I get ideas on the train, as I'm walking to class, as I'm walking home from class, when I should be lesson planning or sleeping. It's exciting to get such frequent visits from my muse, but it's also a little bit of a problem. I'm exhausted, but I can't lay down and rest until I've emptied my thoughts out onto a page. Even when I have nothing to say I have to write to calm my brain. Mostly I've been writing posts for the Ttmadrid blog, but also I've done a little more work on the Lilly Frank trilogy (my sci-fi/vampire/romance/spy trilogy) and some journaling.
I got word from kiwi Craig about the TtMadrid blog: it is set up, but what I sent him won't work as a blog post because it's too long. He's counting it as an article, which is both good and bad. Good because I get paid more for it, but bad because I still need a good first post for the blog. I have plenty of OTHER posts ready, but no good first post yet. Gr. So my goal is to write my first TtMadrid blog post this weekend and get that sucker going.
Today I marveled at how good some very simple things can be. Like popcorn and orange juice, for example. Or a baked potato with cottage cheese. Not exactly free, but definitely cheap and on my list of "the finer things in life."
Have just decided that I can not only hear the next door neighbor's English bulldog snoring, but I can also hear the person who lives below us. Am very glad we are on the top floor and have no upstairs neighbors...am thinking that with walls and floors this thin we must sound like a herd of elephants up here, even when we're being careful.
31 January 2008
28 January 2008
uping the date
Item 1. Shannon, Meaghan and I decided to stay in our current apartment. It's economical, comfortable and familiar, and we like the roommates and landlords.
Item 2. This evening I was sitting in the lounge of one of the companies I work at with fellow teachers César and Meaghan, and I found out that César's birthday is 3 days before mine and that Meaghan shares my mom's birthday. Strange coincidences.
Item 3. I am on the verge of being published on the TtMadrid website. I have several blog posts ready and at least one article, maybe two. All I need to do is figure out a name for my TtMadrid blog (any suggestions?) and email what I have to the coordinator person, who happens to be my kiwi friend Craig.
Item 4. For some reason I know a ton of people with January birthdays: kiwi friend Craig, friend Brad, uncle Peter, and friends Tucker, Justin and Javi, not to mention the Aussie ex-roommate and a couple other people I'm acquainted with. Happy Birthday, January people!
Item 5. I found out that my dad comments on my blog under a pseudonym.
Item 6. Rediscovered The Gotan Project in my music libaray. Love love love it. A little like jazz at the circus, with accordion and some circuitous melodies.
Item 2. This evening I was sitting in the lounge of one of the companies I work at with fellow teachers César and Meaghan, and I found out that César's birthday is 3 days before mine and that Meaghan shares my mom's birthday. Strange coincidences.
Item 3. I am on the verge of being published on the TtMadrid website. I have several blog posts ready and at least one article, maybe two. All I need to do is figure out a name for my TtMadrid blog (any suggestions?) and email what I have to the coordinator person, who happens to be my kiwi friend Craig.
Item 4. For some reason I know a ton of people with January birthdays: kiwi friend Craig, friend Brad, uncle Peter, and friends Tucker, Justin and Javi, not to mention the Aussie ex-roommate and a couple other people I'm acquainted with. Happy Birthday, January people!
Item 5. I found out that my dad comments on my blog under a pseudonym.
Item 6. Rediscovered The Gotan Project in my music libaray. Love love love it. A little like jazz at the circus, with accordion and some circuitous melodies.
27 January 2008
Today feels like spring: the sun is warm, the sky cloudless. Birds chirp. The air is cool but the breeze has just a hint of warmth to it.
Tonight Shannon, Meaghan (the new roommate) and I need to decide if we are going to stay in this apartment after February, and if not, whether we all want to try to live together in the next place. I have considered striking out on my own to find a room in a Spanish-speaking household, but I've heard so many horror stories from people with bad roommates here that I might rather rent a 4-bedroom flat with Shannon and Meaghan and find a Spanish-speaking person to take the fourth room, even if it means I'm not speaking as much Spanish in the house.
This weekend was a good mix of play and work. I had a lot of organizing/planning to do for my classes, and I got a good chunk of the work done, so I'm going into the week feeling relaxed rather than harried. I will actually have time to write during the week because I'm on top of lesson planning for once.
Yesterday the girls and I went clothes shopping at Principe Pío (there is a big indoor mall there). I escaped with a lovely silk blouse, a pink jacket for spring, and a grey courduroy blazer.
Then last night we went out for drinks with some friends. We went to what is quickly becoming a favorite among many of us: Bar Colorado just off the Plaza de España. It is a Mexican bar, with actual Mexican bartenders (though they are all much whiter than the Mexicans I meet in Oregon) who remember us and usually give us a free shot of tequila at the end of the night.
Last night one of them had filled a mini squirt gun in the shape of a killer whale with tequila and he periodically passed down the bar squirting jets of tequila into people's mouths.
The time before that they let me try on the Místico mask (Místico = Mexican wrestler) and we took some pictures and then I realized I couldn't really breathe because the mask has no nose or mouth holes so I took it off and made Martín wear it for a while.
