Living Openly, Vibrantly, Exquisitely

The sky cracks and swirls with a thundering rumble that sends a delicate rain sweeping into our faces. Six backpack saddled climbers, grinning from a weekend on the rock, squint their eyes against the fluorescent headlights as they trek along the misty highway. They are dusty pilgrims, searching in darkness for that beloved bus stop. And yes, the gargantuan trucks sailing through the night are their own personal thunders storm.

What more can be said for a weekend in the mountains than all that is encompassed by this one word: rejuvenation. It implies the peace of a mild sun reaching its way through the morning fog. It conveys the striking rebirth experienced upon achieving the highest move at the end of a beautifully challenging climb. It combines passion with majesty, with energy with stillness, and it still has room for the quiet mystery of life’s own beauty –a mystery that a young woman of twenty-one years can dip her fingers into through the fort examination of a red cactus flower. These are the words and experiences that give us much to write about and even more to ponder, but somehow leaves us comfortably empty at the end of the day; as contentedness seeps through our pillows, our eyelids quietly wilt into sleep. May the city stress and urban exhaust hover far from the mountain spirit.

The rock could crumble and the routes are hard, but we constantly retackle that mental game as we strive to overcome the imaginary limits. The area’s called Desplomelandia, or “The Land of Overhangs,” which means that, as we pump our rhomboids and biceps in an effort to propel ourselves upwards, the friend with the camera has to crane his neck backwards to capture a feat that ascends literally above his head. Perhaps more exciting still, our unexpected falls send us down in magnificent pendulums and lowering off of that last clip dips us into an empty expanse, shared only by distant clouds and far off bushes. Our belay partners are perched upon a sloping rock formation and, as they drop us down into that pool of air, we sometimes find ourselves scampering back upwards to meet them. Safety is a given, but the adventure is there.

That day on the ropes gave way to a night of tents, the latter pierced by laughter-imbued pasta and the soft tapping of rain. Rise and shine to a dim foggy morning, and with our spirits high, we sally forth to a glorious rock. And yes, we all smell spectacular right about now.

Riding back on this bumbling bus, I think of the people I love. I dream of sharing these mountainous wonders with those who mean so much to me –in a tent, in Yosemite, with no phones. I dream of living for weeks at a time in a dimension much slower than our own. And now I’m thinking of all the people I’d thank for their part in bringing me to where I am now. And all of these names that roll off of my mind fall like happily-trodden steps through that lovely, mountainous landscape:

Oma, Allen, Vivi, Mom, Esteban, Alejandro, Nials, Robert, Mary HS, Elsbeth, Professor Wood, Jewels, Dad, MaryEllen, Will, Dave, Professor Dave, Mary Jo, Megan Houpt, Emily Jo, Chris Fry, Uncle Mike, GG Jerry, Summer, Allison, Nick Booster, and (just for emphasis) Robert, Mom, Dad, Uncle Mike, Oma, Nials, and Mary Ellen.

In many different ways, all of you (and many others) have helped bring me to where I am now. You may not even know how you have helped me along, but my love and gratitude go out to you any which way.


May peace always be your home.

Love,

Jocelyn

Outback Adventures & NGO Work

Blog blog blog!

I have a very good reason for not having written in my blog lately: last week was vacation so I was out in the middle of the boondocks, away from internet access, hiking through the savanna and jungle, visiting little villages and learning yet another local language: Pular. Where do I even start?! So much has happened:

Kate, Megan, Ed, and I made our way via Sept-place and bus to the furthest south-eastern corner of Senegal called the Bassari Region. We were the backpackers; the active bunch the group that was not going on the city-hopping tour around Senegal, nor the Mali trip forty hours away by bus, nor the cultural tours through Spain, Morocco, or Paris. We planned for dirt, sweat, and a whole lot of green because, when you’re living in a city like Dakar, fresh air and trees become first priority for vacation. Then there’s the allure of possibly finding climbing amid the sole rough terrain in all of Senegal and, oh yeah baby, we climbed the highest mountain in Senegal –all three-hundred and forty-something meters of it! On top of one of these mountains -- er, hills -- Megan and I did actually manage to find a patch of climbable rock and it was bliss. Fingers touching rock = heaven.

