Today's Moment of Fulfillment

It’s just me, some of Chile’s finest artisan bread, and a spoonful of dulce manjar. I sit comfortably couched between the creamy, crumb-covered tablecloth and the glowing light overhead; I am alone, a child delightfully dabbing that sweet substance over my perfectly crisp and soft pan amasada. Every bite is a moment of stillness in movement, every cell of my body focused on the simple pleasure of deliciousness. Images of the wonderful people who have colored my life today warm my mind, and then thoughts of a lifetime of fabulous folks pour unto me. Crumbs tumble downward and my grin is imbued with some hums and a few nam, nam, nams! And ah, those soulful eating noises bring to mind another beloved friend from college, one whose eyes would crinkle at those happy food sounds. And here I am, a mug half-full of chamomile tea in one hand and a spoon streaked with the residues of manjar in the other. That last bite of creamy bread settles down into my welcoming stomach like a ten-year-old wriggling down into a particularly large, comfy chair, and my spoon promises me a few more moments of yumminess. Mmm-mmm-mmmmm. Yes, I could sit holding this lovely spoon forever, suspended between one joy and another but needing neither –with a thousand loving faces in mind and the fulfillment of the moment unending.

Fotos! The best in life: Food and Family!

My mamá, my baby nephew, and our lovely neighbor Miré who is practically part of the family.

An appetizer! Its some sort of mejillon, or mussel.

My host father, Jorge, and my little nephew.

In spanish, this is called tuna. It is a delicious fruit with round seeds in the middle that comes from some sort of cactus. yum! AHA! I just looked up the translation for tuna! It's a prickly pear! (*Don't pick the prickly pear by the paw. When you pick a pear try to use the claw!*)

My host father eating tuna. :-)

A Day In the Life \\ CULTURE SHOCK

The watch beeps at 7am to tell me its time for Jocelyn’s private yoga, crunches, pushups, and dancing extravaganza, soon to be followed by a short shower that would be more appropriate to call a short drizzle. The washing of underwear occurs at this time since each person is responsible for her own socks, bras, and underwear. After my brief but refreshing rendez vous with the cold water and detergent, I dress myself and head down to a breakfast of baguette, with butter or chocolate spread, and milk. I could have hot chocolate or nescafé, but I prefer the powderized, boiled milk that, if served to me hot, leaves me drenched in sweat before I even leave the house. I could do without that sweat.

The walk to school is 20 minutes along dusty, exhaust ridden roads lined by locals who I make sure to greet kindly. Greetings are incredibly important here, although I’m still trying to negotiate who exactly I aught to be taking the time to exchange the customary, lengthy, Wolof greeting with. It’s good and fine to make friends and be culturally sensitive, but being a tubab (foreigner), I attract a lot of (unwanted) attention. We all do. The number of times that I have been offered or requested a phone number is countless and one marriage proposal is already in the bank. Oh, that romantic day in front of the gass station when that tall, dark, and …I didn’t get a good enough look at him to know whether he was handsome… man called from beside the gas pump, “Hey, tubab! You beautiful! Will you marry me?” To this mix of English and French I deftly repied, “Oh, I’m already married! Buh’bye!” …Good times.

Having passed the fruit stands and multiple vendors, I arrive at Suffolk University Campus where I have a class or two in the morning taught by Senegalese professors before I head back home for lunch at 1:30pm. My host brother, Lou-Lou, comes home from work at the bank on his spiffy motorcycle and joins the rest of us in eating the largest meal of the day. It is heavy, oil-laden food that is absolutely delicious. Rice and fish is the norm but French fries are a popular rice-replacement and vegetables are usually provided. If everyone else is having meat then they still provide me with fish, pescatarian that I am. We eat in the living room alongside the active TV, either eating around a communal bowl with the use of forks and fingers or on plates over our laps. I’m incredibly grateful for the allowance of right-hand usage in the fish-eating business because picking out all those little bones with a fork is nigh impossible. Oh, and the fish comes whole –head and tail included.

Back to school I go, taking advantage of the wireless to post blog entries and the like, and I finish up my classes for the day. I’m taking Wolof, Advanced French II, Senegalese Culture and Society, The History of Islam, and a community internship course. For my internship, I’m co-leading a student-founded ONG working to provide tutoring and various activities to local girls as a means of furthering women’s education. Classes accomplished, I hang out with other American students, do homework on campus, or return home to hang with my family in the living room. The Wolof flies right over my head so I sit and listen, wishing I knew what was going on and keeping a lookout for the few words I do know. When they occasionally revert to French, my ears perk up. Dinner is at 8:30pm and it is followed by fruit for dessert –usually mangoes from heaven or watermelon. I usually go to bed right after dinner, but everyone else stays up a bit.

