Happy Carnaval!

Today is Ash Wednesday, which means several things: 

1) My (non-Catholic) school held a mass in the basement all morning, and so somewhere between a quarter and a half of my students were missing. 

2) This mass exodus caused the remaining students in one of my ESO (secondary) classes to ask "Hey, what religion are you?" And that prompted a twenty minute discussion of how I was raised, and a brief summary of the life of Martin Luther (the second I said his name, they said "King?" Adorable). I very much admire the fact that such a discussion is possible in Spain without really hurting the feelings of anyone, although I am aware it is due to a lack of diversity in religion in the country. 

3) Most importantly (and fun!) of all, the last few days all over Spain have been Carnaval, or what Americans know as Mardi Gras. Although I'm rather disappointed with Madrid's (dearth of) festivities compared to Galician entroido (which involved almost city-wide costumes and a week-long dress up competition in my old school), I will take any opportunity that comes my way to get dressed up in a funny outfit.

And so on Monday, knowing that 90% of my preschool girls would be dressed as Elsa or Anna from Frozen, I stuck on a false nose, put sticks in my hair, stuffed scarves down my shirt, and became their friendly summer-loving pal, Olaf the Snowman. The kids seemed pretty impressed. Plus, to Spanish four-year-olds, "Hola Olaf" (words which sound basically identical) is a never-endingly hilarious joke, so that was fortunate. Less awesome was the fact that they, being curious and precocious four-year-olds, started patting my stuffed belly going "There's a baby in there!"

Glad I've worked with children long enough now to be beyond all embarrassment. "Nope!" I chirped, and quickly changed the subject to how adorable each separate Elsa was.

I hope your Mardi Gras involved less invasive questioning on sensitive topics than mine did! Lots of warm hugs to you all.

Source

What do you think? Did I hold a candle to the real Olaf??

How NOT to Visit Iceland's Blue Lagoon: An Embarrassing Story

About a year and a half ago, in September 2013, when I was moving from a summer at my parents' house to teach in St. Malo, France, I decided to take advantage of Icelandair's awesome low prices ($300 for a one-way ticket!), great location (they fly from Minneapolis-St. Paul, where I have family, saving me the hassle of O'Hare), and neat free 7-day layover scheme.

I didn't have the time or money at that moment to take advantage of a full seven days, but I wanted to see Iceland, even if only briefly, and so I managed to squeeze in a two-day stay before I had to jet off to my new life in France.

Since the flight from Minneapolis to Reykjavik is only about five hours (it IS in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, after all), I flew out at about 6pm Central Time and landed at 5am Greenwich Mean Time. It was one of those stupid travel moves that you think sounds like a good idea when it's on your computer screen, but in actuality it is not at all fun. Sleeping on the airplane is hard enough when you have around 9 hours to do it, but in only 5 hours, it felt like I had just closed my eyes when they announced that we would be arriving shortly.

"No problem," I thought, "I have no problem sleeping in airports; I've done it a million times before!"

But not in Iceland, I hadn't!

It turns out that there are signs all over Reykjavik (Keflavík) airport warning you not to sleep. This is the type of thing I usually ignore, and I did try, but airport officials kept coming around to make sure that all us poor groggy souls slumped in the chairs in the airport lounge at 5am were 100% AWAKE. Thanks, Iceland.

I remained optimistic though, knowing that I had planned ahead and booked myself a trip to the Blue Lagoon on the way to my hostel in downtown Reykjavik. I was sure that a nice hot thermal bath with crystal-blue water would be just the thing to cheer me up from my jetlag.

Of course, I had forgotten to take into account the weather in Iceland at the end of September. As I dashed from the airport to the bus in the lashing rain, dragging my two 50lb suitcases (checked for free on Icelandair, another reason they are awesome!), my heart began to sink. "An outdoor hot spring in the cold, wind, and rain," I thought, "FUN."

At least I was able to check my bags in at the front of the lagoon, avoiding lugging them behind me in the rain down the path that looked like it was on the surface of Mars, lined with giant black igneous rocks, a result of Iceland's volcanic past.

Once I was all paid up, changed, and headed out to the water, though, my thoughts began to change. I began to feel more optimistic about my visit. The warm water would probably make up for the icy wind and unrelenting rain, I thought.

