Yesterday was a simple Friday. No friends over to play after school, I didn´t go into Madrid, no partying, tapas, or early hours, but it was a night well spent. I helped Kiko and Andres paint the fence in front of the house in preparation for Mar´s First Holy Communion next weekend and finished the night watching Balto 2 with the kids. While painting, Kiko commented how fast and well I was working, ¨Andres, look at these Americans, they work so well.¨ I brushed off the comment as him beong funny. I replied, ¨It second-hand nature to me, coming from my family. Years of child labor.¨ I didn´t know he was being serious. Later, as I was washing out the paint rollers, Pilar came in to see what I was doing. She told me she had never painted anything larger than printer paper. I thought to myself, ¨What? Never?¨ I guess she´s never had to. Later that evening I was reflecting on a conversation my sister and I had in Ireland. We were talking about what values were predominate in our childhood. Not that having never painted anything bigger than 8×11 is a bad thing, but now that I look back at how my parents raised me, I´m grateful that they instilled in me a strong sense of self-suffencieny. For example, I was doing my own laundry at 7 years old. That might not sound too crazy to some people I know, but more often than not I have come across the college students who find it a chore to wash their own clothes when they leave for college. Or when visiting a friend, I witness them asking their mom where she put their clothes. Again, I don´t see it as a bad thing. I wouldn´t have minded it growing up. So, after a short reflection while I finished washing the paint off the brushes I came up with a short list of things I´m glad I was taught how to do at a young age:
I love my mom too but in particular, Thanks Dad for…
Teaching me how to properly mow a lawn. Although as long as I had Bret, Alex, Jay and you around, I never had do it. =)
Teaching me how to paint properly and letting me paint my room like a circus, even though you knew I´d spill lime green on the carpet.
Taking me camping EVERY summer of my childhood weather I wanted to go or not. I hope I remember the survival skills you taught when I need them in the Hunger Games.
Teaching me how to spackle.
Teaching me how to fly fish.
Taking me shooting.
Teaching me how to ride a bike.
Teaching me how to reset the power when it goes out.
Teaching me how to unclog toilets and sinks. Kind of. Ew.
Teaching me how to check the oil in my car.
Showing me you don´t have to yell to get your point across.
Teaching me how to change a tire.
Giving me a set of screwdrivers for Christmas when I was 12. I have used them more than you thought I would over the years.
Teaching me how to eat yogurt the best way (don´t stir it.)
Giving me an appreciation of the simple things in life like walks in the forest, bird watching, and bike rides.
And so much more that you have given, and continue to give!
I´ll make this brief. Not beacuse its a short story but because I don´t like to dwell on it. Its over, it happened, and there is not much I can do, unless I want to spend a fortune…Here we go…My computer, my baby, my precious Mac laptop is ka-put. Ploop. The other day I went to plug it in for some juice and a little puff of smoke and a faint smell of something burnt came from the outlet of Dakota (thats its name). I could go get it fixed, but in a way I´m looking at this as a bit of a blessing and a sign. Maybe I need to stop spending so much time on my computer, on pinterest, facebook, watching movies, matchbook magazine, meandering around for hours. Now I have to read more, run more, find other ways to occupy my time. Maybe its a sign I am to go home early? My sister did say if I came home in August as planned she´d pay to have it fixed. Before she said that I was looking to spend a few months doing a work away in Ireland at a castle, and possibly another au pair job in Rome for a few months after that. Pushing my arrival to sometime in November, so I could be home for my birthday in early December. Hmmmmm. My sister´s offer is deffinately a pro for going home. I just might hold her to that. Of course i´m going to take it in and try to get it fixed, but only if the price is right. Not sure what I´ll do.
For now, I am spending my days ¨volunteering¨at the English speaking school, and my weekends with friends in the city or relaxing at home with my family (reasons being I love them and I want to save money.)
Hey maybe now that my computer´s in a coma I can write more? God knows I have enough material to keep me busy with journaling.
I’m too lazy to write just now. I realize its been over a month since I have written, but the post I have to write is daunting; Paris, Zurich, and Salzburg. So, it looks like there will be a few video post before I can muster the strength to hash out my unforgettable trip.
I left off midway through my holiday break. In the end of the last post we were in Cadiz after New Years. Sometime between New Years and January 5th, the kids and I spent the day at a house the family owned near by, but never had use for, except the acres of foliage and orange trees behind it where the kids loved to play and collect fresh fruit. We built a tree hut that Peter Pan would be proud of. It only took 3 hours with my splintered hands but it was worth it.
A few days later was The Feast of the Three Kings. This is the day in Spain that the children receive their presents. The evening of January 5th the children place one of their shoes next to the fireplace for the Three Kings to see who lives in the home and what presents to leave. That same evening the streets of cities are filled with singing and parades in honor of the Three Kings. We attended a neighborhood parade in the early afternoon. It was fun catching the candy and all the free beach balls the Three Kings were tossing into the crowd. Being 6 foot and towering over 90% of the attendants, I caught my fare share of prizes, but it felt wrong to keep them so I gave them all to the smallest kids I could find. The local festivities were fun but it was nothing compared to the parade in the city of Santa Maria. MOB SCENE!
