Wow. Five months gone by and I'm back home from my stay in Spain and my travels through Europe. It was quite an experience, marked by an abundance of free time, eternal Spanish, self-reflection, readjustment, overcoming obstacles and fears, making friends, and gaining perspective. I'd say one significant shift in my world view is that toward becoming more of a global citizen. I don't feel that being American or Californian is particularly significant. Instead, I find my allegiance amongst the ranks of mankind and know that I must give to this international community instead of hoarding resources within the boundaries of my homeland. If I went to Spain looking for myself, in some ways I did so, but in other ways, I lost myself even more. I know my values more surely than before, but my essence is more foreign to me than ever. Who knows who I am. But I've rediscovered what is trully important in life: it's not about getting things done or maintaining standards or moving up in the world. It's all about enjoying the small things, like bathing in the sprinklers or running on springy grass. Those are what really count.
I hope that those of you who have read my blog have enjoyed making this trip with me, catching up on my life, and perhaps learning new things as you've gone along -I know I have. I aspire to inspire, but I'll settle for having given a few hearty laughs and heart-warming smiles amid my multitude of words. This blog has given me more than just a way to remember Spain by: it has also been a much needed outlet, a means of keeping in touch, and a way to reflect on what I was going through. This blog has been as much for me as for you, and I've enjoyed every second of it. I hope you have too and thank you so much for your comments and enjouragement. It means much more than you know.
Adios Spain and hello America.
Besos,
Jocelyn
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
Saturday, June 16, 2007
Last Week´s Quote:
I wanna hang a map of the world in my house. Then I'm gonna put pins into all the locations that I've traveled to. But first, I'm gonna have to travel to the top two corners of the map so it won't fall down. -Mitch Hedberg
Friday, June 15, 2007
Beach Bum, and reflections on my experience
If asked to define the past few days, I would have to call it a beach marathon. Yes, I am now an expert lazer, sunbather, ocean-swimmer, beach-ball-thrower, and all around beach bum. And proud of it! Of course, I didn’t do it alone! I was aided by the masterful skill of a great collection of friends. And to be perfectly frank, these hang-out, good-bye dates decided my fate as a sand-dweller. Wednesday with Alex was delicious –the trip to the Chocolatería afterward contributes to this descriptor! Alex is another exchange student like myself who made a trip over here to enjoy the beach with me and talk of our experiences. I think we were out there for a good five hours! You should have seen her eternal grin in those shallows; now there’s a true beach-lover. Thursday found Alberto and I at the beach, accompanied after a time by his younger siblings who served as excellent entertainment with their constant struggle over the floaty play-thing. That was the day when we made the trip out to the line of buoys that mark the furthest out you are allowed to go. Today, Friday, I said goodbye to Xaro, Teresa, and Jorge at the beach. Xaro and Teresa are my best girlfriends here. I will miss them. Good thing I have you guys to return to! Jorge brought a boogey-board and Xaro her beach ball. :-) Good times! Especially trying to get three of use standing on top of the boogey-board all at the same time amongst the waves. *sigh* I may never see any of them again. But Teresa assures me that one of these summers she’s going to pop up at my door in Cali and I just won’t we able to get rid of her until school starts. I told her I wouldn’t mind that.
Aside from floating on the aquamarine undulations and burrowing my playful toes in the sand, I have done little this week. I bought the next set of text booklets from my Spanish class so that I can continue to study them when I get back. I’ve set aside my Spanish reading for the time –I figure four books during four months is good enough on the Spanish front- and have delved back into a Hemmingway book about the Spanish civil war. (I appreciate having studied this topic in my history class.) I baked cookies with my younger host sister, Saioa, but they came out suspiciously liquidy, even after adding extra flour and sugar. Hmmm…I blame the new type of butter we used. It jeered at me when I put the milk back in the fridge. *glares at the memory of said guilty butter* But they still tasted good; grandpa said so.
Any time now I will start packing, because dad comes on Sunday. On Saturday I will madrugar –get up early- to go to yoga again before heading off to the mountain for climbing. In the evening we will celebrate Grandma’s birthday over dinner and then dad will be here by lunch the next day and a gift exchange. For the next few days after that, we will take up temporary residence in Ignacio’s house, see the city, and climb. Then we head up to Tarragona for a few days, fly up to Switzerland, and then it’s over to England for five days of show filled, sightseeing glory. We’ll be back for the 4th of July fireworks. So, this is one of my last posts before my Europe traveling adventures.
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
I was just watching my host sister bustle around to gather her things to head out with her friends tonight and maybe it was due in part to the slower Queen song playing on my ipod, but I felt a swelling of sadness inside me; a bitter-sweetness. I’m going to miss her. When she found me crying one night in our room, she listened to what I had to say, told me about similar experiences of her own, and made me laugh. And other days when I just needed a good healthy cry and some time alone, she didn’t make a deal of it or invade my space. She is always making jokes and goofing around. She makes for excellent conversation and helped me learn my Spanish vocab list. We’ve shared a couple side-splitting late-night conversations and the meticulous cleaning of a couple cookie-dough bowls –with our fingers, of course! She is, truly, like a sister to me. La quiero.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
So, what parts of Spanish culture are going to influence my life in the US? Well, I am now going to take shorter showers in order to waste less water and be more frugal with my use of electricity in the house. I’ll probably keep eating yogurt and fruit for dessert, but I will miss the chocolate shops here. I hope to keep taking yoga classes and centering myself every week. I have more awareness of my personal needs now and the ways to treat myself well. I have greater perspective and know how to keep a healthy mindset. I have learned to relax better, which I hope I can still remember next year around midterms! I have, of course, come a long way in speaking, reading, and writing Spanish. I want to keep it up and practice it when I can. These past months have made me more tolerant of cigarette smoke –for better or worse- and made me not to quick to judge someone who parties, smokes, or drinks. I am more confident of my will and my values, but my spiritual beliefs are more hazy than ever. But I think that’s something that comes with my age also. I am tanner than before and my hair is a brighter red. I have a greater appreciation of my friends and family and know much more about Velazquez and Garcia Lorca than ever. I am buoyed by my new-found ability to pass almost all my classes in Spanish with the equivalent of a B. I have realized how important it is to have certain Jack Johnson CDs on my ipod, because I somehow managed to miss putting them on here before I left and have been missing them and craving them for the past four months. I have fallen in love once again with simple sunrises, clear oceans, rugged mountains, blue sky, dappled shade, and the twitter of birds. I have confirmed the impossibility of categorizing me or boxing me into one definition. I have realized how easy it is to spend money quickly, even when you contain yourself to necessities, gifts, and the occasional tea or dinner. The miracle of digital cameras and internet has set in and the importance of the Spanish dictionary is clear to me. Language is inexact and meaning is relative. Misunderstandings are easily made and love is the most important gift. Communication is imperative to the attainment of peace and generosity of time and efforts is something that each of us owe the world for the gift of comfort it has given us in our nice houses and cushy beds. We are citizens of humanity and being American or Spanish means nothing. I wish everyone would stop judging their neighbors by appearances or mannerisms.
Well, that´s about it for now.
Much love!
Besos,
Jocelyn
PS Alberto, you had better leave a comment this time or I will disown you as one of my best Spanish friends. So there! (Me disfruté de hablar contigo este tarde en la playa. Adios.)
Aside from floating on the aquamarine undulations and burrowing my playful toes in the sand, I have done little this week. I bought the next set of text booklets from my Spanish class so that I can continue to study them when I get back. I’ve set aside my Spanish reading for the time –I figure four books during four months is good enough on the Spanish front- and have delved back into a Hemmingway book about the Spanish civil war. (I appreciate having studied this topic in my history class.) I baked cookies with my younger host sister, Saioa, but they came out suspiciously liquidy, even after adding extra flour and sugar. Hmmm…I blame the new type of butter we used. It jeered at me when I put the milk back in the fridge. *glares at the memory of said guilty butter* But they still tasted good; grandpa said so.
Any time now I will start packing, because dad comes on Sunday. On Saturday I will madrugar –get up early- to go to yoga again before heading off to the mountain for climbing. In the evening we will celebrate Grandma’s birthday over dinner and then dad will be here by lunch the next day and a gift exchange. For the next few days after that, we will take up temporary residence in Ignacio’s house, see the city, and climb. Then we head up to Tarragona for a few days, fly up to Switzerland, and then it’s over to England for five days of show filled, sightseeing glory. We’ll be back for the 4th of July fireworks. So, this is one of my last posts before my Europe traveling adventures.
