French Relations to West Africa

Below is my response to a New York Times article pertaining to French relations to countries in the West African region. Voila the link to the article:

http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.nytimes.com%2F2009%2F11%2F13%2Fworld%2Fafrica%2F13francophone.html%3F_r%3D1%26ref%3Dglobal-home&h=1281af9a255a6533299950b72c573095

This is quite an interesting article. It is true that there are pervasive anti-french sentiments throughout this region and, within Dakar itself, the sense of outsiders imposing themselves here extends to all westerners. For example, in a conversation with a family friend yesterday, he lamented with annoyance that, "the city seems to be going to the tubabs" in reference to the rich neighborhoods that are "over-run" by foreigners.

The French have maintained significant control over this region thanks to the colonial period when they sowed the seeds of dependence between themselves and the local governments, economies, and infastructures. In other words, rather than investing in the infastructure in a way that would encourage autonomy and sustainability, the French implemented cash crops and export-oriented economic systems that benefit foreigners and harm the locals. In Senegal, this manifests in a massive encouragement and export of peanuts that are refined into oil and re-imported to Senegal at a higher price than they were first exported for. Thus, the local economy is drained outwardly and France reaps the benefits.

My issue with this article, in spite of its accuracy concerning the French-West African relations at present, is its presentation of the US as a good example, refraining from maintaining relations with certain corrupt governments. However, the US is just as complicit within these abusive systems that create West African dependence on "western powers" thanks to our close ties to the IMF and World Bank. These two organisations are closely tied to the US goverment and they have conscientiously sapped local west-african economies through their Structural Adjustment Policies of the last 40 years. In short, these policies require the realocation of resources from infrastructure and education to debt repayement, which goes straight into the pockets of rich nations in an endless spiral due to the unfair terms of this debt. So, villifying the French without implicating the US within the abuses of this region is misleading.

Although the locals are not altogether fond of the remnants of the French colonial system, their imaginations are captured by the wealth associated with France and particularly the US. So, they want to partake of this richness and be your friend, because you represent money and opportunity, but they carry chagrin simultaneously. Many Senegalese still refuse to send their children to french-speaking schools. But this is a predictable legacy of colonialism.

As for the political situation, Senegal doesn't fit into the same mold as the other countries of the region because, in 2000, the French-backed former-president was ousted peacefully in favor of Abdoulaye Wade. So, their was a semblance of independence and democracy around the turn of the century, but since then it has become clear that Wade is infringing on the democratic nature of the constitution by extending his term limits. Likewise, he is maintaining close bonds with European powers, although I'm not informed enough to know whether this extends to the French.

Well, let me know if you have any questions about what I've written or about the situation in general!

~Jocelyn

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.

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

Fire-Arms in America

What do you think about the fire-arm laws that we have in America? Do you believe that guns should be so easily bought by the general public? Do you think they should be a little more easy to come by? Or, perhaps, banned alltogether? Why?

I ask because, after the Virginia incident, I have been asked these same questions by at least ten different people, always starting with the question, "Have you heard about what happened in your country?"

In Spain, fire-arms are banned amonsgt the general public unless you pursue a special liscence, which is very hard to come by. Spaniards cannot understand why we would allow guns so freely in the States. In Spain, they never have this sort of traumatic shooting, and even their own terrorist group has killed no more than thirty people in one car-bombing or attack. For them, this is obvious proof that the availability of guns causes an increase in deaths. So why do we allow guns? (and this is not a rhetorical question, either.)

Why are the Spanish more relaxed?

Why are the Spanish more relaxed? A deceivingly simple question with complex connotations!

After Rachel raised this question over Spanish relaxation, I sat down and thought to myself, "Huh! Why are the Spanish more relaxled?!" After pondering this for a while and dallying over the begining of this blog entry, I said to myself, "What are you doing, Jocelyn? You are puzzling over this cultural question, going around in circles in your own mind without bothering to ask the people around you who are living it!" I immediately got up out of the swivelly chair and asked my host mom: Had she heard about the Spanish reputation of being more relaxed? She had, and she attributed it to the country´s siesta and fiesta-the renouned Spanish partying and napping. The Spanish admit to their love of partying openly -just ask my buddies at school- and although the siesta is not so used in today´s society, this deeply rooted traditional mid-day nap says something about Spanish history.

Juan Augustine, doctor and father of my rockclimbing friend, agrees with this reputation but notes that it is over-generalized. He imparted an interesting common phrase that reflects the Spanish disregard of tardiness: "Si vengas tarde, no pasa nada. Y si pasa, ¡saludalo!" The pun is lost in the translation, but in English it would go something like this: "If you arrive late, nothing comes to pass (ie. no problem). And if it does come to pass, greet it!" Think about our tightly-wound culture where on time is late and five minutes late is impossible. On the other hand, the Spanish don´t even tend to set predetermined times for meeting, opting for the "Anytime within that hour will do" approach. Time is something different here: less regimented and more flexible.

Maru, my "adoptive aunt" who is housing me this weekend in Malaga, attributes this relaxed lifestyle in part to the medditeranean climate, as did many of the other Spaniards I inquired. With a warm climate, the people can afford to go out in the streets, stay out late nights, and laze in the sun, whereas people in colder climates find it more difficult to travel comfortably and are restricted to house parties and other indoor activities if they don´t want to freeze their tushies or drown in the rain. But only part of Spain maintains this paradise-like climate; the north certainly has a different feel, say my confidantes. And they should know, since my entire host family comes from the El Pais Vasco near the border of France and Juan Augustine was raised in Galicia above Portugal. So they do have a bit of perspective in this department.

Juan Augustine had a few other interesting ideas on the causes of the relaxed Spanish lifestyle. Consider how Spain has been a Catholic country for the majority of the last 2000 years whereas England, France, Germany, and America are rooted more closely within the Protestant branch of Christianity. While Protestantism (pardon any spelling errors) puts emphasis on work ethic and calculable progress, Catholisism focuses more on just living. Maybe these different religious influences contribute to our different mindsets.

What do I think of all this? Well, I cannot deny that the Spanish appear more relaxed as a people. Yes, my own freedom from responsibility and the resulting relaxed state of being that I have here greatly influences my perception of the people around me -I tend to notice the people who are on my same wavelength- but I have deffinitely noticed the concrete signs of a culture more relaxed than our own (or at least different): the people sleep less and opt instead for socializing in the frequent bars and plazas, clocks are often disregarded, and "¡Tranquilla!" or "Be tranquil!" is often heard in common conversation. Additionally, the laws here are more flexible than ours in America. There is no death penalty, no one stays in jail for more than 30 years, and those who do go to jail usually get out early on good behavior. I believe that Spain´s climate and Catholic roots partially account for the relaxed mindset of the people here in the South and East. Beyond those concrete causes, I can surmise little more. The people here know that what isn´t done today can be done tomorrow and they live for good food, excellent wine, and a good time. They know that in today´s world studying is essential to future success and that work puts food on the table, but they balance this with an emphasis on family unity and living life to its fullest. There are people who don´t fill this description, who are uptight, stressed, or devoted fully to hard work, but they seem few and far between. I cannot pinpoint every cause of the relaxed Spanish mindset, but I admire their ability to see life as one fluid experience that should be enjoyed instead of a series of obstacles to be overcome. I hope I can incorporate some of this into my own life.

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

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