Every time we go there there's something new and fun and different, not to mention the fact that they play fabulous music. I only wish the place were bigger and had a dance floor.
Also I have a non-sexual crush on one of the bartenders, Roderigo. Last night I told one of his co-bartenders, who had nothing better to do at that moment than listen to me chatter, that Roderigo was my boyfriend only he didn't know it. Why don't you tell him? the guy said. Oh, no. I can't do that, I said. What if he says no? Well that's why you tell him, not ask him, was the reply. Hm. Good point.
Tonight Shannon, Meaghan (the new roommate) and I need to decide if we are going to stay in this apartment after February, and if not, whether we all want to try to live together in the next place. I have considered striking out on my own to find a room in a Spanish-speaking household, but I've heard so many horror stories from people with bad roommates here that I might rather rent a 4-bedroom flat with Shannon and Meaghan and find a Spanish-speaking person to take the fourth room, even if it means I'm not speaking as much Spanish in the house.
This weekend was a good mix of play and work. I had a lot of organizing/planning to do for my classes, and I got a good chunk of the work done, so I'm going into the week feeling relaxed rather than harried. I will actually have time to write during the week because I'm on top of lesson planning for once.
Yesterday the girls and I went clothes shopping at Principe Pío (there is a big indoor mall there). I escaped with a lovely silk blouse, a pink jacket for spring, and a grey courduroy blazer.
Then last night we went out for drinks with some friends. We went to what is quickly becoming a favorite among many of us: Bar Colorado just off the Plaza de España. It is a Mexican bar, with actual Mexican bartenders (though they are all much whiter than the Mexicans I meet in Oregon) who remember us and usually give us a free shot of tequila at the end of the night.
Last night one of them had filled a mini squirt gun in the shape of a killer whale with tequila and he periodically passed down the bar squirting jets of tequila into people's mouths.
The time before that they let me try on the Místico mask (Místico = Mexican wrestler) and we took some pictures and then I realized I couldn't really breathe because the mask has no nose or mouth holes so I took it off and made Martín wear it for a while.
Every time we go there there's something new and fun and different, not to mention the fact that they play fabulous music. I only wish the place were bigger and had a dance floor.
Also I have a non-sexual crush on one of the bartenders, Roderigo. Last night I told one of his co-bartenders, who had nothing better to do at that moment than listen to me chatter, that Roderigo was my boyfriend only he didn't know it. Why don't you tell him? the guy said. Oh, no. I can't do that, I said. What if he says no? Well that's why you tell him, not ask him, was the reply. Hm. Good point.
23 January 2008
a MacGyver in the kitchen
Making do with what I've got is an important lesson from my time here in Spain. I have to say, I think I'm getting pretty good at throwing together a decent meal with whatever happens to be around and without reference to a recipe. Tonight, for example, I had on hand some porkchops, an onion, a clove of garlic, a couple potatoes, some soy sauce, some orange juice, and a bit of salt and pepper. The result: some pretty darn good porkchops and potatoes if I do say so myself.
Pretty soon I'll be a regular MacGyver in the kitchen, able to whip up a gourmet meal for four with nothing more than an egg, a chicken bone, some cheese and a length of string. Gotta have the string. Ooh, and maybe a paperclip.
Pretty soon I'll be a regular MacGyver in the kitchen, able to whip up a gourmet meal for four with nothing more than an egg, a chicken bone, some cheese and a length of string. Gotta have the string. Ooh, and maybe a paperclip.
a tale of deporation
So this fellow Andrew had been living and working illegally in Europe for about three years at this point. His girlfriend is English and lives in London, and the plan was to stop in London for a couple days before continuing on to the U.S., where he was starting the necessary paperwork to live and work legally in Europe. He'd been in England just the month before and hadn't had any problems, but since then the girlfriend had moved and he didn't have her new address with him. Therefore he left the "address where staying" spot blank on the customs form and that's where the trouble started.
When the immigration officer started asking him about where he was staying and for how long and with whom, etc., etc., Andrew didn't have all the relevant information. At this point he became nervous, and when the officer asked him for his girlfriend's phone number Andrew's brain froze up and provided the wrong number. Twice. The officer called the numbers but of course did not reach Andrew's girlfriend. No more games for Andrew, do not pass go, do not collect $200.
He was told to sit on the bench and wait, and eventually a security guard came and got him and escorted him to the airport jail. When Andrew entered the outer room he found himself in the company of about seven guards. One of them looked him up and down and said, "I think we're going to need a big glove for this one."
Andrew sweated. "Are you serious?"
The guard laughed heartily. "Naw, man, I'm just kidding ya."
"Ah ha ha ha..."
Andrew was led to a cell, where several other immigrants awaited interviewing and judgment. Eventually Andrew got his interview. He was honest:
Had he been working without a contract in Europe? Yes, he had.
Why had he gone to Morocco so many times? Was he aware of the loophole? Well, yes, perhaps he had heard something about it.