By this time, several planes on their way to the nearby airport will have coasted over the house so close that I almost want to plug my ears and the power will have been down for more than fifty percent of the day –on and off. Apparently this is a new phenomenon over the last three years that is a politically hot topic; the Dakar people are enraged at their President, Abdoulaye Wade, because the power outages are indicative of his failure to maintain a stable country. He was the opposition in the 2001 election, the Obama of Senegal, lighting up national hope that politicians would actually work for the good of the people instead of maintaining a façade of democracy in order to rule for twenty-year swaths of time without doing a thing, like the previous two presidents. Unfortunately, Wade did not live up to his promises, and since his election the price of food has skyrocketed and the quality of education has plummeted. People are angry, but he was reelected anyhow. You might compare this to Bush being reelected; we’re not really sure how it happened, but what can ya do? (I send out my apology to all American Republicans at this point in my post! :-D I come in peace!)

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CULTURE SHOCK

Being in a new culture is not always a breeze. Granted, I let my blog present my positive mental incline, laughing at myself and focusing on the good stuff, but sometimes I loose that ability to laugh at myself –and I cry. See, it is so critical to keep perspective and recognize the cultural differences constantly because, if you loose sight of that and try to copy/paste your own cultural presumptions onto a situation then you are doomed to conflict and misunderstanding. Easier said than done. This means that every time my host mother speaks to me, I must keep in mind that what might sounds like yelling and chastising in the US is actually suggesting and encouraging here. So, when a family friend compares me to previous American students here and says that they assimilated far better than I because they actually went out and partied like the Senegalese as opposed to being quiet in living room conversations like me, I need to keep in mind that he’s only trying to encourage me to “do as the Senegalese do.” Even as I recognize intellectually what is going on, my gut reaction is one of distress. Even if I know they mean well, I tense up. It’s a constant learning process: making mistakes, not understanding, letting go, correcting, forgetting, remembering, asking, listening, and watching. I have to navigate carefully through the busy market place in Marché Sandaga, guarding my belongings, fielding people left and right who are trying to sell me their wares or be my guide or both. Knowing who has good intentions and who just wants to earn a few francs is nearly impossible and staying on the cautious side inevitably leads to slightly offending some well-meaning people. A few off encounters in the market combined with a few misunderstandings or assumptions at home is plenty of stress for one day. This, my friends, is culture shock.

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).

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.

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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

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!

Photos: Dinner with the other Exchange Students

We had a little exchange student get-together last Thursday. This included Madeline from Wisconsin, Molly from Colorado, a girl from Boston, a guy from Germany, Meika from Germany, and Daniel from Switzerland.This is the dessert that the girl from Boston made, otherwise know as the chocolate dish that is the love of my life! It will live on in infamy in my memories.
Us over dinner, including our coordinator, Rosa on the far left. Then comes Meika, Molly, Daniel in the back, me, the Boston girl, and the German kid. Madeline holds the camera.

Meika with the dessert she has brought: rice with milk.

Good times laughing over photos.

We had german sausages, hashbrowns from switzerland, Spanish seafood dishes, mashed potatoes and gravy (my contribution), salad, and so on... It was all delicious!

Photos from Malaga!

My host mom and her sister-in-law Malu. I stayed in Malu´s house this weekend and it was heavenly! First off, it is a real house and not a flat. The spanish refer to this type of house, and the houses that we live in in America, as challets and only associate them with the rich. Malu prepared delicious food for us. Mmmm!My favorite cousin, Marta, is five years old. We played ball in the backyard, she taught me spanish vocabulary, and I described America to her. She had never heard of America before since she is so young and lives a sheltered life.
Lunch one day at grandma´s house. The fish was excellent and the shrimp was better than usual. The next lunch, however, of oisters and rice with clams was not something I would go for again. Too many shelly animals in one meal is not my style.
The view from the balcony of the grandparent´s house in Malaga:
The view from a different window of the grandparent´s house. This reminded me of Delhi, only cleaner. I thought you, David and Rachel, might find it interesting. I keep on noticing things here that I wish I could comment to you, Rachel. Man, I need my traveling buddy here!

Photos from ¡La Semana Santa!

The procession with the statues of Christ and weeping Mary: (carried by a bunch of poor guys who had to rest every 20 meters for a break!)
Me with my traditional Semana Santa desert called a torrija. It is prepared by soaking two-day-old bread in sugary milk and then frying in egg with cinnamon. It can then be drenched in honey, like mine, or left un-drenched, which my host mom says is better.
Personally, I prefer other Spanish desserts, such as toblerone, which is a sort of candy bar made with whipped eggs and almonds. Yes, the Spanish quizine definitely has an egg trend!

More of the procession:

The history behind these pointy hats is very complex, so go look it up on the internet if you wish, but know that it has nothing to do with the KKK.

Everything from my mind and the weather to funny words and politics!