We managed to get the best spot along the entire route. Right in front of the stage with the seats for the Kings and throne for Baby Jesus. After the presentation of the gifts to Baby Jesus, the Kings returned to their floats and finished the route. The streets became less crowded as people tickled into the side streets stemming from the plaza. I really wish I had brought my camera or my ipod to take photos and videos. Especially when Balthazar passed by. Here is a little trick that I learned, seems to work well at parades, just make someone feel like you are their biggest fan and they will give you a bag a candy. Well, I don’t know about the candy part but that’s what happened when I started getting sick of all the obnoxious, pushy grandmothers and teenagers shoving people out of the way to heckle the people on the floats. I thought how ridiculous some of these people were acting over some less-than-mediocre sweets. But then again the majority of people were in good spirits, like the guy with his 3-year-old who gave me a balloon for little Elena. Anyway, As Bathazar passed by on his float I kept shouting the only phrase I could say in Spanish without sounding like a stupid American; “Mi amigo!! Choka! (which means high-five, and he totally gave he a high five) Bien! Bien! Mi amigo!!” Rampant joy when he handed me a 5 lb bag of sweets. For a few seconds I had a fear he or I would let it slip and the vultures would dive on it. It was pandemonium! Everyone reaching, fingernails gnawing at the bag, but Pilar managed to get a good grip on it and guided it to my hands. “Tu eres mi favorita!” I shouted as the float moved passed. Pilar couldn’t stop screaming. I didn’t even like the candy, but I knew all the other kids would and what a fun experience to have; one of the Three Mighty Kings, Balthazar, personal handed you, out of the thousands of people present, anything really. Funny how he could have given gold, frankincense or myrrh and my reaction would have been similar. We went home and had a marvelous meal to send us off to sleep earlier than usual. The sooner to bed, the sooner the Kings come with the presents.
I was awakened the next morning by Mar, Elena, and Pilar. As we rushed to the living room we passed Teresa, who probably woke up at the butt-crack of dawn, looking sour-faced at the kitchen table. I paid no mind and continued with the girls into the living room. On my way to see the presents I passed Juan Luis who was grinning and whispered to me, “They are going to get a nasty surprise.” What could he mean? I open the door to find Mar, Pilar and Elena looking dumb-founded, shocked, and a sort of disappointment with a hint of anger was in their face; the presents weren’t there.
That explains Teresa’s face. I can just hear her thoughts. “This is a cruel joke to play.”
The kids went scouring around the house. Crime Scene Investigation: Epiphany Edition. Great deductive reasoning when Elena found camel tracks and bread crumbs leading up to the door. Proof the Kings must have come. Priceless was the moment when I heard a scream, turned to see Mar at the doors leading into the den, holding the door slightly ajar behind her back. She called everyone over and flung the door open revealing piles of presents tired to balloons strewed about the room on anything that was standing still. We spent the entire morning opening presents. I even got some presents from Abuelita and Abuelo, Kiko and Angles, Abuela Pilar, and of coarse the Three Kings. We stayed for one more day, but the vacation was enough for me to see the 3,000-year-old city of Cadiz, visit the beach, and such. We arrived home the 7th in time for school the next day. Back to work for us all.
About a week and a half after I got home, after a school day that kept dragging its feet, I was so happy to find a package from home!
P.S. I had bought some toe socks specifically meant for hiking and I was so happy to finally get them, thus the title of the video.
I look back on it now and I think how funny it is that I still haven’t gotten homesick. Oh sure I miss my family and friends, and not feeling so judged when I walk through the house barefoot, but I haven’t cried. I got a little emotional at Halloween, but no tears, and I think its because that is such an American tradition. I think my tears are training for my plane ride 8 months from now when I have to leave. That’s going to be hard. But I won’t think about that now. I’ll think about that tomorrow. Name the movie!
Coming up…My weeklong tour through Paris, Zurich, and Salzburg!
First of all, sorry for the extreme lateness of this post. No excuse really except unbridled procrastination and lack of internet.
Secondly, Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and a very Happy New Year!
December 24th-27th
These past few weeks since my last entry have been a roller coaster. Not that I have been so busy I haven’t found time to write, but It’s been a bit of a ride with how anxious I’ve felt at times and how calm and how “me” I felt at others. I’m slowly beginning to find my nitch at the school among the students and faculty, making friends with the English speakers and such. Still no word on weather I am to receive some amount of compensation for my work, but its been a crazy last few weeks due to the end of the semester for them, the Christmas competitions, performances, etc. So, they said they should have a more definite schedule and answer for me when the year resumes in January.
Christmas with my Spanish family is spent in Barcelona, then New Years and the feast of the Three Kings is taken in the southern part of Spain in Cadiz (Ca-dee-th). We left the evening of the 22nd from Madrid for Barcelona, passing through Zaragoza, just in time to visit the beautiful Belen (Nativity Scene) at La Virgin de Pilar (The Virgin of the Pillar), the cathedral of the patron of Spain. What a magnificent cathedral! Its massive four white towers can be seen from miles away. The sight of it colored by the many hues of sunset was breathtaking. I would have taken pictures of the inside but they weren’t allowed and I thought it rude to take photos during any service.
The evening we arrived we had a quick super and hopped into bed. Little did I know this was to be the last evening of a decent amount of sleep I was going to get within the next few days. Not because I was uncomfortable or would have trouble sleeping but because the Spanish love to party all night. Noise control is not a problem in the building because 10 of the 14 flats are home to aunts and uncles of the family. Christmas Eve day was spent the afternoon walking around the city, returning to Abuelita’s flat to change and finish the preparations for the Christmas Eve party. By 7:30 pm everyone had arrived. 14 aunts and uncles, 30 cousins, and a whole lot of cava and comido packed liked sardines in Abuela’s dining room. I like to think that the party had its own commencement a lot of singing and playing of instruments before dinner started the party off on a very joyful note.
One of my favorite parts of the evening was the Basket Raffle. Each year Abuela puts together a basket of goodies and one of the grandchildren gets to draw the names of the family’s present. The name picked last gets the prize. The family’s got so excited! Screaming and chanting their family names, holding their breath as little Elena stumbled through the names, not even finishing before sighs of anguish clashed with shouts of victory from the families that were still in the running. You would think we were watching the world cup.