More or less, I was right. No, the water was not uniformly hot, and yes, I did spend the majority of my visit hovering in the warmest spot I could find, shielding my eyes from the rain. And yes, I did make the mistake of putting my head underwater. Let me tell you, washing water filled with minerals out of your long hair is not fun. Really really not.

However, I did start to feel a bit more relaxed after a while in the water. To finish my visit feeling nice and snug, I decided to visit the sauna before heading out. That was lovely, everything that could be expected from a wooden sauna, complete with the smell of the hot timber.

What I failed to take into account was that it was still freezing, windy, and rainy outside, and I was going to have to make the walk from the sauna to the indoors in my wet bathing suit. I mentally prepared myself for a big shock, opened the door, dashed out, and...

Slipped on a wet wooden bridge, accidentally kicked a piece of hardened lava, and went down on my side, hard. TIM-BER. When they say don't run near a pool, they mean it!

Bruised beyond just my pride, I limped inside to survey the damage, hoping no one had noticed my epic fail. My toe was bleeding rather profusely, my hip hurt like the dickens, and I was really embarrassed that I'd just fallen on my face in front of an entire spa full of people.

In the end, I lost a toenail, and got a big welt the width of a(n American) football for my trouble. That sure made walking around Reykjavik the next day more fun!

However, I'll always remember the Blue Lagoon as the location of one of my more embarrassing travel stories to date. Am I glad it happened? No. But is it an amusing story to tell now? Yes, for sure. Would I have such vivid memories of the place if everything had gone smoothly? No way!

So I guess there's always that. Every terrible travel moment brings with it the joy of making people laugh through recounting your embarrassment for years to come.

I'd still like to go back to Iceland and the Blue Lagoon again, by the way, now that I know how NOT to do it. But I think next time I'll check the weather first!

Does anyone else have any embarrassing travel stories to share?

Hiking Madrileñan Mountains

What is it about being out in the fresh air that literally gives you a breath of fresh air? Getting outside is so wonderful for clearing my head, and after having been cooped up writing my thesis so much lately, I needed it!

So one day recently, I took a trip with some friends back to El Escorial again, this time not to tour the monastery, but to hike in the mountains nearby. 

I'm literally picturing at least one of my sisters giving me the side-eye right now. Somehow, I've gained the reputation for not being outdoorsy, but that isn't at all true, as long as it's not too hot outside and I'm properly attired. And rewarded with coffee and churros afterwards!

Luckily, on the day we went it was freezing (by Spain standards), with a fierce wind blowing, and there were small patches of snow on our path. My kind of outdoorsy weather! Perfect for doing exercise. I was particularly pleased when tiny flakes of snow began to fall, making the scene just that much more idyllic. 

Seeing the town from above was absolutely gorgeous. 

So were the snow-covered mountains behind me here. I wish they'd come out better in my photos! 

I think my favorite part about walking through the woods is that it gives us a chance to get into real conversations with people. We're going to be with them for several hours, we might as well explain what's bugging us at the moment, right?

In my friend group, the topic always seems to be "where are we going with our lives?" ...I suppose that's pretty common for young adults. As I've said before, I'm getting a little sick of constantly having to ask myself the question "what's next?" I'm tired of moving all the time. Chatting with my friends in the woods made me start to think about how it's getting to be that time of year again, when I have to figure out where I'm moving next. What will be my next home, and will it be semi-permanent, or only for a few months? What do I really want?

At present, I have no real answers to these questions, and thinking about it too much makes my brain hurt. There are so many options and they're overwhelming and there are no clear answers.

Soon enough it will be crunch time, when I will be forced to make another life-changing decision. But for at least a little longer, I can try to just take my life here as it comes, continue thinking, but also allow those thoughts to be swept away with the wind when it all becomes too much. 

So here's to moments of pause and reflection, of good conversations and body-warming exercise with friends. May they be there when you need them!

Thesis, theses...

Am I the only person in the world who hates that the plural of thesis is theses? Sounds too much like a funny word...

Anyway!