What else was there to find besides virgin patches of climbable roche?: waterfalls, caves, monkeys, and wasps. The first three were great, but the last one not so much. Amidst the call of baboons, the four of us and our two guides would set off up steep, jungly paths deeply reminiscent of northern Thailand trekking and the sweat would flow. Pausing for a breathtaking view of a cascade, majestically pouring over the verdure of a nearby cliff side, we would continue upwards, perhaps parting the foliage to find ourselves on a plateau with a small village of thatched huts, or maybe winding through with the river only to suddenly perceive the waterfall tumbling beneath us. Meditation came easily in this space, with the roar of water muting both the words of my companions and the murmurs of my mind. But then you have the wasps. They crept up on me as I rounded the corner, climbing this fabulous blocky riverbed rock, and swarmed Ed first. His cry was my warning call to remain still and relaxed –or as relaxed as you can be while still maintaining a firm hold on some juggy rock a few feet off of the ground…just far enough that you can’t reach safety without making a few moves. Ed got away with two stings, and I was saved by my favorite guide of all time, Jibi, who hazarded the wasps to put me on his shoulders and back me away and into safety. I came away with one sting on my arm and a few imperceptible ones on my fingertips. All I can say is that you’ve never been more keenly aware of a wasp than when you watch it hover over your arm hairs and fingertips, knowing that it has registered you as danger and wondering when it will decide to take action. I was lucky as hell, pardon my French, and Jibi didn’t even receive one sting during the rescue mission.

Okay, now you know about the wasps, but I have not appropriate emphasized the sweat. No, that’s an understatement; the SWEAT. Rivulets running down our arms without end -that was our lot for the first day of trekking on flat, un-shaded savanna terrain between the city of Kédougou and the village of Bandafassi. Why would we do this to ourselves? 1) We wanna walk. It felt so good to get my heart pumping again. 2) Who wants to pay for a Quatre-quatre car at 50,000 francs par jour (~$100)?!?! We are poor students. We definitely brought canned food to save on lunches and sterilized shower water so that we wouldn’t have to pay for the bottled stuff. When our guide, Alfar, found out about that, we suddenly started getting free breakfasts at all of the campements. Its good to be a starving student! But I digress; the SWEAT. I never knew the true significance of this word until I perspired my entire bodyweight over the course of three days on that baked, savanna road. The shaded jungle treks, with only demi-rivultes running along the brow and not-quite-so-soaked clothing, felt exceptionally mild on the following few days. Ah! It was good to have to pee again! And dad, your Elmer’s Glue sunblock is the nectar of the gods; t’aint any other goo that’ll stick in spite of those rivers of sweat! (PS Don’t worry peeps; we drank LOTS of water.)

Other highlights?...

Learning some traditional pottery-making impromptu with the women of a hill-top village. I have an open invite to come back, perhaps during my rural visit in three weeks, to learn from them. So cool.

Alfonso the ity-bity monkey at the Dindenfelo campement. You will see pictures of him later. Suffice to say that he actually put his little lips to the lip of some fine china in an attempt to steal come coffee from breakfast. Absolute cutie, little rascal, and wild animal all in one.

Peanuts! I’d never had a fresh peanut before this trip! Sure, I’d already realized the folly that is American peanuts. Pshaw! Those things are stale by the time they get to us. Real peanuts must be had in the country whose main export is peanuts. But in Dakar, I’d only had the grilled ones. Who knew that you ccould have them uncooked, with that lovely green flavor still embedded deep within? Since it is peanut season, every household that we stopped by offered us handfuls of peanuts fresh out of the ground. I found the peanut plants exceedingly interesting, with the peanuts as sorts of fungal-esk growths on the roots. I didn’t get to go out and pick peanuts with my buddies because I was feeling ill, but they got to get down and dirty, pulling up the stalks to uncover the root structures plein de cacahuetes – abundantly full of peanuts. These bundles of plants could be seen pilled on top of shade structures and unshelled peanuts were out drying in every yard. Peanuts were everywhere.