I was a bit shy at first. If I had known that most of the cousins my age spoke English very well, I would have been a bit more open right off the bat. But, soon enough I discovered Tote (toe-te), one of the cousins, your stereotypical, tall, dark, and handsome Spaniard who works as a motorcycle mechanic and bartends, oh and he used to model I found out. Well, he and I talked for a bit but I ended up spending most of the night with Ana, Maria, and Pepe; the three are sisters and brother, and cousin to Tote. Maria actually knew who I was. Apparently, she had spent 3 days at my house a few years ago and remembered me. I can’t say that I remembered her but I guess she came with me to buy some non-slip shoes for my job at the restaurant. Then there is Ana. She doesn’t know it yet but we are going to be great friends. Ana right off introduced her self and told me her English needed work, introduced me to her siblings and spent practically the entire evening at my side. Pepe, 19, whom I thought was 22, is also unaware of my plans for our friendship. He also said he was sky of speaking English, but after the first few minutes speaking with him, I judge that he understated his ability to speak. Both he and his sisters spoke well. Especially Maria, but she has spent the most time abroad.
My second favorite part of the evening was the exciting arrival of Papa Noel. Funny was that one of the cousins, Javier, “volunteered”, and by “volunteered”, I mean his older cousins forced him to be Papa Noel. The way some of the children acted, and the way the older cousins exaggerated, their excitement, you’d find similar behavior among adolescent girls at a Justin Bieber concert.
Everyone eventually began trickling out around 11:30pm. My assumption that the party was now over was over shot by several hours. Several of the aunts and uncles, cousins, and the older children in my family went to midnight mass at a local chapel in an Opus Dei center about a 15-minute walk from Abuelita’s. After mass I was looking forward to a restful sleep. Not the case, I am happy to report. For the after party was so much fun! After mass, everyone stayed to sing Christmas songs, eat drink, and be merry. Passing tambourines, maracas, and claves (cla-veys), while several of the residents of the center played guitars and cajons, (that box you think is a seat but someone else sits on and shows your dumb ass its a drum) everyone’s voice raised in song, some louder than others, it made me think “So what if your tired, this is how the birth of a King should be celebrated! Big families, joyful singing, good eating!”
Unfortunately, I didn’t know about the after party, otherwise I would have snapped a picture or video.
We all got to bed around 4 am and woke about 10 am the morning of the 25th.
Today was the 4 hours lunch with the extended family. We drove up into some nearby mountains to a restaurant with a great view of some small towns. Almost everyone present the night before was there as well as some new faces. I sat with Ana and Pepe and met their second cousins Laura (17) and Ramón (19). Something about this family or maybe it’s the Spanish in general but they always surprise with their ages. More often than not I think they are much older. Easy to talk to and very friendly seem to be hereditary in this family, no matter how distant the relation.
After dining all the family sat around each other to listen to members sing for treats. Everyone from the 4 year old to Miguel (24) and his guitar performed. Pilar, Ana, and Pepe even tried to get me to sing but I really couldn’t. I was too nervous and I hadn’t warmed up and …once I really thought about it, it seemed selfish to not to sing. Especially after Pilar announced to the room I was going to sing, and several of the grandma’s pleaded. Last minute I made up my mind, but by that time, the people still remaining were getting their coats on to leave. Oh well…
Later that evening after a light dinner, myself, some of the older cousins and aunts and uncles went to see “The Hobbit”. I love Richard Armitage and am a fan of LOTR (“Lord of the rings” for all of you who don’t understand the abbreviation). Put the two of them together and my heart will just about burst! It’s like a swallowed a box of fireworks. I had already had seen a crappy version of the movie online in English so I knew what I was going on. The movie was much more exciting when you can see all the details of the characters, and a bit scary. The last big fight scene as the love of my life charges through flames towards the white orce Ana, curled up in a fetal position muttering “tell me if he dies…esta muerta?” and me with my face frozen like this:
I just loved Richard too much to see him hurt, even if its only a movie. Is that such a crime!!!!! Don’t judge.
That night’s sleep was very welcome. The next day a great Aunt came to visit so we had another long lunch with smoked Spanish ham, cava, and more tall, dark, and handsome cousins. Nest day, the 27th, we left for the mountains to ski.
Too bad I won’t see most of my pals from this weekend until the summer when we visit next. Come to think of it, I probably won’t ever see them again, considering the fact that I’m going to die on this ski trip. Did I mention, I have never skied before? Well, lets just hope that the ambulance I asked for to wait at the bottom of the mountain has worked out a plan to get me if I crash before then.
December 27th
We drove about 2 hours from Barcelona until we reached the cabin.
December 28th
The family went skiing today and it was a blast! From the cabin we drove about ten minutes into France. Its less crowded and its cheaper to ski in the small part of the Pyrenees that sits just over the boarder. I’ll admit my train of though went something like this:
“I am so excited! I don’t like this… That is it I have found it, I am in hell. “ But after I fell down a few times, okay a lot of times, I managed to ski down the bottom half of the hill without falling or crashing into anything. Just as I was starting to have fun learning how to ski, about two hours after we had started, I fell into the splits ad pulled muscle in my inner thigh area; a muscle that has been giving me trouble anytime I walk more than 6 hours or run for too long. Well, I was a bit pissed. I wanted to ski down the entire training hill by the end of the day, but that wasn’t going to happen if I couldn’t walk up the hill first totting my skis and batons.
We left around 5pm and had dinner around 6:30pm back at the cabin. Later in the evening after a few board games we all watched “Seven Brides for Seven Brothers” around the fire. One of my favorite movies ever, and it was the perfect setting. All of us tired from a long day of skiing, full bellies, huddled around the fire, singing old songs I know by heart. The family went to another mountain the following day but I was so sore and tired from the day before I didn’t ski. Too bad, because this mountain was so much more picturesque and less populated than the previous one.
Rise and shine! 6 am for skiing!
The cabin
December 30th
Woke this morning to Kiko shouting from downstairs. Don’t remember any words except “horses”. Best motivation he could have had to get us up that early; horseback riding! We spent the morning trotting through a valley in the Pyrenees; unforgettable! We returned to the cabin and left for Barcelona for a night’s rest before we made the long journey to Cadiz for New Years.