Okay. You've willingly worked illegally in the EU and knowingly played the system. I'm sorry, but we can't let you into England. You'll be on the first flight back to Madrid tomorrow morning.
Back to Madrid?
Yes. The law states that we have to deport you back to the country you flew in from, not to your country of citizenship. (Hmm... So basically one could get stuck living and working illegally in Europe because one can't fly home. Brilliant.)
Once he got back to Madrid Andrew had to buy another ticket home that didn't go through England. This time he made it all the way home.
Lesson learned: have a travel plan (or at least a plausible story), write down your addresses and phone numbers, play dumb.
When the immigration officer started asking him about where he was staying and for how long and with whom, etc., etc., Andrew didn't have all the relevant information. At this point he became nervous, and when the officer asked him for his girlfriend's phone number Andrew's brain froze up and provided the wrong number. Twice. The officer called the numbers but of course did not reach Andrew's girlfriend. No more games for Andrew, do not pass go, do not collect $200.
He was told to sit on the bench and wait, and eventually a security guard came and got him and escorted him to the airport jail. When Andrew entered the outer room he found himself in the company of about seven guards. One of them looked him up and down and said, "I think we're going to need a big glove for this one."
Andrew sweated. "Are you serious?"
The guard laughed heartily. "Naw, man, I'm just kidding ya."
"Ah ha ha ha..."
Andrew was led to a cell, where several other immigrants awaited interviewing and judgment. Eventually Andrew got his interview. He was honest:
Had he been working without a contract in Europe? Yes, he had.
Why had he gone to Morocco so many times? Was he aware of the loophole? Well, yes, perhaps he had heard something about it.
Okay. You've willingly worked illegally in the EU and knowingly played the system. I'm sorry, but we can't let you into England. You'll be on the first flight back to Madrid tomorrow morning.
Back to Madrid?
Yes. The law states that we have to deport you back to the country you flew in from, not to your country of citizenship. (Hmm... So basically one could get stuck living and working illegally in Europe because one can't fly home. Brilliant.)
Once he got back to Madrid Andrew had to buy another ticket home that didn't go through England. This time he made it all the way home.
Lesson learned: have a travel plan (or at least a plausible story), write down your addresses and phone numbers, play dumb.
21 January 2008
walking home this morning
I know I am no great beauty. I am not the type to inspire poems or wars (and then poems about the wars). Nevertheless I am flattered when, on my walk home from my morning class, a relatively handsome man in his early thirties waits until we are passing each other and then says, "Mama mía" in a voice so low only he and I can hear it. It's just his way of saying "Hey, you're looking good today." And not in a creepy, sexual-predator kind of way.
A couple minutes later I stop behind one of the littlest old ladies ever. She is waiting on the corner for a van to finish backing out of a driveway. She and I agree: waiting is better than getting backed over. As the van clears the curb I see that it's a transport for senior citizens. The company's motto, writ large across the front of the van, is "Seniors First!" Ha ha ha ha!!
A couple minutes later I stop behind one of the littlest old ladies ever. She is waiting on the corner for a van to finish backing out of a driveway. She and I agree: waiting is better than getting backed over. As the van clears the curb I see that it's a transport for senior citizens. The company's motto, writ large across the front of the van, is "Seniors First!" Ha ha ha ha!!
20 January 2008
I had a scary thought this weekend: I might consider coming back to Europe for another year. Yikes! This is certainly a turning point for me. I don't yet know how serious I am about that possibility, though. And I would most certainly go home for the summer regardless.
I know I promised you the deportation story, and I will deliver, but right now it's almost 1am and I have to get up in 5 hours so the story will have to wait until a more convenient time. Soon.
I know I promised you the deportation story, and I will deliver, but right now it's almost 1am and I have to get up in 5 hours so the story will have to wait until a more convenient time. Soon.
18 January 2008
rude awakening
Times like these I wish my brain had an off switch. I got home around 11pm, went to sleep pretty quickly, but then woke up a little after 1:30am feeling wide awake and I haven't been able to get back to sleep since. I woke up because I thought I heard Martín, the temporary roommate, laughing in his room. I opened my eyes in the dark room and there was this tall, pale girl with long, curly, black hair standing at the end of my bed. She saw me looking at her and her eyes went all wide and she turned and melted into my coat. I hate it when that shit happens. Freaks me out. And it turns out it was definitely not Martín chuckling in his room at 1:30am, because he just got home about half an hour ago. Have no idea whether I was hearing the downstairs neighbors or the machinations of my overactive imagination.
I've been laying here for two hours now, thinking no good thoughts. Instances when I've embarassed myself or not acted with integrity surge up from my memory to haunt me at times like this. Is not nice at all. In addition to an off switch, I'd also like a forgiveness button. Other people I can forgive pretty easily, but not myself. My brain stores up shameful moments until times when I'm tired or feeling a little low, and then all those moments rush to the fore, taunting me and telling me that I'm not worthy of friendship, love, trust, etc. Sucks. Seems a little unfair of me to keep kicking me while I'm down. But I guess no one said life was fair.