I'm supposed to be writing my Master's thesis right now. Clearly, that's going really well, since you're currently reading these words on my blog post ABOUT my thesis which does not in any way help me get said thesis finished.

If you're curious why I might be writing a Master's thesis when you all just thought I was doing another year as an auxiliar de conversación in Spain, well, that's a story for a different day.

But struggling to write this thesis inevitably reminds me of another time and another thesis, when I was sitting angrily in front of my computer screen willing myself to just write actual words already. That was, of course, four years ago (has it really been that long??), when I was writing my undergraduate honors thesis.

At the time, I was struggling with the choice between taking a "year off" (ha) to teach abroad or going to graduate school for literary translation. Fittingly for the latter, my thesis was a translation of the poetry of one of my professors in Bilbao.

So day after day I would sit on the futon in my sad, tiny, freezing little all-brown student apartment, and try to get to work. I would tell myself, "Just translate one sentence. Just one. Go on, do it!"

The weather out my window quite often looked something like this (when people ask me what it was like to study in Maine, this is inevitably what comes to mind...this is also the type of scene that comes to mind when people try to complain about "cold weather" in Spain, and then I start to laugh). 

As the snow swirled outside for months on end and I drank a probably unhealthy number of cups of tea, little by little, poem by poem, snowday by snowday, I made progress on my thesis, until finally the day came when I defended it in front of 5 professors, who said I could go really far in the field of translation if I wanted, and I felt on top of the world.

Just a few days after that, I decided to take a position to teach English in A Cañiza, Spain.

Why do that if I could have been so great at translation and didn't want to be a teacher?

Well, the experience of writing that thesis had taught me that I had no desire to be self-employed and have to set my own deadlines. The idea of spending my future going through that struggle of self-revilement, procrastinating and feeling bad about it every single day, sounded like honest-to-god torture.

In the end, my "year off" to find myself turned into four, and find my profession I did. I ate my words about not wanting to be a teacher, since here I am, doing just that and loving this dynamic job that is different every day and does not require me to muster enormous amounts of self-discipline about writing long essays.

But as a cruel twist of fate, studying to become more qualified to teach leaves me right here right now, staring at my computer screen, fighting the exact same battle as four years ago. "Just write one sentence. Just one. Come on, do it!" Except now, I've been out of practice for four years, and my skills are a bit rusty. "Is that how you spell that word? Does that word even exist in English, or is it Spanglish? Does that sentence sound right? How do people say that in America? Is that British English or American?"

The battle to write just one sentence is up an even steeper hill than it was four years ago, and I am absolutely floundering. However, having done this once already, I do know that I can, and that helps immensely.

More importantly, it also reinforces my plan to continue in this profession and not switch over to higher education or back to translation! I can fight this battle from time to time, but I still say: every day, no frigging way. Give me teaching or give me death!

On Negativity in the Classroom

Something that occasionally annoys me about some (usually older) Spaniards is that they complain all the time. I'm no saint in this area myself, but I do feel that it's a problem and it's something I'm working on. In English, we have a saying: "No one likes a Negative Nancy."

I'm actually not sure if there's an equivalent in Spanish, but I wouldn't be surprised if there weren't.

Spaniards have a habit of being very direct--it's almost embedded into their language, and most definitely into their culture. For example, it isn't seen as at all rude here to comment on someone's weight or appearance. Over the years, I've been told I'm looking fat, that I'm looking too thin, that I look tired, that I look really sick...all serious no-no's in English.

What do you MEAN, I look fat today??

...Now that we've established that sometimes Spaniards like to tell me I look like crap, where was I going with this...?

Ah, yes. So Spaniards tell it like it is. When I say "We're past the winter solstice, from here on out, the days are getting longer! Spring is coming!" they look at me darkly and say "The worst of the cold is yet to come, you'll see," all sinister-like, as though there were no point in looking forward to spring.

Um, OK, great, thanks, guys... That makes me feel so much better...

"The sun will come out tomorrow?" More like, you will never see the sun EVER AGAIN! BWAHAHAHA!

That sounds trite, but their defeatism really frustrates me when we're talking about more serious things than the weather. For example, the students at the schools I've worked at. Occasionally, when certain students or classes really misbehave, I will hear teachers make comments like "They're all going to end up in jail one day," as though that were a fact, and all we have to do is put up with them until they day they can be safely locked away.

