. Ah, well. I'm just glad I do know enought about this philosophy nonsense to see the similarities of theme, etc.

Well, having said all that, I should probably actually DO my work, rather than just rant about it. And I really like King Lear! Unfortunately, once I've finished him up, I have to read some ungodly amount of Don Quijote because Luis "didn't realize" he was assigning us 300 pages to read over the weekend. Oops.

Until next time...

Por que no te callas?

2007-11-13T13:30:00.000-08:00

I just thought I'd let a quote from the king be my title for this post. Honestly, though - I am a little surprised he lost his temper like that, but the whole world knows that Chavez is crazy- why is it such a big deal to tell him what everyone thinks? Shut up already!

Today was tiring, but good. I had a great run this morning, then hopped on the metro to Godella. Today there were fewer old men out and about, so Jaime and I chatted about the lie of "progress" and agriculture and Valencian and everything. He's such a dear. I am just continually impressed by the... I don't even know how to say it - dignity, maybe, of the older Spanish generation. They are courteous without being pompous, and even the people who have had very little education have read tons and are very aware of politics, on a national and international level. But they are also very fierce, and proud. I wouldn't cross Adela, or Jaime, or Toni, or any of them, about something they really care about. And granted, Adela's younger than the rest of them, but she's still got that- strength of character, perhaps- that advertises to the world, "don't screw around with me. I'm hard core."

So yes, the morning was great. And lunch was tasty. Then I had my Jorge classes, which plunged to new depths of unprofessionalism and debauchery. Let's just say that we had an in-class task of thinking up commands for our classmates, and then negative commands to stop them from acting and people were very... creative... with their commands. And in linguistics, we are supposedly learning about the parts of the sentence, but I feel as though he keeps contradicting himself so I'm not really sure what's right and such. Mind, that does not mean I am worried about the class, but just that I'm more disillusioned about my buddy Jorge.

After class I went to teach Lucía who reached a point where she wasn't actually acknowledging my existence. So that wasn't so good. And I was really making it interesting, but she's just too little and too tired. So I told her dad that (fortunately mom wasn't home) and left 20 or so minutes early. I'm quitting next week, for sure - but I'm worried about the kid. She's honestly just not that smart, I don't think, and her parents aren't that nice, and it's just a little depressing thinking that she has to live with them for always. Yuck. Of course, there's nothing I can do, but it still sucks. But I don't have to go Thursday because they're going away somewhere tomorrow. Yay!

And this weekend is a three day! Granted, it will be spent largely working on my end-of-term papers so I don't have to worry about them later, but I am excited to spend another weekend in Valencia, and to have time for long leisurely runs and guitar playing. I guess Tuesday night is a little early to be planning for the weekend, but it practically starts after tomorrow, because the only think I have Thursday is my Jorge classes, which are certainly purgative, but can't really be called work...

Paz y bien!

Que chulo!

2007-11-12T15:16:00.000-08:00

Such was Belén's appraisal of the song "The Fox" which I am teaching to her and Olivia. I do think it's rather chulo myself, and the fact that I'm being paid to teach lovable children one of my favorite folk songs is just beyond me. I think I'm going to burn a cd with Nickel Creek's rendition so they can listen at home. Belén today was making sarcastic remarks about her sister's drawing that Olivia, fortunately, didn't understand, so I did my best to quietly show that I didnt' approve of that mocking. Imagine that - I'm actually discouraging sarcasm.

Today was pretty good except I had to watch two movies about the Spanish Civil War in a row, and it was very traumatic. The one I had to watch between classes, as I couldn't make it to the movie night last week and our prof decided to make it mandatory, and the other we watched in class. So that was a lot of movie, and a lot of depression for one morning. But then I got to come home to lunch, which included garbanzos with spinach (amazingly good) and, of course, my customary apple.

After lunch I decompressed a little before my Quijote class, then headed off to hear Luis talk about our papers for three quarters of the class. Fabulous. But then I got to go see the ever-charming Olivia and Belén, who manage to be cute even when I know they're trying to con me. Then we had CLU, and I must say, we've been, for a while now, going over this bit about verification and the encounter, and other related things, and it's all just a bit abstract for me. And when I read about how we are supposed to "be the encounter for others" I just feel a little bit helpless because you can't force faith on people (and Don Giu certainly doesn't suggest that) but rather you sort of have to trust that God will speak through you however he is inclined so to do. But I feel like, especially with my classmates, our relationships are sooo superficial that there's no way that I could communicate anything of importance to them. And that's putting God in a box, I imagine, but hey, I may as well do something I'm good at!

I had a very diverting conversation with one of the profs at dinner (don't actually know his name...) and he kept asking things like, "what have you liked most about Spain?" "what do you like most about America?" and we discussed capitalism and 24 hr shops and Wal-Mart. Actually, it wasn't much of a discussion, because we agreed about most everything. But it was entertaining, nonetheless. And I'm not sure how I will survive without my weekly durum kebap. I need to import Turks to Steubenville.

A more pressing need, however, is that for sleep. Tomorrow is another full day, wherein I have the pleasure of teaching Lucia (oh boy!).

Peace and all good

Another Pleasant Valley Sunday...

2007-11-11T12:07:00.000-08:00

I sure do love Sundays... you get to sleep in and play guitar, you don't have to go to class, you have family time and the food is just a little bit better than normal, there's time to run, you get to siesta, even though you don't really need to, and you get to read millions of pages of readings you're behind on. Yes, Sundays are great.

Actually, even the reading was interesting enough, so I'm not even complaining about that, really! Today had all the perfect Sunday elements, terminating in Mass at St. Al's just a little while ago. I do love how the church that's named after a scholastic philosopher has really REALLY energetic guitar music for Mass. Poor Albert must be rolling over in his crypt. But the musicians are really talented...

Anyway, also today I "chatted" (online) with an old friend who will be doing an organic farm internship this summer and I mentioned that I would just love to do something like that, only not in North Carolina (where he'll be) and he did a search and came up with a farm in Kentucky (have I ever mentioned my deep love for all things Appalachia?) that uses horses, not tractors, and does presentations about the history of farming in America. They need a volunteer for the summer - now I just need to be creative and find a way to make it work...

That was, perhaps, the most exciting part of the day. Sundays are always a "recharge" day of sorts, since Mondays I go straight from 8.45 when I leave the house until 11 or 12 when CLU finishes dinner. Ok, maybe DINNER doesn't count in the going straight, but certainly the school of community does - so I am going straight for about 13 hours on Mondays. Ick. For someone who doesn't really like to work or be busy, I sure do a lot. I just wrote a Gadfly article about that, actually... and I'm excited to write my next one. It's going to be on Advent, and how pathetic it is that it's not a penitential season anymore adn people just treat it like pre-Christmas. Yes, it will be a delight. Actually, I'm stoked about Advent starting - only three more weeks! Whoa time flies. Becca's coming at the end of the week, so that should be good, presuming she ever communicates to me what we/she are/is doing. Time will tell. Ok, time to do my essay for Islamic Iberia - Valle has been just talking about silly things in class (things that Muslims looked for in wetnurses) and having us watch documentaries, so he just assigned us a paper that is a writeup about a documentary. What's more, nobody could understand it because it was a pirated, million year old copy with tons of static. So that should be fun.

Ok, off I go! Dinner, then work - hooray! God bless you all...

2007-11-10T05:16:00.000-08:00

I am constantly being reminded of both the depravity and goodness of people. Yesterday, one of my classmates was trying to explain to me why prostitution is a social good. Today, I talked about planning music for a first communion with Joann, from Michigan. I just had lunch with the fam, at which time I heard Miguel Ángel arguing for the nuclear bombing of the world between Israel and China, and Adela arguing against. It's amazing, the disparity between different people, and really, the disparity within people. Or at least within myself- it's a lot easier to see there. My reading of Pascal and other self-obsessed thinkers is only exaggerating this discovery of the coexistence of good and evil in our nature.

So yes, I played at Mass today, and the music situation is very interesting here. I chatted with Fr. Jan beforehand, trying to figure out how he feels about singing the responses, and he told me to wait until next week, as there's something of a business meeting after Mass regarding the English Mass community. Apparently, we're something of a democracy. Also, there may be some drama, because I guess a lady named Elizabeth used to do the music for Mass, but is recovering from a difficult delivery or something but will be coming back soon and she used to basically perform, which is NOT Sr. Alma's mode of operation. I'm excited to see what goes down. I am also really excited to plan Joann's daughter's first communion!! She is of the variety of midwestern women who are just very down-to-earth and such, which is nice.

This whole music experience is quite good for me, I think, because I'm learning about humility and obedience. I've decided that even when I firmly disagree with Sr. Alma's judgment about music, I will defer to her judgement because 1) she was here first and 2) she sort of terrifies me. But that's ok. I think that if there comes a time when I have to stand up to her about something, I will have the strength of character to do so. Maybe. She's got Fr. Jan pretty whipped, so we'll see...

Ok, I'm going to siesta, and savor the delightful lunch I just had. Next semester, my quality of food is going to plummet, drastically. Sigh.

Paz y bien!

Finally Friday!

2007-11-09T11:10:00.000-08:00

So it's the weekend! Time to party hard - sort of. Actually, before I actually start writing, I would like to comment on an oddity of Amalia, the mother of Lucia. She always asks me if I am "saliendo de fiestas" when I go to teach. No Amalia, I'm not. She also mentioned once that her brother could take me sometime if I wanted to go with someone. Eeew gross. Also, ever since I once mentioned that I run, she always asks me if I'm going running. It's just weird.

But anyway. My day. It was really, really good. I had to get my international student ID card this morning, so I took the bus, got lost, and eventually found the place. I sort of knew I would get lost, so it wasn't really a big deal. Anyway, I went back to teh center, did the whole church thing, had an awesome lunch (with flan for dessert! sooo good) and went to class. Jorge was not teaching us today, for a change, so for linguistics we had Pilar, and for grammar Agustín. They are both very different from Jorge.

Pilar (Pili) has been described by Valle as "pure energy" (we often hear her shouting and banging on the chalkboard from the next classroom over). She is indeed that. Actually, at first I thought we were really going to learn in class - that she would be hardcore, but she kept making mistakes! Like one student asked "but isn't me gusta aprender a passive sentence? Isn't it 'I am pleased by learning?'" At which Pilar squinted, scrunched up her face and said, "Yes, you're right!" At which I said, "no!" I actually think that Pilar is a better teacher/more knowledgeable than Jorge, but it was obvious that she was resentful that she had to cover his class, and that she hadn't prepared at all. But the class was fine, and it was pretty entertaining whenever Pilar would throw in English words to explain things to us in her funny british/spanish accent.

Next was Agustín, who seemed really nervous about teaching us, and started the lesson by lauding Jorge's excellent teaching. He noticed throughout the lesson that I was a bit ahead of the group, and when we were working on the last set of problems for the day, he came over to see if mine were correct when he noticed I finished. Of course they were (we were doing tú commands - oh boy!) and he sort of looked at me quizzically, so I explained that I just didn't have the prereq, adn he started saying how I shouldn't have to be in that class, and then I think he sort of realized how inútil the discussion was, and he shrugged and walked away. It was all a little odd. The good news is we got out of class almost an hour early (YES!) And now it's the weekend. I must say, I am feeling slightly nostalgic, thinking about how tomorrow is Saturday, and there will be people breakfasting at Spanky's, drinking coffee out of mismatched mugs and enjoying a fall morning in Wintersville.

However, my life ain't half bad either - tomorrow I play for Mass with the most mismatched choir of all time! I'm pretty stoked.

It's 70 and sunny... but it's November, so naturally everyone's wearing jackets

2007-11-08T05:05:00.001-08:00

Well, today I had to ask Carol (the non-academic head of the program here) about which bus to take to get my visa tomorrow, and I almost got out of there without any awkwardness, and then she asked, "and will you be staying with Adela next semester."

Ok folks, I know that Jesus said the right hand is not supposed to know what the left hand is doing, but that was in reference to works of charity, not running a school. I guess I presumed that Valle had spoken with her, but apparently such was not the case. Anyway, my response was, "I'm not going to be coming back next semester." So anyway, we had a talk about things, and she at first tried to convince me to stay but then something I said must have just made sense to her or something because she suddenly stopped and just said, "ah, I understand." I think she might have started to cry. It was a little bit horrible, but at least it's done now.

I must say though, one of the catchwords of this whole dialogue has been "maturity." I don't live the way my fellow students do because I'm "more mature," apparently. But really, I think that's a bunch of crap. What is maturity? I think that when people say "maturity" what they really mean is "appropriate behavior." And for some reason, inappropriate behavior is commonly accepted and dismissed as "immaturity." Argh. Probably I'm just being judgemental, but honestly - every child understands that there are certain things that he or she must do, whether they want to or not (chores, homework) so why should 20-somethings be exempt from responsibility?

End rant.

I just had some delicious tortilla española for lunch, and my customary post-comida apple. I don't think I have explained the apple thing yet... I usually eat two apples a day, here. Why? Well, I do like apples, first off. Secondly, it is Adela's custom to have a piece of fruit after every meal. I guess I chose apples more than anything else the first couple of weeks I was here, so Adela has since tried out different varieties of apples, etc., and it's just really interesting how important it is to her. Incidentally, she usually eats a kaki after lunch, and an orange or another kaki after dinner. One day, as we were eating our customary fruits, she started laughing, and exclaimed, "tú eres de manzana, y yo de kaki!" And really, I think that statement is probably quite profound.

Speaking of profundity. In my never-ending quest of a place to pray, today I actually found a chapel that is sealed off from the touristy part of the church, and hence is quiet! Yippee. That was a very exciting discovery. However, it's in the center, which means that it will only be a feasible destination Thursday-Sunday. But that's just fine. I can be holy for half the week. It will be a nice gradual transition to life at Franciscan that way :)

Off to my Jorge classes. Yes! And then class with Lucia. YES! And then I have another mostly free morning tomorrow. Score. Life is good.

O mejor, estabo probado intentar studiarre

2007-11-07T15:42:00.000-08:00

Or so said Valentina over skype yesterday in her endearing broken spanish. I must say, I grow fonder of her every time I see her, which is a frequent occurence. Just today, I ran into her on the street on my way back from teaching Belén and Olivia, and she grabbed me by the shoulders to confer about our trip to Italy for the Christmas exercises. I am, in fact going, though I don't know in what language they will be held, or really what it will entail. Also, I will be using my free skip for my M/W classes on that last day of class, since our flight will get in sometime Monday. And even though we are expected to use our skip, I am already feeling vague guilty feelings about that... but honestly, Valle will survive a day without me, and Luis will just have to hold a Don Quijote class without any biblical references, or come up with his own.

Even in the extreme dysfunction that is the center, I am quite fond of Valle and Luis. They are both terrible teachers, of course, but still very endearing, now that I've stopped expecting to learn in class. We watch a movie every other class in Valle's classes, and Luis just keeps getting so impressed by our (very shoddy) literary analysis of DQ that practically every other word out of his mouth is "joder!" followed by a vigorous shaking of his head.

After class the other day, Luis told me that he could tell in my paper that I was bored by the assignment, and asked me why. I responded honestly that I am not the biggest fan of summarization, and he asked me why I didn't just write an essay instead. I answered that I was trying to follow the assignment given me and the poor guy was just very confused by that answer. But then he told me that he heard I wasn't staying the year, and told me I should go to Salamanca, "although," he said, "there is an abundance of something you don't like very much there - drunk american college students." Oh Luis, you're such a card. Today Laura, the mother of Belén and Olivia, asked me when I was leaving. When I told her the date, she said, "but you're coming back, right?" Noooo, I am not. But I might leave one of my "superchulo" English learning books with them when I go. Time will tell.