Me, and my noble steed Avana
December 31st
We made it to Cadiz about 9:30pm. In time to have a late New Years supper with lots of turron and cava, and in time to celebrate New Years with Abuelo, Abuela, uncles, aunts, and cousins. Too much cava, too little sleep sums up the night pretty well.
January 1st
We spent the morning at the beach playing in the sand and climbing an old fortress. I haven’t been in Cadiz for more than 24 hours but I know I’m going to miss it so much. Imagine growing up in such a place? What a magical childhood that would be.
Posts to come will be the feast of the Three Kings and my trips to Paris, Zurich, and Salzburg.
And one more thing…Happy 30th Anniversary Mom and Dad! You’re both are such and inspiration!
Late last night Kiko dropped me off at the airport around 11pm. My flight was scheduled to leave at 6:30am from Madrid and arrive around 8:30am in London. We decided it would be silly to wake up at 3:30am to get to the airport at a reasonable time before the flight. So, as to avoid missing the plan and to provide ample time to get through security and such, I spent the night on the cold, hard, marble of Madrid, Barajas. Kiko was a bit surprised that all I took with me was a school sized backpack. But even with that I think I over packed for 4 days.
I tried to sleep, but the floor was just too cold and there were no benches. Not many people around, a few young travelers, in particular, a young man and woman who couldn’t have been much older than me. 25 maybe? I choose to sleep near them due to the fact that they looked like backpackers. I was a bit envious of their warm sleeping bags. I was in a bit of a foul mood. Cold. Tired. And anxious to leave. The obnoxiously loud spanish women who had to spend 2 hours blabbering near all the sleepers only made it worse. I mean really? COme on! Look around you! Its 2am and you have to perch your furry coats up against a wall and talk incessantly while a good handful of people try to sleep?! I couldn’t take it, so around 4am I As miserable as I was, I moved down the terminal closer to my gate and curled up out of sight behind a large pillar, propping my head up with my bag. I managed a hazy half-awake-half-dreaming kind of sleep which, safe to say, was unreastful. Despite my horrible situation, I was finding some joy in the experience. The only thing that I really wanted someone to share it with.
London made quite a first impression. I had only been there 2 hours and already I was falling in love with the place. After my arrival in Liverpool Station I walked down to the London Bridge in hopes that after crossing I would find a place to eat. I passed a Starbucks, my stomach growled, but I didn’t want to eat anything I could have back home. I wanted something new. I saw a sign for Jubilee Market and though I’d try to grab some fresh fruit. I passed through several markets, and none seemed to be set up even though it was close to 11am. Not being able to ignore my stomach anymore, and to put me in better mood after a sleepless night, I decided to stop at Le Pain Quotidien. Yes, its a french named cafe, but I was so hungry. I made up for the French name by buying a pot of fresh (and I mean fresh! It like they picked the leaves out of a garden in the back!) mint tea, and freshly made scone with homemade raspberry jam. About 8 euros.
I picked up a hot cup of tea at a Starbucks as I walked towards the River Thames. Spent the good part of the morning exploring the sites along side of it, tea in hand. The only thing I was fine just passing buy the sites, taking photos and such, the only thing I wish I had money for was the Shakespeare Museum. But at 13 Euro? That could potential be two meals, or 1/2 a ticket flying me to France. I walked in, managed to get a peak of the stage when I noticed the girl at the front watching me closely. I put her at easy when I turned and walked towards the door. I made it from London Bridge to Westminster Abbey by 4pm and headed towards Buckingham palace. From there I walked to the arch and into Hyde Park. Probably my favorite place in London. The parks. And I was there at the perfect time.
The parks at sunset.
Oh my lord!
After Hyde Park I crossed into Kensington Park where I found the Peter Pan statue. I sat there and ate one of the sandwiches I had packed from home. By the time I was finished it was 6:30pm and very dark. I decided to make my way over to SOHO, Covenant Garden, and the theater district by way of Oxford Street. What a street! All decked out in Christmas lights. I swear it was at least 5 times grander than the lights on State Street back home. The cold night air was getting to me, and my feet needed a break, so I visited one of the major Starbucks on Oxford for a Soy, 1-p, no foam, Cinnamon Dolce Latte. Mmmmhm. Managed to snag a leather arm chair amongst the yuppy teens crowding the cafe, cradle inside its cushions and spent an hour and a half or so addressing postcards. After Starbucks I took Rathborne to SOHO Square, and the pushed on to the theater which plays Singing in the Rain all year, Covenant Garden, then finally, after reaching the Savoy and taking a few night pictures with my ipod (my camera had died), I decided to head towards my couch surfing host’s house in Upton Park.
For privacy reasons I will not disclose the names of those I surf or host with.
Seeker picked me up at the station and we walked to his house where I got to meet 2 of his 5 house mates. I wondered if he thought we fell into easy conversation because I certainly didn’t feel that way. I was tired, and after 10 minutes with this guy I figured we had very different view on life. But, I didn’t want to be rude and let that stand in my way of getting to know him. Maybe I would consider him a new friend by then end of my stay rather than just an acquaintance. So, I over looked our differences and acted the part of the personable, graceful, down-to-earth, ball of sunshine I really didn’t feel like. At least, not around him and his house mate, Wellsmooth.
They took me to a local pub and bought me my first, and second, English beer. Well, beer I drank in England. I don’t know if it was made there. Anyway, after the pub we spent the rest of the night sipping wine, talking of music, travel etc, and playing BS and a a card game called (insert profanity)head. Once you learn the game, its really addictive and fun! About 3 am I had to sleep. Seeker offered me his bead while he took the couch downstairs.