Anyhow, all in all it was a great trip. There is so much to be said, but you’ll have to pry those stories out of me later! Since I’ve been back in Dakar, I’ve become absolutely inundated in business and realized that I need to recover my internal balance. But aside from some mild kinks in the works, I’m really happy with what I’m doing here. I’ve buckled down and decided to study hard at Wolof. It’s getting to the point where I can actually carry on fragmented conversations, but conversations none-the-less. I was getting sick of getting through the lengthy intros only to have my conversant discover that I had nothing else to say and little else that I could understand. I’m doing a lot of work with my internship co-coordinating CIPFEM, the student-founded NGO providing a tutoring and activities program for twenty girls here in Dakar. The girls are absolutely fabulous and we’ve partnered each of them up with a mentor, which is working out wonderfully. One of our volunteers has started teaching them karate and we have plans for doing goals and dreams collages, a soccer game, a leadership project for the older gals so that they can take initiative and teach the other girls, and many many other things. We’re hoping to bring in a local artist, Kan-si, to do a project with them, which I’m really excited about. This Friday we’re hosting a family orientation event so that we can help inculcate greater understanding in the goals of our organization and get to know them. Doing this organizing while simultaneously navigating multicultural interactions between local volunteers, student volunteers, and the girls themselves is proving a real learning experience. There are so many internal needs of this organization to be balanced at once, such as not imposing American values on the girls through our choice of tutoring activities and not transgressing the local volunteers’ need for autodetermination, which has repercussions on a national level, by overlooking their input. We cannot contribute to the persistence of relations of inequality and residual colonial relations by implementing our own ideas without respecting their need for a voice and choice. It is that negation of their choices that perpetuates the colonial mindset in the first place –and even well-meaning NGOs can take part in that continual subjugation of African countries by overlooking the local voices. I refuse to take part in that, but it is a tangled web to navigate in practice.

Well, I’ll be writing more later. Love to everybody!


Peace and hugs,

Jocelyn Price

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.

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

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." :-)

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

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:

Photo Sequence: Climbing in Sella

Photos: Random images of goodness!

This piece is an interpretation of another set of objects that we drew. We were told that we could repeat any of the objects (a tall, china par, a fat, clay jug with a handle, a normal glass cup, and white, paper boxes) as many times as we wanted. We could also mix up the textures, give everything movement, but we were required to give everything volume. I put the texture of the glass on the jug and the texture of the jug on the jar. Good times!)These lovely little climbing tools come from Juan Ignacio´s house. They take little cylindrical pieces of lead with thin loops of cable (that they make themselves in the molds seen below) and, when they are up on the mountain and can´t find any other piece of gear to fit into a strange crack, they hammer these into the shape that they need and place the gear!

A little bit of what I´ve been doing here in Spain over break: reading this cool science magazine, finishing commentaries on spanish texts for Spanish class, and using those three dictionaries to help me do it! The magazine is fun, but the commentaries get a little tedious.

A store in Malaga!:

Posters in downtown Malaga notifying about the upcoming bull fights:

Bull fights: an interesting topic that strikes up a lot of controversy in Spain right now. The youth are almost unanimously opposed to the bull fighting, but many adults still honor this tradition. It doesn´t hurt that these fights bring in a lot of cash from tourists either. I´ll devote another entry to this topic.

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.

:::

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.

:::

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!

:::

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

Photos: My art, climbing and Host mom!

More art from my classes, drawn with charcoal and charcoal pencil while observing the objects.
This is the route that I described from Mula. I LOVE THIS ROUTE!!! Note the excellent upper part. The little crimps are shaped like hollowed out raindrops and mold perfectly to the fingers. I did this route in many pieces, partially because I kept going off route and cliping on the other vias!

My host mom! ¡Que guapa! I am very lucky that I have a host mom who treats me as one more daughter. On top of that, our communication is very open and she cooks beautifully! What more could you want?!

Overcoming funk, little miracles, and pivotal moments

I want you all to know that I have overcome the funk that inundated me this past week. Yes, I have overcome! I spontaneously started crying in art class one day and I felt empty other days, but now I know why. It is because I was worrying about the newly forming expectations around me. Since everyone sees me succeeding (my teachers telling me that I am excelling in my classes, my family telling me that I have adapted beautifully) I began to fear that I would let them down. But now I´ve come full circle and reqalized that I am doing this studying, singing, and art for me. I am doing it so that I can know Spain and open my mind. I am doing it so that I can learn Spanish and the art of relaxation. I am letting go of any fear of failure, because as I concentrate on my goals and what I love and enjoy, all else flows from there. Perhaps I will not finish every little bit of homework for this next week, but all the homework that I do will be fun! I will revel in reading La Casa de Bernarda Alba by García Lorca, I will let Spanish history embelish my understanding of Spanish culture, and I will learn those English tenses so that I can score well on my english test (this may sound paradoxical since English is my first language, but I actually have to study for my English class! Who knew?!)

