12-27-11

 

Last week, I got the news that my car, my Volvo, for all intents and purposes, will be no more.  There is a myth that guys have a very strong attachment to cars. For all you ladies out there, I am here to say that this myth is completely confirmed. When I got the news, I quickly just said everything was okay, and tried to suppress my feelings. Today, my feelings couldn't be suppressed any longer, so here we are. Before I continue with this rather unusual blog post, I would like to say to the party that was involved that just because I am sad about it right now, it doesn't change the fact that I don't hold any hard feelings toward him or her, and that he or she is completely forgiven. 

Nevertheless, I still feel feelings of loss of what was my very first car, and what was my traveling companion for the last 3 years of my life. From Palm Desert for the summers to musical performances to the beach to school to sporting events to anywhere we could; we went everywhere together. We looked good together, and we enjoyed each others company. Earlier this evening, I called my dad, and we talked about my feelings of loss for my car, and he told me that those feelings are completely normal. I found out in my senior year of high school that my personality type likes closure. Unfortunately, right now I am in Italy and I won't get a chance to say goodbye, making closure more elusive. Nevertheless, I will do my best to try.

What is a car? A car is a motor bolted to a frame with a body bolted onto that. Inside the body there are seats, a steering wheel, some buttons and knobs, some pedals, some instruments, usually a radio, and possibly a gps device. Attached to the motor are shafts which have hubs at the ends which have rims bolted on, which have tires attached. Inside the motor, there are little pistons that explode very quickly to drive the drive shaft. All of these elements are combined to create something that is used to get you where you want to go. 

However, a car is so much more than a bunch of moving parts bolted together to help it move forwards or backwards. A car is a symbol of freedom. A car is what makes the difference between stuck at home and out to the beach for the day with friends. A first car, especially for a guy like me, shows a guy what freedom tastes like for the first time, becomes his partner in crime, his right arm,  his faithful companion that will go anywhere with him and keep him safe along the way, an extension of his soul, a keeper of secrets, a sharer of the desire to be a race car driver someday, and his ticket to anywhere-you-want-ville, all in one. 

When I had my knee surgery last summer, I couldn't drive at all. Everyday I would hobble on my crutches into the garage, and my car would be sitting there staring at me. It seemed to say with excitement, "What new and exciting place are we going to discover today Steven? ", and everyday I had to reply with great disappointment, "Nowhere. Not today". I can't tell you how depressing my knee surgery was because every day my car would just beckon to me for an open road adventure, and I had to say no. I was like a prisoner in my own house. I remember my first time driving her again when I got off my crutches. I backed out of the driveway carefully, and the second I put it in drive, I punched the gas and didn't let up until we got to our destination. One thing I will say about this car, it had spirit, and always had speed to spare. With lots of get-up-and-go, it was a very zoomy little car. In the car Olympics, it would definitely be a sprinter.

I can't count all of the good times I've had in my car. I can't count all of the places Diana and I went in high school, all of the deep conversations I have had with many various people over these last few years, all of the days I had on highway 10 going to camp with the radio blasting, the sun roof open, and the open road ahead, all of the adventures, and all of the experiences. This car will always be in my heart; it will always be a part of my story. It was the one thing I always counted on remaining unchanged when I got home for vacations. The furniture would be rearranged, there would be junk in my room that wasn't there when I left, my plants would be overgrown or sometimes dead, and the people changed; but the one thing that never changed was my Volvo parked in the garage eager for action.

This time, when I come home from Spain in June, my Volvo won't be in the garage waiting for me; ready for a new adventure. The garage will be vacant, and I will be car-less for a while. I am supposed to be taking O Chem at La Sierra this summer, and I am still trying to figure out how I am going to get there each day, but one worry at a time. 

I feel like I have lost my right arm, and my very close companion. I will be sad for a while longer and then I will move on. This has taught me that in this life, nothing is certain, and nothing lasts forever. Stuff happens. Stuff we weren't expecting, stuff we were expecting, stuff that hits us like a train, stuff that seems to crush us, stuff that seems unfair. When stuff happens, the only thing we can do is just make the best of it, and try to move on. I will eventually have to get a new car, granted, but no car will ever take the place of this one in my heart; my first taste of freedom, my partner in crime, my ticket to anywhere-you-want-to-go-ville just for the fun of it.

Christmas Travels Part 2

Since the last post, we have been to Izmir, Athens, and Rome. On the cruise, they sell "excursions" for every stop. The only time we actually prepared an expensive tour was for Israel, and that was well worth every penny. We went with a company that wasn't from the cruise, and maybe that made the difference. The name of the cruise was the "Holy Lands Voyage", and the only question I ask myself is why on earth did we stop in Izmir? I have a feeling that the only reason we stopped in Izmir is because the church of Ephesus is about 100 miles away or so- about 120 euro by taxi for round trip. However, the cruise sold a package probably in the $300 range for a tour of the highlights of Izmir. Our group, on the other hand, decided to just hang out in the city and maybe run into a few sights if we just so happened to do so.