The next morning I was looking forward to doing my own thing such as returning to the Savoy etc. Seeker and Wellsmooth took me to the equivalent of a diner called Aunt Alice or something like that in West Ham for an English breakfast. Holy crap it was a lot of food! Beans, poached egg, toasts, bacon, fries, and tea. I knew as soon as they placed it in front of me I was either going to need a wheel chair to leave or not finish at all. They took me to the metro and just as I was about to run through the gate, Seeker decided he wanted to show me around. I tried to pull the whole “Oh no! You have class and I have a really big stride. I like to go at my own pace…I have lots of places I want to see…I don’t need a guide.” But to no avail. He followed me on the metro explaining he didn’t have to go to school and would love to be my tour guide. I only kept thinking, “Great, my feet are cramping, I have a shooting pain in my upper hip, I don’t want to keep pretending to be friends with this guy.” I didn’t make nearly as 1/2 the effort I did the day before. I was a bit upset I couldn’t do my own thing. He took me to a few places but I knew I could have gotten around much faster on my own, and seen a lot more things that interested me. That is something I want to make very clear to my next host. If I’m pressed for time, I choose sight-seeing on my own over getting the locals perspective. Around 4pm Seeker told me that there was another couch surfer. lets call her Polanda, who was looking to visit the National Gallery. It was free so I didn’t object. We met her inside. She was very interesting in that she was studying her P.H.D. in Molecular Biology, loved impressionism art (that where we clicked!) and I would discover she loved classic rock.
After the museum we went though Chinatown (more like China street) to get a bite to eat in SOHO. The reasuarant we choose, The Crown and Two Chairman, claimed to be in the “heart of SOHO”. Perfect timing for fish and chips and a local beer, we picked a pub that was having a pub quiz. Everyone puts 2 Euro into the pot to play and if your team wins you get the pot. Never having done a pub quiz before, we stayed and tried our best but came in dead last. We didn’t care much though, we had fun. I couldn’t walk much more. Seeker and Polanda wanted to walk some more and he was nice enough give me his house key. We went to Picadilly Circus (awesome at night!) and we parted ways from there. I said farewell to Polanda and wished her well with everything, exchanged a hug and disappeared into the mouth of the underground. I got back to the house and as soon as I readied myself for bed, and pluged-in all my electronics, I fell fast asleep. I awoke the next morning very early, but not as early as I wanted. The entire time I spent with Seeker and Wellsmooth they were trying to convince me not to waste a day leaving London for the Chatsworth house. I didn’t even bother explaining them the significance the house hold for me, I knew they wouldn’t understand and probably poke fun at me for being such a romantic. I bid Seeker and Wellsmooth a goodbye and sincere thanks for their hospitality and headed to my destination…Pemberley.
I don’t know if it was the joy that I was going to the home of Mr. Darcy, that I was free from the mask I wore while with Seeker and Wellsmooth, or that I was to comfortably rest for 4 hours on a train gazing out my window at the english country side. Probably all contributed to that feeling you get when you know you haven’t a care in the world, or at least you forget you do. I was on no ones time but my own. The greatest weight on my mind was earl grey or peppermint?
I passed through Leicester. A.K.A. my husband hometown, and about an hour later arrived at Chesterfield. I thanked God for this next part. I was waiting for the bus to Chatsworth outside the station for about 10 minutes when a woman in her early 50′s asked me what bus I was waiting for. I told her. Such a sweet lady, she said I missed the last bus for the day that goes to Chatsworth from the station. But if I was to follower her she would lead me to the bus stop in town where there is a bus every hour to my destination. She and I walked for 10 minutes, casually talking of the town, her profession, where I was from etc. when she pointed down a road and told me to follow it until I reached stop B12. An angel sent her to me. I would have wasted so much time.
By the time I got to the town of Baslow, which is where the house is, it was too dark to even consider going to the house, for anyone else maybe. I was determined to see the house at night. How beautiful it must b all light up! I walked in to a local inn called the Wheatsheaf and discovered that the house actually closes at 5pm. Stupid me! Why didn’t I wake up at 7am instead of 9am? Why did I have to wander around Covenant garden? Visit the Church I found hidden near by? Spend all 7 minutes in the Savoy? Those are the thoughts I didn’t let into my mind. I was in England! The and of Peter Pan and Beatles! I wasn’t going to get angry at myself for enjoying it and soaking up every once I could! So…I booked a well deserved bed of my own. Complete with a hot bath as long as I wanted it to be, WIFI, television, complimentary breakfast, and all the cliche charm of an English countryside inn; own to the vintage key.
After a tour of the main street in Baslow, a visit to the Devonshire Arms Inn down the street for a pint and ale pie I returned to my room, showered, skyped with Addie, and fell into a deep, peaceful nights sleep.
I awoke the morning of the 14th around 9:30am, showered (again), had a quick breakfast, and eagerly, but enjoyably, headed along the footpath to Chatsworth House. I arrived at 11am and spent half the day exploring the house, gardens, and hiking some of the Peak district. I’m a bit embarrassed to admit it but I cried when I caught my first glimpse of Pembereley’s yellow stones through the surrounding forest, and felt depressed as I left to return to London. I had waited so long to be here. Was I upset that it wasn’t all I had dreamed it would be? I was annoyed at the stupid fairytale Christmas decorations, all the elderly visitors who loved to linger in high traffic areas, and what seemed and excessive amount of “PRIVATE” signs hanging from chains barring me from various rooms, veranda and windows. Or was I depressed that it was all over? The house for me stood for something greater than just a setting for a movie…I can’t put it into words. But leaving it unsaid while I move on to the next chapters of my story seems dishonest. Its a relic of a life that no longer exists. In my mind its a monument to great love. A kind of love we all wish to find one day. Like I said, I can’t put it into words which do it justice.
“Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”-Jane Eyre
This phrase kept running through my head.
After Pemberley (Chatsworth House) I sat down for tea and treacle tarts with a fellow american traveler I met up at the house. We were waiting for the same bus and decided to snack at the cafe across from the bus stop. How funny is it that her name is Lizzy and mine Lydia, just like in Pride and Prejudice. A lovely woman who was is her mid-30′s and taking a two-week vacation to England before retuning to school to pursue nursing. I’m glad we talked. She seemed so happy with where she was in life. Just goes to show you don’t need to have your career picked for the rest of your life my the are of 20.