Now time is telling me it's past my bedtime. Uf. Tomorrow I have to get my visado or something at the police station, and I have errands to run, and "class" with Lucía, and then it is PRACTICALLY the weekend. Praise be to God, now and forever.

And all the things I thought about myself and the world?

2007-11-06T15:16:00.000-08:00

It's amazing how, when we are challenged, we can surprise ourselves. I never thought that I would be patient or gentle in any way, shape or form, and yet today, I suddenly saw ways that I may just be becoming both of those things.

I've never been much for the corporal works of mercy, I'm not going to lie. I never liked being around sick people (probably because the difference between them and me is so pronounced). I always used to get nervous visiting nursing homes, especially ones wherein the residents were slipping a bit. Basically, people who are unwell made me nervous. And I got to a point where I just stopped trying to change that about myself. Sure, Jesus loved those people in a close, concrete way, but he was God, so I needn't bother, right? And besides, someone else will always be there to help them. Why should it have to be me?

This summer I saw the first tiny change when I watched Fred for a week. Fred is 20-something, but functions at about a 12-year-old level because of an accident he suffered a few years ago. By chance, his family (who my family have known for years) was in a pickle and needed someone to watch him, so there I was, supremely awkward me, with Fred. And amazingly enough it all worked out fine. Good, even. And I rejoiced.

Then, this semester, I decided to sign up for volunteering, though I didn't have the slightest idea about what that would entail. And when I found out I would be spending two hours a week with a dude with no legs, I was pretty skeptical about the entire situation. And by pretty skeptical, I mean I was dreading the entire ordeal. But I decided to just bite the bullet and go. Of course, now my visits with Jaime are practically the highlight of my week. I am really terribly fond of the old guy. My heart hurts a little when I see how frail he is, and when I think about his... ahem... less than admirable daughter... who does not take care of him, but that doesn't make me nervous around him, and it doesn't make me condescend to him. Actually, as cheesy and stereotypical as it sounds, I have gained far more from the experience than he has, I am sure. I love his stories about the town, about his life, and about Spain. I love his friends. And they all treat me like one of them. All I've done is offered him my legs for two hours a week. So yes, I think that means I'm learning something about compassion.

And nobody will probably believe this, but I was actually a model of patience today with my delinquent friend Lucia. We were doing all right in our lesson today (she wasn't learning anything, I'm sure, but she wasn't fussing either) until her mom entered the scene. Within five minutes, Lucia was crying and her mom was practically shaking with rage. And even though I wanted to shout at that horrible mother and tell Lucia to stop being so spoiled, I somehow didn't. I proceeded with our stories, and you know, the mom acted sort of ashamed of herself. Whenever she has an altercation with Lucia (which happens fairly frequently, and in my presence), she always tries to catch my eye and give me an exasperated look that says, "look what I have to put up with!" and I will say, that completely pisses me off. But thusfar, I've managed to not freak out at her. Which MIGHT mean that I'm learning how to keep my mouth shut and be patient, and not tell other people how to run their lives. Maybe.

Also I had a very interesting talk with Luis after Don Quijote yesterday evening. He asked me what I want to do with my life. And I answered in the roundabout way that has become typical... "well, I guess if I had to decide right now I would have to teach, but some days I want to be a farmer, and some days I want to be a hermit." At which Luis said, "yes, I understand all those things. Actually, I am a hermit. Not a religious one, but a hermit nonetheless." This is, of course, the prof who has called me a "biblical encyclopedia" and has offered me the use of his bike. What a curious sort.

Anyway, I've not the slightest what it in here, but I should go think about Franco's golpe de estado before bed.

Sub misericordia

Back in the VLC

2007-11-05T01:33:00.001-08:00

After a weekend of "adventures," I returned to Valencia at 4.30 this morning. But before I get to that exciting story, perhaps I will try and recall what I did these past few days. Wednesday, after teaching Belén and co., I went to find my family. Turns out their flight was delayed and so they hit puente/partido traffic coming into town, the poor things. So I finally did find them at their hotel and we went to have a very Spanish dinner: doner kebabs. The next day we walked about Valencia and had lunch at my home, which was a hilarious experience. Adela pulled out all the stops for them - we even had wine. I didn't even know that Adela kept wine in the house! I also discovered at dinner that Miguel Ángel's english is pretty good, and that he is studying for his MBA. Who knew? Laura was not in attendance, as she was in Mozambique.

Friday we hit the market in the morning (and at least one vendor recognized me - score!) and then headed out of town. We stopped in Sagunto to see the beach and the castle, which was impressive even though I saw it a few years ago. I got my daily quota of rambling in, too, which was fabulous. From there, we proceeded to the middle of nowhere (Torrelled de Foix) to our inn. The place was pretty sweet, and I am envious of the innkeepers' lifestyle. It appears that basically this couple raises their babies at this really sweet old inn in the middle of cava country, and makes breakfast for guests. It's really quite idyllic.

We went Saturday to Montserrat. What a place! It would take weeks to traverse all the paths through the mountains, and alas, I had only a few short hours. The black Madonna was very impressive, and there's a path all lined with vigil candles on one side of the church, with various prayers in Catalán painted on the walls. We went back down the mountain and headed to Barcelona, with a vague plan to have dinner somewhere in the gothic neighborhood. And as we arrived at the cathedral, we heard strains of music - and saw dancing! We had, in fact, arrived just as the Sardana was beginning (or I think it's Sardana. I don't remember precisely...). Regardless of the name, it was a tradicional dance of Cataluña, done primarily by old people, who join hands in a circle and hop, skip and jump the night away. Priceless.

Sunday was supposed to be our day in Barcelona, but everything always takes longer than expected, doesn't it? So we didn't really get into the city until 1, when we went to Mass in Catalán. And I was actually able to follow the homily! That was cool, and then we went to lunch in a neat place off la Rambla. From there, we scurried to Parc Guell, saw a bit of that, and then it was already after 4, and I had dinner plans in Valencia. So I went to go get a ticket home, even though I never even saw la Sagrada Familia up close.

Only trouble is, there were no tickets.

I went first to the train station, then to the bus station, then, in something like desperation, back to the bus station. Finally, the guy found a bus leaving from one of the other stations in the city at 11.30 pm. Wunderbar. So I got that and I was just so tired and nerved up at that point that even though I still had time and probably could have seen la SF, I headed to the neighborhood of the station (see, I was also sans map and just didn't feel like wandering around lost in the dark with my silly backpack all by my lonesome). So I did much Honors reading in the station, ate my Spanish comfort food (kebabs) while watching Indian soap operas and music videos, and wandered around the Arc d' Triumf neighborhood. The arc really is impressive.

I also somehow managed to lose my ticket, and I could tell there was some sort of problem brewing when I went to have them reprint it, and the girl started muttering about plazas. When 11.15 rolled around and none of the schedules were acknowledging a bus to Valencia, I went to ask at the desk - I was one of a crowd. So apparently our bus' final destination was Cartagena, and they just thought that was not important information...

So I went out to the anden, with a young teenage type, a twenty-something, and a middle-aged guy. And we waited. And made jokes about public transportation. And waited. And watched the Barcelona fans get progressively more drunk from the Voll Damms they had stored in their backpacks... and we waited. When the bus finally arrived, it was clear there had been a severe case of overbooking. I was actually worried/hoping there was going to be some sort of riot, the way people were acting. I just watched, with my three friends. We were joined by a couple, who were similarly not about to riot, and we watched as people acted like animals and pushed, shouted, etc about the buses. One loud northamerican chick who didn't speak any spanish was shouting about how nobody would talk to her "I want answers! Blah, blah, blah..." By about 11.45, we were told that there was another bus coming, but that was all we knew.

Around 12.15 another bus did come and we boarded. Then they decided that the bus would only go to Castellón, so us Valencia-types had to get off. But there was another bus, shortly, and we pulled out around 12.30, to cheers. Actually, apart from a couple intense types, it was a good group. Being mutually screwed over by public transportation does have a way of uniting people. We all proceeded to fall asleep, and we rolled into Valencia around 4.20. As there were only four cabs outside the station, I basically sprinted to get to one, and headed home (and had a lovely conversation with the taxi driver).

This morning, Adela was very sympathetic. And I made it through class number one. Wahoo! Only two more to go, and then teaching, and then I'm done for the day. That is, of course, a very long way away, so I am going to go do more honors reading.

I love Franciscan

2007-10-31T08:19:00.000-07:00

No questions asked, the Registrar put me in the classes I wanted. Life is good.

But who will get the credit if her kidney starts to work?

2007-10-30T16:01:00.000-07:00

I have met quite a few characters in my time here, but Anne definitely makes the top 5. She is the lady from Cleveland who came up to me after Mass. Anyway, I said I'd meet her Monday after my lesson, so I went dutifully to St. Albert the great (isn't it delightful that the church of a scholastic has p&w Masses?). Anne again told me she just felt compelled to introduce herself to me (crazy people always do!) and we chatted for a little while. She's a hardcore Regnum Christi type, and wants me to meet "one of the consecrated" which is a phrase I don't really understand but which terrifies me nonetheless... so then we were walking towards her place, because it was in my direction, anyway, and I said that I had been teaching English to a kid right before, and she started exclaiming "you must meet Matthew! This will help them out! He can start working!" So the next thing I know I'm going into some family's apartment where there were just a LOT of people and they were all from Oregon. For some reason, they live in Valencia, but don't speak any Spanish. I dutifully explained to Matthew that even though it is "illegal" to teach as I do, it isn't actually a law that matters, and tons of people do it and lots of families need teachers. I then rapidly excused myself and went to CLU late. As they were saying their goodbyes, the family of Matthew told Anne that the Evangelicals were also praying for her kidney, so "when it starts working, they won't know who deserves the credit," to which Anne replied, "John Paul, hands down. When it starts working, we're going to Rome!" Crazies. It was a very long day.

Yesterday, I got up and went to meet Jaime, and we took our customary stroll. We met up with a slightly different crowd, though. We had a coffee while Ramón had a beer and bocadillo, and Victor sipped his white wine. Ramón and Jaime lamented that they could no longer feast on fatty foods, because they were developing large girths, and I refrained from laughing until I realized that they wanted me to laugh. I do love old men.

My Jorge classes in the afternoon were slightly more painful than normal because we were going over midterms and everyone was arguing about every point. They have no dignity. After classes, I went to go "teach" Lucia, who has developed the unpleasant habit of having a temper tantrum in every class and I just can't take it much longer and I told the mom, adding that maybe she was a little young and a little tired and there's nothing wrong with that, but the mom was pretty obstinate, so I guess I'm going back next week. I just feel badly for the kid - she's four. When I was four, I was in bed by the time I finish my lesson with Lucia. And the worst thing is the mother interferes with the lessons! She started bribing with candy (which of course had the effect of making Lucia think about candy rather than colors) and then whenever Lucia "couldn't remember" a color, her mom would mouth it to her!!!! How the heck is she supposed to learn anything if she's not allowed to do anything on her own? Not allowed to struggle and sometimes... yes, that's right... fail! It's a very sad situation, and I'm hoping to get out of it.

After that fracaso, I picked up a dessert and headed to dinner with Valentina, whose flatmates are out of town. She is a really terrible cook, poor thing. But we had salmon and eggplant and it worked out ok. We speak something like spanglitaliano together, which is interesting.

Tonight I'm teaching Belén and Olivia which is always a pleasure. I started registering for classes for next semester yesterday, but alas, I have the prereqs for only half of the classes I am going to take. So hopefully the registrar will email me back. And today my parents and little brother are coming! So I get to see them and show them Valencia, and then we are going Friday to Barcelona area to see the city and Montserrat. I am just glad to be doing some traveling where I don't have to plan and am not responsible.

Speaking of which, I think I will be going to the CLU Christmas exercises in Italy in December, the weekend before my finals. Valentina, Francesco, and Monica (a prof) are going, and I'm starting to submit to their peer pressure. I need to figure out first if everything is going to be conducted in Italian, though, because... well, I don't speak that language. Of course, that's never stopped me before...

Surprises

2007-10-28T13:06:00.000-07:00

So while I was taking my walk this morning, I came across a church. A very ugly church. Anyway, it is VERY close to my house, so I thought to myself "Emily, you ought to go to Mass there sometime." This evening, I went. And boy, was it fun.

Inside was more obscenely ugly than the outside, so I seated myself and contemplated the inside of my eyelids for a little while and then I heard... guitar. I was attending a p&w Mass. I listened to the band practice, and let me say, the guy playing guitar was GOOD. And it was just such a joy to hear pleasant voices singing so harmoniously together. Anyway, I was sitting there, very pleased, when one of the choir members approached me to ask if I would do the first reading and psalm response. To which I, of course, said the equivalent of, "listen, I don't really speak Spanish..." he assured me it would be fine, so there I was, lectoring the first day I go to this church. And it was altogether a very pleasant experience. The whole Mass was just - soul satisfying. It was standing room only, there were people of all ages there, the music was great, the priest was jovial and had a really good homily, and I didn't screw up the reading too profoundly. After Mass, an oldish lady approached me and said, "are you from America?" In English. Anyway, Anne proceeded to ask if I was involved in Opus Dei or Regnum Christi, and did I know they had a group for young girls? Somehow that conversation ended with me agreeing to meet her tomorrow night. Not sure how. Anne is from Cleveland, and has been here four years. Then, as I was on my way out, the guy who asked me to do the reading came up and he was just beaming and said I read perfectly (which, in all honesty, is not the truth) and that Pepe (the priest) was just very pleased, because my little accented self made the Mass universal. Just another service I provide.

But it really was a very delightful way to spend an evening, and I think I will keep going to my English Mass and pick this one up too. And by the way, across from the church is "cafeteria castillo" which sells three beers for one euro. I know this, because my classmates go there every day after class. Come to think of it, that's probably why I never walk by that way, and have never seen this church before. What have I learned from this experience? Drink more beer.

In case my mom's not the only one curious about agua de Valencia

2007-10-28T05:39:00.000-07:00

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Agua_de_Valencia

Oh, Wikipedia.

Good news, I've completed my essay comparing the first bit of DQ to the adventures in Sierra Morena. Enhorabuena! So I feel about as relieved as... Sancho after chapter 20... jajaja. It's about three times as long as the minimum length, but Luis is a masochist and likes reading student work, and said that he would be perfectly content to receive 20 page papers. Loco.

Anyway, my morning was spent doing that, and taking a lovely walk about the neighborhood in the brisk fall-ness. I heard a couple talking, saying it was "media-invierno!" And I guess, relatively speaking, it is. I really hope we have a lot of snow in New Hampshire this winter. I feel like building snow-forts with Dan today. And right now, I mostly feel like eating, because we have suffered a time change and it's not yet lunchtime. Drat.

Life does have a tendency to continue through these minor inconveniences, however. This afternoon I will rewrite history (the start of the 2nd republic!) and perhaps go for a run. I also might watch this movie that Luis lent me, "Azul" - actually I'm pretty sure that's not the original title since it's a French film, but anyway... I need to spend some time out of the house today because I've been sooo lazy this weekend and I think Adela thinks I'm weird for spending so much time in my room. I really wanted to do a passable job on this paper, though, and I do need to work on honors reading, etc. Valencia needs two things: a library I can study at and a chapel I can pray at, close to me, and open 24/7. Is that seriously asking too much?