I'm going to go back to lying here and trying not to think now. Perhaps will eventually get some more sleep before I have to get up to run errands.
I've been laying here for two hours now, thinking no good thoughts. Instances when I've embarassed myself or not acted with integrity surge up from my memory to haunt me at times like this. Is not nice at all. In addition to an off switch, I'd also like a forgiveness button. Other people I can forgive pretty easily, but not myself. My brain stores up shameful moments until times when I'm tired or feeling a little low, and then all those moments rush to the fore, taunting me and telling me that I'm not worthy of friendship, love, trust, etc. Sucks. Seems a little unfair of me to keep kicking me while I'm down. But I guess no one said life was fair.
I'm going to go back to lying here and trying not to think now. Perhaps will eventually get some more sleep before I have to get up to run errands.
17 January 2008
My head is a balloon, coated in slime and stuffed with cotton. My body is a lead weight. These symptoms, combined with the "orange-flavored" powered medicine I'm taking to try to dry out my sinuses, makes for mild nauseousness. When I'm on the train and hearing all the sniffling and nose-blowing and coughing produced by myself and the other passengers, a small, paranoid part of me starts panicking, "We're dying! We're all dying!" Yes, okay, so that is technically true, but not at the rapid rate that this paranoid part wants to believe. Perhaps reading The Stand wasn't such a great idea at this time of year.
I was supposed to go with Shannon today to her lunchtime classes to meet the students (since those are the classes I'll be taking over starting next week), but the first class wanted to take her out to lunch and there's no way anyone would be able to keep an appetite with me around so I had to skip that one. Will meet her a little later to observe her last Elementary class though, and then will muddle through my Pre-Intermediate evening class before coming back home and collapsing into bed again. Was able to get about 13 hours of sleep last night due to my monring class being cancelled, so hopefully that will help me get through this afternoon.
Yesterday afternoon I met a new friend. His name is Andrew. We clicked immediately. He's a tall, skinny fellow with dark brown hair and large eyes. Could easily pass for a European man, most likely Italian or Spanish. He appears to be approximately my age and is originally from California, but he spent two years teaching in Sevilla and last year in Bologne and he moved to Madrid four months ago. I'm having coffee with him on Friday so he can tell me the story of being caught coming through immigration in London and deported. I'll relay the story once I have it, as I am guessing you are interested too.
I was supposed to go with Shannon today to her lunchtime classes to meet the students (since those are the classes I'll be taking over starting next week), but the first class wanted to take her out to lunch and there's no way anyone would be able to keep an appetite with me around so I had to skip that one. Will meet her a little later to observe her last Elementary class though, and then will muddle through my Pre-Intermediate evening class before coming back home and collapsing into bed again. Was able to get about 13 hours of sleep last night due to my monring class being cancelled, so hopefully that will help me get through this afternoon.
Yesterday afternoon I met a new friend. His name is Andrew. We clicked immediately. He's a tall, skinny fellow with dark brown hair and large eyes. Could easily pass for a European man, most likely Italian or Spanish. He appears to be approximately my age and is originally from California, but he spent two years teaching in Sevilla and last year in Bologne and he moved to Madrid four months ago. I'm having coffee with him on Friday so he can tell me the story of being caught coming through immigration in London and deported. I'll relay the story once I have it, as I am guessing you are interested too.
15 January 2008
i'm sick
Oh, what I wouldn't give for a box of Puffs Plus with lotion and a bottle of cherry flavored Ny-Quil. It started as an occasional tickle in the back of my throat yesterday and has escalated to a persistent tickle, aching eyes, sinuses so full of fluid that my ears pop from time to time, and an inability to get sufficient amounts of air through my nostrils. I've gone through at least four packages of tissues today and my nose is RAW. Thankfully I didn't have any lunchtime classes today, so I was able to come home after my morning class and get another four hours of sleep before going to my evening class.
I've also spent a few hours over the last couple of days reading shopgirl by Steve Martin. This is the first Steve Martin book I've read. I received it for Christmas from my grandmother and I didn't know what to expect, but it was surprisingly good. The writing is simple but interesting, the narration insightful but not too detailed. It was a "quiet" novel, like Atwood's Cat's Eye. And it was short, which in my book is a virtue. After The Stand I'm all for books that can be finished in a day.
I've also spent a few hours over the last couple of days reading shopgirl by Steve Martin. This is the first Steve Martin book I've read. I received it for Christmas from my grandmother and I didn't know what to expect, but it was surprisingly good. The writing is simple but interesting, the narration insightful but not too detailed. It was a "quiet" novel, like Atwood's Cat's Eye. And it was short, which in my book is a virtue. After The Stand I'm all for books that can be finished in a day.
14 January 2008
the politics of politics
My friend Guillaume from Paris says he would like to have John Edwards be the Democratic candidate because he's the hottest of the possibilities. Of course my first reaction is to be appalled at the idea of picking candidates based on looks, but then I realize that he kind of has a point. What's the difference, really? It doesn't seem like any of the candidates are willing to say anything really different or actually stand up for something at the risk of turning off some of the voters, so you might as well vote based on whose face you want to see over and over and over in the media for the next ten months.