On our way into the city, we met one of the thousands of taxi drivers there, and he offered us a tour of Izmir for 8 euros a piece. We reluctantly agreed, more because we just wanted something to do than actually see the sights. He called a few of his taxi driver friends, and we were off. I guess 8 euros is better than $300 to see exactly the same stuff. Now, I was in Peru this last summer, and I have made a few comments on the driving in Peru. However, in some ways, the driving in Peru doesn't hold a candle to the scariness of driving in Turkey. Those taxi drivers know the corners of their cars like the back of their hands, and at times, the back of their hands wouldn't even fit between their car and the next while speeding through the intersection avoiding the people in the crosswalk and avoiding other cars driving the exact same way. Our taxi driver didn't make us wear seat belts, but I became very faithful in remembering mine very early on.

Our drivers took us to some ancient ruins, a small castle, and a mosque. Before we entered the mosque, we had to remove our shoes and leave them outside. I am very fond of my shoes, and one of my only thoughts while we were inside was that one of the many children who were begging in the streets would come and take them, and I would be walking around the city for the rest of the day without shoes on. Luckily, I left the mosque with rubber under my feet, and leather over the top, and all was right in the world again.

Before we went to the mosque, we went to some ancient ruins and the castle of Izmir. Our taxi driver was also very conveniently our tour guide, but his English was very broken, so I only understood about half of the ideas he was trying to convey. The ruins were...well...ruins. I didn't really hear who they belonged to, how old they were, or what the real significance of them was, so to me, we saw a bunch of pillars, arches, and old rocks. Sweet. 

After we finished at the ruins, we went to the castle. This was a very small castle, but for how small it was, there was quite the bounty of people there. Most of them were begging children, and people selling souvenirs. When our taxi stopped inside the castle, a young child came up to the car door and opened it for me. I was very surprised, and just as I was saying thanks to this seemingly very well mannered child for the favor he hath done unto me, he said, "1 euro". My thoughts of how sweet this kid was vanished instantly, and I couldn't believe that he was trying to charge me a euro just for opening a door. Later on, we went up to the top of the castle, and actually walked on the wall. There was another kid there who did the same routine to everyone. First, he would tap you on the shoulder and say, " 'ello money", and I am 99.999...% sure that it meant that he wanted you to give him money. When you refused, he would follow you around pleading in whatever language the Turks speak. I will say, those kids have it down to a science: they don't really even need words because they do all the talking with their eyes. They are like puppies asking for scraps of food at the dinner table. When he had done this to about four of us, the rest of us caught on and just ignored him. When he picked up that everyone was just ignoring him, he started saying, "cheese" repeatedly, and really loudly. Finally, I thought, "well, why not", and I took his picture. He tried to charge me a euro. If I wanted a picture of a
Turkish model, I would have hired one.

I have very mixed feelings about the whole begging thing in general. On one hand, if Jesus were in Izmir that day, maybe he would have given each kid a euro until he didn't have any left and the shirt on his back was gone. When I see kids begging, part of me really does want to give each of them something until I have no money left, and no clothes on my back, but the other part, however, is that in a place like Izmir, if you give one kid a euro, the others will pester you relentlessly until they get their euro as well. Once one gets something, the others tend to expect theirs as well. Jesus says to give to the one who asks you, I acknowledge that fully, but when they are charging me for the privilege of taking a photo of them, or for holding a door open, my hand gets very comfortable staying inside my pocket.   Just one time, I would love to see just one of those kids just coming up to me and say something to the effect of, "excuse me, could you possibly spare some change?" If one went with that approach, I would be 100% more willing to pitch in. I am not saying that Jesus tells us to give only to polite people, but it certainly would make it much more appealing for me to give. I don't know if I made the right decision in Izmir, and I am not sure if I would do it differently next time.

After our guided tour, we walked around the huge market, and headed back to the boat.This market was huge; a city of it's own. One could easily get separated and lost in there, and spend hours trying to meet up with their party again. One of the interesting things about that market is that there were many coffee booths there, and they would invite us to sit down and enjoy a cup- right in the middle of the market- literally.



The next day, we landed in Athens. There were only two things I wanted to see in Athens; the Acropolis, and the Parthenon. Until the day of our little excursion, I thought that they would be on two completely different sides of town. When someone told me that the Parthenon sits on the Acropolis, I was blown away, shocked, and of course, really excited. One of the attractions of the Acropolis for me is that I am a big fan of Yanni. In 1994, Yanni released an album called, Live at the Acropolis. Guess where it was performed? It was really exciting to see the stage where it was performed. It is kind of sad, isn't it? There is so much Greek history in and around the Acropolis from centuries and centuries back, and all I cared about was the stage where Yanni stood 17 years ago. Even though I am not an ancient Greece history buff, I still enjoyed it thoroughly, and of course took a bounty of pictures. After the Parthenon, we walked around more, and saw the temple of Zeus, and the Olympic stadium used in 2004. On our way, we passed by a long line of souvenir shops, and up until that point in the trip, the only souvenirs I bought had been post cards. In Athens, I bought a small Grecian pot that was handmade and hand painted, and an 8x10 oil painting on canvas of the Parthenon. The real test will be getting that pot back to school in one piece.