It's a small catholic world

2007-10-27T04:44:00.000-07:00

What an awful lot I have done in the past day! First off, I had my Don Quijote class, wherein Luis told us that he was putting off grading our midterms until this weekend, because he was sick. And they were sick. I guess he read two and became very distressed. All we did in our class was watch a few clips of DQ and then watch some parts of "Life of Brian" to lighten the mood after Luis' proclamation about our tests. I really want to see it in its entirety now- it was so funny! However, I couldn't even understand the British accents, so at first I had to read the spanish subtitles. My word. After class, the program was hosting a "día de nostalgia" where they were going to eat pizza, drink mountain dew, and watch a Ben Stiller movie. I was teaching, so I didn't go, but I actually wasn't going to anyway because those aren't things I do in the states, so I have no nostalgia for them! My día de nostalgia would consist in 6.30 Mass, a pancake breakfast, an honors class, a game of cards and a Gadfly "meeting." Besides that, I had a great lesson with Belen and Olivia. Ok, I had a great lesson with Belen, wherein Olivia didn't cause too many problems. Belen is essentially me, age 7. She has no patience for her younger sibling, gets frustrated with her older sister, is entirely anxious to please and enjoys learning. What a joy she is to teach! We were going over food names, and I decided I would tell her what the words "ice" and "cream" really mean, in the off chance that she would a) care and b) be able to remember more easily the word for helado. So I told her that it means "hielo" and "nata" and it was amazing - her face lit, up and she was just so joyful to receive knowledge.

Funny sidenote- they teach some english phrases in the school, but the only answer that they are taught to the question, "how are you?" is "I am fine, thank you." Isn't that odd? What if you are not fine? I amplified the girls' vocabulary a little bit in that respect...

I went right from there to dinner with CLU people. The only information I had about this dinner was that I was invited, it was at Xátiva 1, and that was Raquel's house. So I found the address, which had a door A and a door B. Called Valle, who said she was on her way and we could figure it out together. When she arrived, she called Francesco, and we made our way to floor A, which was, I think, about the twentieth story. When we got up there, it was a little weird because everyone was talking in whispers, but whatever - anyway, Raquel showed us the terrace, and it was a SPECTACULAR view of the heart of the city - you could literally see into the plaza de toros. We joined Paola and Francesco in the kitchen, where they were cooking (well, Francesco was cooking, Paola was doing "the dirty work"). I was mocked for asking for water rather than a beer, which is just a reaction I've gotten used to. And nobody ever lets me explain myself! I wanted water because I had just walked for 45 minutes and I didn't really want to be dehydrated. Hombre!

Dinner didn't start for another hour and a half, but it was nice just relaxing, chatting, etc. We were joined by more CLU types for dinner and a priest, and I think that the CLU profs have some sort of unofficial religious community. It is very odd. There are five single women, all of whom wear wedding bands, living in this flat. I noticed a cartel with the "house schedule" on my way out, too, listing such activities as "vespers," "silence" and "evening encounter" (encounter is like small group for CLU). So it is a very odd living situation, but they are all very jolly and kind. I think that there is just a fundamental difference in personality between myself and them, collectively, but it's really ok. They all think I'm quiet. Ha. They think, because I don't talk as much as they do, that I don't understand what is being said, so I make sure to surprise them once in a while to keep them on their toes. Sometimes they still talk about me when I'm right there. Oh well. They also have decided that the reason I'm "quiet" is because I don't drink enough. And there probably is a correlation between the amount of alcohol I drink and the amount of words I say, but if anything that motivates me to NOT drink, for fear I say something I will regret. I got to correct some of their American stereotypes at dinner "no, we don't actually eat only food that is pre-prepared," "no, we don't have hamburgers every night," and they were also very interested in if we eat rice. I answered in the affimative, rice being a staple of my diet...

So that was pretty fun, and then us jovenes met up with mi gran amigo David and his friends (spanish and italian) who were visiting from Madrid. I think I'm going to learn italian before the semester is through, since Valle just replaces spanish words with italian ones when she doesn't know what to say. Anyway, we went to... burger kind... of all places, and then to expose the madrileños to agua de Valencia. I got talking with one of them, Javier, and he was asking where I go to school, etc., and I said Ohio, but assured him he wouldn't know about it. Then he insisted, so I told him Steubenville and apparently he's been in contact with Maria, from Steubenville, who's studying in Madrid this semester. This series of events led him into a long and eloquent discourse on how being Catholic gives meaning to life, and how some people may say that our meeting was a coincidence, but no! it's providence, providence... all told, it was an entertaining and enjoyable evening, and I think Valle is really bored because she told me that any time I study, I should call her and then we can study together. We'll see.

Today is one of those utterly satisfying fall days when there is just enough wind to make everybody else's hair look as unkempt as mine. I had a leisurely breakfast with Adela (which is a first) and we chatted. I think she's nervous for Laura, who is in Mozambique. Then, I went to S. Juan del Hospital to play guitar for Mass. I just think it's priceless that I stalked nuns for the first month I was here, and now that I don't have time to stalk them anymore, one has become my buddy. Oh, Sr. Alma. She's a daughter of charity from Nigeria, and would really like to see the singing group flourish. Several things inhibit progress: 1) none of us are that gifted musically, 2) we all have different accents (she's from Africa, I'm from the states, there's a british lady and one from Hong Kong in our "choir"), 3) we don't practice and don't intend to. Nonetheless, it was wildly fun to play for a Mass again. Sr. Alma kept upping the tempo on the songs, which was just fine by me. After Mass, I was introduced to Ronald, a Malaysian student doing post-grad work in wine making in Valencia. He doesn't speak a word of Spanish. Anyway, Ronald wants to sing more contemporary music. He asked me if I had, maybe, heard of a song "Shout to teh Lord." Why, yes, I have heard of such a song... MOS used to sing it at Lord's Day sometimes... I also talked with a military-type's wife from Minnesota, and I think I would like to get to know her (if there be time) and there was a girl from my program at Mass too. Go figure.

So now I am going to get ahead on my work! Yes. Because it will be wretched and miserable if I have to do homework when the fam visits next week. And maybe I'll run, or work on my songs for the illustrious talent show. Actually, running might be tough, because Adela doesn't approve of going out in wind...

Paz y bien

2007-10-26T03:11:00.000-07:00

Today we got back our Islamic Iberia midterms from Valle, and I, again, got to hear about good study habits, etc., etc. And I didn´t exactly ace it, I only got a B+ on this one... So Valle told us all to see him about the exams, and I went after class and he told me that I didn't need to talk to him because my test was the best in the class (though I did not get the best grade), and then he just started telling me about how depressed his classes here are making him because nobody wants to learn and he can tell reading their tests that they don't really study, they just cram prior to taking the exams. And, of course, I know exactly what he's saying! I am still not sure if he is just flattering me re: my work, or if he really meant what he said, but it doesn't matter, really. I just feel very badly for him, mostly because there's not really anything he can do. I tried explaining the idiom "you can lead a horse to water" and I think he understood it but it was just so SAD because he acted as though he were completely resigned to the mediocrity of the students' work. Alas, I am similarly futile to... animar my classmates to care or work or any of that nonsense.

So I will just continue doing my work. Valle acted a little less - forceful about my leaving, too. I think he's accepted it. I also mentioned the irrelevance of Jorge's exam to him (in somewhat kinder words) and he seemed not that surprised, but told me I had to talk to Jorge. I will probably do that, too, though I HATE confronting profs because I just feel like I'm going to come across as being whiny, or a grade-grubber. I'd rather just avoid the conflict, but alas, life often involves conflict.

Speaking of conflict, I think I'm going to talk to Carol next week sometime about the "midterm evaluations" we're supposed to be filling out. I have, of course, already composed a scathingly polite evaluation, but I would really rather present it in person so I can have the benefit of seeing her reaction, etc., and stopping or editing as I go if she seems to react badly. Besides, I really don't want Valle to know the extent of my discontent with academics because I don't want to add to his depression! Gosh, and to think I was planning on this being my carefree semester... I guess the lesson to be learned is that there is no place that will not involve challenge and drama, even if it is of a different sort than the type anticipated. Of course, the ironic thing is that I have heard from several classmates who are planning on complaining at how HARD the academics are here. "I have, like, a friend who's studying in Sorrento, and she doesn't ever do, like, any work! So I think that I'm going to, like, say something in my evaluation, because it's not fair!"

No, friend, it's not fair. It's not fair that you will end up being wealthy and successful, and I will be Lazarus at your doorstep... actually, I write that, but I feel as though I will be very disappointed if I ever become successful. Which is, of course, yet another form of pride.

Qué Dios os bendiga!

A mixed-bag day

2007-10-25T11:32:00.000-07:00

Today started out ideally: I had the morning free! I did have some studying to do for my afternoon midterms, but I had the bulk of the material down cold. So I ate breakfast, studied some, ran down to the beach, studied more, lunched and went to take my midterms for my "Jorge classes" (linguistics and grammar review). I knew that the grammar test would be poorly put together, because we have had a test in that class, but I thought it would be pretty hard to do a bad job making the linguistics test - just set up some transcription of fonemas, transcription of sonidos and ask us what an alófono is. Not too tough. However, we were all quite surprised to find a quarter of the test was identifying "siglas"!!! I can't think of what it's called in english but it's like when you use initials to identify something (NBA). So I know I got at least some points off because I didn't know what OMS stands for (Organización Mundial de Salud). My question is - what does that have to do with linguistics, and how does knowing what OMS means judge my comprehension of the concept of what a sigla is?

So that was moderately frustrating, but at least I'll have more ammo when I next meet with Valle to discuss my future in the program. Grammar was an equally ridiculous test, but at least I was expecting it. What he does is takes verbs out of paragraphs and just has us put the verbs in, but he doesn't give us any context, so it's all guesswork. Amazing- I don't ever have grammatical errors on my essays for history, yet I got a 90 on my first GRAMMAR REVIEW test. It was, incidentally, the highest grade in the class.

After that, I didn't particularly want to go teach my new girls, Olivia and Belen, but I trudged down to Ava. del Puerto, and actually we had a very good lesson. Belen, 7, at the very least wants to learn. Olivia, like Lucia, was totally uninterested, but I think that comes with being four, having class all day, and then being expected to think about learning stuff at 7 or 8 at night. And she was at least well behaved. I was going to meet with Xavi afterwards, though I didn't really want to because I was tired, but he cancelled, so here I am, unwinding from the day. I am disappointed with the linguistics test... not with how I did on it, because I think I probably managed to pull an A- or B+ but I was looking forward to the transcriptions; I really feel that I have learned them well and I enjoy doing it. But such is life... in the words of that one song by that one band, "you can't always get what you want, but if you try, if you try... you get what you need." And what I need is good enough for me! I get to see dear Belen and Olivia again tomorrow, and I am looking forward to it - it's really true, having a student who wants to learn makes all the difference in the world!

Addendum

2007-10-24T13:01:00.000-07:00

Ahem. So having read over my last post, I repent of the unadulterated rage I felt when writing it. Actually, I got to rant to Adela right after I got home, which was therapeutic. I am using all my reserves of force-of-will to forgive Valle now, and not be angry with him. Helping my resolve is the fact that I am in a very good mood, having received a care package from my dear friends today- in the Easymac box that graced my dorm room for three semesters. It was quite the blast from the past. Additionally, I am indulging in listening to Ben Harper, which is oddly soothing.

I had my Quijote midterm, which was fine, I think. Luis left to go to the bar down the street during our exam, and told us if we had questions we could go find him. He also recommended that we go smoke a cigarette to clear our thoughts before writing the exam. Just like FUS...

Ah! and I think Lucia actually learned a word today. "Red." Of course, this was after she had a temper tantrum because I started writing a word on the paper that she gave me to color on, and her father had to come over soothe her, and I had to conduct the rest of teh "lesson" to a student who was sitting on the lap of a man talking on his cellphone. Oh boy. Tomorrow I start with the friends of Lucia, Olivia and Belen. Hopefully they are more amenable to learning.

I never realized that swimming was a sport... and one of the most awkward conversations of my life

2007-10-24T02:53:00.000-07:00

Well, I have a newfound appreciation for and admiration of swimmers - it's hard work! I don't think I will ever go back, because it's wicked boring and I can't even imagine the diseases floating around in that entire place, but I was surprised that it really seemed like a workout. Valle commented several times that when she goes with Francesco they usually only stay fifteen minutes and then stop... we stayed 45. Then, when I got home I was suddenly starving! Of course, that may be because it was 11.00 and I hadn't eaten anything in about eight hours... but I basically cleared out the fridge.

This morning, I played guitar for the prof who is heading up the end-of-semester talent show and though I fumbled quite a bit she was very kind and seemed quite pleased.

THEN I had history class. With the other Valle. Oh my gosh. We got back exams and I got a 95... the other grades I saw were a 65, 70 and 85. He gave us an indirect lecture on what it is to be a good student, and how we're not on vacation and the students ARGUED with him, saying they WERE on vacation.

Then he had us just read for the last 30 minutes of class and he came by me and was talking to me about visiting la católica, and I started fumbling for words a little, as his questions were very precise "how many courses do you want? do you know which ones yet?" and finally I blurted out, "I don't think I'm returning!" After class he made me go talk to him in his office and kept ARGUING with my PERSONAL reasons which I chose to share with him though I didn't have to. He also accused me of not being able to adapt, and when I said that I missed the intellectual community I have at FUS, he said, "well you won't always have that community. Remember that." Holy crap, who does he think I am? Does he think I'm some sort of idiot who doesn't know that college will only last for one more year? He was also pulling the "you'll regret this decision for the rest of your life card" which is 1) unacceptable 2) a mind game and 3) not conducive to living in the present. And I had such high hopes for Valle.

I finally told him that the way the students are here makes it a highschool environment, which he agreed with but said "oh, but you only have to be here for some classes..." I am sorry - he may be able to live a compartmentalized life and be ok with that, but I need more integration. I can't deal with another semester of part time high school. In desperation, he started offering grad courses to me, but he said they would be with old people. I am just very frustrated by him right now. And I have two classes with him. Oh, joy. I guess that the only reason I am upset is because of my pride, which causes me to be angry when people judge my motivations without understanding them properly, but whatever, life goes on and I'm still really happy and peaceful about going back. Now I just don't know what is going to happen with the rest of this semester!

Everyone said I would fall in love in Spain...

2007-10-23T04:57:00.000-07:00

And if Toni weren't 84 and the father of 13 children, I definitely would fall in love with him. Today when we met up with him in the park (after Jaime treated me to café con leche) he recited the intense poem by Eusebio Blasco Soler, "Un duro al año," presented me with various poems that he thought I might like and told me a fun story.

I guess when his daughter was of marrying age, she fell in love with the son of one of the wealthiest residents of Godella. Toni's daughter was not considered a respectable match, as he was a laborer. The father of the groom bribed all the priests in the town to not wed the couple! They couldn't turn down the charity offering, and it was just some laborer and his daughter they were upsetting, right? Wrong. Toni happened, at that time, to do odd jobs for the sisters of the town, and through them he met the archbishop, and said a word or two about how mysteriously the priests would not marry his daughter to her fianceé. Justice prevailed, and the couple were wed. I guess a few years later, the rich guy ran off with a tall, guapa, lebanese woman. What a scoundrel! Actually, every time Toni mentions someone tall, he adds "como tú" because I definitely am about twice his height. Everyone in Spain is short, actually.