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
I was just watching my host sister bustle around to gather her things to head out with her friends tonight and maybe it was due in part to the slower Queen song playing on my ipod, but I felt a swelling of sadness inside me; a bitter-sweetness. I’m going to miss her. When she found me crying one night in our room, she listened to what I had to say, told me about similar experiences of her own, and made me laugh. And other days when I just needed a good healthy cry and some time alone, she didn’t make a deal of it or invade my space. She is always making jokes and goofing around. She makes for excellent conversation and helped me learn my Spanish vocab list. We’ve shared a couple side-splitting late-night conversations and the meticulous cleaning of a couple cookie-dough bowls –with our fingers, of course! She is, truly, like a sister to me. La quiero.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
So, what parts of Spanish culture are going to influence my life in the US? Well, I am now going to take shorter showers in order to waste less water and be more frugal with my use of electricity in the house. I’ll probably keep eating yogurt and fruit for dessert, but I will miss the chocolate shops here. I hope to keep taking yoga classes and centering myself every week. I have more awareness of my personal needs now and the ways to treat myself well. I have greater perspective and know how to keep a healthy mindset. I have learned to relax better, which I hope I can still remember next year around midterms! I have, of course, come a long way in speaking, reading, and writing Spanish. I want to keep it up and practice it when I can. These past months have made me more tolerant of cigarette smoke –for better or worse- and made me not to quick to judge someone who parties, smokes, or drinks. I am more confident of my will and my values, but my spiritual beliefs are more hazy than ever. But I think that’s something that comes with my age also. I am tanner than before and my hair is a brighter red. I have a greater appreciation of my friends and family and know much more about Velazquez and Garcia Lorca than ever. I am buoyed by my new-found ability to pass almost all my classes in Spanish with the equivalent of a B. I have realized how important it is to have certain Jack Johnson CDs on my ipod, because I somehow managed to miss putting them on here before I left and have been missing them and craving them for the past four months. I have fallen in love once again with simple sunrises, clear oceans, rugged mountains, blue sky, dappled shade, and the twitter of birds. I have confirmed the impossibility of categorizing me or boxing me into one definition. I have realized how easy it is to spend money quickly, even when you contain yourself to necessities, gifts, and the occasional tea or dinner. The miracle of digital cameras and internet has set in and the importance of the Spanish dictionary is clear to me. Language is inexact and meaning is relative. Misunderstandings are easily made and love is the most important gift. Communication is imperative to the attainment of peace and generosity of time and efforts is something that each of us owe the world for the gift of comfort it has given us in our nice houses and cushy beds. We are citizens of humanity and being American or Spanish means nothing. I wish everyone would stop judging their neighbors by appearances or mannerisms.
Well, that´s about it for now.
Much love!
Besos,
Jocelyn
PS Alberto, you had better leave a comment this time or I will disown you as one of my best Spanish friends. So there! (Me disfruté de hablar contigo este tarde en la playa. Adios.)
Photos: Beach and Chocolate
From top to bottom:
1: Alex and I at the chocolate shop.
2: Our chocolate and churros. (Mmmmm!)
3: Alberto and me.
4: Alberto and his brother Guiermo (his name translates as William).
5: Guiermo´s mad skills.
1: Alex and I at the chocolate shop.
2: Our chocolate and churros. (Mmmmm!)
3: Alberto and me.
4: Alberto and his brother Guiermo (his name translates as William).
5: Guiermo´s mad skills.
Monday, June 11, 2007
Teaching How To Make Cookies and Homelife
Today I taught my host sister Janire how to make oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. Although she has little experience in good, thorough stirring and beating -and aside from her need for practice in the art of scraping cookies off the sheet with a spatula- they came out great! We had fun whipping out the hammer again and breaking the chocolate bar to pieces (I mentioned that she might take to baking this sort of cookie when she is in need of a little stress release!). And thus, after a day of baking, my mind is on food.
My host mom prepares two meals a day for us: lunch and dinner. Lunchtime is an hour that I hold in high regard, and rightly so. The usual heavy, lunch dishes are lentils or garbanzo beans, each served in soup/stew form with mild, green peppers, carrots –always extra for me-, and meat (steak is frequent and chorizo –a sort of chunk of pepperoni- is a must). Other usuals are the Spanish omelet, Spanish rice (garlic flavored rice served with tomato sauce and a fried egg), fish of every sort, puree of vegetables, and fillet of steak or pork. Many of these are also served for dinner, but practically never the garbanzo beans or lentils since they are considered too strong for right before bed. As a first dish, a salad of lettuce, tuna, tomato, olives, pickled leeks, canned corn, oil, vinegar, and salt is common and french-fries are served with almost every meal. We’ve also dinned on hamburgers that are more like a hamburger and BLT all in one from time to time and French omelets (which are like our regular omelets). Frozen pizza and breaded and fried rolls of ham and cheese are also part of our diet. My favorite dishes are the garbanzo beans, Spanish omelet, Spanish rice, puree of vegetables, and salads. Desert is always yogurt or fruit (apple, melon, pear, banana, cherries, strawberries…) with an occasional ice-cream thrown in.
Aside from cooking for us, my host mom also does the laundry (put the clothes in the washing machine, hang them on the clothes line, take them down, iron, fold, and distribute to the appropriate rooms) and cleans the house (sweeping, mopping, scrubbing, wiping down…). She would like to work (perhaps as a hostess at a hotel or in retail) but since they are relatively new to the area, she has not found an opportunity. So, she spends her time on the computer communicating with her friends back home in the North of Spain in Bilbao. My host dad works in the Civil Guard, which means he does hard work and suffers a lot of tragedies. In his off time, he goes running, bicycling, plays Paddle, fixes little electronic things, helps his daughters with homework, and does odd jobs around the house. He helps my host mom with dishes and does the weekly shopping trip with her. He is also the only one with a working driver’s license, so he takes people places if they aren’t using the usual methods of transportation –walking, bus, or tram. Since we only go shopping once a week but eat bread with every meal, we keep loaves of bread in the freezer to make them keep through the week and place them out over the clothes line or in front of the portable heater to thaw a few hours before we expect to eat them. We also use scissors to cut our spaghetti to pieces, but I am assured that this is not normal. Janire, my 15-year-old host sister, is not old enough to go clubbing like all of my friends. She prefers shopping, hanging out around the city, and going to the beach to tan, bathe, play volleyball, or chat with friends –but above all to tan. She’ll also go to an occasional movie, but usually opts for TV shows or the movies that are shown on a variety of channels. We watch Los Simpsons over lunch most every day, unless there is a soccer game, which is first priority, or car races, which are second. Over dinner, we watch Cámara Café (Coffee Camera) which is an imitation of a French show where they use one fixed camera set up where the coffee machine would be in an office and every show is made up of witty scenarios that could or could not take place in a similar situation. It is very funny, but I didn’t start getting the jokes until after a few months. We also watch the news during many meals. As you might guess, this is not conducive to lengthy discussions, but we do chat.
Well, ttfn! Ta-ta for now!
Love,
Jocelyn
Saturday, June 9, 2007
Surreal Spanish Soccer
Spontaneously, as I sit calmly typing away at the computer, I hear loud yells, whoops, and shouts from the living room: "¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡GOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAALLLLLL!!!!!!!! ¡NO LO PUEDO CREER, NO LO PUEDO CREER!!!!!!!! ¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡YAHOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!! DIOS, ¡JODÉ! SI, SI, ¡BIEN!" And then clapping. A second later, I incredulously listen to similar whoops coming in through the opon window with the cool night air. Good god! The whole apartment building, all of them up and down the streets, are all practically in an uproar of excitement! Now, my host dad suddenly breaking into loud celebration over a goal in a national soccer game is not unusual (nor is loud swearing in the middle of dinner, which always causes my host sister to start, when a penalty is given to the other team or a goal made by the enemy). But hearing the echo of cheers from distant apartment buildings even a mile away is something I have never experienced before! I stood laughing, but not disbelieving because, after all, these are the Spanish and they do love their soccer! Well, apparently this is the game before the championships, so good luck to whatever team everybody is rooting for! lol!
Random Quote That I Loved
"If I had my life to live over I'd like to make more mistakes next time. I'd relax. I would limber up. I would be sillier than I have been this trip. I would take fewer things seriously. I would take more chances. I would climb more mountains and swim more rivers. I would eat more ice cream and less beans. I would perhaps have more actual trouble, but I'd have fewer imaginary ones. You see, I'm one of those people who live sensibly and sanely hour after hour, day after day. Oh, I've had my moments, and if I had to do it over again, I'd have more of them. In fact, I'd try to have nothing else. Just moments, one after another, instead of living so many years ahead of each day. I've been one of those persons who never goes anywhere without a thermometer, a hot water bottle, a raincoat, and a parachute. If I had to do it again, I would travel lighter than I have. If I had my life to live over, I would start barefoot earlier in the spring and stay that way later in the fall. I would go to more dances. I would ride more merry-go-rounds, I would pick more daisies."
-Nadine Stair
-Nadine Stair
Yoga at Sunrise
This fine Saturday morning, in the darkness of the 5:30 pre-dawn shadows, I rolled out of bed and got onto the first tram. I rode it into town, walked my way down to the beach, and joined my friends from yoga class in the mountain pose observing the sunrise. These pictures are what follows. One relaxing highlight was a trust walk through the warm waves and feeling my feet melt into the sand as they lapped at my ankles. Afterwards, we all went to a chocolate shop and chatted over churros and liquid chocolate.
Friday, June 8, 2007
Good Old American Cookies (and the disabled)
Gooey oatmeal chocolate chip cookies, fresh from the oven and steaming; Mmmmm! I had to admit: I had done pretty well this time, managing to remove the precious goodies from the oven before they burnt to a crisp or some other malady, and my unique American oddity was a smashing hit! Everyone loved the cookies and the cookie dough, so the extra work of whipping out the hammer to break the chocolate bar into chocolate bits –since they don’t have chocolate chips here- and converting all the cups and tablespoons into fractions of liters melted away like the cookies in the mouths of my host sisters. Now, Janire and my host mom want to learn how to make them, so we’ll probably have a tutorial session some time this next week. The neighbors lent me some vanilla and baking soda, but I still had to walk to the store to get the brown sugar, chocolate, and oatmeal. At any rate, I’m going to give the recipe to my family before I go –translated, of course- so that they can appreciate real American cookies whenever they please! And, yes, cookies are very uncommon here. You can occasionally find one in a bakery, but nobody makes them at home. Light cakes are common, and brownies are occasional, but cookies are rare. The people eat an excess of flat, store-bought sorts of cookies that really have more resemblance to a sweet cracker than a cookies. They consume these every morning for breakfast and most evening for merienda, or snack, along with hot chocolate or coffee, but our good old cookies are hard-found. I’m just glad that I could contribute something new and interesting to their lives –and yummy!- before I go. Some other foods that are a little more uncommon here are pancakes and peanut butter.