On our last day of the cruise, the sea was very rough. Up until the last day on the ship, we had smooth, nearly perfect sailing. On that day for the first time, I, and many of my companions, felt very sick. The entire day, it was like a constant rolling motion that wouldn't let up. The only way to try to avoid it was sleep, but getting to sleep was near impossible. Despite countless motion sickness pills, it never seemed to get better. Normally when I feel nausea, I just roll down the window of the car, or in this case go out on the deck for some air, but the wind was so strong, it was hard to even walk in a straight line without getting blown away. At dinner, about 20 of us started out seated at the table, but one by one, we dropped like flies, and we finished with about 7 of us enjoying desert. When we woke up the next morning, everything was perfect again.

After we packed up and left the boat, we all took a bus to the train station in Savona. There, we all hugged, said our goodbyes, and all headed out on separate trains for different cities, countries, and for some, different continents. Our plan is for everyone to reunite in Paris for New Years.

For Devin, Eric, Josh and I, our next stop was Rome. To put it simply, I have completely fallen in love with Rome. We went to the Coliseum, the Forum, the Pantheon, St. Peter’s Basilica, the Sistine Chapel, the Vatican museum, a few other famous museums, the prison of Peter, the Trevi fountain, and many more places. What is it about Rome? Maybe it is the history, the beauty, the atmosphere, or maybe something else. Whatever it was, it was an unforgettable experience.

I found everything we did  over the past four days to be very enjoyable, and so far on this trip, Rome is my favorite city. One thing that made it very enjoyable was that a friend told me about a Rick Steves’ podcast that gave audio tours for all of the places we went, so when we went to the Coliseum and the Forum, I had a free, enjoyable, and educational audio tour that was probably better than the ones that could be purchased for 7 euros or so. The Coliseum was the most remarkable to me simply because of its sheer size. The size of St. Peter’s Basilica was impressive too, but the fact that the Coliseum is still standing from the Roman Period, even after the people yanked out the iron supports that were holding the bricks together and melted them down (something I learned from my audio tour with Rick Steves). Another interesting fact I learned from my audio tour is that back in the days when the Coliseum was used for Gladiators and gore, there was a crank/pully system that was used to bring the warriors (or victims) from under the stage right up onto it, having no idea what else would be up there when they arrived. There were apparently over 80 “elevators” to bring them to their glory or to their doom. Another fact l learned is that the court where all of the action took place is a ratio of 5 long to 3 wide, thought to be the perfect ratio by Pythagoras (Thank you, Mrs. Mumper, for the poster on the back wall of your classroom). 

On the first day we were in Rome, we spent the day in the Vatican. We saw St. Peter’s Basilica,  the largest Cathedral in the world, the Sistine Chapel, and the Vatican Museum. St. Peter’s Basilica was impressive and beautiful, but I could have sworn the whole time we were in there that the Duomo in Milan is bigger. Maybe it was the lighting. Even though it didn’t seem like the biggest to me at the time, that didn’t discount from it's beauty. It was indeed gorgeous. Right smack dab in the middle where the altar is, in fact right under the altar, Saint Peter is supposedly buried. The funny part to me is that in the little museum right outside, there is a relic with Saint Peter’s finger in it, and it looked more bronze than dead flesh. My question is did they hack off his finger right before they “buried” him there?

After St. Peter’s Basilica, we went to the museum, which turned out to be a maze that went straight into the Sistine Chapel. The museum was okay, but I must confess that it was so big that after two hours or so, everything started to look the same. We saw roman statues, Grecian pots, paintings, artifacts, and many other types of stuff. Finally, after about what seemed like all day, but what could have only been two hours or so, we arrived at the Sistine Chapel entrance. Maybe it seemed so long because we had been looking forward to the chapel from the start. Amazingly, there was no line whatsoever, which almost unheard of, so we just waltzed right on inside. The chapel was beautiful, but it didn’t capture me the way I was expecting it to. Don’t get me wrong, it did capture me, but it was more of a subtle growing feeling rather than the blow to the face I was expecting. That is, I was expecting to walk in and to be absolutely blown away instantly by the intricacies, the gold plated everything, the bling, and the fanciness. The chapel is bright and inviting, don’t get me wrong, but it is beautiful because of the work that went into it and its significance. When I say the work that went into it, I am talking about the years Michelangelo and the other famous artists put into it, and their representations of different Bible stories and the way they express them. The chapel is divided up into many different paintings called frescas, and each painter painted one or three. My very favorite painting is by Michelangelo, and it is covering the entire front wall of the chapelt, and it is called, “The Last Judgment”.  As a whole, it is a great painting, but the reason why it is my favorite is because of the way Michelangelo painted the dead rising. It excites me every time I think about the Second Coming and the dead rising, and I really enjoy how it is depicted. What makes the paintings by Michelangelo in the Sistine Chapel even more impressive is that Michelangelo was not known for painting; he was known for sculpting. When he was chosen to paint, he was reluctant because he didn’t know if he could do a good job in 2d. Even so, he made masterpieces on the walls and the ceiling as well.