We caught the bus back to Chesterfield and bid farewell to each other and good luck in life and travels before we parted ways, she back to her hotel, and me to my train for London. I had some time to kill before I was to meet my next host for CS (Couch Surfing) so I lost myself in Harrods. Only to emerge for a bit to eat from Cafe Rouge nearby. You can meet some interesting people in the corners of London cafes…
The next surfer I stayed with was Beachman. I call him that because he made me feel like I was at the beach. Who doesn’t like the beach? He was the best host I could wish for. I really would have rather stayed with him for my entire trip then with Seeker and Wellsmooth. He was so understanding when I couldn’t make it the night before because I got stuck in Baslow, and right from when he picked me up at the metro at 9:30pm we talked like friends. Such a cool guy, only 22 years old and already so well traveled and climbing the ladder of success. We sat on his couch and talked non-stop until 2am when we fell asleep watching Prison Break. since he was moving a lot of his furniture was gone so we both slept on the big L-shaped couch he had. Man! I was more comfortable on that couch then sleeping in Seeker’s bed all by myself. I got up before the butt-crack of dawn the next morning to give myself enough time to make it to the airport for my flight. In a soft voice I thanked him for his hospitality and inspiration, wished him success in everything, and told he would have a place to stay if he ever came to Chicago. The next few hours went by slowly, but I wouldn’t have made them go any faster. I had enough time to say “See ya later” to England. There’s no doubt in my mind that I will return someday.
For more photos, visit my facebook album, ENGLAND.
Almudena met me at Plaza del Sol today by the bear-tree statue around 2pm. I had gotten to the city a bit early and did some exploring of my own for about an hour or so. Got a cappuccino at a Starbucks and visited places like the Market of St. Michael and small streets filled with tapas bars and fresh fruit, stopping in a few stores to browse as well. We met at 2 and first thing we needed was something to eat. Almudena took me through the Plaza Mayor and we took a few photos of some of the art work people had displayed there. I guess that is the hang out of all the younger people for lunch and after partying. Past the Plaza we came to a small cafe I wish I could remember the name of. There we got a tradition sandwich from Madrid. Fried calamari on a sub bun is basically what it was. I liked it, but I can see how its an acquired taste. After our sandwiches at a nearby fountain we walked to Our Lady of Almudena. Not as architecturally stunning as the cathedral in Barcelona (which I loved!) but still awesome. Almudena was explaining how the Catherdal combines different periods of architecture and style in different parts of the Cathedral. “I don’t like it”. Here words. It did feel a bit funny walking past, what looked like, mismatched sculptures and depictions of saints.
Right next to the Cathedral is one of the royal Palaces. We snapped a few pictures and proceeded to explore the gardens along side of it. Next was the Royal Opera, then the Egyptian Monument and its surrounding parks. The day was just perfect for this foot tour of some of the city. We passed through Plaza de Espana and down Grand Via; a very important street in the city.
Almudena and I got a long real well. She’s such a friendly person. Never had a lull in the conversation, and it helps that she’s practically fluent in English so I could speak at a somewhat more normal pace for me. I really hoped I’d get to see more of her. We took a rest inside some official building I can’t remember. From there walked past the Prado museum, where, get this, Almudena works. We planned a trip with some other girls with her as our guide to be carried out with in the next few months. She’s an art history major so this friendship could not be more exciting for me.
Our last destination for our tour was the Parque de Madrid to see the crystal palace. I’ll tell ya, it was SUCH a perfect day for our visit. Everything was changing color, the sky was a brilliant blue, and the 4:30 sun was hitting everything at just the right angle giving everything its own ora. Breathtaking.
The Crystal Palace
The Crystal Place was probably my favorite, even though we didn’t get to go inside. They didn’t want anyone in there because a big event was set starting in February. I’ll have to take Ellen or someone who comes to visit.
After the Park we took a bus back to a mutual friends house to hydrate, then headed home. I returned home around 8pm just in time for dinner which was all I wanted…and a chair to sit in. I was Exhausted. Non-stop walking and talking, but it was worth it.
October 30
Words. Cannot. Describe. No. Nore. Gym.
I loved the girls, but I was tired of repeatedly telling them to behave. My voice was on its last leg.
October 31
Happy Birthday to my sister! Today was probably the most homesick I have felt in a long time. It was the first holiday I wouldn’t be home to celebrate. Not a huge deal but it made me think if all the things I was missing, and missed. Got a bit nostalgic thinking of all the homemade Halloween costumes, the late nights trick-or-treating until 1 am with our pillow cases, i missed the zombies and scarecrows, the spider webs, the carved pumpkins illuminating the steps of every house on every street, five tons of candy my seven brothers and sisters and I would collect, and the five tons of candy we would donate to the orphans in Mexico who didn’t have candy (Well played mom…). Now that I think about it, it wasn’t so much the spoils, but it was the hunt we loved.
I have never not dressed up for Halloween and gone to at least one house asking for candy. Now what? Im just supposed to stop! I can’t. I have quit to many things in life! Tap dancing because I was insecure about my height, towering over the rest of the class, Varsity basketball because all my friends were on Junior Varsity, Girl Souts because I was impatient to get the green vest etc. This was gonna happen. So after feeling a bit mopey I went down stairs to rummage through the costumes in the play room. PERFECT. A native american headdress. Tre me! Especially since I am 1/16 Native American (and proud!), and I am a “native american” living in Spain.