On an entirely different note, my mom had mentioned her curiosity over how the Spanish incorporate the disabled into their society. Well, they do much the same as us: they provide ramps in most areas, including down to the beach, and many intersections beep or chirp to notify the blind of when they can cross. And you do occasionally see a blind or wheelchair bound person making their way around the city alone. In schools, disabled students have a different schedule than other kids, but they are integrated into the normal classes for at least part of every day. At Saioa’s elementary school, there are disabled kids around and in the usual classes. However, there are not students with down-syndrome. In other schools, children with mild cases of down-syndrome are incorporated into parts of the usual daily schedule, but children with more severe disabilities go to different schools especially for disabled students. I don’t know what they consider a “severe disability,” but it is clear that a fair percentage of disabled children do get to participate in the regular classes. It does not appear that any disabled student actually studies in the same class with the other kids all day, like they sometimes do in the states with only the help of an aid.
All right, a few random nuances:
-Climbing shoes are called pies de gato here, which literally translates as “cat´s feet.”
-The Sound of Music can also be found in movie form here, but it, like many other movies, goes by a different title. Here, it is called Sonrisas y Lagrimas, which translates to “Smiles and Tears.” They find our version of the title very odd and consider theirs much more beautiful.
See you all soon!
Love,
Jocelyn
PS Those lovely ladies in the photo above happen to be myself and my host sisters: Janire (15) and Saioa (8).
Monday, June 4, 2007
Photos: GRADUATION!!!
From top to bottom:
1: Teresa on my right and Paloma on my left. School friends at the graduation ceremony. Teresa and I went out to a tea house last week and Paloma is in my class.
2: The boys.
3: All together now! From left, a kid in my class whose name I cannot remember at the moment, Gaston, my English teacher Clara, my drawing teacher Maria Jose, me, Juan An. Below me is Paz and to her right is Isa. At the bottom we have Andy, who does not actually go to our school, and Paloma.
4: A few guy friends getting a little ahead of themselves. Save the dancing for the club, guys! Actually, its my fault: I told them to dance!
5: Us at the club latter that night.
1: Teresa on my right and Paloma on my left. School friends at the graduation ceremony. Teresa and I went out to a tea house last week and Paloma is in my class.
2: The boys.
3: All together now! From left, a kid in my class whose name I cannot remember at the moment, Gaston, my English teacher Clara, my drawing teacher Maria Jose, me, Juan An. Below me is Paz and to her right is Isa. At the bottom we have Andy, who does not actually go to our school, and Paloma.
4: A few guy friends getting a little ahead of themselves. Save the dancing for the club, guys! Actually, its my fault: I told them to dance!
5: Us at the club latter that night.
Graduation fun and Dancing all night
Groaning groggily and reaching blindly for my glasses, I sat up in bed and observed the clock; 14:12?!? How could I possibly have slept until just before lunch?! And then it all came back to me and, with a smile, I hopped out of bed. Well, dancing until 2:30 in the morning can do that to you, can’t it?!
But let me go back to the beginning: last night was the graduation ceremony for my class. Sadly, this ceremony does not include caps and gowns, but rather a ceremonial retrieval of the class photo by every senior, whether he or she is graduating or not. The one plus to all this: you get a sort of fashion show of all the dresses and suits! Of course, this can be extra interesting when you throw into the mix a rickety old set of metal stairs that bend under the weight of the lightest grad and don’t lend themselves too well to the abundance of stiletto heels in attendance and a light breeze that frequently caused the Marlilin Monroe effect on some of the poor, unsuspecting females. Oddly enough, most of the teens in attendance paid no attention to the ceremony –leaving that to their parents- and opting instead to chat with their friends at one end of the patio. This may seem disrespectful, but they just don’t seem to give as much importance to this event as we do in America. The ceremony was initiated by a few speeches –one from a teacher (“This is the last lecture you will receive from one of our teachers, but I promise you that I won’t quiz you on irregular English nouns! Instead, I would like to share a few words from John Lennon’s Imagine…”) and another from a student (“I know the teachers have been very patient with us, but we have been doubly patient with them!...”)- and brief musical numbers performed by the younger 7th – 10th grade students, including percussion, flutes, and voice, were interspersed here and there. The final number was, in fact, We Go Together, and made me nostalgic of our lovely good old days in Grease. The food tables opened up thereafter, and the hungry teens swooped down on the pizza with great zeal, fortunately leaving the Spanish omelet sandwiches all to me! They also had, of course, olives and cheese out, because it just isn’t a Spanish buffet without the olives!
Then came the social hour until a quarter to ten when we all took a bus, or hitched a ride with a professor as we smart students did, over to an Italian restaurant for dinner. There, we chatted, or rather shouted over the ruckus so as to be heard, and generally enjoyed ourselves for the hour or so before we ordered and ate. From the very beginning, pitchers of sangria (a fruity, lightly alcoholic beverage) and beer lined the tables, and were refilled every five minutes or so by busy waiters. (Remember, the legal drinking age in Spain is 18, so this was only illegal for a select few). A friend of mine was kind enough to ask a waiter to bring me water, and they kept the water coming all night long! My pesto pasta was delicious, and everybody else’s pizzas looked good too!
At midnight, teachers and all walked over to the club that was reserved especially for us, and we got checked off the list and stamped on the forearm. Inside, the music was loud, but usually had a good salsa beat that was fun to move to. There were a lot of us, and after a while they opened the club to the public, but it was never uncomfortably crowded. After getting over any embarrassment over dancing, since I haven’t ever danced at a club before, I fell in love all over again. I cannot express my passion for just moving my body and letting the rhythm move me. There was very little of that traditional partner dancing, which is better by far, but it was fun all the same and I got to meet some new people. Granted, by 2:00 in the morning the floor was fairly sticky due to the number of drinks that had been broken and spilt all over the place, but that didn’t really impede the dancing –nor the drinking. In the end, I had to leave before the place filled up as much as it probably did later in the night because my host dad kindly volunteered to pick me up and drive me home since the busses and the tram stop running long before the parties start. There is a night buss, but it doesn’t run out to where I live. The only thing I could think as we drove home, aside from how my feet were rather sore and eyes very droopy, was that I really want to go out dancing again. We’ll see if my wish comes true.
Well, that was Friday night and Saturday morning. Saturday afternoon included some hardcore lazing and an evening outing to Alicante to hang with another exchange student friend called Molly. We stopped by a little event on the street where booths from all sorts of volunteer and aid organizations distributed pamphlets and Moroccan goodies –such as cookies and tea- and sold T-shirts and books so that the proceeds could go towards eradicating poverty. Meanwhile, a little theatrical production went on for the kids and nearly drove Molly insane by the repetitive musical lyrics and, admittedly, not particularly trained voices. But, their jester outfits certainly captivated the attention of every child –and adult- on the street, and reminded me of a certain Garbeaus´ show and Hailee… :-) It is amazing the sheer amount of organizations that you can volunteer to here in Spain, and most of them work directly with the children in Africa or India. Molly told me about a friend of hers who appears materialistic and only into fashion and shopping who actually made a trip to Mexico to dig sewers in rural areas and now plans on going to India for do another service project there. Goes to show that you can’t judge a book by its cover, or a girl by her clothes. And all this reconfirmed a notion that has been making turns around my mind for the past few months: I think I need to go to Mexico, or another Latin American country, one of these upcoming summers to do a service project. After our stay at the booths, we, predictably, made our way to one of the many tea houses and sat down to chat until I had to make it back to the station to catch my last tram. Fortunately, unlike most other days, we did not get there late and miss it!
Sunday I went out climbing, but my climbing shoes have been forming holes in the toes, so I sent them off to be repaired this last week. I figured that if I wanted to do some serious climbing through Europe with my dad then I had better have some new rubber on those tips. However, the shoes did not make it back to me in time for this climbing trip, like I had thought they would, so I climbed barefoot. Now, this was ok for some of the routes, and only upped their difficulty a grade or two, and one heel hook move made me very proud, but other climbs were downright painful. Remind me to never climb barefoot on that kind of rock again, because some of it was like broken glass. Granted, I came away with minimal cuts, but I had to be practically hauled up the end of the last route because my feet were just too red and sad to do it anymore. If I climbed more regularly barefoot, then my feet would adapt and toughen up and I would probably climb better without shoes because my toes can curl better and my feet fit into smaller holes, but I’m just not willing to go through that kind of torture. All this brings back memories of that amazing pre-teen climber from Santa Cruz who did a double toe-hook on the ceiling in that open Women’s final at one Rocknasium competition a ways back. *sigh* Mad talent.
Well, skipping back to Thursday, I got a chance to do some volunteer work, like I´d been hopping. I spent the moring at the university with a couple other women manning a booth for the Association Against Cancer. It was fun because we traded people cigarettes for lollipops as a way to promote quitting smoking and promote awareness of different web sites and groups that can support you as you try to quit. There was none of that “This is what your lungs look like after 20 years of smoking. Death will befall you!” stuff. But we did have this cool little thing called a coxometer (or something to that effect) that measures the amount of carbon monoxide in your lungs and, essentially, how much negative influence smoking is having on your lungs. Some people got good news, and others got bad news. We gave the people with bad news extra lollipops.