Whew! Now that I got that off my chest I can share with you the beautiful moments that glittered my week.

English class on Thursday was a miracle! A friend of mine -Paz- walked right in and started teaching the class! The teacher turned around, smiled, and sat down beside me in the front row to watch! It all unrolled after that: Paz moved the chalk across the board, immitating gestures of the teacher and captivating the attention and amuzement of every person in the room. I hardly dare breathe for fear of breaking the spell that seems to be cast over this room: a group of students actively engaged in class, paying attention to a fellow pupil who spontaneously decided to play teacher. And let me tell you, playing is the best way to learn! Everyone was actively engaged correcting Paz´s spelling on the chalkboard, throwing out phrases in 2nd and 3rd condition, and coming out of their shells. I felt like I was in one of those inspirational teacher movies. I ended up teaching the second half of class when Paz got tired. I asked them what they wanted to know about America, and they said everything! Paz wanted to learn a colloquial phrase, so I wrote on the board, "If I say wazzup, then you will say not much." Then we conjugated it: "If I said wazzup, then you would say not much." -second conditional. "If I had said wazzup, then you would have said not much," -third conditional! They, of course, corrected my grammar, because who really knows the difference between the three conditionals! I´m learning with them! After class, I asked the teacher if a student had ever taught the class before. She said no. :-)

Monday was Father´s Day here in Spain. So, Dear Dad: Happy Belated Fathers´ Day! (Fathers´ day in America is teh 17th of June -the same day that you, Dad, will come to Spain to see me for the first time in months! :-) ) Since it was fathers´day, we didn´t have school! So I, of course, went climbing!

The highlight of monday´s climbing was my final triumph: a 7a+ (5.12a/b) in pieces. Beautiful route. The upper half (my favorite part) was a shallow hollow that reminded me of the space left after someone delicately scoops up a taste of icecream. The route is beyond words. On Saturday I climbed a 7a+ and a 7b (5.12a/b and 5.12 b/c). :-) I climbed them in pieces (many, many pieces!) but I know I can climb them so much better next time! Better than my growing confidence in outdoor climbing is the people I meet. There are so many wonderful people in the world! Granted, it doesn´t hurt that a lot of them happen to be hot, young Spanish men with toned bodies! jk. A lot of them are good looking, but what I really enjoy is their conversation (which tends to lean toward conversation about Yosemite! All of them want to see ut!) and their encouragement. Everyone has so much energy to help everybody else get up the mountain!

I´ve also hung out with a couple new guy friends on the weekends. I got into a good conversation over world politics and health with one friend. I was amazed when he got very emotional over September 11th. The whole world united over this tragedy. In addition to the human compasion that follows such a huge loss, the location compounded that loss. New York is more than just a city; it is a place that people around the world feel they belong to, like a second home. The movies give them so much familiarity that they cry and laugh in unison with NYC. They feel they know it and they all want to see it. (Everyone I have asked has said they want to see New York, Florida, and California.) Hollywood gives America immeasurable power over this world. We depict facets of our lives and broadcast them around the world time and again and this has real effects. The world feels they know America, even if they disagree with our politics and/or our lifestyle (ie. Bush, the war in Iraq, our eating habits, our careless use of energy and resources, etc.) On the other hand, they are fascinated by how big and spacious everything is in America (ie. our cars, our houses, our country itself!...)

Well, the topics that I have just brushed over merit much more attention and explanaton. Another day.

I love you all! Wish me luck with my singing and let me know your thoughts!

Besos,

Jocelyn

Inspirational love (and my week) - And many thanks to You!

Consistency is returning to my life! It is seeping back in through the metaphoric channels that I have carved in the weeks gone by. In other words, my schedule is getting more orderly! I now know that I can go to yoga on Monday, the climbing gym on Tuesday, Spanish class on Wednesday, Spanish dance on Thursday, and still have time to go to school every morning, climb on the weekends, and spend time with friends besides. This schedule will be tested again in the week to come, and this testing may lead to some important refinements so that I can maintain sanity amongst my ever forthcoming wants, but this horario worked pretty well this week!