I have taken up a new hobby; a new past time since we have been in Rome, and that is bartering. Yep, it's a real past time, or at least it is now.  I have found that it is actually quite fun to find something you want and argue and bicker for sometimes quite a while about what price you think is right to pay. Let’s see, since we have been in Rome, I have bartered for an umbrella, a new satchel because my old one is giving out, little souvenirs here and there, scarfs for Eric and Josh,  and we even did a little bit of bartering for our hostel/apartment arrangement. The way I see it, if you can’t agree on a price, especially when you are in a place like Rome, someone has the exact same thing for sale just down the way, and the worst that can happen is you just walk away. There are only two rules I have had to live by so far to make it work; patience, and having the ability to walk away. Usually they go hand in hand, because once they see you start to walk away, they usually call you back and give you what you asked for. If they don’t, you just keep on walking to the next shop or market, and start over again. Just this afternoon, there were a bunch of guys walking around selling little souvenir glass blocks with the word Rome in the middle with a picture of the Coliseum or the Vatican under. I thought those would be great gifties for family and friends, but I already had plenty of goodies and didn’t really need to get any more, but we had time, and we all decided that we would split the cost, which would be about a euro each if I did well. I talked to about four different guys, and none of them would go lower than 1 for a euro, so I just kept walking away. Finally, I was able to talk the very last guy into giving me 6 of them for 5 euros. Now we all have little gifties for our families, but to be honest, for me, it was more about the opportunity to negotiate and battle rather than the booty itself. I came back to the others, who had been watching everything from above (literally), with a huge smile on my face because I had had such a great time…and got a deal on little souvenirs. 

Rome is definitely a place I want to return to when I get the chance, maybe in 5, 10, or even 20 years from now, but I definitely want to see it all again. Of all of the cities we have visited so far; Milan, Genoa, Olympia, Athens, Jerusalem, Bethlehem, and Rome, Rome is my favorite. Now we are on the train heading out to Florence, which is where we will be for Christmas. I can’t wait to see what will happen next. Until next time…

Christmas Travels Part 1

Well, here we are about a week into vacation, and this is the first internet I have had since we have started. Since we left the school last Wednesday evening, we have been on a trip that has been exciting, adventurous, near disastrous at times, memorable, relaxing, and most of all, fun.

We started our trip off with a flight to Milan, where we waited in the train station from about 11:00 pm to about 7:00am the next morning. At about 12:30, a few of us were hungry, so we decided to leave the train station to go across the street to Micky D’s for a little snack. According to the sign, the train station closes at 1:00 am, but when we returned at about 12:50, the doors were all shut, barred, and padlocked. There was no busting in on this one. Earlier in the evening, I thought how funny it would be if one of us got locked out of the train station for the night, but all of the sudden, it didn’t seem so funny anymore. It was below 40 degrees outside, we could see our breath, and that train station isn’t in the best part of town. We walked all the way around the train station, and all of the doors were locked except one. The one that wasn’t locked had about four guards in the doorway. Out of our group, I spoke the second-best Spanish, and somehow I was elected to go talk with the guards who spoke Italian. Perfect. The four of us walked up, and I just started rattling out as quick as I could that our suitcases were inside, our friends were inside, and last but certainly not least, we needed to go inside. Now, I told you that I was talking very fast, but I never said that what I was saying made any sense whatsoever to that guard, even if he did know a little Spanish. He looked at me with a very puzzled look and said, “You speak English?” I was very flustered because I was very surprised, but I gladly told him everything over again in English. In broken English, he told me that unless we had a ticket, we couldn’t go in. I told him that we didn’t have any, but our stuff was already inside. I don’t know if that guard was drunk, compassionate, or something else, but I don’t care; I loved him just the same when he let us through. We rejoined our group, and we got warm, and cheered up quickly. 

                A little while later, Walter came in, but three more were waiting outside.  Walter came in with a little bit of a panic, and asked if anyone had any tickets for tomorrow’s train, because he had told the guard that we were all inside with the tickets already. We told him that no one had any tickets yet. Then he told us that if he didn’t have anything to show the guards, not only would the three outside not be able to come in, but also if  the police came around during the night, they could kick us out into the cold. Someone suggested we use our Eurail passes to get the other three in. They came up with three passes: we needed four; one for Walter as well. At that point, I remembered that I had one too- somehow in all the panic, I forgot I had one. I offered mine as well. Walter and Esther went to talk to the guards. Esther went along in the case that they decided to kick the others out, she would be able to retrieve the passes and bring them back in side. In about three minutes, Walter, Megan, Chelsea, Eric (Walter’s friend from PUC), and Esther returned. We all made it into the train station for the night. Safe, mostly warm, together, happy.