Well, as always, thanks for tuning in to my wave length and checking up on the happenings of my life and mind. I always appreciate it and I relish your comments. Can’t wait to see you all again!
Love,
Jocelyn
PS Random Spanish fact: In Spain, you wear your wedding ring on your right hand.
But let me go back to the beginning: last night was the graduation ceremony for my class. Sadly, this ceremony does not include caps and gowns, but rather a ceremonial retrieval of the class photo by every senior, whether he or she is graduating or not. The one plus to all this: you get a sort of fashion show of all the dresses and suits! Of course, this can be extra interesting when you throw into the mix a rickety old set of metal stairs that bend under the weight of the lightest grad and don’t lend themselves too well to the abundance of stiletto heels in attendance and a light breeze that frequently caused the Marlilin Monroe effect on some of the poor, unsuspecting females. Oddly enough, most of the teens in attendance paid no attention to the ceremony –leaving that to their parents- and opting instead to chat with their friends at one end of the patio. This may seem disrespectful, but they just don’t seem to give as much importance to this event as we do in America. The ceremony was initiated by a few speeches –one from a teacher (“This is the last lecture you will receive from one of our teachers, but I promise you that I won’t quiz you on irregular English nouns! Instead, I would like to share a few words from John Lennon’s Imagine…”) and another from a student (“I know the teachers have been very patient with us, but we have been doubly patient with them!...”)- and brief musical numbers performed by the younger 7th – 10th grade students, including percussion, flutes, and voice, were interspersed here and there. The final number was, in fact, We Go Together, and made me nostalgic of our lovely good old days in Grease. The food tables opened up thereafter, and the hungry teens swooped down on the pizza with great zeal, fortunately leaving the Spanish omelet sandwiches all to me! They also had, of course, olives and cheese out, because it just isn’t a Spanish buffet without the olives!
Then came the social hour until a quarter to ten when we all took a bus, or hitched a ride with a professor as we smart students did, over to an Italian restaurant for dinner. There, we chatted, or rather shouted over the ruckus so as to be heard, and generally enjoyed ourselves for the hour or so before we ordered and ate. From the very beginning, pitchers of sangria (a fruity, lightly alcoholic beverage) and beer lined the tables, and were refilled every five minutes or so by busy waiters. (Remember, the legal drinking age in Spain is 18, so this was only illegal for a select few). A friend of mine was kind enough to ask a waiter to bring me water, and they kept the water coming all night long! My pesto pasta was delicious, and everybody else’s pizzas looked good too!
At midnight, teachers and all walked over to the club that was reserved especially for us, and we got checked off the list and stamped on the forearm. Inside, the music was loud, but usually had a good salsa beat that was fun to move to. There were a lot of us, and after a while they opened the club to the public, but it was never uncomfortably crowded. After getting over any embarrassment over dancing, since I haven’t ever danced at a club before, I fell in love all over again. I cannot express my passion for just moving my body and letting the rhythm move me. There was very little of that traditional partner dancing, which is better by far, but it was fun all the same and I got to meet some new people. Granted, by 2:00 in the morning the floor was fairly sticky due to the number of drinks that had been broken and spilt all over the place, but that didn’t really impede the dancing –nor the drinking. In the end, I had to leave before the place filled up as much as it probably did later in the night because my host dad kindly volunteered to pick me up and drive me home since the busses and the tram stop running long before the parties start. There is a night buss, but it doesn’t run out to where I live. The only thing I could think as we drove home, aside from how my feet were rather sore and eyes very droopy, was that I really want to go out dancing again. We’ll see if my wish comes true.
Well, that was Friday night and Saturday morning. Saturday afternoon included some hardcore lazing and an evening outing to Alicante to hang with another exchange student friend called Molly. We stopped by a little event on the street where booths from all sorts of volunteer and aid organizations distributed pamphlets and Moroccan goodies –such as cookies and tea- and sold T-shirts and books so that the proceeds could go towards eradicating poverty. Meanwhile, a little theatrical production went on for the kids and nearly drove Molly insane by the repetitive musical lyrics and, admittedly, not particularly trained voices. But, their jester outfits certainly captivated the attention of every child –and adult- on the street, and reminded me of a certain Garbeaus´ show and Hailee… :-) It is amazing the sheer amount of organizations that you can volunteer to here in Spain, and most of them work directly with the children in Africa or India. Molly told me about a friend of hers who appears materialistic and only into fashion and shopping who actually made a trip to Mexico to dig sewers in rural areas and now plans on going to India for do another service project there. Goes to show that you can’t judge a book by its cover, or a girl by her clothes. And all this reconfirmed a notion that has been making turns around my mind for the past few months: I think I need to go to Mexico, or another Latin American country, one of these upcoming summers to do a service project. After our stay at the booths, we, predictably, made our way to one of the many tea houses and sat down to chat until I had to make it back to the station to catch my last tram. Fortunately, unlike most other days, we did not get there late and miss it!
Sunday I went out climbing, but my climbing shoes have been forming holes in the toes, so I sent them off to be repaired this last week. I figured that if I wanted to do some serious climbing through Europe with my dad then I had better have some new rubber on those tips. However, the shoes did not make it back to me in time for this climbing trip, like I had thought they would, so I climbed barefoot. Now, this was ok for some of the routes, and only upped their difficulty a grade or two, and one heel hook move made me very proud, but other climbs were downright painful. Remind me to never climb barefoot on that kind of rock again, because some of it was like broken glass. Granted, I came away with minimal cuts, but I had to be practically hauled up the end of the last route because my feet were just too red and sad to do it anymore. If I climbed more regularly barefoot, then my feet would adapt and toughen up and I would probably climb better without shoes because my toes can curl better and my feet fit into smaller holes, but I’m just not willing to go through that kind of torture. All this brings back memories of that amazing pre-teen climber from Santa Cruz who did a double toe-hook on the ceiling in that open Women’s final at one Rocknasium competition a ways back. *sigh* Mad talent.
Well, skipping back to Thursday, I got a chance to do some volunteer work, like I´d been hopping. I spent the moring at the university with a couple other women manning a booth for the Association Against Cancer. It was fun because we traded people cigarettes for lollipops as a way to promote quitting smoking and promote awareness of different web sites and groups that can support you as you try to quit. There was none of that “This is what your lungs look like after 20 years of smoking. Death will befall you!” stuff. But we did have this cool little thing called a coxometer (or something to that effect) that measures the amount of carbon monoxide in your lungs and, essentially, how much negative influence smoking is having on your lungs. Some people got good news, and others got bad news. We gave the people with bad news extra lollipops.
Well, as always, thanks for tuning in to my wave length and checking up on the happenings of my life and mind. I always appreciate it and I relish your comments. Can’t wait to see you all again!
Love,
Jocelyn
PS Random Spanish fact: In Spain, you wear your wedding ring on your right hand.
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
10 Ways in Which Spanish Culture Differs from Ours (And my week)
10 Ways in Which Spanish Culture Differs from Ours:
1) Political campaigning is far more in your face here: their posters are not just the names and slogans of the candidates, but a big head-shot of them plastered across the walls over and over again. During election times, you walk down the street receiving creepy grins from the same ten men and women a million times over. Additionally, they inform you of upcoming rallies over loudspeakers mounted on the top of cars that inch along the roads and blast their message to you, accompanied by music, ten times a day.
2) Recycling is big here. If you don’t recycle, then you are an exception. Every street boasts a line of huge bins for glass, paper, and every type of plastic.
3) Water is a precious commodity here, since we are essentially living in the middle of a desert. Most people know that they need to use their water wisely, so we all turn off the shower while lathering our bodies or brushing our teeth. And not just for money reasons either, but also for environmental reasons.
4) Here they have language schools where you can go for a month or two every day and study a language. At the end of that time, they test and certify you in that language and this opens up job opportunities. These schools are private, but very common.
5) The people here drive so fast that it is unnerving. However, they are also some of the best drivers around because they have to go through a lot of work to get their licenses. But I still wouldn’t want to drive on the same roads as them!
6) Personal hygiene is not as emphasized here: showering is not necessarily a daily thing, and certainly not something you do more than once a day. They don’t always wash their hands before eating, and it appears that they don’t always do so before leaving the bathroom either. Of course, this is a generalization as I don’t follow every Spaniard into the bathroom to check up on their washing habits, but it is clear that they are not as germaphobic as we are.
7) Pharmacies, glasses shops, and a few other specialty shops use universal signs to mark their entrances. For example, for a pharmacy, you will always find it marked by a fluorescent green cross and a glasses shop will be easy to find because you only need to keep an eye out for a lit sign shaped like a pair of pink glasses sticking out of the building. Yes, this is very logical, but any American business would immediately think, “But I don’t want to have the same sign as every other pharmacy! I want to stand out as different.”
8) Graffiti is everywhere. The teens hardly consider it refutable and the city has crews who regularly circle the city to repaint the benches and walls. (This is rather unfortunate when you come to the tram stop only to find that all your benches have recently painted and you have no place to sit for the twenty-minute wait.)
9) School buses are huge in a tall way. They look more like our tourist buses than school buses. One friend asked me, “Are your school buses in America really yellow like they show them in the movies?!” They thought it was a pretty funny idea.