Another gem I've heard, in reference to students from different backgrounds who are far behind their classmates and really struggling, is "That student can't learn. [He/She] is lazy, because [he/she] is from (such and such foreign country)." So that takes any responsibility away from the teacher in needing to help them. It's a lost cause, so why try?

Aside from being really shockingly racist, this upsets me because if the teacher is instilling in the kids the idea that they are bad and can do no better than they are right now, why would they try to improve?

Maybe I'm just a naïve young teacher, but I think we shouldn't be saying such negative things to or about young people, especially within their earshot. I really prefer to think that there is hope for everyone, and perhaps instead of just constantly complaining about how "impossible" some of our students are, we should instead recognize that they are the ones who need our help the most.

Yes, I've been at the end of my rope just like everyone else; I've had those frustrating days where I'm at my wits' end and feel like I will never get through to such and such kid or class. I've often felt like I really don't know what I'm doing. But I still want to, have to, think that there is hope for everyone. If not, why are we even teaching? Just to get a paycheck? That seems like truly the wrong reason to be molding young minds, if you ask me.

I'm not saying that all Spaniards are like this, and I'm certainly not saying that American teachers are necessarily better. I'm just saying that right now, today, this fatalistic mindset is really bugging me, and I want to tell every single Spanish teacher, from every school I've worked in, to take those minutes they usually spend moaning about how little José (for example) is impossible to deal with and instead use them trying to think of ways to give him extra attention.

He's not a lost cause until you make him believe he is.

Je suis...

This past weekend, nearly every francophile in Madrid gathered together in Puerta del Sol (the literal center of Spain, and one of its busiest plazas) for a demonstration. In case you've been living under a rock and hadn't heard, there was a terrorist attack on a French humor magazine called Charlie Hebdo last week, and ever since, many French people have been uniting under the hashtag #JeSuisCharlie (I am Charlie) to represent their dedication to maintaining their right to freedom of expression without fear. As a lifelong francophile myself, I felt I needed to be there to support one of my adopted countries. Freedom of expression is important to me too as a writer and blogger, and I hate violence in all forms.

Madrid has a hefty French expat and student population, France being just the country next door, and so the plaza was packed with people holding up signs and pens to represent their support for the illustrators who had died. For the first time in my years in Spain, I heard mostly melodic French being spoken around me, only occasionally punctuated with the staccato tones of castellano. A particularly jarring moment was when everyone sang La Marseillaise at the same moment as I was watching the Spanish flag from the President of Madrid's office waving in the wind. 

Although I thought the demonstration could have lasted a little longer, and that the speakers used for the speeches could have been put at a higher volume, I was glad I went to demonstrate my support. Now I just hope is to see fewer acts of terrorism in the world, while at the same time also hoping that people will learn to better contain themselves from making a racist backlash against all Muslim people. In my opinion, there's absolutely no reason we need more hatred in the world!

Je suis Charlie.

Je suis Ahmed.

Je suis la liberté d'expression.

Je suis l'amour.

2014 in Pictures: Part 2: America and Spain

July

I started the second half of 2014 freshly landed in America. Literally the day after I arrived back, (part of) my family took off for West Virginia to visit my sister, her husband and their new baby. It's a beautiful, underrated part of the country, and we had fun playing around in front of pretty scenery! It's always great to be around family, especially being silly.

While we were already out that way, we took an educational "field trip" to show my eldest niece and nephew Washington DC. It reminded me of my very first plane ride and excursion without my parents, during my 8th grade class trip out there. And I also realized what a cool, hip city DC is! Even in the sweltering 40ªC heat (plus humidity, blegh).

Since my nephew (yes, the boy who is taller than me...unbelievable!) missed his own 8th grade class trip to DC, I was sort of his tour guide, showing him the things I remembered from my other couple of trips out there. But this place I couldn't, because it's new...it's the World War II monument. Having just come from a very WWII-centered vacation, seeing the American monument meant much more to me than usual!

Next up was the Fourth of July. I'm not the most patriotic of Americans, but I do love celebrations of all kinds and am very enamored of fireworks and grilled foods, so it's actually a holiday I quite like! Also, don't we have a pretty flag?