We met many interesting people in that train station, and most of them were drunk. I must say, I am not one who feels 100% comfortable hanging out with drunk people, especially in a train station, but I will say that even though I wasn’t 100% comfortable with it, drunk people have an amazing potential for humor. There was a man there who was either drunk, mentally retarded, or a little of both. He threw bread pieces at our group, and the whole night he would laugh for absolutely no reason whatsoever. There was a man who came hobbling in who told us that he had had an Appendicitis 10 days ago, so we gave up one of our seats for him. When he left, he sprang to his feet, grabbed his very large suitcase, and walked away briskly- not limping. While he was there, he was trying to shush all of the drunk people from Scotland- or at least I think that’s where they were from, who were drinking nonstop and laughing even more than they were drinking. Somehow, a guy trying to shush a group of laughing drunken Scotts indiscreetly makes for quite a funny scene. We started talking; me in English and him in broken English. When I told him we were studying in Spain, we found out we each speak Spanish, so we switched to Spanish. The conversation was much smoother and quicker, but later on, he reverted back to broken English; very broken English. It actually started to frustrate me that it would take three times as long to talk since he only seemed to want to talk English. I have a theory that the way to show off in Europe is to speak English, because we were doing absolutely fine in Spanish, but yet he kept on going for English. He told Casey [the only black person with us] that he looked just like Barack Obama. Casey looks nothing like Obama, at least in my opinion, but this guy was adamant that he was the spitting image. My guess is that this guy hasn’t seen too many people with African roots before.

Finally, after a long night of attempting sleep, talking, watching movies, rubbing our red eyes, and just waiting, we boarded the train and headed out. 18 ACA students and 1 visitor from the NorCal area got on a train that was absolutely filthy. We were so tired, we disregarded the ridiculously dirty headrests, reclined our seats back, and drifted off. I only woke up once during our train ride to go to the bathroom, and let me tell you, this bathroom is like non other I have ever seen. On this train, there is a toilet, much like any other bathroom. The difference is that this toilet has a pipe that goes straight down to the tracks; you can actually see the tracks from the bowl of the toilet. When I did my business, it went straight onto the tracks; when I flushed the toilet, the water went straight onto the tracks. I think from now on whenever I walk across any train track, I will be reminded of that train ride into Savona from Milan.

We pulled into the train station, got on a bus, and headed to the port. Our ship, the Costa Serena, was waiting for us, and for not really being too familiar with boats, this is by far the biggest boat I have ever seen. After checking in, waiting, and waiting some more, we boarded.

 The first thing they told us was that the buffet on floor 9 was open. We were tired, hungry, filthy, and crabby, and the sound of a buffet was music in our ears. Josh, Eric and I ran to our rooms, left our bags, and headed to the buffet. In the buffet, there were perfectly prepared fish, salads, rice, meats, breads, and much more. I filled a large oval plate  with everything I saw there, and when I was done with that plate, I went back and filled another just like it, and finished that one too. I ate like a pig that first meal, and even though I was still tired and filthy, having a very full stomach felt absolutely delightful after a long while going hungry in the train station and the train.

After the buffet, we went to the room, showered, and slept until dinner. Dinner here on the ship is absolutely amazing as well. Each night is a 6 course meal; appetizer, soup, pasta, entrée, cheese platter, desert. This cruise pays for itself just in the food. Someone calculated that for eating out every meal, not even as classy as we do here on the ship every meal, it would come out to more than we paid for the cruise! For 12 days on the cruise, we get room, board, transportation, and entertainment, and we paid around $550 U.S. dollars. I don’t even think you could do hostels, trains, food, etc. for 12 days any cheaper.

Our first real day at sea was very nice. We all slept in; all 19 of us.  I took a book I bought before the trip and went out on the deck for a while and just read for pleasure. I don’t even remember the last time I just read a book for the fun of it with no rush, no incentive, and no report due when I was done. I read slowly on purpose absorbing every word. I believe that is how reading should be. Of course, the lounge chair, the deck, and the boat didn’t hurt the atmosphere either. Later on that day, I went to the art class and painted a little vase, and later on, I went to Italian class. We learned the basics; hello, goodbye, how do you say…, can you say it slower, etc. I learned that Italian is much more similar to Spanish than I even thought.

At dinner, we found out that Tarah, another ACA student who was supposed to be with us on the cruise, missed her flight and was in Milan instead of on the boat with us on the way to Olympia, Greece. I thought it was kind of funny because she already missed a few flights and trains. Tarah ended up meeting us in Greece.

When we landed in Greece the next day, we took a train to Olympia, and saw all of the ruins. It was very, very neat to see everything there, but to be honest, I was expecting Olympia to be much bigger. We took lots of pictures, and had a great time hanging out together.