That's all I've got right now. The smells coming from the kitchen are distracting me right now. How much longer until lunch?

Oh, blessings

2007-10-22T14:55:00.000-07:00

Well, today was my birthday and it was really quite lovely! Upon arriving at the breakfast table (in pj's, just because it was my birthday) I found a box of chocolates and card from Adela, Laura, and Miguel Ángel. Which is to say, from Adela. So that was heartwarming. Then Adela came in, gave me a hug and exclaimed about how jovensita I am for a while. Class was... class, but in between I got to talk to the fam on the phone, so that was nice. My midterm went well (I think).

Lunch was, as always, fantastic, and Adela got an apple pastry for me! Actually, it was incredibly thoughtful of her - I had mentioned at some point that the last thing my grandmother baked for me before I headed to Spain was an apple pie. There was also a candle to blow out - the number 2 because I guess they were out of 0's! Priceless.

I vowed before my Don Quijote class to NOT bring up God, religion, or the obvious parallels between DQ and Christ in the 22nd chapter, and I didn't. That is, I didn't UNTIL my professor said he'd "discovered" something new and was going to write an article about it. So anyway, he started explaining his reading of the chapter, which was my reading of the chapter minus concrete biblical references adn we collaborated for the rest of the class. It was really nice. Luis is a very good soul. At the beginning of class, he commented that we were all acting like we'd come from a party, so I blurted out "well it is my birthday" and he offered to go get me a coffee. Then he said I could borrow his bike for a few days, as a birthday gift! However, I have no place to keep his bike... 'Tis a shame. But I think I'm going to get together some of the chapter/verses for Luis, and he said that he would thank me in his paper! I almost believe him, too, as he constantly professes admiration at my "encyclopedia-like knowledge" of Bible references. Thank you, protestant upbringing. But honestly - who hasn't heard of the verse "my yoke is easy, my burden is light"???

Well, after class, I went over to "teach" Lucia, and today the lesson involved her taking a bath while I tried to teach her colors. Honestly, Spain is so weird. And Lucia is impossible to teach. I think I may try and just teach fun folk songs, like "The fox went out on a chilly night" et al. I just have no idea.

CLU was CLU, and they all sang for me while I blushed tremendously, and then all commented on how young I am and how much I blushed (grr!). Afterwards, Valle (Valentina) gave me the book by Giussani that we're reading out of and I keep forgetting to buy and it was just tremendously kind. At dinner, stupid David made some comment about how serious I looked and finally I just said, "yes, that's my disposition. I'm serious." There is just something about him that rubs me the wrong way... but that's peripheral - I was really rather touched by the whole day, and various kindnesses shown me.

That being said, I have decided to go back to Steubenville for next semester. In a way, I think I had to wait to make that decision until I was really happy here, as I am now... but I am at peace with my past, present and future. And the classes for next semester look amazing! I need to figure out where I'm living, but everything else is super-easy to figure out. I think I might even live in the dorms(!) even though I swore I never would again. I need to stop swearing I'll never do things because they always end up happening...

So now I'm going to hit the hay. Tomorrow is another very full day. And I just realized that I am halfway-through the semester - wow. Life does fly by. Ok before this gets too heavy, I'm off - peace and all good.

I just don't like eating meat for dinner!

2007-10-21T13:55:00.000-07:00

I love food in Spain. Adela is a fabulous cook, there is an abundance of pastelerías, and the whole "kebap" fad is just fine by me. Yum. However, the most normal (and Spanish, rather than Turkish) dinner food for a group of people is: meat. And bread, and more meat. And gross cheap beer and... more meat. Which is what I had last night, in a super-smoky establishment where we stood in the middle of a packed room for half-an-hour, trying to make people uncomfortable and leave so we could snag a table. It was actually a little like the caf at Franciscan, come to think of it... only with beer. While it was good, I guess, to add variety to my life, all I could think about while nibbling on my meat was "I bet Adela made that really good rice salad with the unidentified red things and raisins..."

I was out with a group of people from CLU, but what I realized was that the middle aged ladies all dote on David (the only Spanish guy) and he's REALLY arrogant. I hate riding in his car because he always brags about how ghetto it is and blasts german rock music. However, it was nice spending some time with the second Valle in my life (Valentina, an Italian) and getting to know her a little. We met in her apartment beforehand and she introduced me to her twin via skype. Then she proceeded to try and get me to go to Italy with her for a weekend in December, and to go swimming with her, and running with her... so if I actually do all the things I said I would do, I think I'll be spending roughly 10 hours with Valle this week. And she is very nice, but I think that the Italian accent in Spanish is more painful than the Northamerican one. I could be biased... but her accent is pretty thick. It is nice, however, spending time with someone whose spanish is considerably worse than mine. It's probably not the best thing for my own spanish, but life goes on. I'll just start saying "molto" instead of "muy."

Today I did very little- I breakfasted, went for a run to the beach (I am going to die when I have to run hills again), spent the morning doing fun things (honors reading, Merleau-Ponty, guitar) then switched to more tedious things after lunch (reading Quijote, studying for midterms). Adela was very impressed by my studiousness and kept asking if I was falling asleep because she said she couldn't imagine reading for all those hours. And actually, I have just arrived at the Sierra Morena part of Don Quijote and I like it a lot. It's a book I like, but I don't like reading it for class because I feel really pressured to come up with interesting things to say since I'm one of two people who speak in class, and I'd rather just enjoy the book. But I see the look of despair in Luis' eyes when he asks what we thought of any given incident and I always end up raising my hand, so it's best if I have something to say...I need to try and talk about something besides societal critique and critique of the clergy, though...

Anyway, I turn 20 in 45 minutes, and that seems like a terribly old age, heavy with responsibility and establishing oneself in the world. I am excited to open the cards I have received that have been waiting (some of them for over a week!) to be read. Tomorrow will be a very busy day, and I start midterms, and this week I think I have activities every night, so I'm going to savor this little quiet before the storm.

And I'm listening to Regina Spektor "I wish I could see a field below..." rather than "El Reloj," the bar outside my window...

Precocious 4-year olds and the "only African"

2007-10-20T07:00:00.000-07:00

Yesterday afternoon, I had the pleasure of meeting Lucía, age four. My task? Play with her. In English.

When I got to the apartment, Lucía was sprawled on the couch, watching "dibujos" in her perfect little catholic school girl uniform. She grudgingly got up to say hello to me as her mother tried to compensate by being really excited. It was pretty hilarious to watch. Anyway, we played with playdough, drew on her chalkboard, and colored in Disney princesses for the hour, and it was quite lovely. Lucía drew a birthday cake on her chalkboard and made me blow out the candles, etc. Charming. However, she didn't want to try to learn English at all. When her mom was within listening range, she would repeat words after me, but once mom was out of the picture, she would pretend not to hear me. And I know she understood what I was asking her to do, too, because she understood every word of my spanish when it had to do with playing. When we got down to business, however, she became strangely deaf...

Today I got up lateish and had a leisurely morning before heading to my Opus Dei church. The English Mass was a very odd experience after nothing but Spanish for seven weeks, but I'm definitely going back. Actually, I've promised to. There was a group of maybe three ladies doing music, and it was very painful, but I really wanted to join them! So after Mass I asked Fr. What'shisname who leads the music, and he said, "Oh, SIster Alba, you know, the only African." After recovering from the shock of hearing the words "the only African," I sought out Sr. Alba and asked if I might join their ensemble. She almost gave me a hug. She said, "I have been extending a spiritual invitation and now finally someone has come!" She then told me that I should bring any hymns that I want to sing. I told her that I had Mass settings, and added that I could play guitar for the service, if that was ok. At this, she became extremely excited and said, "yes, bring everything you have! wonderful, wonderful!" So that was nice.

Now I'm going to go read my Quijote and perhaps find the motivation to do some (unnecessary) studying for midterms. It's really not fair, actually, that I am being tested on such things as when the Battle of Poitiers was, and who fought in it, since I learned those facts years ago, but I suppose I won't complain. I just wish I didn't have to GO to class.

Paz y bien.

Life can be so entertaining...

2007-10-19T02:34:00.001-07:00

Prior to coming to Spain, if you had asked me what sort of church I would NOT go to, probably two of the answers would be "one run by Opus Dei" and "one instituted originally by a military order." Today I attended Mass at a church that fits in both those categories.

This morning I had free, so I was doing a google search for something like "retiro catolico iglesia" looking for a retreat I could go on and I came across this church's website. At first, I was honestly only looking at it to make fun of it (oh, those foolish, uber traditional, machista Opus Dei churches...) but then it actually looked like it might be ok, AND they have confessions in English. So I suddenly found myself mapquesting it and running across town to make it to Mass. And the church is beautiful! Apparently it's the oldest one in Valencia, built in the 1200's. It's much simpler inside than most churches here (alleluia) and guess who I found in the Eucharistic chapel? Catherine of Siena. Mass was pretty stiff, I must say, and it's interesting the difference in population at this Mass - it was obvious that the parishoners had money - they were all wearing suits or burberry-plaid pants. So that was ok.

Next I wandered into the confessional area, and popped my head into the door of one Fr. Reallyreallylongdutchname. I asked if he spoke English, and when he replied in the affirmative, I was overwhelmed by joy. Marvellous. I am not having any problem with Spanish anymore except for in confession, but I experience great difficulty in confession. And he was incredibly nice, and kind, and offered to show me the chapel where English Mass is said on Saturdays and said that they have a nice little group of people from all over who go and I think I might just go tomorrow. His thick Dutch accent was just terribly endearing, and I must say, though I am still a bit sketched out by the Opus Dei thing, cassocks are so slick.

Today I start teaching Lucia, age four, English. And by "teaching" I mean playing with her using English words. Last night Xavi and I had a very nice meeting and I think that sometime soon I'll go over to his place and he and "the girls" will fix dinner. So that should be lovely. And now, off to read about the adventures of one Don Quijote de la Mancha. And maybe play guitar in the park...

Changing seasons

2007-10-17T06:05:00.000-07:00

Today when I came out of my room for breakfast, Adela appraised my outfit and commented, "ah, you're dressing for fall now." And that is, indeed the case. Of course, it's still not below 70, I'm sure, but there's a different feel in the air now. I have a cold. And things might just be settling into a (much needed) routine. Xavi and I now have a pretty regular meeting time. I know (more or less) what to expect from my classes. I am going to follow up on an offer to teach a 4-year-old some English (I love 4-year-olds!). And I had a very necessary chat with my prof Valle today, which I've been putting off since before vacation. Apparently the assigment is really just to restate whatever readings we have, and say when they were written. However, since I've been commenting on the texts instead, Valle thinks it would be best to just ADD the contextualization and summarization to what I've been doing. He thinks rather too much of me, I'm afraid. Next week he's going to take me over to the campus of Fernando Católico to meet with some tío there or something. I really am grateful for his kindness, but I do wish I didn't have to rewrite things that have already been written...

But yes, things are settling down... and it only took what- a month and a half? I am thinking it's a mistake that study-abroad programs encourage travel sooo much. As much as I have enjoyed my travels and gotten a lot out of them, I almost feel that the time would be better spent developing a more substantial relationship with Valencia. But that could just be because I am a home-body. Regardless, I think my travels (excepting those which I will undertake with the fam and maybe a retreat) are over for the semester. Well, actually I guess there is some slight possibility that I may go to Italy in December (the week before I come home) because there is some sort of CLU Christmas gathering, but I'm going to wait and see before I make any plans about that. I suppose it is different when one is travelling with people they really care about, but for me there are some things that are truly amazing to see... but they are few.

Anyway, I ought to be reading my Quijote. I am rather pleased with how my paper turned out, though I'm fairly certain I make some pretty big logical leaps. I don't think Luis will care, and I have to my advantage the fact that he is completely ignorant of the Bible and Church history (or, at least, positive Church history) so I don't think he'll be able to argue with my points. And really, what I did wasn't EXACTLY proof texting...

One more thing - I hate watching movies! We just watched "Belle Epoque" in my history class, to help us understand the pre-republic Spanish culture, which was all well and good but the movie made me depressed and angry! It painted a picture of a very hopeless world, and it just made me feel horrible. I can't even explain it, but I do not recommend it.

On that happy note, I'm off - paz y bien

Too much fun

2007-10-16T05:27:00.002-07:00

I'd like to begin this post with a poem by Antonio Machado. It is entitled, "Anoche cuando dormía" and today an old man recited it to me, in its entirety.

Anoche cuando dormía
soñé ¡bendita ilusión!
que una fontana fluía
dentro de mi corazón.
Dí: ¿por qué acequia escondida,
agua, vienes hasta mí,
manantial de nueva vida
en donde nunca bebí?
Anoche cuando dormía
soñé ¡bendita ilusión!
que una colmena tenía
dentro de mi corazón;
y las doradas abejas
iban fabricando en él,
con las amarguras viejas,
blanca cera y dulce miel.

Anoche cuando dormía
soñé ¡bendita ilusión!
que un ardiente sol lucía
dentro de mi corazón.
Era ardiente porque daba
calores de rojo hogar,
y era sol porque alumbraba
y porque hacía llorar.

Anoche cuando dormía
soñé ¡bendita ilusión!
que era Dios lo que tenía
dentro de mi corazón.

Excellent, eh? Except Toni, the 84 year old who recited it to me exchanged "Dios" for "tú." This all happened during my first day of my práctica in Godella, a close-by town. My task? Walking Jaime, who has no legs, around town in his wheelchair. I must say, it was a great morning. The whole thing was marginally awkward, but delightful nonetheless. When we started walking, we kept running into people who ran up and embraced Jaime as though he had just come back from the dead. Little by little I heard about his story. He had to have one leg amputated because of his diabetes, but then he fell and broke the other leg. The doctors bungled the surgery to fix it, so eight surgeries later, he wound up losing both his legs. Five months after he retired. The best laid plans...

But Jaime has very high spirits nonetheless. And it was beautiful to see how all these people loved him so much. Seeing old men almost weep at the sight of their friend back out and about was really one of the most touching things I've ever witnessed. Of course, I couldn't understand much of the conversations, because they were carried on in Valencian. Thanks, guys.

The best part of the experience was when we went into the park. There we met up with Toni and his friend, whose name I didn't catch, but who was apparently 90 years old. We all had a chat, for about 45 minutes. They kept switching between valencian and spanish, and the 90 year old insisted that I would start catching onto the valencian if only they would be consistent. I am not so convinced, but I don't care what language they speak in, because I don't have to understand what they're saying for their conversation to be hilarious. Jaime is the quieter, droll personality in the group, Toni is the artist (as I was told by the 90 year old every time he started waxing eloquent) and the really old dude is the voice of reason. We had quite a bit of conversation about politics, much of which was spent extolling the virtues of socialism. Toni got really agitated when the very old man said Franco wasn't so bad, and told us about how fifty years ago, in the horrible flood in Valencia, he took his 2 children (of the 13 he would eventually have) and mother to a hospital that was designated as a safe place. When he went to collect them, apparently his mother came out but they told him his children had died. He asked to see them, and was told they were thrown into a common grave. When he kept insisting, they threatened to kill him. Now I have to confess I didn't really understand the ending of the story, and I wasn't about to push since Toni was practically crying, but I think he got his kids back. Anyway, Toni doesn't like Franco.