To begin with, yoga is a beautiful thing. Just to breathe is a gift, and a full hour of relaxation amounts to something close to a miracle! Granted, laying the foundation for the ability to balance on my head isn’t so bad either! (Imagine me starting in a crawling position, bringing my head to the ground, balancing my knees on my forearms and then, with the help of my teacher, lifting my legs into the air with head and hands pressing into the solid earth. I can hardly wait to try it again!) My most important lesson in Spain, aside from the usual quest for eternal happiness, is how to relax. I am so active and goal oriented that I used to forget to take a few deep breaths and keep a few moments for me and myself every now and then. Spain has given me the gift of perspective; I am in a place where I have no responsibility except to myself and the new goals that I am setting for myself. I have given myself the gift of freedom by working my tooshie off for many years at school, and now I can let go of that need to keep straight A’s and refocus on balancing life. This is not to say that school is a thing of the past. Quite the contrary! I love learning with a passion and this liberation from worry over grades and their consequences on my future actually feeds my desire to learn. Additionally, I have realized how important friends are. Life is essentially nothing without the beautiful relationships of love that we create within it. These friendships –and the deeper love that you share with one special person- is the ultimate everything. All else is just a means to that end (or that continuum, I should say!). All pretty words aside, I have realized how much I love you guys! Elsbeth, Rhiannon: You guys are amazing. I can’t believe mi suerte. To have had you guys in my life for as long as I have, wow. It’s a real gift. Only now, in retrospect, do I realize that I should have been hanging out with you guys every single weekend this year. Thanks for always being there and always being incredible.

Now, I hope the rest of you out there know that I am just bubbling and overflowing with thanks for each of you and that my expression of one particular gratefulness to particular people in no way demeans my love and gratefulness for you. I only wish I had more time and space to express this thanks. To all of my young friends, thank you for giving me laughter, light-heartedness, and smiles. Thank you for being there for me when I need to talk and for accepting my sometimes silly feelings with mature graciousness. To all my friends who are young-at-heart (and yes, that means you! All of you!), thank you for giving me wonderful, perceptive conversation. Thank you for sharing your wise and varied perspectives that have allowed me to grow into the person that I am today. To all of my teacher (and this, again, includes everyone to some degree and in some way), thank you for inspiring me. No. That was not enough. Thank you for inspiring me; on stage, in the classroom, in your living room, and walking down the street you have given me morsels of understanding that amount to inspiration. You know who you are. You are the people who have made life possible, the people who have given me the world through knowledge, opportunities, kindness, and open-mindedness. Allen, I have to single you out here. You can not begin to imagine how much you have given me. So let me help you! Imagine infinite confidence, absolute trust, extensive knowledge, and endless pleasure. Now times that by a million! For this, I say thank you. Mom. I don’t even need to begin, because we both know there will never be an end to our special connection that includes so much more than maternal affection and daughterly love. You are my friend, teacher, and inspiration – and in this way, in the above words, I have already thanked you infinitely. But one more time can never hurt! Thank you, Mom. And Dad: add to everything above a faithful companion and the best rock-climbing buddy in the world, and then your portrait might be complete. Nah! Maybe if Leonardo DaVinci were alive he could capture all that is you within a canvas and a bit of paint, but otherwise, words and colors are not adequate.

And I know why. It is because you (and you, and you, and you, and you, and you!) are made from love. - We are such stuff as dreams are made on. I believe that dreams are made of wishes and wants. In turn, wishes and wants, in their purest forms, are love. Love cannot be confined to nor adequately expressed through such rudimentary, material things as paintings and prose. It is so absolute that, as I try to grasp phrases to describe it, my mind evokes only brilliant colors and instinctive, indescribable concepts. My mind swims with the implications of infinite love, and I can do little more than sit, simply smiling, and let a vague residue of these emotions filter through my fingertips and onto this page.

Well, now that I have covered yoga on Monday, shall we move on to Tuesday?!