The night before we got into Israel, we were all sitting around dinner, and I got an unexpected surprise. A woman with a thick British accent came up to our table and informed me that I had been chosen at random for a meeting with the Israeli government the next morning. She told me that there was a letter left in our room with all of the specifics. I wasn’t too worried because after all, it was random, and I have absolutely nothing to hide. However, when I got back to my room and read the note, it didn’t say anything about random anywhere. Worse yet, the meeting was at 6:30 the next morning, and we had just gained an hour because we went east, so it was essentially 5:30 as far as I was concerned. I was not too happy about them making me get up so early on my vacation, but oh well. I got up, showered, and went to the meeting place, which was the lobby of the ship. When I arrived, I told the concierge I was there, and while they were crossing my name off the list, I noticed that there were only about 10 names on it. I figured that if this really was random, there would have been at least 100 names on it, because there are over 3,000 people on this boat right now. From 6:30 in the morning until about 7:00, I waited in the lobby. I was thoroughly mad now, because I had woken up early for them, and they just made me wait, and what made it worse was my stomach was growling loudly because I was starving. Finally, they called me into another room… and told me to wait some more. When I reached the second area, I saw the rest of the people on the list, and they all looked very Middle Eastern. Random my sweet fanny. I actually felt really out of place there, even though I share some of the same heritage as they do. Let’s just say I was the milk of the land and they were the honey if you catch my drift. Luckily, because I was the only American present, they interviewed me first. Interviewed probably isn’t the right word; interrogated is more like it. For the next ten minutes, I was asked where my father was born, where my mother was born, where I was born, why I was on this cruise, who was I with, where have I traveled before, why I was living in Spain, why I chose to learn Spanish, what I knew of Israel, what was I planning to do while I was there, and many other seemingly pointless questions. I decided that playing it stupid would probably be the safest bet, and get me out of there the soonest. The best part is that every answer I gave him was absolutely true. When he asked me why I chose this particular cruise, I told him the honest truth; because it was cheap. When he asked me where my mother was born, I told him I wasn’t exactly sure because my grandparents traveled a lot as missionaries. When  he asked why I chose to learn Spanish, I told him because I live in SoCal and many speak it there. Of course as I was telling him about why I wanted to learn, I was thinking in the back of my head, “I learned Spanish so that I could come here to Israel and yell at the Arabic terrorists who don’t even speak Spanish”. When he asked what I knew about Israel, I told him the dead honest truth: I know almost nothing. After about ten minutes, he thanked me, and I was on my way.

After my interrogation, I went to breakfast, and prepared for an exciting day in Israel. Israel was the one place all of all wanted to splurge for a tour because we wanted to see Jerusalem and we knew that if we did it ourselves we would not be able to see everything or know all of the history behind it. For two days, we had the nicest tour guide and bus driver in the world. The bus driver’s name was Ethan, and the tour guide’s name was Michal [Mick- (big flem)-all], but she told us to call her Micky. By the second day, she had 20 new kids as she started calling us her “babies”. We saw about 329% more than I thought we would in those two days. We saw Mount Masada, the Dead Sea, the temple of Jerusalem, Bethlehem, the supposed place where Jesus was born, the Garden Tomb, the Mount of Olives, the Garden of Gethsemane, the place where the Dead Sea Scrolls were found, the supposed place where David cut off part of Saul’s robe, the location of where Jacob almost sacrificed Isaac, John the Baptist’s birthplace, the room of the Last Supper, Palm Sunday walk, and the Via Dolorosa.

                It’s funny, right now, you might be wondering how far we travelled, and how many hours we spent in the bus, but the surprising thing is that all of these sights are basically a stone’s throw away from each other. In the Bible, everywhere seems really far away from everywhere, and if we were walking like they were, it would have been. In this day and age, everything seems like it is in the same neighborhood. Take the Mount of Olives for instance; the Garden of Gethsemane is in the valley straight down from the mount, and it sounds like the Garden of Gethsemane extended up onto the Mount of Olives. Take Jerusalem and Bethlehem; they are probably only about a mile apart, if that. Take the place where Abraham almost sacrificed Isaac; it is believed that that is the same mountain that the temple is built upon. It astonished me that everything could be so close and interconnected, when every Bible story seems like it took place hundreds of miles from the others.

Of all of the places we visited, my two favorites were the Dead Sea, and the Garden Tomb. We swam in the Dead Sea, and it was unlike anything I have ever experienced before in my life. I swam out about twenty feet, stopped moving, and stayed right where I was without sinking at all; no energy required. I remember when I was younger we swam in our swimming pool and Brian and my Mom could always float, and I never could. I remember trying to tweak my form so many times, but to no avail. Here, no matter your form, no matter your size, I assure you that you will float. Mickey told us that the water of the Dead Sea is 10 times saltier than anywhere else on earth. This information is good and bad; it provided a swim unlike any other, but when I got a little water in my eyes, it hurt 10 times as much as at a normal beach. Normally at the beach, it stops hurting in about 5 to ten minutes tops, and you can return to your activities. Here, when I got water in my eyes, not only did it sting like crazy- worse than I have ever felt before in my life, but it also took about a half an hour to even be able to keep my eyes open. Despite the salt in my eyes, that single experience was worth the entire cost of that tour, and that is a memory that I will keep with me forever.