Another fun fact about Toni: his pension is 100 E less than the expenses of caring for his wife, who is ill. So what does he do? He sells paella. No joke! And he said that I can have some free if I come some Sunday. The other men said that Toni's paella is to die for.

So the morning was great. Also, I'm actually enjoying the paper I'm working on about Cervantes' novels and how they deal with the theme of shepherds good and bad and how similar things are spoken of in Augustine. I asked my prof if I should try and translate Augustine from English to Spanish, and he said not to worry- it would be an "interesting" experience trying to understand the English. CLU last night was fine, and I think I might be having dinner at one of the prof's houses on Saturday, because she invited the four "jovenes" over. This will mean missing our program trip to Sagunto, but it's a place I've already been, and will be visiting again in two weeks, so I think I'll survive the disappointment.

Hasta luego

Vacation highlights

2007-10-14T06:34:00.000-07:00

Rather than try and give any sort of blow-by-blow account of the past week, I think I'm just going to offer my musings about the week. First off, right now I am tired. Quite tired, actually. This is probably mostly because I spent the night in a train, in a well-illuminated car, in a seat. It was not actually as bad as I feared it might be, but I have had better nights' sleep. Fortunately, right before I left Santiago, I ran across a used/antique book store! I do love books. Anyway, while there, I happened across a collection of stories by Hans Christian Anderson, and amazingly enough, I had the wisdom to buy that rather than the Aeneid in Spanish (which was oddly tempting). So every time I woke up in the night, I read a little didactic story.

Which brings me to a rant about objective truth. I have usually, in the past, felt insulted by the existence of didactic stories. I mean, honestly - who doesn't know about right and wrong, and how some things are good and some bad, and how some behavior is not acceptable... oh, right... most of the world! I am, in my naivete, just coming to the realization that most people aren't motivated by morality. Who'd have thunk it? But honestly - the random people I met in Santiago were all of the vaguely "spiritual" variety, who say that they firmly believe there is no objective truth. Leaving aside the fact that to say that there definitely is no objective truth is a self-contradictory statement (thank you, Dr. Harold), I wonder how these people DO decide what to do with their lives, how to act, and what to believe. Because if they really think it is all pretty arbitrary, what is the point of living at all? Have some good laughs? Be well liked? Be "in touch with yourself?" Honestly, that is all a bunch of crap.

I talked to one guy who was selling his paintings on the street, and the conversation left me vaguely frustrated. We started talking because I actually looked at his paintings (which were ok- nothing spectacular, but they were aesthetically pleasing). He summoned me over and I decided he looked pretty harmless. So we talked about the weather (of course) and he said that the way the climate is changing, he thought it just might be the end of the world, to which I responded "bring it on" (more or less). He was surprised by that answer and asked me if I was some kind of optimist. Then I had to go ahead and say, "well, I have faith."

Now I swear, I don't look for reasons to bring up catholicism and God in my conversations, but I just can't help it! The question of catholicism seems to underlie every question in the Spanish consciousness, and I would feel dishonest just saying, "yeah, I'm an optimist" and walking away.

So he asked if I was Christian, and I responded in the affirmative, and he went into a long tirade about how it's just fine if people want to have faith, but they can't honestly think theirs would be any better than anyone else's, etc., etc., and I asked him why anybody would believe anything if all beliefs were the same and he threw back a lot more mumbo jumbo and then he told me I was too young to be so catholic. But seeing all these directionless people, who don't really know what they believe, and certainly don't know WHY they believe makes me glad that I have faith. It makes me rejoice in it, actually. Because even though I don't really have any answers either, I know that they exist. That painter was so hungry for substance, and he was sitting there chewing on the remnants of dreams. I should have told him he was too old not to be catholic. Because really, what is he doing in his life? Selling paintings, which is lovely - but he just wanders from town to town, following the weather. And his paintings weren't that good. That doesn't seem to be any way to live. I'm probably just being judgmental, but this brings me back to Hans and why I love his stories. He writes stories about people who are good, and who try to live rightly and help others. And sometimes they struggle. Sometimes they come across very serious difficulties. But in the long run, they find happiness, and they help others come into joy also. And that is a far more appealing world than the one presented to me by my painter friend, or the shaman from Amsterdam with whom I conversed. The Gospel life is, in fact, a fairytale. We are told to do things that are quite silly, following worldly reasoning. We are supposed to help others, even when they can't help us. We are supposed to always give ourselves to the world. And in return, we look forward to a life of eternal happiness. It's a fairytale! It just happens to be a true one.

I have no idea what happened in this entry. I think it's time for a siesta. So without further ado, off I go.

Oh, and I'm trying to work out an alternate photo situation (mom) but my technological illiteracy is leaving my hands tied. But it really is crucial that I get my pics up to the web, because guess what? my computer is running out of hardrive space, and I have already deleted pictures that I know are on cd in the states to make room for new ones... so yes, that is problematic. I've also deleted my illegal copy of "A Tale of Two Cities." Dang.

In Santiago!

2007-10-12T10:16:00.001-07:00

So I´ve decided to write a brief update from green and sunny Galicia. Actually, it´s quite funny that it is sunny here, and has been for my whole stay, since usually it is quite rainy here. Also, a street vendor told me that there are floods in Valencia right now! So going home should be a blast...

Anyway, I began my vacation with a night´s stay in Madrid. I wasn´t actually even planning on leaving the hostel that night, since I had bought food for dinner and had homework to do, but then two girls from my program were staying in the same room as me! So I spent a few hours with them and a guy from our group who was in the same hostel (oh, hostelworld.com) and had churros con chocolate and called it a night earlyish. It was pretty loud all night, but I couldn´t very well complain, since I had to leave at 7 AM or so...

That day (Monday) I spent basically on buses heading to Viveiro, a fishing town. The reason? to visit Astrid, Marcos and Sammy (17mos) who live there. Truth is, I don´t (didn´t, rather) actually know them ALL that well before visiting. And the first bit was a mite awkward. However, it is hard to be awkward when there is a baby in the house, and I got to spend time playing with him in all his adorableness. Also, I knew we´d all get along ok when Astrid said, "I hope that homemade rye bread is ok. We don´t have any white bread." Of all the things to apologize for, honestly... But Astrid was a great person to talk to because she has had several going-abroad experiences, and right now, she´s just moved a few months ago to Viveiro. So it was comforting chatting with her, etc.

Additionally, I got to spend my days wandering around a very lovely town, praying, sleeping and eating, which are more or less my preferred activities. I also did some honors reading (!) and thoroughly enjoyed re-reading "Utopia."

Galicia is truly a breathtaking place. One of the coolest parts of my trip, actually, was the bus ride from Lugo to Viveiro, where we stopped at random houses to pick up farmers, and such. The bus driver appeared to know every person at every small village we stopped, and as we drove, all you could see were mountains and the campesinos, gathering crops. The women wore dresses and aprons and the men slacks with suspenders! It was very picturesque, though I imagine it is a very hard life. Actually, I really enjoy bus and train travel, generally. You meet the most interesting people, and there is so much human drama! And I was part of the drama leaving Viveiro - Astrid said she would come down to the station after me to see me off, with Sammy, and she showed up as the driver was closing the door. It was hilarious- Astrid, all flustered, knocking on the door to the bus, and me climbing over all the old people to say goodbye.

So life is good. This is an amazingly peaceful place. OH! So today I went and out-franciscaned myself... I attended three Masses. Consecutively. But it was an accident, I swear! I went into the Cathedral at 10, planning to go to the chapel for Morning prayer and such, then do the museum, then go to the pilgrim´s Mass. However, Mass was just starting, so I was like - eh, I don´t know if I feel like dealing with the hulabaloo of the pilgrim´s Mass anyway, so I went. Then, I went to the chapel for morning prayer. Before I´d gotten through the psalms, Mass started. Oy vey. THEN I did morning prayer after Mass (at almost noon. whatever), and as I was leaving, maybe 30 feet from the door, the guards closed me in! So I went to the pilgrim´s Mass. And what was the reading today? Acts fo the Apostles, when the apostles and Mary have to wait in the upper room. Yep. So how does that apply to my life? Let me count the ways... All I can think about at this juncture is Fr. Von, and him telling me that I appeared to be on "cenacle duty" and me thinking that would be no big deal. Oh, and also my favorite childhood book - Oh the places you´ll go, which dedicates several pages to talking about how useless waiting is. Jajaja. Oh, my life.

But right now I´m going to meander back to the hostel. My day of wandering has left me tired. Tomorrow I´m spending the day here (I don´t know exactly what I am going to do yet) and then taking a night train back home. Uf, it´s been a long week, but a good one.

Revelations and the like

2007-10-06T05:44:00.000-07:00

Yes, I know it's been a few days since I've last written. Shame on me. But it has been a very busy few days.

What have I done? I applied for my visa extension (painlessly). I made, broke, and remade plans for my vacation (which really begins tomorrow). I showed a few visitors the loveliness of Valencia.

Well, Friday (is that really just yesterday?) morning, I took the metro to the airport to collect the girls and bring them to their hostel. We had spoken about doing part of the camino de Santiago, so I was looking forward to that, but they were definitely not equipped for such a venture SO I had to be a little versatile. And I failed at being versatile. I was selfish, whiny, and upset (though I didn't tell the girls, in speech or otherwise). I called mommy and threw the problem on her lap, knowing full well that she couldn't fix it and it would just hurt her to hear about it.

And our conversation, and several other things have led me to realize that I've probably been closing myself off to the people here more than is good. The reasons are complex and boring, but I think I see now that it's selfish to hold all of yourself back from the world, and that's what I've been doing - living very internally, and I've been doing so out of fear, so that's no bueno. I'm just now remembering something I read this summer, in Catherine Doherty's lovely book, Poustinia. She spoke of how several saints have written on the idea that we must be always present, available (utterly so) to the world around us, and develop a "holy indifference" to how the world responds to that self-gift. We must be like rag-dolls. Sometimes, we will be treated with love, sometimes tossed about, sometimes left in a corner for years, or hidden under a bed. Sometimes people will be ashamed of us. We must continue offering ourselves. Uf.

That being said, my plans are now to head up north, to Galicia, to see green and hills and such, and visit friends Astrid, Marcos, and baby Samuel. It should be relaxing and such, which is to say- what a vacation should be. I am quite worn down from moving all the time, and this should be a rejuvenating experience.

Apart from all that, these past few days have been pretty fun. I must say, spending ALL DAY chattering is very exhausting. Self-gift... But I really enjoyed showing off Valencia, which was at its finest today. Yesterday, I just showed the girls the Plazas, the Cathedral, Basilica, train station, etc. They had spent the previous night in the airport, so were a bit tired. Today we met up and headed to the Mercado Central, stopping, of course, at every church along the way, to see the church art. Oh, Franciscan students. So anyway, we were quite delayed in our mission, but the Market was WONDERFUL. We spent almost two hours, perusing the vendors of food of all shapes and sizes, from fish to fruit, horse-meat to herbs. I picked up some food for my travels (which I am very much looking forward to consuming) and then we headed across the street to La Lonja, which is a really cool building. It was originally constructed to serve as the center for silk commerce, and now houses (sometimes) various exhibits. There is also an orange grove in the courtyard, which was a lovely place to sit, talk and rest. I took the girls to the talleres section of town next, specifically to the ceramics people, who never cease to amaze me. It was then approaching lunch time, and so we meandered back towards the cathedral (stopping at every store of religious artifacts, of course... oh, Franciscan) and parted ways for almuerzo. First I had to run to the bus station, though, to square away my transportation to Lugo. En route I tripped across what appeared to be a Ren faire. It was really hilarious, and almost every booth sold something related to the legalization of marijuana... which I'm SURE they smoked in the Renaissance. Actually, now that I think of it, they probably did. On the bus ride back towards home, I had a very lovely conversation with an older lady who told me that I should not bother studying history, because it is depressing, and there is more wisdom in poetry than in politics. I quite agree, of course, and there was something about the look in her cataract-covered eyes that was a little unnerving (in a scintillating sort of way). AND she acted surprised to hear that I am not from Valencia, so either the accent is improving or her hearing is as bad as her eyesight.

I had some sort of shellfish that I don't remember the name of in Spanish and I haven't the foggiest what it is in English, and Adela also cooked a chicken with apricot and raisins - delicious! Seeing a whole chicken cooked like that brought me right back to our honors banquet last semester, and I told Adela and Laura about transporting a whole chicken, green beans and strawberry-rhubarb pie up a hill in my car alone. I think my Spanish story-telling skills are improving, because they both thought it was funny. Usually my stories produce blank faces that say to me "so...?"

After lunch, I scurried back to the hostel and took the girls to the beach. It was a delightful day, and I heard all about Medj and such. Talking to idealists brings out the practical side in me, which is probably a good thing. Anyway, after the beach we walked to my parish and heard Mass there. I do love that priest. I was tired from the sun though (as Adela always says, el sol cansa), so I was dozing off during a bit of the homily. Most of the homily. But really, would I be myself if I were awake through an entire Mass?

Following Mass, I showed the girls my delicious cereal at Mercadona, and we said our goodbyes. Rachael is off to somewhere in Italy (Padua?) and the others don't know where they're going. I recommended Barcelona/Montserrat on a whim, so I wonder if they'll go. I'm sure they'll have fun forever, they're entirely easy to please. I kept showing them the most mundane things and they would get so very excited. And yet, there wasn't enough time to show them everything, and we were running ALL DAY.

Which is why I am going to book my hostel for Santiago de Compostela now (see how good I am, mom?) and then I am going to bed, to sleep in. Praise the Lord. I sure hope I do my homework sometime...

Paz y bien

La Virgen de Pilar

2007-10-02T22:52:00.001-07:00

I forgot to tell about one of the simultaneously funniest and most touching parts of my day!!

Yesterday the Parish started a novena to la Virgen de Pilar, and after Mass, but before the blessing, one of the priests got up to sing a song! Picture this: the chubby, yet very dignified oldish but not old Spanish man gets up, flamenco guitar in hand, and starts strumming, sitting at the feet of la Virgen's statue. He then proceeds in a very, very powerful (and rather lovely) voice to profess his love and devotion to her. He received applause at the end (a few ladies even stood... oy vey) but I must say, I was really impressed by how vulnerable he made himself. Yes, it was a little absurd. Yes, it was very theatrical. But there was also something entirely sweet about that older man, who, having given his life to the priesthood, to God, is still singing his devotion. It's comforting.

Time to start the day!

A new appreciation for Jorge

2007-10-02T08:18:00.000-07:00

So I have commented, I know, all too frequently about how lame my Tuesday/Thursday classes are, particularly Grammar Review. They are both taught by Jorge, who was named my advisor this past week. I was originally a little disappointed by that fact, but I've somewhat changed my mind. Today I had to stop by his office to turn in a sheet with my academic information on it, and I also wanted to apologize if it seemed like I had an attitude in class (not an attitude, really - just acute boredom).

Anyway, we wound up having a nice conversation, because he also runs the end-of-year talent show, in which I think I might play guitar. I got to know him a little - apparently he sings and plays bongos at his church back home, and is part of an acting troupe (he showed me ridiculously funny pictures from said group). Also, he was far nicer to me about my attitude in class than I probably merited. And having spoken with him, his classes weren't quite as painful as usual. So there you go. Additionally, while in grammar review, another prof, Pilar (whose name day is 9 days away!) stuck her head in the class to ask Jorge if he knew who the "tía con la guitarra" was. The tía was me, of course, and she told me that I must play at the talent show (though neither she, nor anybody else has heard me play) and she was very excited when I said I was learning some of the traditional hymns.