It's interesting that a presidential race between old white men is about values, background and political history, but a presidential race involving Clinton and Obama is about race and gender. And having race and gender be an issue in this one seems to be doing them just as much good as harm. Roommate Shannon said that while she was home in Chicago she got the impression that a lot of women were voting for Clinton because she is a woman and they would feel like a traitor if they didn't. Voting based on nothing but gender. And I would imagine something similar is going on among African-Americans and possibly other racial minorities at the moment regarding voting for Obama.
Not to mention the people who will vote for the candidate who they think has the best chance of winning the presidential election. Which is to say that they want to put forward a candidate not who represents them and their values but rather someone who might be able to charm and side-step their way into a wide enough base to be able to beat the Republican candidate. This is why people didn't vote for Nader or Edwards in past elections; they thought neither of these candidates could win because they pissed off some people by being vocal about their values and ideas for the country rather than smooth-talking and side-stepping the issues.
This is exactly why I try to stay out of politics; I hate the politics of it. Drives me absolutely nuts. People don't ever seem to vote for candidates based on who will do the best job; it's about who we think might do the least damange (obviously not in the case of G. W., but I don't even want to start down that road) or who has the smoothest talk or who has the least dirt stuck to them once the mud-slinging is over. In politics there aren't good choices, just choices that aren't as bad as others. Whole thing makes me nauseous.
Not that voting is guaranteed to make a difference anyway, as was made perfectly evident in the Gore vs. Bush election in '96. When the will of the majority is overridden, I don't call that democracy.
It's interesting that a presidential race between old white men is about values, background and political history, but a presidential race involving Clinton and Obama is about race and gender. And having race and gender be an issue in this one seems to be doing them just as much good as harm. Roommate Shannon said that while she was home in Chicago she got the impression that a lot of women were voting for Clinton because she is a woman and they would feel like a traitor if they didn't. Voting based on nothing but gender. And I would imagine something similar is going on among African-Americans and possibly other racial minorities at the moment regarding voting for Obama.
Not to mention the people who will vote for the candidate who they think has the best chance of winning the presidential election. Which is to say that they want to put forward a candidate not who represents them and their values but rather someone who might be able to charm and side-step their way into a wide enough base to be able to beat the Republican candidate. This is why people didn't vote for Nader or Edwards in past elections; they thought neither of these candidates could win because they pissed off some people by being vocal about their values and ideas for the country rather than smooth-talking and side-stepping the issues.
This is exactly why I try to stay out of politics; I hate the politics of it. Drives me absolutely nuts. People don't ever seem to vote for candidates based on who will do the best job; it's about who we think might do the least damange (obviously not in the case of G. W., but I don't even want to start down that road) or who has the smoothest talk or who has the least dirt stuck to them once the mud-slinging is over. In politics there aren't good choices, just choices that aren't as bad as others. Whole thing makes me nauseous.
Not that voting is guaranteed to make a difference anyway, as was made perfectly evident in the Gore vs. Bush election in '96. When the will of the majority is overridden, I don't call that democracy.
13 January 2008
more news + weekend fun
It actually rained hard on Friday! Just look! I'm positively dripping water!! But then of course on Saturday morning the sun was out and the sky cloudless for the first time in a week. Ah well. Let them have their sun; I got my rain.
When Shannon and I got home on Jan. 3, Shannon informed me that she might be leaving Madrid in March to go pursue a Teach America program in Chicago. Of course my heart sank; she has been my lifeline here, my best friend and good buddy. But on Friday I got the good news that she's decided to stay...and then she dropped another bomb: TtMadrid offered her a job! This is an incredibly fantastic opportunity for her and she definitely deserves it, but I'm still a little sad because the job is directing the school's intensive language program in Valladolid, and Shannon will be gone Monday through Friday for weeks at a time, so it is almost like she is leaving anyway. HOWEVER, am trying to look on the bright side: she will still be here on the weekends, we will still look for rooms together for March, and she has one week a month off which she'll spend here in Madrid.
Speaking of new opportunities, TtMadrid approached me on Friday with a proposition. They've been doing a lot of work on their website and they want a lot more content, so they offered to pay me to write articles and/or contribute blog posts. Cool! They want articles & posts about living in Madrid, teaching English and/or traveling around Europe. Am obviously very excited about the prospect of actually being paid for some of my writing. I'll be spending some time today writing and revising so I can send a couple articles to Tem for consideration.
I've also managed to procure more teaching hours for myself after having quit one of my agencies in December. One of my new classes is with a new company that, so far, is really fantastic. Then I also will be picking up some of Shannon's teaching hours since she will have to drop all her classes in order to start this new job.
And now for the weekend update. This weekend has been amazingly fun. On Friday night Shannon and Martín and I met some peeps at the Plaza de España and we went to this Mexican bar that we like. They made a mean margarita and played some great music. After a little while Martín started chatting with the couple of young guys that happened to be standing next to us, and then suddenly one of our TtMadrid coursemates, whom I had not seen for months and months, walks in. I asked Shannon who invited him, and it turned out it had been the random young guys Martín was talking to. Strange coincidence, small world. More people arrived, drinks were had, dancing was done, and then someone had the idea to go to a nearby salsa club. So we did. And I danced salsa and merengue in a club for the first time in my life, and I had great fun. Love love love to dance.