10) The standard size paper is taller, the envelopes are not as wide, their binders all have four holes instead of three, and they hardly ever write on lined paper opting instead for plain white paper or graff.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Well, things are certainly slowing down here. Well, in my life at any rate. The truth is that things are just getting started in Alicante with all the tourists flocking in from everywhere and shops opening up to receive them. But for me, last week was the last week of school. I took a few tests, which I’m sure I did pretty well on even though I didn’t study, and got results back for some of my tests. Guess what?! I GOT A 9 ON MY LAST PHILOSOPHY TEST!!! I was so surprised when I found out because I didn’t even study for the test, but I essentially got an A on it! Maybe I should just stop caring about my grades and scores more often if I come out with grades like these! Just kidding.
Anyways, I tried that drink horchata made out of the juice from the groundnut and it was really good! It is served cold and is very sweet. I cannot describe the taste, but it reminds a little of coconut and chai tea.
Well, what have I been doing this week aside from the minimal testing? I’ve gone to the beach a few times, and a friend commented that ya’ll aren’t gonna recognize me with this tan! I dunno, I’m still white as cream compared to most everyone here. I’ve also hung out with a few friends on different occasions down in Alicante, browsing shops, going to tea houses, eating kabobs and falafels, and talking.
On Sunday I went out climbing with Ignacio and his dad at a place called Crevillentes. T’was good. It was all displome, “overhanging,” which is my favorite. I only climbed four short routes , but the last one was a fun challenge with a funky crux up toward the end where I had to go up to an under-hanging pocket, clip, and use the side of a ledge to get up to the good holds above. I have to admit that I have not been climbing as much here, so I am definitely not up to my usual level. *sigh* Good thing dad is coming here for a few weeks to get me back in shape before I get back! Man, since I went to Paris, my hands got all soft and shed, so now my climbing time is determined by how long my hands can hold out before I turn in, blowing on my raw red digits. But I will get those calluses back!
Well, I have about two and a half weeks here until my exchange is officially over. During that time, I will go to the graduation ceremony and party, chill with friends, go to the beach, climb, paint, go to an ancient archeological museum exhibit, and hopefully go to a few shows. All in all, I have too much time on my hands. I’m hoping that I’ll be able to do some volunteer work, but who knows if that will pull through. Well, feel free to write me and ask all sorts of lengthy questions to keep me occupied for the long summer hours ahead!
Love,
Jocelyn
1) Political campaigning is far more in your face here: their posters are not just the names and slogans of the candidates, but a big head-shot of them plastered across the walls over and over again. During election times, you walk down the street receiving creepy grins from the same ten men and women a million times over. Additionally, they inform you of upcoming rallies over loudspeakers mounted on the top of cars that inch along the roads and blast their message to you, accompanied by music, ten times a day.
2) Recycling is big here. If you don’t recycle, then you are an exception. Every street boasts a line of huge bins for glass, paper, and every type of plastic.
3) Water is a precious commodity here, since we are essentially living in the middle of a desert. Most people know that they need to use their water wisely, so we all turn off the shower while lathering our bodies or brushing our teeth. And not just for money reasons either, but also for environmental reasons.
4) Here they have language schools where you can go for a month or two every day and study a language. At the end of that time, they test and certify you in that language and this opens up job opportunities. These schools are private, but very common.
5) The people here drive so fast that it is unnerving. However, they are also some of the best drivers around because they have to go through a lot of work to get their licenses. But I still wouldn’t want to drive on the same roads as them!
6) Personal hygiene is not as emphasized here: showering is not necessarily a daily thing, and certainly not something you do more than once a day. They don’t always wash their hands before eating, and it appears that they don’t always do so before leaving the bathroom either. Of course, this is a generalization as I don’t follow every Spaniard into the bathroom to check up on their washing habits, but it is clear that they are not as germaphobic as we are.
7) Pharmacies, glasses shops, and a few other specialty shops use universal signs to mark their entrances. For example, for a pharmacy, you will always find it marked by a fluorescent green cross and a glasses shop will be easy to find because you only need to keep an eye out for a lit sign shaped like a pair of pink glasses sticking out of the building. Yes, this is very logical, but any American business would immediately think, “But I don’t want to have the same sign as every other pharmacy! I want to stand out as different.”
8) Graffiti is everywhere. The teens hardly consider it refutable and the city has crews who regularly circle the city to repaint the benches and walls. (This is rather unfortunate when you come to the tram stop only to find that all your benches have recently painted and you have no place to sit for the twenty-minute wait.)
9) School buses are huge in a tall way. They look more like our tourist buses than school buses. One friend asked me, “Are your school buses in America really yellow like they show them in the movies?!” They thought it was a pretty funny idea.
10) The standard size paper is taller, the envelopes are not as wide, their binders all have four holes instead of three, and they hardly ever write on lined paper opting instead for plain white paper or graff.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Well, things are certainly slowing down here. Well, in my life at any rate. The truth is that things are just getting started in Alicante with all the tourists flocking in from everywhere and shops opening up to receive them. But for me, last week was the last week of school. I took a few tests, which I’m sure I did pretty well on even though I didn’t study, and got results back for some of my tests. Guess what?! I GOT A 9 ON MY LAST PHILOSOPHY TEST!!! I was so surprised when I found out because I didn’t even study for the test, but I essentially got an A on it! Maybe I should just stop caring about my grades and scores more often if I come out with grades like these! Just kidding.
Anyways, I tried that drink horchata made out of the juice from the groundnut and it was really good! It is served cold and is very sweet. I cannot describe the taste, but it reminds a little of coconut and chai tea.
Well, what have I been doing this week aside from the minimal testing? I’ve gone to the beach a few times, and a friend commented that ya’ll aren’t gonna recognize me with this tan! I dunno, I’m still white as cream compared to most everyone here. I’ve also hung out with a few friends on different occasions down in Alicante, browsing shops, going to tea houses, eating kabobs and falafels, and talking.
On Sunday I went out climbing with Ignacio and his dad at a place called Crevillentes. T’was good. It was all displome, “overhanging,” which is my favorite. I only climbed four short routes , but the last one was a fun challenge with a funky crux up toward the end where I had to go up to an under-hanging pocket, clip, and use the side of a ledge to get up to the good holds above. I have to admit that I have not been climbing as much here, so I am definitely not up to my usual level. *sigh* Good thing dad is coming here for a few weeks to get me back in shape before I get back! Man, since I went to Paris, my hands got all soft and shed, so now my climbing time is determined by how long my hands can hold out before I turn in, blowing on my raw red digits. But I will get those calluses back!
Well, I have about two and a half weeks here until my exchange is officially over. During that time, I will go to the graduation ceremony and party, chill with friends, go to the beach, climb, paint, go to an ancient archeological museum exhibit, and hopefully go to a few shows. All in all, I have too much time on my hands. I’m hoping that I’ll be able to do some volunteer work, but who knows if that will pull through. Well, feel free to write me and ask all sorts of lengthy questions to keep me occupied for the long summer hours ahead!
Love,
Jocelyn
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Nisperos and Chufas
Marvelous discoveries await you in whichever wrinkle of the world that you decide to snuggle into. For me, some of these fabulous novelties include nisperos and chufas –otherwise known as persimmons and groundnuts.
This delicious, plumb-sized fruit is of a lovely apricot color and includes two shinny seeds inside that hug each other to form a perfect circle. First, you take your nispero in one hand and a knife in the other. Cut the little top stem part off of the nispero using this as a starting point to peel the entire fruit. From top to bottom, using the knife, strip away its skin to find a deceivingly ready looking orange fruit, but don’t forget to cut it open and take out the seeds! At last, you are ready to devour it! Putting it in your mouth, you cannot pin-point exactly what this nispero reminds you of, but you are certain that there is no other fruit quite like it. It is tangy but sweet, with a creamy taste, if that is possible, and a consistency akin to that of a wet peach –only better. It is reminiscent of a nectarine or an apricot, but it lives in a flavor all its own.
Chufas are quite distinct as well, and I fell in love with them instantly! They, as their English name implies, are a sort of nut, but a nut that has a milky juice inside that can be squeezed out and made into a traditional Spanish drink called horchata. (I have not yet tasted this but I’ll let you know how it is when I do.) The dried nut that remains is hard to chew at first, but softens steadily and releases a lovely, soft taste that is something like coconut. It might also remind you a little bit of hazelnut or almond, but, like nisperos, they are unique.
These delicious products of the earth are resent additions to an international list of favorites that I have been amounting. They go on right after custard apples and sugar cane from India and pomegranates and apples from home. French onion soup from France is another recent and wonderful discovery of mine; who could imagine that onion soup topped by bread and melted cheese would be so delightful?!
At any rate, I’m sorry if I’ve made you hungry! Fortunately for you, our preservatives and fast transportation make available many foreign fruits, so you might be able to find all of these foods at you local supermarket! Bon appetite! Or, as the Spanish say, ¡Que aproveche!
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Photos: Trip to Paris with wonderful people
Ok, from top to bottom: Half of our group in front of the Notre Dame. And, yes, I always look funny in pictures and, yes, I cracked up when I noticed that one of the other girls in the picture is laughing at me. :-) Next comes me enjoying my freshly backed French bread. Third down is the picture that best captures the essence of our trip: the click, click, flash of the cameras was constant and made you feel like a movie star! This is followed by our groups´ "thinking" shot, which I iniciated. We are all admiring the landscape thoughtfully... Note Will, to the right of me, with his excellent choice of facial expressions. And at the bottom, us with the Mexican guys. Martha, the other girl, raved about them for the rest of the trip, dwelling eternally on their hotness, etc. And yes, the cute one is a soccer player, and yes: we have his email.