Oh - and I had a nice morning too. I spent about two solid hours with Carol, the program director. She took me to Godella, a town where she lives and where I will be volunteering to help a lonely old man be a little less lonely once a week. She is a very nice person (not in a bad way :) and I really enjoyed talkign with her. Also, I am excited for the chance to help someone out. I told Carol about how I'm trying to go on retreat with some Augustinian sisters, and she said I was a revolutionary. I think I'll take that as a compliment.

This evening was CLU, which was abstract. I left right after the meeting because I had (have) homework to do. So I came back here, and I just was planning on skipping dinner (not really that big of a deal) but Adela (who was in her pjs, reading in bed) jumped up to cook a high-protein dinner for me (chicken and an egg) and would not hear of me skipping dinner. Psycho. Lovable, but still a psycho. Actually, I have to say, I think that she was actually happy to have me back from Sevilla, and that was really quite heartwarming. I still have to get used to her immaculate, daily cleanings of my room, though...

And one last thing - today guess what book I noticed on the shelf here? Amor y Responsibilidad. Yes, that's right, theology of the body has followed me to Spain. And I might actually read it. Actually, there are tons of really quality books in my room - I think it's the reject refuge. There are classics (from Mark Twain to Calderón de la Barca) and history books and tons of other things.

This has been an update. I am going to go care about Islam now.

Sevilla: yet another thing I don't understand and can't process

2007-09-30T11:46:00.000-07:00

Well, I am freshly back from my weekend excursion to Sevilla, in Andalucia, and it went rather well. It was the first trip I've ever planned for myself that involved trains and hostels and such, so I'm rather relieved that it went off with very few hitches. There are millions of things that struck me on this trip, but I think the one on which I will comment is that of technology, and the relationship between man and the earth.

Prior to coming to Spain, I had always lived in smallish cities - Keene and Steubenville. Now, I'm living in a city of 1.000.000, which is vastly different. And really, I haven't minded it so much. But I think I'm starting to see that I could not always live in a "big city." Today as I traveled via train from Madrid to Valencia, I was practically hurting with longing for the rural life before me. I wound up on a ridiculous, slow, roundabout regional train for that leg of my trip, and I know it's crazy, but every time I saw a goatherd or a field of sunflowers, I just wanted to leap out of the train and offer myself to the farm as a laborer in exchange for room and board. Now, I know that most of these farms are highly commercialized operations, but in a way, that only makes my desire for a "simpler time" more acute, and confirms to my mind my plan of going to Madonna House this summer. Also, every time some sign of humanity popped up, all I could think of is the story "Adios, Cordera" by some Spanish author (Clarín? Is that even a Spanish author? I have no idea... sorry Dr. Spinnenweber) and it kept breaking my heart over and over.

So what does that have to do with Sevilla? Well, frankly, Sevilla made me a little sad. The old neighborhood Santa Cruz was absolutely lovely, with its dark, narrow streets, random murals and mosaics. However, the whole "Santa Cruz experience" was inevitably marred by zooming mopeds and cars trying to squeeze through streets wherein they did not belong. Also, it's just plain weird seeing something as lovely as the gardens of the Alcázar polluted by such features as electric wires and pretty plainly visible lights. It's also a little frustrating - do we really need perfect lighting 24/7? Could we, just maybe, get by with the sun and moon and maybe flashlights or what-have-you? There seems to be an obsession with perfection, generally, in our culture which extends to every corner of the human experience. Why is cloning and genetic modification such an attractive thing for many parents? They want perfect kids. No kids with unibrows. None with hazel eyes. Definitely no redheads :) Likewise, we manipulate every detail of our existence - down to the flipping lighting on the carp pool at the Alcázar. Who really cares if the carp are well lighted?

And of course, when things don't go strictly according to my plans is when I usually have the most fun. Interestingly, as I was perusing the Good Book before Mass today, I tripped on Jeremiah who, as is typical of him, made me laugh. He writes, "you know, O Lord, that man is not master of his way; Man's course is not within his choice, nor is it for him to direct his step" (Jer 10:23). Funnily enough, that ties into why my plans went off ALMOST without a hitch. After arriving at the blasted train station shortly after dawn (and not having had, perhaps, the best night of sleep of my life), I found out that my train had been canceled, and I would not make my connecting train. Then came the dreaded words "tren regional" which can be translated roughly as, "really slow relic from the industrial revolution which bounces along at approximately 15 km/hr and stops every four meters." Let's just say that my trip from Madrid to Valencia was supposed to take 2.5-3 hours and instead endured for 5.5. And I was about ready to freak out at one point in said interminable trip. But then I thought to myself, "what good will freaking out do, really? You're still going to make it home -just take it in stride." And so I did and really everything was fine. Also, I had the opportunity to witness an anarchist girl working on her dreadlocks very meticulously while reading the translation of a book by Jean Auel (whose translated works are, weirdly, also in my room here right next to La Celestina), and I got to watch the old ladies who watched her with obvious disgust.

So yes, I am home, and I saw Sevilla. I didn't go to flamenco, which is know is standard Sevilla, but I just didn't want to. So there. I did do the whole tapas thing, and I saw the Muslim/Christian Alcázar and the Muslim/Christian cathedral, and I bought a guitar, so I am quite content.

Paz y bien

Javi, and a very long day

2007-09-26T11:55:00.000-07:00

Today I met with my intercambio for the first time. Frankly, right before we met, I was not so much looking forward to our little get-together. I was pretty well exhausted, and had just had a very interesting conversation with my Quijote prof about philosophy which I sort of wanted to savour/think over. But I knew I couldn't just blow him off.

So when Javi showed up, the very first thing I noticed is that he has something in common with Annie - which is to say, I dwarf him!!! Oh sad, but true. He's about shoulder high. Anyway, we started our conversation in Spanish, and I must say, I am rather fond of my little friend. We talked some about ourselves, etc. (he's finished a degree in elementary education to teach english...more on that later) and such and walked around the park. He is from Xátiva, but lives in a flat in the city with his girlfriend and two other girls.

Eventually, we got talking about national stereotypes, and politics, and shortly thereafter the "spanish conversation time" was up and we switched to english. Amazingly, we have almost identical views on the world and how it's slowly (or maybe rapidly) descending into chaos and badness. He believes in culture and values(!). He, too, thinks that free market capitalism is bad for man's soul. It was very reassuring to hear these things from someone who is not catholic, oddly enough. Sometimes I feel like I can hardly relate to people who aren't Christian anymore. But no, it's just people who live entirely superficial lives who I can't talk with. That was judgemental. I'm leaving it in, though, so that this will be an honest record of what I think.

Anyway, Javi also kept telling me how well I speak spanish, and I think I'm going to develop a big head if anyone else affirms me. Fortunately, I was recently told by a correspondant that I don't really make sense in english anymore, so that should help to lessen the effects of forementioned compliments. I guess the first time Javi did an intercambio, it was with some chick from Mississippi (oh, those weird, weird, semi-literate Mississippi girls... good thing I never had to spend much time with any of them) and the first time or two taht they got together, they could not communicate. She didn't speak enough spanish, and he didn't speak enough english. The only miscommunication we had was when he was (very excitedly) talking about /frasel vurbs/ such as "run over" which is really /fresel verbs/. Note the fonemas? Of course, it's ridiculous that I just used spanish fonemas (probably incorrectly) to explain the sounds of english words, but I'm not worrying too much about being ridiculous these days.

Apart from my lovely intercambio, today was pretty good but just very long. I woke up after 4ish hours of sleep and drank maybe four cups of coffee before heading to Islamic Iberia. While there, I was very much awake, the life of the class, in fact. So much so that I decided, for some reason, to break into a diatribe about people's misunderstandings of early christianity which ended with me saying... "ah, lo siento. he acabado," to which Valle responded, "no, no, está bien - es precioso." Ok Valle. I'm glad my flipping faith is precioso. No, I'm not really mad - he can condescend to me all he wants. And I guess there's probably nothing wrong with being preciosa. After that class I ran (and when I went to change back home I found Adela scrubbing my room, thoroughly...) then cooled down in the park. I stopped by the birdcage to visit my amigos encarcelados, and fell into conversation with an old man there (not a sketchy old man, a nice old man). I commented that it was a little sad that the birds were in a cage, and he said something about how they were at least fed, watered, and safe, and I said, "but they're not free!" and then added, "though, I guess we use our freedom pretty poorly most of the time." He then randomly started talking about immigrants, and how they are poor and have to steal for food and how he'd do the same, were he in their position. He was most amiable. My 20th century history class went slowly, but I survived, and came back home to read some before lunch. After lunch I called a friend, which was good, even though it's always a little bit sad. I also feel like I'm always doing all the talking, which drives me a little mad, while at the same time I always feel like I have an awful lot of things to say. Hence my tirade in Islam class... Quijote class was spent mostly in discussing how he was changing one of our assignments. The whole conversation could have taken 10 minutes, but for some reason teh people in my class could not understand what teh prof was saying. I think that maybe I need to watch a western, though, because my prof always refers to them in class, and I have never seen one.

Anyway, I returned home for dinner and now here I am. I really ought to think about what I'm bringing to Sevilla this weekend, but I'm beat, so I think I'll call it a night pretty soon.

And I forgot to mention...

2007-09-25T16:43:00.001-07:00

That it wasn't Spanish that the two original students were speaking. It was ITALIAN!

Una sorpresa de Dios

2007-09-25T15:02:00.000-07:00

So, I went to my first CLU meeting tonight, and it was quite lovely. I went to Mass beforehand, and I was planning on praying for the half-hour in between the end of Mass and beginning of the meeting, but then I realized they were closing down the church, which was confusing, but hey - even churches have to take a rest, right? So anyway, I wandered outside and parked on a bench to journal, etc. I was supposed to be meeting Herminia, my contact, there, but she never said whether to meet inside, outside, etc., so when I saw two young people approach the church, I followed them and asked if they were... going... to the... group... thing. They replied in teh affirmative, so we stood awkwardly together, locked out of the church until one of them looked for a doorbell, which they found and rang. We were early. So anyway, once we were inside, we waited awkwardly and alone outside a room where people were practicing singing. Every once in a while, my companions would exchange words, and I never had a clue what they were saying. "Gosh," I thought to myself, "I knew the UVa profs were babying us, but I didn't realize this was going to be quite so horrible." I kept hoping beyond hope that they weren't actually speaking Spanish, but kept shrugging that thought away as wishful thinking.

Anyway, 9.00 rolled around, and finally a middle-aged man poked his head around the corner, and queried, "eres Emily? Estabamos esperándote!" As I apologized profusely, he brushed me off, and we were joined by an assortment of other middle-aged and youngish people. We went into the room where the people had been singing, and settled ourselves. We numbered about 20 I would say. I was asked if I spoke spanish, and if I understood spanish, both of which I answered vaguely, because the thing is, outside of family life with Adela and co., where I know they laugh at me, and confession, where I presume the priest laughs at me, I haven't had all that much unfiltered contact with Spaniards. I was introduced as Emily, all the way from the United States (as though I were making a guest appearance, or something) and the little singing group got ready for the first song. However, they realized it was in English, and said they hoped they pronounced everything ok (they didn't. it was precious). I said that I wouldn't complain so long as they bore with my Spanish. And the singing was lovely. Ah, I had realized how much I missed singing and such, but I did NOT realize just how much I missed it. And these people have beautiful voices.

After the song came the reading from Giussani's something or other about "living the real" and "deeper reality" and other profound abstractions that left all of us just a little listless. But anyway, it was run a bit like lectio divina - read out loud, digest, read to yourself, comment as the Spirit moves you. So two or three people commented, and after each person I sort of wanted to say something, but didn't want to make an ass of myself, but really, I have no self control, so finally one woman said something about how she feels as though her petitions are always a little bit silly because she asks for God's will in her life, but puts conditions on it, and I just had to speak up. So I did, haltingly and poorly, but someone must have understood, because another woman continued the conversation. And I rejoiced.

And the thing I said was how I just keep trying to not set up expectations in my petitions, and try to just have a posture of openness in prayer. One woman responded by saying that we had to be ready for God to surprise us, and I looked around and thought to myself, "damn right" because the whole evening was one big gift from God.

After the meeting, the real fun began. We all went out for dinner (kebabs... yum) at the sketchy turkish place that I sometimes go for coffee, and it was just terribly lovely. Everyone was complimenting my Spanish (no lie!) and I got to know a few people a little bit, and they are just lovely people. And smart. And good.

Of course, now I have un montón de tarea, due tomorrow, and it's... 12.45 and counting. (Or 00.45, as my clock says). Now that I'm in classes I don't really like for the first time in college, I sort of understand why other people put off homework, stay up late and do a crappy job! But I don't really care that I'll probably be up until 2.00, because there are many things more important than sleep. And also things more important than school.

Ah, also I've decided (at the very least to myself) that I'm visiting Astrid and Marcos in Galicia for fall break. They've said I can stay with them. Lovely.

Oh, I will suffer in class tomorrow. Much coffee will be tomado in the AM.

And I forgot- I got an email from the Franciscans who have a center of Franciscan studies, and it was ever so cordial. I am feeling however that soon I will have rather too much to do... tomorrow I meet my "intercambio" whose name is Xavi, and who plays guitar...

And... I miss FUS classes

2007-09-24T07:04:00.000-07:00

Between now and Wednesday, I need to write an exquisite defense of Christianity, explaining how Islam is not actually the salvation of mankind, proving that it is not, in fact syncretic, describing how the Muslim occupation of Spain was certainly an occupation, and... I need to do so lovingly. This is no bueno.

Friends, I have been spoiled. Yes, there have been quite a few times when I may have disagreed with a professor's stance about something in class at FUS, but it was never so frustrating as it is here. The thing is, my profs here present their particular interpretation of any given event as irrefutable fact. Today I was told that the Muslim invasion of Spain, starting in 711 was a liberation, not an occupation. Because, of course, the Muslims were ok with people practicing other (monotheistic) religions, as long as they got their tribute. That's all well and good, but that's not a liberation. And I am the last person to excuse the many sins of Christendom, but honestly -!? And ironically, in my 20th century history class, taught by the same prof, he was going on about how capitalism always becomes emperialism, when carried out, and it has a tendency to subjugate other people through controlling their material goods in a far more subtle slavery than that which is produced by all out warfare. HELLO!

Anyway, enough ranting. Somehow, Valle manages to be endearing even when I want to throttle him. This afternoon I have Quijote, which is always very exhausting, because I am always being called on to explain literary concepts. I always think back, at those moments, to Sra. Charles and AP Spanish, "circumlocución!"

Ok, I'm off to be studious. Tomorrow I go to CLU! Woohoo! Hopefully my communing and liberating with said organization will satiate my catholic needs, and I will stop stalking random nuns/priests who I see on the street.

Addendum

2007-09-23T08:27:00.000-07:00

I nearly forgot! I took a slightly different route home after the morning's activities, and crossed a footbridge that had really horrible poetry scrawled along its length! I will return and take pictures. Anyway, the whole thing was about how life is an adventure (only the author used many swears to get this idea across) and towards the end, the poem said something like, "so now go, begin your life anew" and it was so entertaining that I nearly laughed out loud.