Last night we went to the surprise birthday dinner of our Kiwi friend, Craig. It was at a Mexican restaurant in Tribunal, the same one Shannon and I had had our TtMadrid graduation dinner at. Fabulous nachos! Good margaritas! Fun people! It really doesn't get much better. But I was tired fairly early and came home and then decided to watch some Firefly and ended up staying up until 4:30am doing that and I was up long after Shannon and Martín went to bed even though I had come home a couple hours before they did.
Martín reflected that he has spent his first few days in Madrid eating Mexican food and dancing salsa, which is a bit funny considering he just came from New Mexico. But he has been having a good time and we're both really enjoying his company...he fits right in at the apartment and we all get along super well. Our mornings have been spent all hanging out in the living room together on our computers, doing our separate business but chatting and joking and sharing companionship. And now that I think of it, Martín has managed to get the phone numbers of more Spaniards and other native Spanish speakers in the last three or four days than I have in five months.
Today will be lazy, as Sundays should be in my opinion. We are again lazing around the living room and working on our computers. I will work on some writing, and I also need to do some lesson planning. If I leave the house today it will only be to get some food or to take a leisurely stroll around the 'hood.
10 January 2008
the news
My friend Martín (pictured), with whom I attended college at LC, arrived yesterday. He's staying with Shannon and me for a few days until he finds a room with some Spaniards. Before Wednesday, I hadn't seen Martín for five or six years. He's taller than I remembered, has black hair now (natural) instead of dyed blonde, and he seems calmer and more focused than the Martín of our college days, but other than that he's the same funny, funky, fun person I knew way back when. Welcome, Martín!
It is STILL cloudy and damp here! It's like a friggin' miracle! Of course I am loving it but it is also a bit weird. Will just enjoy it as long as it lasts.
This was the first week back to work. I didn't have a full schedule, which turned out to be a good thing since my sleep schedule is still a little off, mostly because I've been trying to finish The Stand. Finally finished it yesterday so maybe I will stop dreaming about it. My verdict is that it was an involving and interesting story, but I was a little put off by the climax and denouement since the climax came earlier in the book than you might think & was not very satisfying, and the denouement was too long and frankly I think it took away from the heart of the story a bit. But what do I know.
S'all for now, folks.
08 January 2008
the two selves
I mentioned previously that when I got home it was as though I'd never left. It was the same in Madrid once I'd gotten some sleep. As I was writing to my mother in an email the other day, it's almost like I'm two different people, a Home Self and a Madrid Self, and I switch back and forth between them depending on where I am. I realized while I was home that I actually hadn't completely ever left...that part of me had been left behind to haunt the Portland streets until my body returned. I suspect that part of me also remained in Madrid to hold a place for me until I returned from vacation. When I entered my Madrid apartment last Thursday, it seemed that I was not just separated from home by thousands of miles but also by months again, perhaps by another dimension, another self. When at home I didn't really want to talk about Madrid, didn't know what to say about it. And now that I'm here I don't want to talk to my Madrid acquaintances about home; I don't know what to say about it. I feel slightly disconnected from the person that slipped comfortably back into Portland and her friends' and family members' lives, as though that person has very little to do with who I am here and now. I suppose one of my jobs during the next six months will be to integrate those two selves, to integrate my Madrid experiences into my previous ones and to emerge as one whole self, changed for the better by all this.
Does this sound like gibberish to you? I feel like I'm not explaining myself well, but it could be that most people who spend an extended period abroad and then visit home feel like this too.
I can say, with great relief, that my Madrid Self is much happier since my visit home. I no longer carry a storm cloud in my head. In fact, I've caught myself actually feeling happy these last few days. Not because things are any better than when I left then (except that I do have several more pairs of shoes to choose from and the weather has been cloudy and damp), but because I think I might've succeeded in bringing my whole self along this time. I am no longer afraid that being away will mean there will be no place for me when I return home, so I am free to be fully present in this experience and to take advantage of what it has to offer. Both feet are firmly planted in this land. Thank goodness, because having one foot here and one foot there was really starting to tire my groin. ;*)
Does this sound like gibberish to you? I feel like I'm not explaining myself well, but it could be that most people who spend an extended period abroad and then visit home feel like this too.
I can say, with great relief, that my Madrid Self is much happier since my visit home. I no longer carry a storm cloud in my head. In fact, I've caught myself actually feeling happy these last few days. Not because things are any better than when I left then (except that I do have several more pairs of shoes to choose from and the weather has been cloudy and damp), but because I think I might've succeeded in bringing my whole self along this time. I am no longer afraid that being away will mean there will be no place for me when I return home, so I am free to be fully present in this experience and to take advantage of what it has to offer. Both feet are firmly planted in this land. Thank goodness, because having one foot here and one foot there was really starting to tire my groin. ;*)
07 January 2008
Last night I bought a ticket to Bavaria for Semana Santa in March. Look out, Germany, here I come!!! I fully intend to visit the castle pictured above. If I'm not mistaken, it's called Neuschwanstein Castle and was built by the Mad King Ludwig.