My Halloween costume
Pilar even had some friends over togo trick-or-treating. Now I had company! It not a widely celebrated holiday but its becoming more popular. We came home around 8pm to a dark house. The door slowly opended before we had time to touch the handle. We peeked into the dark foyer to see a dark outline of a hooded figure hunched over in the hall. Then all of a sudden shrills of bloody murder. I’m sure the neighbors could hear. We partook in the fun, scaring a few more people to come by. Around 9 pm we filled up on pizza, popcorn, and candy while watching “Corpse Bride”. Soon after slipped into our sugar comas but not before we could brush our teeth.
November 1
I just love this family. I forgot what it was like to have younger kids around the house. Although the story beings with tears it end with singing. In this post I will not disclose names for privacy issues, but the story is too cute to hold back. One of the children had a friend over today and they wanted to watch The Hunger Games, and of course it became a family showing. Later that night, around 12am, I heard whimpering coming from the children’s study. I was tired but I figured, since everyone was supposedly in bed an hour ago, I’d investigate. Sure enough on the couch in the study, one of the kids had fat tears rolling down their cheeks. I snuggled up next to them and wrapped my arms around, pulling them into a hug. “Whats wrong? Why the tears?” Through small sobs they said they couldn’t sleep because of the movie. They were afraid that they would have nightmares of their life in the hunger games. Cure for nightmares? I used to sleep with a rosary clenched between my fingers. Give them something happy to dream about right? So, we pulled out the futon on the couch and curled up in front of my computer to watch a disney movie. 2am rolled around and we were were out like lights as soon as the credits hit the screen.
It made me think how the simplest act of kindness can change so much. Or just a really good disney movie.
November 3rd and 4th
“I am going to die”. An excerpt from my diary. I was really sick with the stomach flu.
I really have no excuse except the fact that I seem to have gotten much lazier. I had goals in mind before I came to Spain, along the lines of, oh ya know, become fluent, read more, become more optimistic, carpe diem kinda crap. Its kinda sad now how I have altered them to simply getting out of bed in the morning. I have no motivation.
I have no real tasks during the day, and even at night I find myself putzing around after lessons with the 3 youngest. I do go to the school during the day for an hour or so, but Im not doing anything I love. In fact, don’t hate for saying this, but I don’t like working with little kids. There, I said it. I feel kinda bad typing it. I’ve been around kids my whole life coming from a family of eight kids, surrounded by families that, for the majority, didn’t have less than four. I get so bored so fast working with kids. Maybe its because Im not teaching them anything I’m passionate about? Or maybe its because Im not passionate about teaching? I’ve really come to admire the people who do teach. My friend Michelle for instance, is soon to graduate from college and is currently working at a local elementary school back home. I grit my teeth a bit thinking about doing that for the rest of my life. I think I’d do better with high schoolers if ever I choose such a profession.
Career choices:
Cannot teach small children
I do adore the children at the school, really. And am happy to work wit them for the year to gain experience. But the situation of not having a set task is driving me a bit crazy. I was told I would read with the children but that had to be put on hold, indefinitely, from the looks of it. I hate that word. “Indefinitely”.
Career choices:
Need deadlines
So I subbed for the gym teacher while she got married. Then, the Speech and Debate teacher became sick, indefinately. Hopefully she will be back after winter break, but no one knows anything. What I found interesting is that Speech and Debate is a new concept for a class here in Spain. Unlike the schools I attended, where public speaking was integrated with the curriculum (example: reading self poems, shakespearian plays in middle school, science fairs, student government…) its not such a big thing here, or so I’m told. Speech and Debate focuses on helping the girls become comfortable speaking in English in front of people. So, the teacher took leave, and I was asked to do it. Having nothing else to do, I excepted. I’m a bit puzzled at how me, a inexperienced 20-year-old is allowed to teach? Well, I’m not being paid so I guess thats part of the reason. Each class only meets with me once a week for an hour. Now that Christmas season is approaching we are taking the time to practice for the concert we have organized.
I don’t know why but I’m peeved when I think that after correcting the girls papers, preparing activities for class, researching songs for them to sing, writing summaries about events in daily life at the school for the website, organizing with the girls for the monthly newsletter, I’m doing this without pay. I sound selfish, yes. But I don’t really know what I’m doing and it frustrates me that I don’t know If Im doing anything right. I know I would feel better if I was doing my best, obviously. But there is nothing to motivate me to do so. Selfish statement right here: Money would motivate me. OUCH! That hurt to type.
Confession: My bank account is dwindling. And I have only been here 2 months. I think I have just enough to get by this next big trip of mine and then I’ll have to stay put for awhile; 3, 4 months.
The Speech and Debate teacher should be back after Christmas break. I will be tossed around some more, I’m sure, but I will ask for a little something in return.
I was considering my work here and while I love the girls, and being in an Opus Dei environment which is very familiar to me, and serving the school the best way I can, Its becoming difficult to volunteer. That is, in exchange for my services in aiding with Speech and Debate, reading with the kids, writing for the schools website, etc., while I’m all to happy to do it, I would be able to devote more time and effort with some pay. I’d be obligated for three times a week. All day, and after hours if needed. This would help me immensely since I have limited sources of income. I understand that school budgets are tight and I wouldn’t be the first priority, but again, It would really help me out.
Career choices:
I like routine, but freedom
I like having a purpose, and I wish I was more selfless, but there are so many things I want to do, and unfortunately they require euros. If I could travel for free then I would be more likely to devote more time at the school for the sheer feeling of purpose. I can understand how people who go away to 3rd world countries and give themselves completely to others. They have nothing to do but give of themselves, I guess. With so many in need of that kind of dire help, I would feel like dirt wanting to “travel and see the world” in my spare time. Here I don’t feel so needed. I’m more of a luxury item; a cushion. A tall, english-speaking, cushion. And thats fine with me. I just can’t afford it.
Expect the next post to be a bit more interesting. I have got quite a few stories from my trip to London!
A lot has happened since my trip to Barcelona. But do to my travel plans, I will not be able to write until Friday the 16th. I’m afraid London will be keeping my quite busy until then. For those of you who read this, I will be sure to have a “spot of tea” in your name. Cheerio!