Tuesday brings climbing, beautiful climbing! This climbing is, of course, in the rock climbing gym for an hour or so in the evening. I catch a ride with Ignacio and his dad, have a few laughs during the car-ride before we drop Ignacio off for his physics class, and then continue on to our ultimate destination. During this time, Ignacio’s dad (Juan Augustine) and I bonded over Botticeli, Picasso, vanGogh, and Goya. We shared experiences from our travels and he re-renewed my dreams of experiencing Europe’s nuances step-by-step and country my country. But back to what is most important: climbing. The climbing gym is actually just a practice for the real thing. It is a social hour, a brief dance across walls in anticipation of real rock. Individual pieces of plastic on a wall have a profoundly different feel from one unified mountain. I enjoy the gym and I have no desire to trade Tuesday evenings for anything else, but the joy of the gym is totally eclipsed by what comes on the weekends! Yesterday (Saturday), I went climbing in Mula –a gorgeous rock formation an hour North of Alicante in Murcia. I must emphasize that this rock is some of the most incredible rock that I have ever seen in my life. Parts of it look like the type of relief that you would find on the inside of the cave, or within the pages of a science fiction novel! Instead of climbers, I saw green, extra-terrestrial beings sliding their way up the wall. Other parts were like an exciting three-dimensional puzzle, with incredible pockets and tunnels. In describing this maze of opportunities to a fellow climber who was readying himself to second my climb, I explained how there were some parts of the rock where you could stick one arm in each end of a hole and have them meet in the middle. He said, “Of course! And then you could just crawl in and have a cup of tea!” --- Brilliant rock. Absolutely brilliant. It is limestone of the highest caliber and the reason that everyone knows and longs for Spain’s climbing. I wish I could pack all you rocknasium folk in a little suitcase and ship you over here for a little fun, but alas!

The highlight of the day was the climb that I have alluded to earlier –the “stop and take a sip of tea” route. Despite its deceiving name, this route is really a little mind game. I studied the route and took a few deep breaths. Once relaxed, the route clicked into place all by itself. I do, however, need to develop my endurance because, two bolts from the top and directly below a huge bulge that turned out to be the crux, I took a break. It was as much a break for my mind as my body. No; more so. When I train my mind to regard that lengthy pitch as nothing more than one, easy movement upward, then my body will naturally follow my will; I won’t tire two bolts from the end. Let me tell you, I came down from that climb so mellow and relaxed that I just sat for a while after that, appreciating the horizon. The rating of the route is a 6C+, or a 5.11b/c by our rating system. (To access a table comparing rating systems, see http://home.tiscalinet.de/ockier/ratings.htm.)

Wednesday is Castellano para extrangeros day –otherwise known as a solid hour of hardcore Spanish grammar and vocab! Like many students my age, I return during the evening to take more classes. It is an intimate little group of three or four students and an enthusiastic but focused teacher. He knows that our little group of Americans, Germans, Eukranians, and Russians (among other nationalities that vary from week to week) are only there because we want to be there. He keeps things upbeat and bridges the gaps in our levels of Spanish fluidly. Every week, I take home my fun little illustrated text books and drill out three or four pages of futuro compuesto or pretérito imperfecto de indicative. Amazingly enough, my brain is still intact and functioning! jk. Grammar is a lot of fun -once you get over its ominous name: grammar (*thunderclap!*). In addition to my progress in Spanish grammar, I am also able to read exceedingly quickly compared to my initial snails pace back in early February, my comprehension is blossoming, and most importantly, I have had a breakthrough in my ability to communicate orally. If you asked me, I would not be able to pinpoint the exact moment when this change took place, but somewhere around Wednesday or Thursday, everyone started understanding me. Maybe it was that filosophy tutorial on Thursday morning where my kind-hearted professor and I delved with renewed relish into the history of human thought, but regardless of what triggered the relaxation of my Spanish tongue, the truth is apparent: I have carried on a multitude of deep conversations with brand-new friends and found that not only the message got across, but also the subtleties. My next goal: master synonyms and antonyms, implement turns of phrases, and pick up the Spanish equivalent of a few English phrases -such as “He got cold feet and backed out of the challenge”- to put to good. At any rate, all is well in Spanish Language Land.

Thursday: Spanish dance. Or, more specifically, Sevillanas. I will have to embellish upon this topic at another time since I haven’t done much dancing up to this point. I’ll give you the full scoop next week.

As always, there’s more to share but less time to share it in! I anticipate your comments and hope that you note the photo entries that I have posted below.

“Give me your ears, if we be friends, and Robin shall restore amends.” Until next time friends and, as always, thank you for your interest and attention!

Love,

Jocelyn

Photos - Yes, this is where we went climbing! (and a flower) :: Fotos - Si, ¡eso es donde nosotros fuimos escalando! (y un flor)

Photos - Climbing that SciFi rock in Mula (5.10c-ish) :: Fotos - Escalando piedra de ciencia ficción en Mula (6b)

From the beginning to the middle -because my camera ran out of batteries!