My second favorite place was  the Garden Tomb, and that was completely awesome in a completely different way. First of all, as with most of these Biblical sites, no one really knows for sure if it really happened there, so I am fully acknowledging that now. Even though it may not be the right tomb, our tour guide really nailed it on the nose when he said, “Guys, it doesn’t really matter if this is the right tomb or not, what really matters is that Jesus Christ has risen from the dead and He is alive.” Our guide for the tomb was a short Englishman with a killer accent. The accent wasn’t the only thing that was killer; this guy had a passion for Christ that radiated out of everything he said and did, and that is what I really appreciated. 

Out of all of the sites, I was most skeptical of the location of the manger, and this place; the tomb. Not only do they have little to no evidence for the manger, but to top it off, they have built a church on top of what is supposedly the cave where Jesus was born. I felt that the location for the tomb was a lot more evidence based, so a much better chance of it being the right place. The tour guide told us a lot of Biblical facts about the description of the tomb, and even though I was really excited, I felt a little skeptical; I wanted to read it for myself. Up until this point in my life, I have only read the Bible for the stories, and for the content. I have never read the Bible for historical research before, and it was really exciting to do so. I am not saying I believe that this is the right tomb, but I believe that it very well could be.

First of all, the guide started us off in a garden like area, and he took us over where we could see a small hill about 50 meters away. The hill had a little cliff off to one side, and in that cliff face, there were two caves where two eyes would be on a face. The guide then showed us a picture of that very same cliff 100 years before, and below the two caves that looked like eyes, there was a very long horizontal cave where the mouth would have been. The whole cliff looked like the face of a skull, hence Golgotha, “Place of the Skull” [Matt 27:33] . Another reason why this hill really matches the description is because it is literally a stone’s throw away from the city wall; …for the place where Jesus was crucified was nigh to the city… John 19:20. Now, the problem with this piece of evidence is that no one knows if this face was formed before or after the crucifixion, and on top of that, apparently there are lots of earthquakes and other terrain changing things that happen quite frequently.  However, for now, let’s just assume we have the right hill. Now, I mentioned that we were in a garden at this point looking at the hill that was very close to us. Now in the place where he was crucified there was a garden…John 19:41. Before you say, “well duh, they just built a garden to make the story fit”, stay with me. The tour guide made the point that to keep a garden alive in the Jerusalem area, one would need lots of water. Right under where the garden and tomb are, there is an ancient storage tank that holds many thousands of gallons of water (I can’t remember how many exactly), and we were able to look down a shaft and see it. So now we have water for a garden, possibly a garden, and the skull head. Now, to have a garden and a big storage tank, we would need a pretty wealthy guy. When the even was come, there came a rich man of Arimathea, names Joseph, who also himself was Jesus’ disciple. He went to Pilate, and begged the body of Jesus…. Matt. 27:57. Next, the guide took us inside the actual tomb. There are two spaces for corpses, but only one spot looks used. It is fairly easy to tell which ones have been used, because they had to dig a little pocket for the feet and for the head because it wasn’t long enough as is for a corpse- kind of like my brother on most beds. One of the spaces clearly had a spot for the feet and for the head dug out, and the other one didn’t have any; it was cleanly cut. This suggests that no one had ever been in that space. And when Joseph had taken the body…laid it in his own new tomb. Matt. 27:57, Now in the place where he was crucified there was a garden; and in the garden a new sepulcher. John 19:41. Now, there is one thing that the tour guide said that I am skeptical on. He told us that Mary went in and looked to the right. Our guide told us that most tombs of the day had two chambers, the “weeping chamber”, and the one where the corps actually was. Usually, they were straight in a line, but in this tomb, the chambers were side by side: the entrance was in the left room; the weeping chamber, and the right room had the spaces for the corpses. And entering into the sepulcher, they saw a young man sitting on the right side, clothed in a long white garment… Mark 16:5, And seeth two angels in white sitting, the one at the head, and the other at the feet, where the body of Jesus had lain John 20:12. So, does that mean that the young man was sitting on the right side of the tomb, not necessarily in the other chamber, just off to the right side? Or does that mean that if you put the two verses together, there were two angels sitting to the right at the head and feet of Jesus? I am not saying that my skepticism discredits this tomb, but I do think it is important to question. I am no Biblical scholar, and I am not trying to sway your opinion, or even my own. I am simply just laying out the facts as I saw them, and as I read about them. I really do believe that this site has a very good chance of being the right one, but no one really knows. The most important thing is what our flamboyant British guide said, “Guys, it doesn’t really matter if this is the right tomb or not, what really matters is that Jesus Christ is risen from the dead and He is alive.”

Well, those are the big highlights of what has been happening here on board for the last couple of days. We are heading into Izmir tomorrow, and Athens on either Friday or Sabbath. I am not sure how many other internet opportunities I will have after this, but if I don’t I will definitely have it when we get off the ship in about 5 days. Pictures will follow soon! Hasta la proxima vez…

12-4-11

I have realized that I haven't written a blog since before Thanksgiving, and I guess it is time to update all of the worried parents out there, namely my own, about some of the stuff that has been going on around here.