Follow me on facebook. I might be able to catch a few status updates and snag a few pictures along the way.
We arrived the night of the 19th so Oct 20 was the first full day in Barcelona.To begin I must say that Abuelita’s house is so fun. A vintage feel throughout her flat on the 5th floor, a floor she just so happens to share with one of her 13 children. In fact, of her 13 kids, 8 live in the same building. How fun is that!? Well, we had breakfast around 10am. Kiko, Angeles, and Abuelita wanted to visit the Gothic district in Barcelona which was not too far from Placa (pronounced like “plaza”) de Catalunya; a very central plaza in Barcelona. So, Kiko dropped myself, Angles, and Abuelita off while he went to park the car. It was then I was free to go my own way. I make it sound very independent, but it was similar to a hostage being thrown out a car. Was this independence? They didn’t even mention what time I should be home? Or for that matter if I should come home at all. “Whatever.” I thought. “What’s the worst that could happen? I know how to get to the street she lives on and I was very careful to pay attention to the number of the building.” So, I bid “Hasta Luego” to my family and headed off on my own. First stop, La Cathedral de Barcelona.
I have more pictures on my facebook page, under the album SPAIN. These are just a few highlights.
La Cathedral de Barcelona. I didn’t take this one. But I wanted you all to see what it looks like from the outside.
Details in the Catherdal
Next time I go I will be getting better pictures. Such a breathtaking work of art! Hopefully next time I go there won’t be as many people there. I made it just in time though. I had about 20 minutes in the Cathedral before I dazedly passed an official ushering everyone out. He must not have noticed me right away because
I was alone in a hall before he came around the corner and shouted to me the Cathedral was closed.
I spent the next hours from 12ish to about 6:30pm wandering the streets surrounding Placa de Catalunya. Every so often trying to contact my friend from high school, Caroline, who was living not to far from where I was. Thanks to Andres for letting me use his cell, we did get a hold of each other eventually, and worked out a plan for me to come to her apartment around 6:30ish. It was about a 40 minutes walk from the placa. In the time between, I went in to many shops just browsing the fashionable clothes, taking in the architecture and so on. On of my favorite spots was on Las Ramblas; a popular street off of the Placa. There were lots of tents sent up selling trinkets from scarf’s, handmade jewrely, and art to the stereotypical souvenirs with the words “I <3 Barcelona” all over them. To add more character, there were some street musicians playing. Their music echoed down the street and even off into some of the charming little side streets. I liked these streets the most. Laundry hanging from top floors above tightly packed cafes and one-of-a-kind clothing and trinket shops. The only thing I recognized was a starbucks.
Walking back up towards the Placa to explore what was on the other side of it I began to realize how much my feet were hurting. But I didn’t really want to stop and rest. I wanted to see more. My unwillingness to stop lead me to a most rewarding site.
Gaudi’s house
I passed a Sephora and decided to stop to buy some moisturizer (which was badly needed). Woah! The inside of the Sephora at the Placa was designed like a runway. How neat. You walk down a long, wide hall of mirrors with tables set up to showcase products, then you feel your feet move beneath you without your doing. Down an escalator to the actual store where you are dropped off on a red carpet. Pretend cameras set up on either side of the walkway make you feel like you’re the celebrity they’ve been waiting for. Paparazzi! Cool! Got my moisturizer, but lingered a bit to browse, as any girl would. Bid farewell to my paparazzi and headed back to the center of the mall.
It was about 5pm now and I hadn’t had anything to eat since that morning. Thing is I wasn’t hungry, I was just a bit thirsty and had to pee a little. No big emergency though…Thank God for small favors eh? Well, I would have gone pee if it hadn’t bee for the fact that they charge you .20 euro to use their bathrooms in the mall I was in. What?! Excuse me but if you were in an American mall you could pee for free. I wonder what they would have done if I threatened to pee myself right there in front of the bathroom door? That scene would have been something. Of coarse, if would have been uncomfortable for me. I wondered if all public places did that? Technically, it is their bathroom; they can do whatever they want.
After I was refused my right to pee in a public bathroom, I decided to contact Caroline. Not only was I going to see her but It was the eve of her 21st birthday and her brother was in town and her friends from her study-abroad program were coming over for a party. Even though I was hungry, and my feet no longer had arches, I couldn’t come all this way from Madrid and not see her! On her birthday no less! So, I made the long walk towards her apartment, asking for directions and taking a 10minute detour on the way. I probably would have gotten lost if it hadn’t been for the GPS on my ipod miraculously working. I still haven’t figured that one out. I got to her apartment, texted, and waited for my beautiful friend with her golden-tresses to appear. 20 minutes later I was debating shouting her name in the streets when she came round the corner with her brother carrying what appeared to be a lot of alcohol. Makes sense, turning 21 is a big deal in the U.S. and her location is no exception.
We screamed, and hugged, and screamed some more. We hadn’t seen each other since graduation. I wish that hadn’t been the case. She was always so nice in school. Pretty, sweet, and smart; a lovely girl.
Caroline and me the eve of her 21st birthday in Barcelona
We made pasta salad and prepared for the party that evening chatting about what we had been up to since graduation and where we were trying to get. At about 10pm everyone one was present, about 15 people just hanging out, laughing, listening to music having a few beers, volka gummys (sorry mom!), and the most delicious cinnamon cupcakes! I knew it was going take me at least 45 minutes to get home. It might have been a lot less if I had taken the bus but I didn’t want to risk getting lost. And I didn’t mind walking, even if it was drizzling. So, I invited everyone to visit me in Madrid, bid a warm “see ya later!” to all my new friends, and old, and followed the pulsing blue dot on my ipod all the way back to Abuelita’s in the rain. Perfect timing. It was exactly midnight when I arrived home. Took a quick shower, slipped easily into my PJ’s, and even easier into my dreams.