My hands were so cold! The shadow had fallen accross this rock and soaked out all the warmth! I was constantly rubbing my hands against my pant-leg for warmth!

























This is the scifi rock that you have heard so much about!

Photos - Climbing 5.11b/c in Mula :: Fotos - Escalando 6C+ en Mula

This route was the highlight of my day! :: ¡Ese via ere el mejor parte de mi dia!
The photos start from close to the end because we didn´t have the camera before then. Sorry, but you missed all the good stuff! :: Esos fotos empiezan al fin de mi via porque no teniamos la camera antes.


¡Me encanta ese via! Tan relajando. :: I love this route! So relaxing.

Life is beautiful: Climbing, Castles, and the Tram.

Parchessi!

Yes, those little men are the playing pieces!

Food, Glorious food!

Paz, Andy and me!

Life is beautiful.

Arching slabs of limestone majestically overlook rolling hills of a rosy-brown hue with splotches of dark green where pines reside above orchards of oranges, avocados, and almonds. The peaked hills give way to a shinning, tan city and then the glimmering ocean of bright, mediterranean blue. The ragged coast softens before the city, becoming a comfortable crescent where tourists speaking anything from German to Ukrainian to Chinese laze, play soccer, juggle, build sandcastles, or anything else imaginable. But above all, they sunbathe –many topless because this is, after all, Europe! The beach is relaxed and yet full of energy, with eager children and athletic youth. People of every age can be seen playing volleyball, soccer, and, a particular favorite, ping-pong. There is something to be said about the Spanish and their ball games. Soccer is huge here, and this is reflected in the sheer number of games that are being played at any given time: the men on the beach, the boys at school with their wads of aluminum foil –leftover from the usual bocadillo, or sandwich.

Today I went rock climbing in Benadorm, an area close to Alicante. The limestone has the texture of stucco and leaves interesting patterns on my callused hands. We climbed some four routes, mostly 6a and 6b level. I don’t know how to convert this to the American number system, but I would guesstimate around 5.10a/b. It was so refreshing to be out in the clean air again, soaking in the sun (through my thick layer of sunscreen, of course!) and reuniting with the pattern of climbing. I love how climbing is a psychological game as well as a physical challenge. I have to let all fear go in order to truly commit to my next move, and when I make it to that hold, it’s exhilarating. Ignacio led all the routes before me (except one) and so I did all the cleaning. That way, I was pretty much top-roping it, so I was pretty much always protected. The weather was perfect for climbing! Unfortunately, the pictures of me climbing are on Ignacio’s camera, so I will have to include them in a later post.

We returned from climbing just in time for lunch. Lunch, beautiful lunch! Ok, so I cannot adequately express how wonderful this food was. In order to compensate for this inadequacy, I have included pictures! I had a puree of different vegetables, which my host mom already knows is one of my favorites, along with an assortment of appetizers: cute little quail eggs with brown speckles and the perfect size for popping them in your mouth whole; a crispy ball of some foreign fish; shrimp; kabobs of pickled veggies; tarts of imitation crab, miniature shrimp, and a white sauce that apparently comes from the claw of some sea creature; and squid of an absolutely frightening, black-purple appearance, but with a mild fishy taste and spongy consistency that wasn’t half bad! My favorite was the tarts…Mmmmmm!