Monday, May 21, 2007
Photos: Paris!!!
The Eiffel Tower, the Notre Dame, the Louvre, and me with Blaire, Priscila, and Chelsea attop the Eiffel. :-D I love these people!
Beautiful París
What is Paris? The city of romance? The capital of France? That one place where they have that cool tower? The international city? Or all of the above? My experiences fit into all of these categories and more.
I’m guessing the first thing that pops into your head is, “The city of romance? What hot French guy did Jocelyn run into this week?!?!” Well, to tell you the truth Caitlin, I did run into Pierre! However, he was a middle-aged college professor with an excellent English accent who helped us get around the city and in no way created a romantic atmosphere! The crepe man, on the other hand, was workin’ it! So, a few friends and I were in dire need of some crepes on our last night in Paris and, so, stopped at one of the many crepe stands to splurge. One of the other girls ordered first, and the first sign of our evening’s entertainment came when the man spreading out the batter for her crepe asked her if she would like extra chocolate. The next question, however, had us doubled over laughing. The seemingly sensitive crepe man looked at her in all seriousness and asked: “Have you ever had a French kiss?” She turned bright red, looked at the crepe she has just bitten into and says, “This is a really good crepe!” Him: “But have you?” Her (to me): “Isn’t this a really good crepe?” Him (in all exasperation): “You haven’t answered my question!” Her (to the only boy in the group, under her breath): “Will, will you pretend to be my boyfriend please?!” Meanwhile, the rest of us just gasped for air mid-laughter. :-D In the end, she gave him a kiss on the cheek goodbye and we made off with the best crepes ever!
Aside from its ever-romantic air, Paris is certainly diverse. It has a huge black population and many Asians, which contrasts notably with the comparably homogenous population of Spain. But the tourists also make for a diverse, interesting city. Friday night, Martha, Maurício, and I –two Americans and a Brazilian- find ourselves accompanying a group of Mexican guys around the city and comparing the Spanish and Mexican eating schedules, among other things. An hour later, I find an Indian family, strike up a conversation, and discover that I was just in their hometown of Bangalore this Christmas! The Korean artisan cut out my profile in paper, the French man served us dinner, and the rest of the exchange students from the Philippines, Australia, and America joined us shortly thereafter. Can you imagine the amazingly interesting conversation that springs from such a varied group?! Over dinner on the first night, we got to hear all about Veggymite –the Australian equivalent of our peanut butter which is immensely popular, eaten on bread, apparently made up of vitamins, and of an unappealing grey appearance! Needless to say, peanut butter sounded better to most of us compared to that unidentifiable grey substance. Note to self: taste Veggymite when in Australia.
So what did I do while I was in Paris? Well, I certainly walked a lot, so that might have worked off the calories from the crepes and French pastries, but I doubt it! I ate this delicious raspberry tart on the second day which was indescribable, but lets not get too far off topic here! We were talking about the walking. Walking and the metro made up our major means of transportation and got us everywhere from the Louvre, the Picasso museum, the Rodin museum, the Arco de Triunfo, the Notre Dame, and, of course, the Eiffle Tower. The highlights were, of
course, the Louvre, Notre Dame, and Eiffle Tower, although I only went to the second platform of the tower and not the top. Incredibly enough, we spent less than two hours in the Louvre, which is a great treachery in my opinion. We saw the Venus de Milo and Monalisa as a group before we were set loose in that immense museum to more or less fend for ourselves. I had just enough time to seek out a favorite statue of mine called Eros and Psyche before I hit up the gift shop for a minute and met the group again. *sigh* I think I’ll need to go back for longer with my dad over the summer. The Notre Dame is most interesting from the outside and when admiring its splendid stained-glass windows. And just in case everyone is wondering, I have an affinity for Renoir and Van Gogh out of all the impressionist and post-impressionist painters. I´m not a huge fan of the painting from the Renaissance, but I love Michael Angelo´s sculptures –the most perfect being his David- and Tiziano uses some beautiful colors. How about you guys? Who do you prefer?
Our first introduction to the French people was our waiter on the first night. A loose, handsome man with flourishy mannerisms and aloof posture, an eruption of giggles sprung from our table of girls shortly after he walked away for the first time. When I get back, ask for my impression of him because it is beautiful. Everyone else was admiring his blonde hair, jaw line, or forearms, but I was just amused by the way he carelessly organized the straws in the used cups. When a friend pulled out a camera so that she could show some of us pictures, he even said, “Oh, you want a picture? I can pose nude!” I dunno; all these Paris guys certainly have their one-liners!
All in all, I really enjoyed spending time with the other exchange students and sharing our experiences. Some of them have not been as lucky as me and others seem to be even better off. For example, one girl feels isolated from her haughty classmates and has no one to go out with on the weekends. She feels that her entire opinion of the Spanish and their culture has been ruined by this experience. On the other hand, another guy went on a trip to Scotland with his family, has a great group of friends, and gets along well with his host brothers. The reasons why everybody decided to come to Spain was as equally varied as what they got out of their experience. Everyone comes to learn Spanish, but some come for a change of scenery while others come to escape bad situations at home. Others come to find themselves and still others just want to have fun or discover the culture. Most everyone loves travel, but that is the extent of our shared interests. Some like theater, others do sports. A couple girls realized their shared interest in Arabic whereas another few recounted experiences from their rock bands. You just can’t categorize exchange students. Ultimately, all of us end up being outgoing, but we don’t all start out that way. The need for survival quickly draws out a more forthcoming person in each of us. Everyone is friendly and no one went home without a new list of emails or myspace names. Yes, we do speak English among ourselves, but it was refreshing to whip out those classy vocabulary words after a few months of sitting there collecting dust on the back shelves of my mind. All of us were tripping over our English for the first few days, and I kept on saying Gracias to the French store clerks. Worse still, I almost used Merci on the panadería woman this morning! Oy ve!
At any rate, Paris is a beautiful city, just as everyone has told you before. The river bridged by ancient stone majesties, the avenues lined by lovely tall trees, and the French baroque style buildings standing strong in proud symmetry all blend into one astounding landscape peaked by far-off sky-scrapers and towers. It is one of the most beautiful cityscapes I have ever seen, second only to Granada with its alit Alhambra at night. Paris is reminiscent of Barcelona, but the people and the ambiance is very different; Barcelona is more relaxed. But compared to New York, Paris is as relaxed as peaches! New York certainly symbolizes the work, work, work mindset of Americans. The French have flair and fashion, the Spanish feel laid-back, and the Americans have their progress. Well, that and our reputation of being big in every respect –big buildings, big cars, big country, big everything! Paris is great and all, but Granada takes the prize in my opinion, and Barcelona, New York City, and San Francisco all stand out along side Paris. I guess I should also see Paris when there isn’t so much rain and cold weather.
At any rate, I could go on and on about the daily schedules, which included getting up way too early, getting back to the hotel rather late, sleeping very little, and playing the “hurry and wait” game since it is so difficult to travel with such a large group. Let me know what you want to hear more about and I´ll be sure to rant about it to the saturation point.
Well, much love and thanks for reading! You have no idea how much you increase my feelings of self worth by taking the time to catch up on my life!
Besos,
Jocelyn
I’m guessing the first thing that pops into your head is, “The city of romance? What hot French guy did Jocelyn run into this week?!?!” Well, to tell you the truth Caitlin, I did run into Pierre! However, he was a middle-aged college professor with an excellent English accent who helped us get around the city and in no way created a romantic atmosphere! The crepe man, on the other hand, was workin’ it! So, a few friends and I were in dire need of some crepes on our last night in Paris and, so, stopped at one of the many crepe stands to splurge. One of the other girls ordered first, and the first sign of our evening’s entertainment came when the man spreading out the batter for her crepe asked her if she would like extra chocolate. The next question, however, had us doubled over laughing. The seemingly sensitive crepe man looked at her in all seriousness and asked: “Have you ever had a French kiss?” She turned bright red, looked at the crepe she has just bitten into and says, “This is a really good crepe!” Him: “But have you?” Her (to me): “Isn’t this a really good crepe?” Him (in all exasperation): “You haven’t answered my question!” Her (to the only boy in the group, under her breath): “Will, will you pretend to be my boyfriend please?!” Meanwhile, the rest of us just gasped for air mid-laughter. :-D In the end, she gave him a kiss on the cheek goodbye and we made off with the best crepes ever!
Aside from its ever-romantic air, Paris is certainly diverse. It has a huge black population and many Asians, which contrasts notably with the comparably homogenous population of Spain. But the tourists also make for a diverse, interesting city. Friday night, Martha, Maurício, and I –two Americans and a Brazilian- find ourselves accompanying a group of Mexican guys around the city and comparing the Spanish and Mexican eating schedules, among other things. An hour later, I find an Indian family, strike up a conversation, and discover that I was just in their hometown of Bangalore this Christmas! The Korean artisan cut out my profile in paper, the French man served us dinner, and the rest of the exchange students from the Philippines, Australia, and America joined us shortly thereafter. Can you imagine the amazingly interesting conversation that springs from such a varied group?! Over dinner on the first night, we got to hear all about Veggymite –the Australian equivalent of our peanut butter which is immensely popular, eaten on bread, apparently made up of vitamins, and of an unappealing grey appearance! Needless to say, peanut butter sounded better to most of us compared to that unidentifiable grey substance. Note to self: taste Veggymite when in Australia.