Ironically, the entrance to said bridge is guarded by two sphinxes. Apparently they are stingy at imparting their knowledge on silly young poets.

Una mujer del dia and other aspects of life

2007-09-23T06:02:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, when she asked if I was going out, and I answered in the negative, Adela chuckled and said I am a woman of the day. This is very much the truth. Today was another fabulous morning of roaming.

It started with Mass, and while I was planning on going to the Cathedral, because there's usually a small group from the program at the 11.00, as I passed the Franciscan church on the way, I just sort of wandered in. The homily was wonderful. It's so odd, the catholicism here. I am always the only person younger than 50 or so in the church (except when our group goes) and it's always a super speed-Mass, but then on Sundays, the priests always give these long and amazing homilies. And the chapel where I pray has confessions ALL day long and there's always a line. It's crazy.

After that, I headed towards the train station, to pick up the tickets I reserved for Sevilla(!). I wasn't actually positive the counter would be open (EVERYTHING closes on Sundays) but I hoped it would be, as I had to pick the tickets up today, but I got distracted on the way there by a sign for the Mercado Central. This is a place that I dearly want to go, but still haven't been to because on the way TO that distraction, I saw a flea market. So I wandered around there for a while, very amused. I always have combatting feelings of revulsion and interest when confronted with the world of the flea market - do people ever actually buy things? Everything is both sketchy and hideous. Who are those people that run the stalls? Do they do other things during the week? Do they go from flea market to flea market? It's all just way too weird.

But eventually I did make it to the station, which was, in fact, open. Tickets paid for, I headed to the one open papelería to look for postcards and birthday cards for various people. I HATE postcards, but I'll save that rant for another time. This being done, I went back to the Plaza de la Reina, where I saw an interesting statue that made me a little angry. The statue itself was beautiful - a woman letting loose two doves into the air. Lovely. Below it is written, "La Paz y la Concordia son hijas de la Razón y la Mente." Pshaw. First off, two women can't procreate :) secondly, I have never seen peace created by reasonability and sound judgment. First, people's sensibilities must be taken care of. It's true.

I stopped into the pastelería/horchatería where I have, on several occasions, seen nuns hang out, hoping to stalk them, but alas, they were not there. I indulged in a pastry (yum) and went to pray for a while. When I exited the church, the entire plaza was just filled with people, mostly families, and children, who were just enjoying the day and playing with the dirty pidgeons and it was such a lovely moment. I sat and watched people for a while, then meandered home.

Lunch was good, as always, but my stupid "hermano" was acting like a complete jackass and I couldn't bring myself to care enough to follow the conversation but I'm pretty sure he went ahead and lost his cell phone in India and decided to blame it on his mother. It was really awkward, because he was definitely yelling, but whatever.

Now I NEED to do the homework I've been putting off since Wednesday. Oof. No quiero pensar en la historia. Quiero una siesta... ok. Productivity starts... NOW.

The Oceanografique

2007-09-22T07:18:00.000-07:00

Well, this morning was interesting, and surprising (as always). Our group was to meet at the Oceanografique, an aquarium of sorts, which is part of the "Ciudad de los artes y ciencias," a newly constructed (and still under construction)... tourist trap. Or at least, that is what it is to my mind. While the architecture is certainly interesting, to me, it is not compelling. In fact, I find it ironic. The buildings are intended to mimic various things in nature: an eyeball, a fish, shells, etc., but everything is very cold, white, and unnatural looking.

Anyway, probably my experience was not improved by the long walk in the on again/off again rain, but once we got there, we were told to go to this dolphin show- a DOLPHIN SHOW. And while I was incredibly impressed by the athleticism of the dolphins (and trainers, I guess), I was preoccupied the whole time with how small the tanks were, and how it just seemed unnatural for those really impressive animals to be living in those conditions.

Once we were allowed out, we wandered around the various exhibits and such, which was pretty cool, but can be done at any aquarium. One thing I thought was wicked cool that I hadn't ever seen before: the sea dragon. Think seahorse, only with "wings" and brighter colors. Very sweet. But really, I think the whole thing was a bit overrated.

Apart from that, things are good. Ah, except Adela has taken to comparing me to Laura (her actual daughter) which is very awkward. For example: today after lunch, Adela asked me if I was tired/going to take a siesta. I said I probably would, and Laura said she was going to as well. At this time, Adela said, "Well, Emily got up early and went out - she deserves to be tired. But you - what have you done today?" At which point I melted into the floor.

And of course, I haven't actually siestaed. I have downloaded pictures, thought about how much the weather sucks right now, had some chocolate to console myself, contemplated another long walk to the train station to pick up my tickets, and so on. Maybe now I'll try a little nap... maybe...

A lovely morning indeed

2007-09-20T04:38:00.000-07:00

On Tuesdays and Thursdays, I have no class until 3.40 or some crazy hour like that, so I get to do as I please in the morning. Usually, I have homework to do, and I go to Mass, and just relax, but today I had to find something out in regards to train travel, so I set off to the station. I happened to see that the station is in very, very close proximity to the shopping district here, so I decided I would try something new and spend the morning shopping.

Turns out it can be a lot of fun! I wandered in and out of many stores, tried on some outrageous clothing, and generally enjoyed the morning. Purchases include a Cuban cigar, which I know are overrated, but I don't particularly care..., and I intend to enjoy on the beach; a fan, for church, so I can be cool like the old ladies (that's literally cool- old church=no A/C); a birthday gift for my sister, a purse (something I've never owned before!) and a tattoo (JUST KIDDING). Things I wanted to buy: flowers, badly... that's it, I think. Oh, actually that's not it.

As I was nearing the end of my excursion, I saw a sign advertising "talleres" which seems to mean workshop or something along those lines. Anyway, I decided to turn in (under an archway) and found several little shop/workshops. The one that gave me most joy was "manned" by two youngish women (30's? 40's?) who were busy working with clay and painting. Everything After I made my purchase, one of them wrapped it carefully in a bag, and closed it with a sticker, on which she then wrote the words, "per amor de l'art" which I'm pretty sure is valencian for "out of love of art." As she handed it to me, she said, "everything by hand" (only in Spanish) and then I left, pleased and a little dumbfounded.

Actually, right near the somewhat nauseating/very commercial shopping district, there's a whole network of tiny, unmarked streets that were once all workshops, and are now some workshops. It's pretty sweet, and there were many antique shops as well - the sort where everything is sort of in a big heap in the middle of the floor (which is to say - the best type). I imagine I'll be heading back that way.

OH - and, perhaps, the best part of the morning - coming home to the smells of Adela cooking stew, and a package from my mom and a letter from my sister! Way to make me feel loved. Adela thought it might be my birthday :)

Ok, off to liguistics/grammar. Say a prayer for me!

Adela, Adela, Adela

2007-09-17T13:39:00.000-07:00

Well, since I arrived here, Adela has commented just about every day about how "little" I eat. Now, before everyone gets concerned, as though this were a valid fear, I will share what all I have eaten today: cereal with milk, juice, coffee, and two tostadas with jam for breakfast, a heaping portion of salad and many chicken wings for lunch, followed by an apple, two heaping portions of salad, and pizza for dinner, followed by yogurt and a banana. That is a considerable amount of food, and almost all of it is covered in oil, and when I say "salad" I don't mean a piece of iceberg lettuce. The salad at lunch had some unidentified veggies, maybe some potato(?) and some sort of ham-type substance, and the dinner salad had beets, some other unidentified veggies and tuna.

That being said, for the past three days or so, Adela has added to the "Emily, comes muy poco!" her fear that my mother will think I am being maltreated and get angry with her. I am not quite sure yet how to handle all this, but all I've done thusfar is try to eat a little more, and tell her when she gets started, "te prometo, te juro, no tengo hambre!!!!" And I am actually hungry here less often than I was in the states. Of course I'm always starved before meals, but I'm pretty sure that's the way it's supposed to be.

I am not her only victim. Laura, my "sister," was harangued today for not eating fruit. Following is an approximate conversation. Keep in mind while reading it that neither Laura nor Adela cracked a smile during its duration, and I was laughing hysterically the entire time. Oops.

Adela: Well, you're going to die.
Laura: Yep, and so are you!
Adela: True, and I will die before you. But I will die with vitamins! And you will die without!
Laura: Oh, what a shame.

This was about eating an apple!!!!!! I think the whole thing is hilarious. And Adela's overbearingness doesn't actually bother me at all, probably because I know that if I really want to, I can ignore her advice. Plus, it's a little bit nice being doted on, and told to carry an umbrella, etc.

Anyway, I think this whole situation is hilarious, and I will probably post more Adela stories in the days to come. She pretty much cracks me up.

Paz, etc.

Oh, the simplicity of my tastes

2007-09-15T07:38:00.000-07:00

I am currently living in a city of just about 1.000.000 people, with an incredibly active nightlife. It is feasible to go out every single night here, and stay out until breakfast. Every night! And I know several people who have, more or less, been doing just that. Many people say that the "vida de la noche" is the greatest thing about Valencia. I, of course, have little taste for it.

I've gone out a few times now, and I just can't quite see the appeal. It's all so artificial! You spend a few hours out with people you barely know, wandering around in little knots, and you get home smelling of smoke and beer and wake up the next morning exhausted. Last night, I had, perhaps, the least fun that I've had since my arrival in Spain.

Today has been one of the best days thusfar. I got up leisurely, washed off the grime of last night, had a delightful breakfast, and meandered to the centro (the SAME PLACE I was last night) for Mass. I sat, stood, and knelt with the old people, prayed for a while, wandered around, ate a delicious croissant, read and journaled. I arrived home to the smells and sounds of cooking food, had lunch with Adela (during which we berated the laziness and selfishness of my generation), took a siesta, and now am working slowly on my homework, which I have plenty of time to do, responding to emails, and updating my blog :)

For the first week I was here, I felt almost guilty for not being ecstatic about the bar scene. Tourists and locals alike practically worship that whole lifestyle, yet I couldn't get into it. It's not that I was uncomfortable, either - I felt at my ease in all the places we went to; however, I find it all to be rather boring. A morning wandering around and people watching, however? Positively scintillating. I prefer watching sober, nice people to drunk, vulgar ones.

So I think I will go ahead and not go out for a little while and see if I miss it. Tomorrow, I think I will go to the beach after lunch, maybe bringing my new friend Don Quijote with me. Also, I've begun a book, "El hombre y lo divino" by a Spanish philosopher, María Zambrano, which I'm rather enjoying.

Paz y alegría

And... the church was open!

2007-09-13T13:19:00.000-07:00

Look at how good I am, updating this thing all the time. And this, even though (or, perhaps, because) I am convinced that nobody reads it (except mom- hi mom).

So one of the most difficult things for me has been finding a place to pray where I can just - let down my guard entirely. I became accustomed to having the luxury of silence and solitude during last semester/this summer, and so being surrounded by people constantly is very exhausting. Now one would think that in a country that is some 80% catholic, it would be pretty easy to find a church that fulfills a few basic requirements: 1) it is open, 2) there are not tourists bouncing all over the place, with flash cameras, and 3) there are at least two other people there. One could argue that the third criterium is excessive, but the fact is that I have accidentally wandered places that I wasn't necessarily supposed to be once or twice already, and the LAST thing I need is to be blacklisted by some priest. Vale?

Such a church seemed impossible to find. I have been going to Mass at the Cathedral, where it's at least in a side chapel with three walls, so you're not quite so distracted by the lovely tourists, but one thing really bothers me about the cathedral - the persistent and mean beggars who wait at the gaits. It's just depressing, and every time I walk by them, I undergo an immense amount of stress and guilt. The idealist in me, "way to be a guilty bystander... some Christian you are..." fights for supremacy with a harder, more practical voice, "but you have no money... you won't actually help them by giving them money... why don't they have jobs?" Anyway - long story short, I dread entering the church, and that's just not good.

The Basilica is ok, except the chapel where they have daily Mass is home to the ugliest statue of Our Lady ever made in the history of the universe. I can't even describe it - it would probably crash my computer. And before and after Mass they close off that part of the church, and I figured to go to the pretty part, I would have to pay (such is the case in the cathedral). However, today after Mass, I was planning on leaving, but instead turned away from the exit and wandered into (drumroll please) a chapel. I was so shocked and dumbfounded that I just stood at the entrance for a few minutes before shutting my mouth and entering. I was a little disappointed to see no tabernacle, but I could tell right away this was a place I could pray. It was a small room (think maybe two dorm rooms side by side) with mostly plain walls on three sides, and then behind the altar a life-sized Crucifix mounted on a black wall, with gorgeous gold-embossed (but not gaudy!) icons of our Lady of Sorrows and Christ on either side. As I went to leave, I again felt compelled to go further in, instead, and instead of a ticket booth, which I expected, I found a bright Eucharistic chapel (capilla del santísimo sacramento) with a beautiful statue of the Sacred Heart and (!) priests hearing confession. And people, praying. Praise God. Being surrounded by anti-catholicism and secularism has, as anticipated, made me much more catholic. But anyway, one last note- as I left, I noticed that in the archway between the two chapels (they're practically adjoining) there was written something along the lines of "we pass through sorrows to reach the resurrection," which I think is pretty groovy.

So yes. Life is good. Grammar class today was rough, but I'll survive. I think. Today we covered reflexive verbs. Oof. One boy in our class never has any idea what the prof is saying. It's real sad, but I sometimes start laughing uncontrollably and have to put my head on the desk. After class, the academic director, who teaches two of my classes saw me, and asked me how my classes were going, and I couldn't help but grimace a little, and he asked what was the matter, and I confessed my problems with the grammar class (re: I was correcting the sorts of exercises that I am now doing a year ago) but then I said I was sorry for complaining (and I was!) and that the class would probably help me grow in patience and humility and he started laughing and said I definitely was a Franciscan, started reciting the prayer of St. Francis, and walked off, chuckling. Ay, la vida.

And right now, I'm going to read some Cervantes. I need to kick butt in that class so I can combat my prof's anti-catholicism with subtlety and charm rather than sheer rage, which is usually what I feel when he starts going off. A ver.

Paz de Cristo

Classes, Masses, and blistered feet

2007-09-12T05:11:00.000-07:00

That pretty much sums up the past two and a half days or so. I have finally begun classes, which is good, but so very weird, especially since I don't actually know any of my profs! Although I do enjoy going to class and such, I must admit that 1) I wish the classes were just a little bit shorter and 2) I wish we didn't have homework!

That being said, I think my Monday/Wednesday courses are going to be very good. They are all literature and history classes. I especially look forward to Don Quijote. Tuesday/Thursday, I have Linguistics and Grammar. The former seems like it will be fun, at least, but I think Grammar is going to be a little painful. Our first day, we covered "verbos como gustar." Madre mía. But I will survive, and it ought to be an easy A. I can't believe I just wrote that.

If the theme of this summer was "patience," I think the theme of this semester will be "humility and mercy." I went to confession today, on a whim, and haltingly, "lo siento, padre, no sé el formulario para el sacramento en el castellando..." and after I confessed my extreme arrogance, etc., the priest said, over and over (very slowly) in several ways, "God, in his mercy makes us merciful." So I guess I'll work on that, or try to be open to God working on that, or something.

I'm pretty much BFF with the doorman of my apartment, and he is very excited that I'm studying Don Quijote. Which reminds me - it's just about time for class. I think I will try to make it downtown for vespers tonight, but we'll see si tengo ganas después de la clase.