Back in Illinois, I wasted no time in partaking of those foods that I severely crave over in Europe...such as Chicago-style deep dish pizza. Om nom nom. 

Trying to take advantage of the fun quirky things in my home area, I also spent a day with my mom at the Bristol Renaissance Faire, one of my favorite annual summer activities. Being a huge history and costumes nerd, this place is right up my alley! Plus this year, my mom got picked to be Little Red Riding Hood in one of the theatrical productions, which was pretty hilarious!

August

Being that I only had so much time at home, I tried to spend as much of it as possible with my family, especially my beloved nephews and niece, who I miss dearly when I'm gone. It's nice to do really simple activities that remind me of my own childhood, like berry picking up at the old family farm!

As I had a relatively urgent matter to take care of in downtown Chicago (new Spanish visa!), and also since that's where a few of my old friends live now, I spent a fair amount of time down there this summer. I really like feeling like a part of the hustle and bustle for a little bit, and there's always something new to discover!

It wasn't too long (although at times it felt like it...not working and not traveling aren't my favorite activities) before it was time to say hasta luego once again to America and head off to my newest Spain adventure...but not before a few airport hugs and tears shed, as always.

And suddenly, I was back in Spain, something I'd never in a million years expected when I thought I left for good a year before this. Reentry was both glorious and difficult, as I remembered both the wonderful and frustrating aspects of this country that had captured my unwilling heart. This beautiful central plaza of Alcalá de Henares definitely counts as one of the more amazing aspects, though!

September

The beginning of September was spent exploring my new town, and remarking on just how different it is from everywhere I've lived in Spain before...namely, it's pretty darn typically Spanish, unlike Galicia or the Basque Country!

One of these oh-so-typically-Spanish things about Alcalá de Henares is that it's (supposedly) the home of Miguel de Cervantes, the Shakespeare of Spanish literature and author of Don Quixote, the novel about the crazy would-be knight who battles windmills with his pudgy friend Sancho Panza. Might sound familiar? Literary history warms the cockles of my former-English-major heart, so I was pleased to find myself living in a place with so much of it!

Beginning to explore my nearby surroundings, I took a daytrip to the nearest town in another communidad, Guadalajara in Castilla La Mancha, only about half an hour down the cercanías line. It was a cute little city, and I particularly liked this gorgeous church!

Next up was another short trip with my new gal pals, this time to Valencia, one of the few major Spanish cities I'd never visited. I'm glad to have finally had the chance, if for nothing more than the food! Valencian paella is seriously a million times better than the kind made anywhere else in the country, I swear. And their horxata and fartons, oh man. Take me back there, please?

October

I spent part of October exploring Madrid a little more, and one day when I was wandering around down in Sol, I ran into this protest against the monarchy. Since old King Juan Carlos abdicated over the summer, many Spaniards have felt it's time to do away with the monarchy (which retains a certain tie to the Franco era, and also has been plagued with recent scandals regarding money and corruption) and embrace full democracy. From a sociological point of view, I found this truly fascinating!

Alcalá is a cool city because it embraces its history so much. So, every year in the middle of October, they hold a medieval market and fair to celebrate Cervantes' baptism (as his exact birthdate is unknown). I liked looking at the wares of all the different stalls, seeing geese walk the streets, and trying new foods!

With one of our nice new Spanish friends, one day in October we made a quick trip to another famous place I'd always been meaning to go to but hadn't visited yet--El Escorial. I thought the place was really beautiful, and I'm glad I finally made the effort to go!

Since I work at one of the bilingual English schools in the Communidad de Madrid, Halloween is a big deal there. I still refuse to play to the Spanish convention that it needs to be scary (I dressed up as a unicorn), but I like celebrating it. These are some of the hundreds of sucker ghosts I made as a present for my little students. So much work, but so worth it to see their awed faces!

November

November was the end of our Indian summer in Spain, and it found me making a trek back up to mi pueblo (ha), Vigo. Surprise surprise, it was raining when I got there!