So what did I do while I was in Paris? Well, I certainly walked a lot, so that might have worked off the calories from the crepes and French pastries, but I doubt it! I ate this delicious raspberry tart on the second day which was indescribable, but lets not get too far off topic here! We were talking about the walking. Walking and the metro made up our major means of transportation and got us everywhere from the Louvre, the Picasso museum, the Rodin museum, the Arco de Triunfo, the Notre Dame, and, of course, the Eiffle Tower. The highlights were, of
course, the Louvre, Notre Dame, and Eiffle Tower, although I only went to the second platform of the tower and not the top. Incredibly enough, we spent less than two hours in the Louvre, which is a great treachery in my opinion. We saw the Venus de Milo and Monalisa as a group before we were set loose in that immense museum to more or less fend for ourselves. I had just enough time to seek out a favorite statue of mine called Eros and Psyche before I hit up the gift shop for a minute and met the group again. *sigh* I think I’ll need to go back for longer with my dad over the summer. The Notre Dame is most interesting from the outside and when admiring its splendid stained-glass windows. And just in case everyone is wondering, I have an affinity for Renoir and Van Gogh out of all the impressionist and post-impressionist painters. I´m not a huge fan of the painting from the Renaissance, but I love Michael Angelo´s sculptures –the most perfect being his David- and Tiziano uses some beautiful colors. How about you guys? Who do you prefer?Our first introduction to the French people was our waiter on the first night. A loose, handsome man with flourishy mannerisms and aloof posture, an eruption of giggles sprung from our table of girls shortly after he walked away for the first time. When I get back, ask for my impression of him because it is beautiful. Everyone else was admiring his blonde hair, jaw line, or forearms, but I was just amused by the way he carelessly organized the straws in the used cups. When a friend pulled out a camera so that she could show some of us pictures, he even said, “Oh, you want a picture? I can pose nude!” I dunno; all these Paris guys certainly have their one-liners!
All in all, I really enjoyed spending time with the other exchange students and sharing our experiences. Some of them have not been as lucky as me and others seem to be even better off. For example, one girl feels isolated from her haughty classmates and has no one to go out with on the weekends. She feels that her entire opinion of the Spanish and their culture has been ruined by this experience. On the other hand, another guy went on a trip to Scotland with his family, has a great group of friends, and gets along well with his host brothers. The reasons why everybody decided to come to Spain was as equally varied as what they got out of their experience. Everyone comes to learn Spanish, but some come for a change of scenery while others come to escape bad situations at home. Others come to find themselves and still others just want to have fun or discover the culture. Most everyone loves travel, but that is the extent of our shared interests. Some like theater, others do sports. A couple girls realized their shared interest in Arabic whereas another few recounted experiences from their rock bands. You just can’t categorize exchange students. Ultimately, all of us end up being outgoing, but we don’t all start out that way. The need for survival quickly draws out a more forthcoming person in each of us. Everyone is friendly and no one went home without a new list of emails or myspace names. Yes, we do speak English among ourselves, but it was refreshing to whip out those classy vocabulary words after a few months of sitting there collecting dust on the back shelves of my mind. All of us were tripping over our English for the first few days, and I kept on saying Gracias to the French store clerks. Worse still, I almost used Merci on the panadería woman this morning! Oy ve!
At any rate, Paris is a beautiful city, just as everyone has told you before. The river bridged by ancient stone majesties, the avenues lined by lovely tall trees, and the French baroque style buildings standing strong in proud symmetry all blend into one astounding landscape peaked by far-off sky-scrapers and towers. It is one of the most beautiful cityscapes I have ever seen, second only to Granada with its alit Alhambra at night. Paris is reminiscent of Barcelona, but the people and the ambiance is very different; Barcelona is more relaxed. But compared to New York, Paris is as relaxed as peaches! New York certainly symbolizes the work, work, work mindset of Americans. The French have flair and fashion, the Spanish feel laid-back, and the Americans have their progress. Well, that and our reputation of being big in every respect –big buildings, big cars, big country, big everything! Paris is great and all, but Granada takes the prize in my opinion, and Barcelona, New York City, and San Francisco all stand out along side Paris. I guess I should also see Paris when there isn’t so much rain and cold weather.
At any rate, I could go on and on about the daily schedules, which included getting up way too early, getting back to the hotel rather late, sleeping very little, and playing the “hurry and wait” game since it is so difficult to travel with such a large group. Let me know what you want to hear more about and I´ll be sure to rant about it to the saturation point.
Well, much love and thanks for reading! You have no idea how much you increase my feelings of self worth by taking the time to catch up on my life!
Besos,
Jocelyn
Monday, May 14, 2007
Photos: Multi-Pitch route in Calte
This route consisted of six pitches (all 6a or 6b minus the last pitch which was a 6c) amounting to 200 meters. The first two pitches are uneventful, but then you get half way up and the rock gets interesting, with huge pockets and all sorts of goodies just waiting to be found. But, if you don´t have the endurance to hang out there looking for hidden pockets then it´s difficult. I fell twice on the last pitch and came away from the entire experience with a mild sunburn. But it was worth it for the view! My climbing parter was Ricardo.
A little interesting fact: The Spanish have many phrases and terms that are rather beautiful. For example, instead of saying "I got to the top of that climbing route," they´ll say Yo llegé at reunion translated as "I reached the reunion." I kinda like that! Instead of triumphing over the rock, you are reuniting with it!
Another phrase that I like is, instead of saying "Awkward silence" when a room full of people suddenly find themselves in a hush, they´ll say "An angel has just passed through." :-)
A little interesting fact: The Spanish have many phrases and terms that are rather beautiful. For example, instead of saying "I got to the top of that climbing route," they´ll say Yo llegé at reunion translated as "I reached the reunion." I kinda like that! Instead of triumphing over the rock, you are reuniting with it!
Another phrase that I like is, instead of saying "Awkward silence" when a room full of people suddenly find themselves in a hush, they´ll say "An angel has just passed through." :-)
Saturday, May 12, 2007
Mediterranean Paradise, the Spanish SAT, and Deliciousness
The aquamarine water is so clear and blue that you can see your toes wriggling in the sand four feet below you. The waves are mild and they buoy you up from time to time, pushing you toward the bright, sandy shore where some of the first sun-bathers of the year are already going from tan to milk-chocolate brown. You shut you eyes and submerge under the salty water, as if to say, “Sun, lets play hide-and-go-seek!” You only open you eyes when you can feel the sand on your fingertips and the water warming in the shallow waves of the shore. Thank goodness the sun has finally decided to pay its tribute to the Mediterranean coast! True to the beach-dweller’s tradition, you will lay on your towel long enough to dry and bake before returning to the water and then back to the tanning in an everlasting cycle that could last all day and all summer. This is the way life was meant to be!
But this is not how the beaches here have always been. Sixteen years ago, the Alicante city council decided that it was time to increase revenues, and so, they hauled in a whole lot of sub-ocean sand onto the once rocky shore and created –load by load- a tourists paradise. They planted palm trees in symmetrical lines and provided benches, showers, and foot-paths at every convenient interval. The product is lovely and successful, but one wonders what was lost in that massive coastal transformation.
As I walked along the beach, further from my apartment building than I had ever gone before, I suddenly found myself on an undeveloped part of the coast where fishermen reigned –along with little crabs, snails, and an abundance of little sea creatures with spikes and shells that I cannot name. And instead of sand, it was all lightly colored, rounded stones that served as homes and hiding places for the afore mentioned habitants. Some of these rocks had such a maze of tunnels winding through them that I could imagine a world inside each one, like Whoville. As I stooped every foot or so to uncover some new treasure, I noticed something very unusual about one particular length of rocky beach: the waves receding down the sloping rocks created an acoustic waterfall, akin to the sound of a rain-stick. It was so beautiful and relaxing just sitting and listening to the water shift the rounded rocks in a series of soft clicks and clacks. Mmmmm! I think those three meters of beach are some of my favorite in the world! Oh, what I would give to have completely undeveloped, wild beaches open to my curious exploration!
In case everyone is wondering, all the seniors in high school are currently studying for the last tests of the year, which come during these next two weeks. I can’t be bothered to study, what with the re-appearance of my beloved sun. I might open up my philosophy and art history books, but that is only because I enjoy reading about the thoughts of Nietzsche and the portraits of Goya. After these two weeks of testing, and while everyone else is still in school for three more weeks, the seniors will turn to studying for the highly important college entrance tests. These tests are crucial because your grade determines what colleges you can go to and what majors you can study. For example, lets say you average a six out of ten on the test. Well, sorry but you can’t be a lawyer. However, you can still study to be a teacher! Additionally, these tests are not multiple choice. Each section, based on the courses you have recently completed, calls for several detailed essay question responses which are then evaluated and graded by a group of judges. Thus, the test is much more subjective than the SAT. Also, it determines wholly your college opportunities, so lets hope you didn’t get off the wrong side of the bed that morning. But if you get the grade you were hoping for on the test, then you essentially get to go to college where you want without the whole nerve-wracking application process. Most Spaniards choose to go to college in their hometown, or the nearest city, so that they can continue living with their parents. In fact, most young adults won’t move out of their parent’s house until they get married, which currently averages around 28-years-old and is going up every year. The housing here is so expensive that the youth just can’t afford to live on their own, and so they stay dependent on their parents until a later age. Some people who don’t marry live with their parents all their lives, and this is not socially frowned upon like it usually is in America.