Rain.

Rain, rain, rain, rain, rain. Soooo much rain that, when you look both ways before crossing the street, you do so several meters away from the curb to avoid being soaked from head to toe. The cars shoot up sheets of water that are sometimes so huge that they come up over the windshield and give the effect of being within a submarine instead of a car. Needless to say, the beaches have been deserted for the past few weeks due to this wet, overcast, and often windy weather. The general mood of the people has changed along with the weather; everyone is indecisive about future plans since nobody knows if there will be enough warmth or sun to merit an outing and the students at school huddle indoors to avoid the drizzle. They fret over the new wave of exams that begins crashing down upon us.

Although my outlook is optimistic, I am also preoccupied. Yes, I know that I need not stress over grades and classes, but I am the sort of person who always wants to commit 100% to everything I do. I don’t want to merely go to my classes, absorb something about something, and live for the weekends. I want to understand all of the material in my classes; I want to know how Franco got control of Spain during La Guerra Civíl between 1936 and 1939. I want to understand the mystery of the Mona Lisa and be able to compare her to Venus. I get so wrapped up in this learning that I begin to try to measure my progress, try to answer the questions in class, try to catch up on two trimesters of classes missed. I get so caught up in this that my whole world begins to revolve around analyzing Spanish texts and devoting too much time to figuring out what modulation is within argumentative, periodistical texts. You can see how this could begin to infringe upon my "relax and have fun" time! So then I back down and say, "Look Jocelyn: you are here in Spain for a few particular reasons. You are here to know the people; to know yourself; to climb, see theater, explore the city, revel in art, and learn Spanish. You are obviously learning Spanish, so relax and do everything else! Get your nose out of the books and put on some walking shoes! Call some friends and have some fun!" My other internal self now interjects: "Well, who are my friends? I can’t hang out with everybody, and I can’t hang out with just anybody. If I hang out with everybody, then I will never create lasting friendships. If I hang out with everybody then, in times of need when I just need to spill out my guts and talk, I’ll find myself lacking that closeness that allows for the spilling of hearts. I also can’t hang out with just anybody because I know me and I know I have to be healthy. I know I need to hang out with people who let me feel comfortable; people who respect my need to breathe air that is smoke-free; people who value culture, who want to show me the town, and live during the day instead of during the night. I need friends who will relax with me, explore with me, and carry on philosophical conversation with my ever curious mind." "Right," says my other self. "So you identify those friends and pursue the opportunities that allow you connections with them." So I do that, being the good, obedient self that I am, and I call friends to see if they want to go to the tea-house or Terra Mítica (a theme park with roller-coasters, etcetera). Unfortunately, the rain-produced indecisiveness of the world around me and the upcoming exams halt my plans for bonding. Everyone is indoors studying or brooding or whatever. "Good!" says my carefree self. "Now you can learn the lesson of patience! The rains will dissipate and the sun will return. Then you can frolic on the beach with fun people."

You see how my brain works?! I constantly carry on little internal monologues -and I am happy to say that they are always more hopeful than that of Hamlet!

NOTE: Although it may sound like I spend all my days cloistered in a gloomy room waiting for the rains to stop, this is not the case. I go out with friends, and today actually brought sun, but I am ultimately still looking for those friends that I am comfortable being around. I have, thus far, stumbled upon kind, well-meaning and interesting people who, unfortunately, partake in an array of activities that I do not fancy: drinking, smoking cigarettes, hooka, or hash depending on the people, throwing caution to the wind, and you get the idea. Needless to say, I am working on finding the right crowd, but when you choose the art track, your peers tend to be a little more liberal-minded and loose of spirit. Regardless, there are interesting people everywhere. For example, the rock climbing crowd is great! However, I hold the ranking as youngest by at least half a decade every time and, as much as I love adult males, I’m sorry, but I’m not going to be able to spill my woes over crushes and tampons with you! Thus, I search for some girls of my own age. No worries. It’s all a matter of relaxation and not pushing time.

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I have finally figured out the logic behind the Spanish way of eating. Initially, this may sound like a relatively simple issue: three meals a day and you´re on your way! But no! The way of eating is really a reflection on society as a whole. For example, we in America tend to eat whatever is convenient and as quickly as possible so as to get on with our day. We place importance on dinner, devoting the majority of our time and calories to that meal. Lunch, meanwhile, is usually a quick sandwich somewhere in the middle of the workday. The Spanish, on the other hand, love their lunch. They go so far as to organize their entire day around this meal: go to work in the morning, come home for a few hours for lunch, then return for the second part of the work day. The result is that dinner is crammed in at the very end of the day (around 9) and that it is usually a light meal. They, like us, neglect breakfast. Now, I couldn´t figure out how the Spanish survive the long hours between 7:00am breakfast and 3:00pm lunch, but the revelation is upon me. Between desayuno (breakfast) and la comida (lunch), they have almuerzo. On top of that, they have la merenda between lunch and dinner. This makes way for a very light dinner so that you can hop right into bed without worrying about the negative effects of heavy digestion while sleeping. Whew! Now I know what I have to do! I have to tune in for the merenda at 6:30pm and eat less at dinner so that I can sleep well.