Vigo is where my Spanish "brother" and "sister" live, and I was so happy to be back with them, and to surprise the former for his birthday! Combined with returning to the city that I love best in Spain, it was very nearly a perfect weekend.

November wasn't the easiest of months, however, as one morning I woke up to one of those life-changing, devastating whatsapps, that my last grandparent had passed away. The subsequent frantic chaos to get off work and get to Arizona for her funeral, all while feeling so sad and helpless and far away, was one of the more trying bits of my life so far, but I got through it and was glad to be there for my family, who all gathered together to say a proper goodbye. 

Arizona holds some of my fondest vacation memories from my childhood. As it was my Ramblin' Rose of a grandmother who was the one to first settle part of the family there (so far from her own Midwestern hometown), reflecting on the things I love about this beautiful state made me feel closer to her. I also feel like I partially have her to thank for some of the restless nature, wandering spirit, and fierce female independence that have led me to Spain in the first place. So, traveling to her faraway home from my own felt like a fitting tribute to a woman who blazed the trail for all fearless women to follow, in a time when that was no easy task. To her and all others like her, I can only say thank you.

Perhaps it's fitting that the very next thing that came up right when I got home from my whirlwind trip to America was Thanksgiving. There's no better time than after having lost someone you loved to reflect on all you have, the wonderful people surrounding you, and all you're thankful for. I was too exhausted from jet-lag to do my usual full-on cooking extravaganza, so I just gathered together enough energy to make apple and pumpkin pie. Dessert is the most important part of any meal, right?

December

As we rolled on into December, I delved once again into my past and went back to the city that started it all, the city I left over 5 years ago now, Bilbao. I studied abroad there back in 2009, and the experience changed my life in more ways than I could have known back then. I didn't always love the city (or Spain, for that matter) while I was living there, but like many things, Bilbao is a place that grows on you. I have so many fond memories there, and although my current travel companions really hated it, I couldn't help but reflect on how lucky I was to have lived in such a cool alternative city.

It would be a shame to live so near Madrid and not go check out the center when it's all decked out for Christmas, which is exactly what I did one sunny day in December. Sol, Madrid's vibrant center, is where everyone is watching on December 31st, and where the big clock chimes 12 to ring in the New Year and prompts Spaniards everywhere to start gulping grapes like it's their job. (Imagine if it were, that would solve this whole crisis thing right quick! Ha. Ha.) 

After a flurry of Christmas activities at school and cooing over my babies shaking their tambourines at the 3 Kings, we were officially on Christmas break, so I took off straightaway on vacation, first to Zaragoza. I loooved the colorful Mudéjar-style tiles on the roof of Nuestra Señora del Pilar cathedral, and I am officially inspired to go search out more examples of this style of architecture.

After Christmas came and went, I was off back to my beloved France, to see a bit that I had dreamed of visiting since my early days studying French and reading Peter Mayle in high school--Provence! On my way there, I stopped off in some smaller towns that I ended up liking better than dingy Marseille, one of which was Carcassonne. I knew nothing of this town before stopping there on a whim one day, and I was utterly charmed by the gorgeous and very complete castle just outside the city center. 

After Carcassonne, I fell further in love with the Languedoc-Roussillon region when I visited Nîmes, which has a spectacularly well-preserved coliseum (much better than the one in Rome, in my humble opinion), as well as several other Roman ruins. Being a smaller city, it was also not too crowded or touristy, which I appreciate more and more the older I get!

I finished off 2014 in my own non-stereotypical way, feeling no guilt whatsoever about it (I so love that about getting older...who cares what other people think??). I spent New Years Eve not out partying, but in stuffing my face with all the French foods that I'd really been missing since my departure in June. A fitting end to a year that really taught me to love and rely on myself above all others, I'd say! 

2014 was quite a rollercoaster ride, and while I enjoyed the majority of it, I'm kind of hoping that 2015 manages to be a little calmer. However, no matter what happens, I have confidence that I can make it through anything, which I guess is the most important thing, in the end! 

I hope everyone's 2015 is getting off to an excellent start! So far so good on my end, no complaints about getting to travel more through southern France and then get hello hugs from my little students upon my return! Bonne année, feliz ano novo, urte berri on, feliz año nuevo, and Happy (late) New Year to all!