Have spent the past four days resting up, trying to get back on Spain time, and catching up with friends. Also experienced the Día de los Reyes Magos parade the night of the 5th and an authentic Spanish lunch yesterday afternoon.
For those who don't know, El Día de los Reyes Magos, loosely translated as Three Wise Men's Day, is the day of gift giving in Spain. Traditionally, Spaniards don't exchange gifts on Christmas but wait instead until the day the three wise men visited Jesus with their gold, frankincense and myrrh. The three wise men ride camels around town and letting themselves into people's houses and apartments and leaving presents on children's shoes. January 6 is the official day, so the parade is held the night before to welcome the three wise men into town. The parade itself was cool--bright an almost cirque du soleil-esque in the quality of costumes--but would have been cooler if we could have seen more of it (it was too crowded to see much). But the fireworks after the parade were absolutely fantastic. This from someone who thought she was over fireworks. At about 8:30pm the speakers around the Plaza de Cibeles suddenly began blaring "Hallelujah" and the fireworks danced across the sky more or less in time with the music. Gorgeous, glittery, booming fireworks.
Then yesterday afternoon I went with my friend Ishmael to his mom's house, where we ate pizza for a starter, spaghetti in a lovely tomato cream sauce with mushrooms for a first course, roast chicken with potatoes and vegetables for a second course, and roscón and sparkling white wine for dessert. I was absolutely stuffed after the pizza but forced myself to eat at least half of everything else in order not to offend. The roscón is the traditional treat for the Día de los Reyes Magos...it's a kind of large, sweet round bread with candied fruit pressed into the top and a layer of whipped cream in the middle. There are two hidden surprises in the roscón, a bean and a figurine. If you get the bean you have to pay for the roscón; if you get the figurine it means you'll have good luck all year long.
05 January 2008
On the flight from Chicago to Zurich I began reading The Stand by Stephen King, a book either loaned or given to me (I'm not sure which) by my brother. It is a book about a worldwide outbreak of a superflu that kills off 99.6% of the human, dog and horse populations. During the entire almost 8 hour flight, the woman sitting behind me coughed incessantly. I could feel the staccato wind of her coughs hit my right shoulder over and over and over.
I sat next to a 30-something man named Chad who is built like my Uncle Bret: very broad chest and shoulders, well-muscled. He was a born protector and kept trying to take care of me...asking me what I wanted to eat or drink before the carts came by, plucking my garbage from my hands as the trashbags made their rounds, helping me into my coat when I got cold and couldn't quite manage to get it all the way on by myself. All done in a very polite and respectful way. Chad was flying from Zurich to Dubai and then finding his way into Afghanistan. He said he worked for the Department of State. I didn't ask for details about the job and he didn't offer them. Instead he told me about his brand-new son, Aiden, born about Christmas time, his first child and his wife's third. You could tell he was a tough man and not used to crying much, but his eyes got a little watery talking about Aiden and how he wished he didn't have to ship out again so soon. I thought, but had the tact not to say (for once), something that I think we were both thinking: that I hoped he got back to his son alive and in one piece. Instead as we were lining up to exit the aircraft I said, "Have fun with your new son!" I'm a poet and don't know it, as my dad would say.
Since I got back Madrid has been damp, as if to welcome me. Tonight I walked back from the Cercanías station through a misty fog, my boot heels clacking loudly on the dark and empty streets, my head slightly elevated from the 2.5 glasses of wine I drank with dinner. It was glorious.
My building always smells of Spanish cooking, the elevator of stale cigarette smoke and cologne.
I sat next to a 30-something man named Chad who is built like my Uncle Bret: very broad chest and shoulders, well-muscled. He was a born protector and kept trying to take care of me...asking me what I wanted to eat or drink before the carts came by, plucking my garbage from my hands as the trashbags made their rounds, helping me into my coat when I got cold and couldn't quite manage to get it all the way on by myself. All done in a very polite and respectful way. Chad was flying from Zurich to Dubai and then finding his way into Afghanistan. He said he worked for the Department of State. I didn't ask for details about the job and he didn't offer them. Instead he told me about his brand-new son, Aiden, born about Christmas time, his first child and his wife's third. You could tell he was a tough man and not used to crying much, but his eyes got a little watery talking about Aiden and how he wished he didn't have to ship out again so soon. I thought, but had the tact not to say (for once), something that I think we were both thinking: that I hoped he got back to his son alive and in one piece. Instead as we were lining up to exit the aircraft I said, "Have fun with your new son!" I'm a poet and don't know it, as my dad would say.
Since I got back Madrid has been damp, as if to welcome me. Tonight I walked back from the Cercanías station through a misty fog, my boot heels clacking loudly on the dark and empty streets, my head slightly elevated from the 2.5 glasses of wine I drank with dinner. It was glorious.