On Thursday there was a strike at my school. Actually, it was a strike amongst all the high schools in this part of the country (in the community of Valencia). Nobody was really sure what they were striking against, but when they hear the word huelga (“strike”), they treat it as a day off from school. My host sister and just about everybody else went to the beach. Me and, ironically, my usually slacking classmates were all at school all day like the good little students that we are or pretend to be.
Well, I am very excited because on Tuesday I will take a train up to Barcelona where I will meet up with the other exchange students before we head up to Paris! Yay! I have never set foot in France, so I can’t wait to see the Louvre and the infamous Eiffel Tower. My friend and fellow exchange student Molly is looking forward to the crapes! I’ll be sure to let you know how they are. And if the airport security doesn’t notice the chocolate and whipped cream oozing from my luggage, I’ll smuggle some back for you too!
Ooh! I almost forgot! Did you know that Spain has chocolate shops. Let me specify: did you know that Spain has shops where you sit down and be served a cup of melted chocolate with churros to dip in it and any array of other delicious tidbits of chocolate. Need I say heaven?!
Well, oodles of love!
Besos,
Jocelyn
PS I re-dyed my hair again and it is faaabulous daaarling!
But this is not how the beaches here have always been. Sixteen years ago, the Alicante city council decided that it was time to increase revenues, and so, they hauled in a whole lot of sub-ocean sand onto the once rocky shore and created –load by load- a tourists paradise. They planted palm trees in symmetrical lines and provided benches, showers, and foot-paths at every convenient interval. The product is lovely and successful, but one wonders what was lost in that massive coastal transformation.
As I walked along the beach, further from my apartment building than I had ever gone before, I suddenly found myself on an undeveloped part of the coast where fishermen reigned –along with little crabs, snails, and an abundance of little sea creatures with spikes and shells that I cannot name. And instead of sand, it was all lightly colored, rounded stones that served as homes and hiding places for the afore mentioned habitants. Some of these rocks had such a maze of tunnels winding through them that I could imagine a world inside each one, like Whoville. As I stooped every foot or so to uncover some new treasure, I noticed something very unusual about one particular length of rocky beach: the waves receding down the sloping rocks created an acoustic waterfall, akin to the sound of a rain-stick. It was so beautiful and relaxing just sitting and listening to the water shift the rounded rocks in a series of soft clicks and clacks. Mmmmm! I think those three meters of beach are some of my favorite in the world! Oh, what I would give to have completely undeveloped, wild beaches open to my curious exploration!
In case everyone is wondering, all the seniors in high school are currently studying for the last tests of the year, which come during these next two weeks. I can’t be bothered to study, what with the re-appearance of my beloved sun. I might open up my philosophy and art history books, but that is only because I enjoy reading about the thoughts of Nietzsche and the portraits of Goya. After these two weeks of testing, and while everyone else is still in school for three more weeks, the seniors will turn to studying for the highly important college entrance tests. These tests are crucial because your grade determines what colleges you can go to and what majors you can study. For example, lets say you average a six out of ten on the test. Well, sorry but you can’t be a lawyer. However, you can still study to be a teacher! Additionally, these tests are not multiple choice. Each section, based on the courses you have recently completed, calls for several detailed essay question responses which are then evaluated and graded by a group of judges. Thus, the test is much more subjective than the SAT. Also, it determines wholly your college opportunities, so lets hope you didn’t get off the wrong side of the bed that morning. But if you get the grade you were hoping for on the test, then you essentially get to go to college where you want without the whole nerve-wracking application process. Most Spaniards choose to go to college in their hometown, or the nearest city, so that they can continue living with their parents. In fact, most young adults won’t move out of their parent’s house until they get married, which currently averages around 28-years-old and is going up every year. The housing here is so expensive that the youth just can’t afford to live on their own, and so they stay dependent on their parents until a later age. Some people who don’t marry live with their parents all their lives, and this is not socially frowned upon like it usually is in America.
On Thursday there was a strike at my school. Actually, it was a strike amongst all the high schools in this part of the country (in the community of Valencia). Nobody was really sure what they were striking against, but when they hear the word huelga (“strike”), they treat it as a day off from school. My host sister and just about everybody else went to the beach. Me and, ironically, my usually slacking classmates were all at school all day like the good little students that we are or pretend to be.
Well, I am very excited because on Tuesday I will take a train up to Barcelona where I will meet up with the other exchange students before we head up to Paris! Yay! I have never set foot in France, so I can’t wait to see the Louvre and the infamous Eiffel Tower. My friend and fellow exchange student Molly is looking forward to the crapes! I’ll be sure to let you know how they are. And if the airport security doesn’t notice the chocolate and whipped cream oozing from my luggage, I’ll smuggle some back for you too!
Ooh! I almost forgot! Did you know that Spain has chocolate shops. Let me specify: did you know that Spain has shops where you sit down and be served a cup of melted chocolate with churros to dip in it and any array of other delicious tidbits of chocolate. Need I say heaven?!
Well, oodles of love!
Besos,
Jocelyn
PS I re-dyed my hair again and it is faaabulous daaarling!
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
Climbing competition, Voice-overs, and Degrees Celsius
Guess what! I placed first in my category in the Spanish Cup climbing competition this Sunday. The only drawback? I was the only competitor in my category! Regardless of the lack of competition, they awarded me the lovely first-place trophy which I am seriously considering using as a vase. (I can imagine those lovely irises complementing the tonalities of the undulating glass nicely!) Nah, but really, I would have come in tied for fourth behind a few girls in the under 18 category. The competitions here are very different from those I have experienced at our rocknasium. There is no evening of climbing routes, collecting points, and, at the end, turning in your points sheet to see if you’ve made it to the finals. No, in these competitions you stay in the enclosed climbers’ area until they let you out to inspect your route for a few minutes and then, one by one, each climber has a go at it. The eight climbers who get the highest go on to the finals. Of course, you don’t get to see anyone else do the route before you since you stay in the climbers’ area, and you don’t climb more than two routes for the whole competition, unless there is a tie-breaker. I climbed the same routes as the younger girls’ age category and most everyone finished the first one because it was fairly easy. On the second one, I fell sooner than I should have, but it was a nice route. I was the first one to climb the first route, which means that I got to see everybody climb that one, but I was the last one to climb on the second route, so I didn’t get to see anybody else climb it. The other climbers come from all over the country, including a group from the Canary Islands, and they are usually the same group of teens and kids at all the competitions. The indoor climbing scene is not so big here as it is in America; the gyms are small and scarce and the competitions are relatively small. I don’t mean to say that people don’t climb here; they do. But if they’re going to climb they’re going to do it outdoors. At any rate, the competition was fun (even though I only climbed for all of ten minutes collectively), but I opt for a day out on the mountain over a competition any day.
Speaking of days out on the mountain, you might have already guessed from the afore posted pictures that I went out climbing on Tuesday (it was Labor Day so there was no work or school). T’was a good day, albeit windy. I had to back down half way through one route when the wind got so chilly that I just couldn’t work its delicate moves with my stiffening back and neck. (I later found out that it was, in fact, a whopping 7b!) It was so good to be out climbing again. Lately, I’ve found that climbing is my greatest relief from the stresses of the week. Like last night after a long day at school, I went to the gym and forgot all else as I made up problems and just appreciated the release of adrenaline. It didn’t hurt that my little invented sequences became the problems of the evening! Funny enough, aside from me, the only other climber who finished my crimpy, overhanging problem was also the only other woman climbing that evening! Good times! The guys felt that we had stripped them of their manliness! We just snickered and started working on new problems. :-D
Another happening of the week included an outing on Saturday to see the movie Premonition in theaters with my friend Alberto. We had intended to see Spiderman III, but we got there late. Its never quite the same watching a movie when the voices you know are replaced by other voices that can’t possibly live up to the vocal interpretation of the originals. The only Spanish voice-over man that has ever impressed me is Robin Williams’. That guy is good! And yes, there is one person who does all of Robin Williams’ voice-overs, and the same with all the other famous movie-stars. Well, minus Antonio Banderez who does his own voice-overs!
Well, the weather has finally gotten over its rainy trend and has bounded to the other extreme with burning heat. They say it will only last this week before dipping down again. In case you didn’t already know, they use degrees Celsius here. They also use kilometers instead of miles, kilograms instead of pounds, and military time instead of am and pm. All of this drove me crazy for the first months, but I’m getting used to it now. I still start when I notice the speedometer in the car every-so-often (We’re going 120mph in the city?!?! Oh, yeah, kilometers. Riiiight!) and I always take a second longer to do the math and figure out that when the clock reads 18’23, it really means 6:23pm, but at least I know that 18 degrees Celsius calls for a sweater and 25 means that I need to whip out the shorts.
At any rate, I hope that life has you feeling good!
Much love,
Jocelyn
Friday, May 4, 2007
Video: Good times in Barcelona
Well, since I´ve finally realized that I can post video clips, here is a little something from when I was in Barcelona in January. Yep, this is how cool we are! We exchange students make good use of our time and gain great cultural understanding by discovering new tire-swing things at a local park! Enjoy!
PS Thanks Brett!
PS Thanks Brett!
Wednesday, May 2, 2007
Last Week´s Quote:
"The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes." -Marcel Proust
Photos: Climbing in Sella and the English Presentation
I call this one Zebra Hands:
And this photo is from the english presentation (otherwise known as friendly chat) that I gave for an 8th grade English class:
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