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Today, since we were not sure if the rains would impede our climbing, we went to a new climbing gym. This gym is bigger, taller, and more interesting than our little bouldering gym here in Alicante, but it was still significantly smaller than our Rocknasium. You can begin to imagine how small the gyms are around here. In reality, the climbers in the area always climb outdoors and they always do sport climbing (with a rope and gear). The rock around here doesn’t lend itself to bouldering -or so they’ve told me. Also, none of the gyms tape routes. The climbers devote their time to continual games of Add-on or laps and, as far as I can tell, don’t devote themselves to particular problems for extended periods of time. The gym is definitely just a way to train for the outdoors, and rightly so since the gyms are fairly dinky. Dinky or not, they are still a good time. Unfortunately, I have not made it to the Alicante climbing gym in a few weeks. After climbing today, we played a fun game of basketball and I realized just how out of shape I am. All right, I may be able to climb and dance, but I definitely don’t do prolonged running. Whew! I need to get my heart in shape! Hopefully I’ll get more opportunities to play soccer or basketball after a nice day’s climbing. (My climbing buddies tell me that these little partidos after climbing are usual occurrences in warmer weather.) I’m hoping for some beach volleyball too!

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Ok, more on the American image abroad: Apparently the Spanish government paints a pretty nasty picture of we Americans. Arrogance and American go hand in hand in the minds of the average Spaniard, but these are all stereotypes broadcasted by politicians. Everyone I know who has met Americans or been to America say that we seem welcoming and friendly enough. The point being that the Spanish government is adept at manipulation and uses its power over the media to broadcast negative images of the American population, but that immediate relations between Spaniards and Americans are generally positive. Good news. The media manipulation, however, is bad news. The Spanish recognize this manipulation that is brought about by corrupt politicians and an extensively powerful government. They have their king (Carlos I), president (José Luís Rodrie Zapatero), and many political parties all vying for power –among them the socialists (left-wing), the popular party (right-wing), and a number of other parties that very from community to community. (A community is a collection of provinces. i.e. Madrid, Andalucia, etc. Imagine groups of states in the US formed into alliances within different regions while still maintaining their statehood and you have the general structure of Spanish political geography.) Each party has their own newspapers and TV stations, and they all share their very biased opinions vehemently. It seems impossible to find information that even pretends to be neutral or objective. Fortunately, the people here know all of this and always intake their information with a grain of salt. Although we come from a country with free press, we would do well to follow their example and be very critical of all the information that comes our way. But you already know that.

Well, only two days of school left until vacations! Then comes la Semana Santa, or week of the saints, when glorious processions abound. More on that later! In case you’re curious, yes, we’ve changed our clocks for daylight-savings-time over here also. The weather we’re having here is apparently very unusual: they’ve have a very dry winter (too dry) and the heat has come too quickly with everyone fretting over global warming, and now these unpredictable rains. Well, through it all, the birds still sing beautifully! (more beautifully, in fact, than the birds in my part of Davis, and even better than the exotic birds I heard in the South of India. –you know the ones, Rachel!)

As for my singing! Yes, I sang my two songs in Spanish, but I went into English for the end of “Mamma Mia!” by Abba. Humorously enough, the backup singers on the karaoke CD version of the song that we downloaded from the internet sang in Spanish! The version of “I will Always Love You” that a friend of a friend sent through email for me to use ended up having a country feel to it. It was fun re-interpreting the song in my own way after having always heard it sung by Whitney Houston. The show itself was fairly amature in terms of general performance, but the Spanish guitars were marvelous! Their fingers dance over the guitar-strings and the music is so filled with emotion. The theater itself was beautiful and fairly small (about the size of the Hobblit). The people were kind, but I was surprised to find even some of the singers smoking backstage. The sole techie was a very nice guy who is into hiking during his free time and the two ushers were a pair of comedians they were! I had a few laughs with them in the lobby before returning to the stage for the bows.

Well, time for dinner again! And a good thing, too, after all that climbing and basketball earlier today! I hope that all of you are enjoying the sun. Let me know if I have not covered something that interests you or if you want embellishments on topics that I have glossed over. I live to share with you!

Muchos besos,

Jocelyn

PS Couch potato: my friends love this word! Out of all our vocab words for English, they can´t get over this one! Why do we call a teleadicto (a television addict) a couch potato?! My best explanation was that generally you sit on a couch eating potato chips while watching TV. Any thoughts?! :-D