Vayaís con Dios

She even irons my underwear!

2007-09-09T11:14:00.000-07:00

Well, life certainly is funny. I am settling in here, and getting to know the city, and my family. Being in the host family is the funniest experience. Before coming, I was dreading it a little bit - I am very much concerned with my privacy, etc., but it's been really good, if a little strange. Every morning, Adela lays out a feast of cereal, tostadas, juice, coffee, jam, and other such things that she, of course, doesn't eat. Then, after I leave, she comes and straightens up my room, and makes my bed. SHE MAKES MY BED. Also, almost every day she takes whatever laundry I have. Then she washes and irons everything. EVERYTHING. Following is an approximate translation of a conversation we had yesterday:

Adela: Something something something, do you want it ironed?
Me: No, it's not necessary.
Adela: But don't you iron your clothes? Didn't your mother?
Me: Well, sometimes when I feel like I should look presentable, I'll iron my clothes, but otherwise... eh... my mom doesn't really like ironing.
Adela: Ah, well I iron everything, so everything will be ironed.
Me: Vale

Anyway, she's a really great lady, though my hermanos seem a bit spoiled. Also, it's a little bit awkward because when I go out, she leaves her door open when she goes to bed so that when I come back she'll wake up. All this does, of course, is make me feel badly for disturbing her sleep! Although she has made it quite clear that she has no problem with me going out. My first day, she said, with a huge smile, "Oh, yes, the students all go out on the weekends, and stay up until 4, 5, 6 in the morning!" She is also very concerned that I have friends, and whenever I do something alone she asks what the other students were doing.

Tomorrow classes start, and I think I may change mine. After talking with a few people signed up for Advanced Grammar, I'm feeling a little bit silly for being signed up for Grammar Review. But we'll see.

I went to church at the cathedral this morning, where the homily was quite good. But the church itself is large and pretty imposing (though beautiful) and there are all these flipping tourists that come through constantly. Gosh. So tomorrow I think I'll try the Basilica, and see how that goes. I'm hoping I'm not too tired by the end of the day to go- it's about a half an hour walk each way to the Basilica/Cathedral. I could take a bus, but I always get off at the wrong stop because I start daydreaming. One example: today, I was on the bus on the way home from the beach, though I walked there, and I KNOW the stop to get off - Gasco Oliag, and still I got off I think about a MILE early. It was just pathetic.

Anyway, I'll blame it on tiredness and the fact that this is the first time I've lived in a city.

He llegado

2007-09-05T13:05:00.000-07:00

Well, I'm here in Valencia, sitting in my very white room, about ready to crash for the night. My travels began at 4:30 AM Tuesday, when we left the house for Boston. Then, I flew from Logan to Dulles, and waited in DC until about three in the afternoon. Security was exceptionally painless, and we got on our flight without a hitch, and left around six. After arriving in Madrid around 7:30 in the morning, we ended up waiting around in the airport for about two hours because a couple of students just sort of wandered off. Now, normally, I wouldn't fault anyone for losing a group, but I must say, we were a large and very visible group.

Actually, I have been feeling like the prototype of the "ugly American" for the better part of the day. The kids I'm with aren't, for the most part, "bad" kids. They are vaguely respectful, etc. But every single place we went today, they spoke in English (loudly) and any time we had to wait for something, people just sort of plopped themselves down on whatever surfaces were available. The most painful moment today was when this older lady was hosing and mopping the patio of the place we stopped at between Madrid and Valencia, and some punk in our group decided to light up and drop his cigarette ashes practically right in front of her. Eew.

But some of the people here seem really solid. A few of us have planned to run together (safety in numbers - hear that, mom?) and I have found a "church friend" who goes to CUA. And things were way different once we all broke up anyway.

We were claimed by our "mothers," who were holding signs with our names on them, at the bus. Adela was all smiles as she helped me out, and she seemed a little relieved that she could understand my Spanish, and even more relieved that I could understand hers. She drove me to her apartment, and showed me around the place, and was just very gracious and kind and such. After I got a little settled in, I decided to go out in search of my school, a place to make a copy of my passport, and a church. Adela had very complicated instructions for all of these places, but I managed to find them with the help of my handy map. Yes, I walked through the streets with a map pretty much in front of my nose.

Anyway, I got back here an hour or two later, and, although I was intending to stay awake and do some honors reading, I crashed. I woke up in time for dinner at 9:30, and now I'm getting ready to call it a night. The bed is looking most inviting...

Tomorrow we have orientation, and maybe a Spanish proficiency test (though that may be Friday). Oh boy.

Pax Christi

Attention, ladies and gentlemen... I've finally begun to pack

2007-09-01T19:14:00.000-07:00

Well, I suppose now would be an appropriate time to comment on my trip to Steubenville last weekend, but I don't think I can do so without being sappy, so I will refrain. However, on a related note, I have a horrible story to share.

I have slowly been reintroducing some music into my life, and I thought that a little Fernando Ortega would be nice for my drive down to the church the other day. Most of his music is very acoustic guitar/fiddle/harmonizing vocals oriented, and as such is quite soothing. Usually, he covers hymns ("How firm a foundation," "Children of the living God," etc.) but an unknown song started playing while I drove. As I listened to the lyrics, I became more and more disturbed. The song goes as follows:

As I walked out one evening
To breathe the air and soothe my mind,
I thought of friends and the home I had,
And all those things I left behind.

A silent star shone on me,
My eyes saw a far horizon,
As if to pierce this veil of time,
And escape this earthly prison.

Will there come a time when the memories fade
And pass on with the long, long years,
When the ties no longer bind?
Lord, save me from this darkest fear.

Don't let me come home a stranger,
I couldn't stand to be a stranger.
Lord, save me from this darkest fear.

Yeah. Needless to say, I was less than composed when I arrived at the chapel. However, I must say - after sifting through my own thoughts and feelings, I realized that I don't actually feel what the author of that song was expressing. I feel ready to go. I'll be the first to admit that I have a tendency to romanticize the past. Lately, however, as I've been working on this whole "trust" thing, I have begun to look at least a little more honestly at the past, present and future.

I think often about a song by Sara Groves, "Pictures of Egypt," in which she identifies with the Israelites in the desert, who lamented their "bad luck" at being delivered from Egypt. How often am I that disgruntled Israelite- freed from slavery, and trying to worm my way back into my chains? Far too often, I'd say.

But the good news is that I don't feel that way at all right now (hoorah!). So I suppose there's some hope for me yet. I even began packing last night, after my liberation from work. Yes, that's right, I am now blissfully unemployed. Actually, it was a little bittersweet leaving work. That is, it was until about an hour and a half before the end of the day when a co-worker shouted from the sea of cubicles, "my God, is it ever going to end?" and I realized just how badly I needed to get out of that place.

And I leave in three days. There's not actually a whole lot left to do, miraculously. Today I bought reading material for the plane - a collection, entitled "Harry Potter and Philosophy" and Merleau-Ponty's "Phenomenology of Perception" (that way, regardless of my mood I'll have something to read). And tomorrow: I pack!

A brief update

2007-08-22T12:17:00.000-07:00

I went to the doc's today. Of course, there were no doctors available in the entire city of Keene, so I had to go to a neighboring town. Turns out this was a good thing. The doctor was a somewhat elderly man, wearing a skiing tie, who was a delightful character. As we discussed the Dread Disease, he seemed far more interested in my upcoming trip to Spain. Then, he said, "oh, and you can do whatever you want, activity-wise. Whatever you feel up to is fine with me!" at which point, I could not resist a triumphant look toward my mom, who had reprimanded me for going on a run last night. We both burst out laughing, and the doctor could tell he had just stepped into a parent/ child argument. When he heard about the... altercation... last night concerning my run, he winked at me and offered me his fist to pound. It was quite a moment.

Anyway, there's been another change in meds, but he thinks it is viral pneumonia, so it doesn't really matter what I take. Long story short, the guy was great, and I've decided I'm going to be totally well by Friday afternoon.

Still sick... and trying to trust

2007-08-22T07:48:00.000-07:00

Well, I am now on day 10 or so of my illness, which now has a name: pneumonia. As a result, I've been off work this week, so I've been going to Mass in the mornings. It seems that everyone there knows both 1)that I am sick and 2)all about the drugs I'm on and how my condition has not improved. The Deacon stopped me outside of church today, and assured me that he and his wife were praying for me. Then, with a hungry look in his eye, he said maybe the prayer group should pray over me. I made a vague excuse as to why this was an impossibility, and scurried off to my mom's office to see whether I had an appointment with the doctor. In my mom's office, I found Jane, a delightful lady, who grabbed my elbow, told me I ought to have the sacrament of the sick, and literally dragged me upstairs (using the elevator, of course, so as to give my poor, delicate lungs a rest) to find a priest. None were available (I breathed a sigh of relief). However, I was forced to surrender my cell phone number to the secretary so that once a priest did appear, he could give me a call. Oh, joy.

Now, I'm pretty good at avoiding uncomfortable questions, but I do have to ask myself, why are you so uncomfortable with being prayed over? It's something I've had very little exposure to in the five years since my conversion. I think my discomfort (fear?) comes primarily from my reluctance to make myself vulnerable, and from the fact that I am afraid of how I would have to change, were I healed by a miracle. Because when you are prayed over, you are supposed to be open - totally receptive to whatever may come your way. Also, the person or people praying over you are invited into that openness along with God. And the two times that I have been prayed over (once right after becoming catholic, once... this week), the results were unexpected and challenging. And as far as miracles are concerned- if something "big" were to happen, if I were to be healed, or whatever, I would really have to live in the light of that knowledge. Which sounds like work.

Anyway, this past week I submitted to being prayed over, and I was told that I don't trust in God's love. Hearing that is annoying, mostly because I know it's true. So I promised the priest who prayed over me that I would "try to trust." To which he replied, "there is no trying; there is only doing."

All these factors add up to my current state of annoyance: with God for not making me well, or just forcing me to trust; and with myself, for being annoyed with God.

God is God, I am not.

Pax Christi

That whole body/soul thing

2007-08-14T04:22:00.000-07:00

A few semesters ago, I was in a couple classes where we discussed the connection between the body and soul (or body, spirit and soul) in some depth. No consensus was ever reached, but several important questions were raised, such as: how does the body effect the soul, and the soul the body? why do many churches require fasting of their congregations, if it limits the body's abilities? and how does sickness effect the functioning of the spirit or soul?

I may be coming to a partial answer of a few of those questions, at least for me. For nearly all of the five years that I've been catholic, I have, on and off, practiced the Wednesday/Friday fasts that I think were mandated by some Marian apparition at some time or another (I found out about them from another source, but that's beside the point). Sometimes, I have done so begrudgingly, sometimes with great enthusiasm, and sometimes indifferently. Recently, I've been trying to fast lovingly. And while in the past, the result of my fast has usually just been hunger, I am now seeing some sort of fruit from my fasts. I feel able to pray and study more attentively, and also the fast reminds me of the many people in our world who cannot choose a fast, but have it inflicted on them by poverty. So somehow, bodily deprivation (of a sort) leads to more acute spiritual "senses."

This has not been my experience with sickness. Right now, I'm on day three of a most annoying sickness, that permits me to perform only a few activities, namely: sleep, read, write, and take antibiotics. Normally, conditions that would give me unlimited time to indulge in the first three activities would be more than ideal. In fact, you would think that I would be glad to have some time to gather my thoughts, start writing my memoirs, etc., etc. However, I am anything but content in this condition. I feel, actually, as though I have regressed to my four-year-old self. For the first day, I behaved pretty well, although I'm not sure it counts, as I was asleep for 16 of the 24 hours of that day. Back to the point - rather than bearing patiently with this cross, or even just accepting it, I have been more frustrated in the past three days than... well, maybe my first week of work this summer. I couldn't shake the thought, again, this isn't fair. I live pretty well; I eat my veggies, exercise, and such, so why should I be sick?

As you can see, my sickness has rather diminished my spiritual faculties, as well as the physical.

But can I really blame this regression on the fact that I'm sick? Probably not. I am reminded right now, as I often am, of Julian of Norwich, who said, "sin is befitting because it reminds us of our complete dependence on God" (paraphrased). And maybe my problem is just this: I don't like being dependent on God sometimes (often). I'd really rather do things my way. And usually, I feel like I do a pretty good job of it. But the fact is, whether I like it or not, I am a creature. I am not the creator. Someone told me recently that the Desert Fathers used to look up at the night sky, and repeat, over and over, "You are God, I am not." Perhaps I'll give that a whirl.

Coming to the end of this post, I'm not sure that I've actually said anything. Maybe I'm just copying Paul, when he wrote, "But of course food cannot make us acceptable to God; we lose nothing by not eating it, we gain nothing by eating it" (I Cor 8:8). Because although I find Paul a little bit troubling at times, I've decided that his underlying message is the same as Jesus' - to love, and do all things in love. So eat or fast with the same gratitude. Enjoy health or sickness with an understanding that "all things work together for good to them that love God" (Rom. 8:28).

And I'll just work on remembering "God is God, I am not."

Pax Christi

The end: an appropriate place to begin

2007-08-09T15:26:00.000-07:00

Less than a month remains before my departure for Spain, and I must say, I am looking forward to a change of pace. In some ways, this summer has been quite good. More than good, actually; as corny as it sounds, I've grown a lot. For the past two and a half months, I have been working at an insurance company, filing. When I began this, I am ashamed to say that I was pretty embittered about it. The thought: why should I have to do this work? kept coming to me. After all, I'm so talented, shouldn't some job be provided me to develop my unique abilities (or at least a job that wasn't quite so humiliating)? Or better yet, shouldn't I be allowed to just live this summer? Maybe I could travel, or take a few classes, or just experience being human?

Right.

Obviously, there are people in this world who have opportunities like that. But that has no bearing on my life. And even more to the point: having an attitude of resentment and bitterness like the one I was harboring proved to be an ineffectual way to make me a happier and more fulfilled person. Additionally, family life proved as difficult for me to handle as working. This can be attributed to the fact that the members of my family are... well, human. And they, too, didn't seem to appreciate my many and impressive gifts! Clearly something clearly had to change.

The answer, of course, was me. Because I learned this summer that the only thing I can change is myself. And even that can only really be done by God. The first thing I had to realize was that nobody owes me anything. Once I figured that out, it was a lot harder to be frustrated and angry towards my work and family. So I went to work with a slightly better attitude, and it made all the difference in the world. Because ultimately, it doesn't matter if I could be illiterate and still do my job. A friend recalled to me the story in the Gospels of the woman who anoints Jesus' feet with oil. Everyone said it was a waste- better things could have been done with that oil. But Jesus said it was good. So I think maybe Jesus appreciates my puny gift of filing, too. I sure hope so.

That was a tangent, but I'm leaving it in. Long story short: in a small way I "got over" myself this summer. Also, because of the many hours I've spent filing, I have lost the ability to be bored, which I think is a useful skill.

Another thing I've been coping with this summer: the concept of leaving people and places I love. I really feel like I've just begun to properly appreciate my school this past year, and now I'm going away, for a long time. For a while, this plagued me and I began to wonder if I was making a big mistake, going off like this. But then I realized that everything is part of God's plan for my life, and if I were not "supposed" to go to Spain, I would not be going. So right now, I am just trying to keep my mind and my heart open, to see what all is in store for me in the months to come.

Pax Christi