My building always smells of Spanish cooking, the elevator of stale cigarette smoke and cologne.
04 January 2008
Happy 2008!
A new year, a new look for the blog. I was getting tired of all the orange on that last one. Hopefully you approve of the change as well, dear reader. ;*)
Well, after many long hours of travel, I arrived safely back in Madrid and managed to avoid getting robbed on my way back to the apartment. Hooray for small victories. I am already missing the food back home, although all the eating I did over the break caused me to regain several pounds. Am looking forward to seeing the excess melt off again when I get back into walking 6 miles a day. There's nothing like rapid weight loss to make one feel productive.
Highlights of my trip home (i.e. what I remember off the top of my head):
-eating Taco Bell with Kelsey and Robert after they picked me up from the airport
-sleeping in Steve and Kelsey's ultra-comfy guest room, complete with down comforter, and showering in their deluxe guest shower
-dinner at Beau Thai with Carly and Brad
-lunch with Kelsey at Reed: I brought a turkey pesto provalone sandwich from Marsee Bakery, only they forgot the turkey
-walking up Mt. Tabor with Dad and enjoying the quiet, the smell of damp earth and leaves, and the view
-the excellent traditional Christmas dinner Dad made FROM SCRATCH, right down to the cranberry sauce and popovers
-hugging my aunts and uncles and grandmother and cousin
-playing cards with Erin and Mom
-watching movies with the family
-having a beer and catching up with Chris at El Caporal West in Bend
-getting to chat with my friend and ex-boss Kathy
-romping around a damp Sellwood with Chris and Robert
-staying in Carly and Dannon's warm and peaceful home
-lunch at Laughing Planet with Joe and Linda, hearing with surprise and delight how much they enjoy reading this blog
-New Year's Eve with Robert and Brian and Chris: a good dinner, fascinating conversation about how to defend yourself against tiger attacks or a room full of indestructible five year olds, and an invigorating midnight walk
-realizing how unique and wonderful my friends are
-taking a long walk through the Oaks Bottom Park marsh on New Year's Day with Robert
-having tea and Christmas pudding at Steve and Kelsey's on New Year's Day
-lovely conversation with Carly and Dannon on their new bat couch
-subjecting as many friends as possible to watching Flight of the Conchords video clips on YouTube
-eating way too much, including pounds and pounds of chocolate
-drinking a million mochas
-realizing to my great relief that home is home, my friends are my friends, my family is my family. They will all be there for me when I return, and I don't have to be afraid of being away for the next six months.
Thank you to all the friends and family who helped make my visit home fun and comfortable and full of love. I miss you already.
P.S. Happy Birthday, Erin!
Well, after many long hours of travel, I arrived safely back in Madrid and managed to avoid getting robbed on my way back to the apartment. Hooray for small victories. I am already missing the food back home, although all the eating I did over the break caused me to regain several pounds. Am looking forward to seeing the excess melt off again when I get back into walking 6 miles a day. There's nothing like rapid weight loss to make one feel productive.
Highlights of my trip home (i.e. what I remember off the top of my head):
-eating Taco Bell with Kelsey and Robert after they picked me up from the airport
-sleeping in Steve and Kelsey's ultra-comfy guest room, complete with down comforter, and showering in their deluxe guest shower
-dinner at Beau Thai with Carly and Brad
-lunch with Kelsey at Reed: I brought a turkey pesto provalone sandwich from Marsee Bakery, only they forgot the turkey
-walking up Mt. Tabor with Dad and enjoying the quiet, the smell of damp earth and leaves, and the view
-the excellent traditional Christmas dinner Dad made FROM SCRATCH, right down to the cranberry sauce and popovers
-hugging my aunts and uncles and grandmother and cousin
-playing cards with Erin and Mom
-watching movies with the family
-having a beer and catching up with Chris at El Caporal West in Bend
-getting to chat with my friend and ex-boss Kathy
-romping around a damp Sellwood with Chris and Robert
-staying in Carly and Dannon's warm and peaceful home
-lunch at Laughing Planet with Joe and Linda, hearing with surprise and delight how much they enjoy reading this blog
-New Year's Eve with Robert and Brian and Chris: a good dinner, fascinating conversation about how to defend yourself against tiger attacks or a room full of indestructible five year olds, and an invigorating midnight walk
-realizing how unique and wonderful my friends are
-taking a long walk through the Oaks Bottom Park marsh on New Year's Day with Robert
-having tea and Christmas pudding at Steve and Kelsey's on New Year's Day
-lovely conversation with Carly and Dannon on their new bat couch
-subjecting as many friends as possible to watching Flight of the Conchords video clips on YouTube
-eating way too much, including pounds and pounds of chocolate
-drinking a million mochas
-realizing to my great relief that home is home, my friends are my friends, my family is my family. They will all be there for me when I return, and I don't have to be afraid of being away for the next six months.
Thank you to all the friends and family who helped make my visit home fun and comfortable and full of love. I miss you already.
P.S. Happy Birthday, Erin!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)