On Friday, I went to a tea house with my friend Paz from school. She introduced me to a few of her friends who turned out to be wonderful. The most notable of these is Andy. After our tea -some fruity, other flowery, and mine strange because it was a treatment for my sore throat- and banana-chocolate crepe, Andy and I played a quick game of parchessi on this awesome clay board that has colorful little clay men for playing pieces! (I had to take a picture to show you guys!) After some wonderful chatting in the dim mood lighting of the artsy tea house, we decided that a trip up to the castle on the hill would be a great way to spend the next day. So, we planned to meet at noon to start our lovely treck (on foot) up through the older parts of the city to the muslim Castillo de San Barbara. I had been admiring this castle from day one, so now that I had found the right friends to go with, I leapt at the opportunity to see more of the city. Frolicking through narrow alleys and winding stairways, we discovered little pockets of hidden beauty within this modernized city. We saw old houses with tiny balconies overflowing with flowers and laundry in turn. The narrowness of the streets combined with the flowers reminded me distinctly of Italy! Coming out of the residential district, we wound our way up flights of stairs, stopping spontaneously to admire the view. We happened upon an art gallery that I found very interesting. A Spanish artist by the name of Salvador Gómez was inspired by the diversity of New York and decided to paint a series of portraits as a result. His unique technique drew my attention; he used large splotches of color within the faces of portraits, like a sort of mild impressionism. The expressiveness and individuality of each piece captivated me before we continued up the multiple flights of stairs. After more than an hour of walking, we triumphantly reached the castle and breathed in the clean, afternoon air. After a bit of meandering and exploring on my part (discovering more art and history) and some scenery viewing on the part of my tired friends, the three of us sat down to lunch. Andy made me laugh my whipping out the entire makings of a gourmet salad –bottle of oil and can of tuna included! I had my bocadillo and we all lounged, overlooking the entire city and the Sierra Nevadas beyond. We talked of god and love and beauty, sharing experiences and laughing over mispronunciations. We bonded over common experiences and compared favorite movies. It was a perfect day. Absolutely perfect. Andy smokes, but she wants to stop. My friends respect how healthy I am –how I avoid cigarettes, alcohol, drugs, and the late-night parties that go hand-in-hand with the affore mentioned substances. They are open, artsy, intellectual, and fun! I couldn’t ask for anything more!

Speaking of intellectual and fun, that reminds me of someone who I met on the tram Friday night on the way home from the tetería (the tea house). First off, you must understand that the tram is an adventure in and of itself! Every time I take the tram, I meet someone new, like the Ukrainian woman who randomly decided to move to Spain, alone and without knowing Spanish or a single person who lives here. Or the Spanish poet who lived in France 20 years ago and still retains a mild French accent over his native Spanish. Or the college girl who randomly approached me and said in Spanish, “Hi! Can you do me a favor? I have to do this for my mom. She wants me to introduce a girl to my brother. Can you come over and meet him?” They turned out to be from Argentina, and the brother turned out to be 27-years-old. Apparently the girl thought I was much older than I am! Or the English couple with the lovely accents: one from Kent and the other from London. They’re currently living in Spain and they love it. There’s also Jorge. We made accidental eye contact so many times that I finally asked him if I could see the photos on his camera, we decided that we want to hang out sometime, and we exchanged numbers. And finally, there’s Alberto. Alberto saw me flipping through my newly-bought “Spanish for Foreigners” books and he asked me in English, “Where are you from?” My automatic response was, “Yo vengo de California, pero estoy estudiando aqui en Alicante!¨ Oops! But it was ok, because he turned out to be Spanish! I ended up getting into a long conversation about Spain, culture, and all sorts of random things with him, his brother, and a nice elderly couple who were sitting across the way. Oh, how friendly everyone is! Alberto is 18, studying to be a lawyer and was just coming back from a political gathering in the city, as were the other 50-billion people on the tram that evening! Apparently, some terrorist was put on trial and condemned to many years in prison, but he went on a hunger strike against his sentence and the government agreed to reduce his sentence. The outraged Spanish population is gathering in peaceful protest across the nation, and this was one of those gatherings. It turns out that Alberto and his brother live right across the way from me, so we’ll hang out later tonight. I look forward to good conversation!

On another note, I will be singing in a benefit concert on the 25^th of March! Since my host family hears me singing around the house all the time, my host mom recommended me to a friend of hers who is involved in this benefit concert where all the proceeds go to children in Africa. I will sing “I will Always love you” by Whitney Houston (if I can get the music sorted out) and Mamma Mia! Unfortunately, I had a bad cold all this week, so I haven’t been able to practice for real yet.

Well, I congratulate you for making it through this lengthy blog! Lol! I have not even begun to scratch the surface of all the beauty, history, art, culture, and nuances of this incredible place and my experiences within it. Here there are plazas with ancient statues and walkways with beautiful inlaid tile mosaics. Old men gather in these plazas and walkways to talk and wink kindly at passing girls on warm weekends. Huge trees with roots that grow from their branches stand in stark contrast with the multitude of palm trees that line every walkway. The people are open and cariñoso. They hug, they touch, and they show what they feel. The birds sing and the sun rises, like anywhere else, but the people are unique. I can’t wait to get on the next tram so that I can meet more exciting strangers!

Love to everyone.

Truly yours,

Jocelyn