We have finals tomorrow through Wednesday, then it is off to see Greece, Turkey, Israel, Italy and Rome for the next month. We are very excited about the trip, but there is a lot of stuff to do between now and the time we leave. We are talking with other ACA students going on the cruise about taking a tour in Jerusalem of all of the Biblical sights, and the dead sea. Aside from that, there are things to buy, documents to print, money to retrieve, stuff to pack, and sleep to get all during finals.

On Thanksgiving day, all of the ACA students put together a Thanksgiving meal for everyone here on campus, and it was quite a success. I helped a little bit with the cooking, but my main job was taking pictures and putting together a slideshow of all of the preparation that went into it. I am particularly proud of the time-laps that was a joint effort between Eric and I; I took the pictures, but I was in a hurry, Eric did me a huge favor, and put them all together while I made the rest of the slideshow. During the program, I was supposed to get up there and say what I was thankful for in Spanish. In Spanish, there is no way to say, "I am thankful for...", you have to say, "I give thanks for...", or at least that's what I have been told. When I was asked to get up and tell what I am thankful for, I thought, "no big deal, I will just get up there and wing it just like I do in English, no biggie". I sat in front with everyone else who had to give a speech, and I noticed that everyone of them had a note card or a small pad, or something with writing on it. That should have been my first clue to write something down, but I didn't take it. As it came closer to my time to talk, I began to get nervous. I haven't been nervous up front in a long, long while. Maybe it was because it was in Spanish, who knows. Anyways, when you are nervous, and up front, funny stuff comes out of your mouth sometimes, as I quickly found out. When I am up front talking in English, words usually just come to me and I say them; in Spanish, I am like a Windows 98 dial-up computer in a fiber-optic world; I need extra time to think, process, conjugate, arrange, format, then speak. Instead of saying, "doy gracias por..." I said, "estoy gracias por..." In other words, I didn't say "I give thanks for...", I said, "I am thank you for...". No one said anything to me after, but immediately after I sat down, I realized what I had said, and just started laughing to myself. Next time; a note card.

This last Wednesday,  the 30th, our class, group C, went to the mall in Castellon to eat together, and just hang out. Chelo and Antonio took us in the van, and Antonio's car. We had a great time with Chelo in the car talking about all sorts of stuff, and when we got there, we had about two hours before dinner to just hang out in the mall. I hung out with Ally for the time, and before I continue, I think it is vital to the story to inform you of my position on malls.

     I believe that malls were thought of, planned for, planned by, and built, for and by women. Usually there are a total of about two stores that guys like me don't feel totally weird going into, or looking around in; Radio Shack and Lids; electronics and a hat store. Usually, when we go to the mall, I either follow a girl around if I am with one, or I just find a nice place to sit down and think and unwind until it is time to leave. 

Okay, so we were at the mall, and malls in Europe consist of clothing and jewelry; that's it. Not a Lids and definitely not a Radio Shack anywhere in sight. Since this is Europe, there is no American Eagle, Pac Sun, or anything else that is its equivalent. Ally and I just started walking and found ourselves, wouldn't you know it, in a clothing store. The funny thing about this store was that all of the clothes were ridiculously cheap. Ally likes to pick out clothes for guys, and I was bored after about 10 minutes, so I made a huge sacrifice on my part; "Alley, I will make you a deal, you pick out any shirt here in this store, and I will try it on." Those were the words that got me in nice and deep. Guess what her response was as her eyes lit up? "Can I pick out pants and a jacket too!?" At that point, I knew I was in too deep, but I guess there was no going back. I just said, "fine". Long story short, for the next 15 minutes, we walked around the mens' dept. and she looked at almost every single shirt when finally she picked them all out; pants, shirts, shoes and sweaters- stuff that wasn't even part of the bargain! Anyways, long story short, for the next hour and a half, I went into the dressing room, walked out to where she could see me, changed an article with something she had in her hand, walked back to the dressing room, changed out whatever she had in her hands for what I was wearing, repeat steps 1 through 4.  Notice, I told her I would try on one shirt, and here I must have tried on at least 5 different shirts, 5 different pairs of jeans, 3 different sweaters, and all of the different combinations within those items. After the fact, I will say that I had an amazing time that night, but as it was happening I felt like Ally was sucking the life out of me with a drinking straw. Thirty euros later, I had a look that went from 'guy that looks like he is from America while in Europe', to 'A guy that could pass as a European as long as he doesn't talk too much'.

As I look back, I haven't really been clothes shopping like that in two or three years, so I guess as my old jeans and shirts were starting to wear out anyways, it was time to get new ones. Now while we are traveling, and even here in Spain, it won't be quite as easy to just look at me and go, "Oh that guy is definitely not from here". For thirty Euros, I am set on clothes for another year or two at least. Can't complain. Thank you Ally.

On Friday, my Folklore class put on a Christmas party for all of ESDES, and I volunteered to be a scaled down MC for the event. The other MC is a girl in our class named Lupe. I feel bad because she wrote a script for us in Spanish and ever since high school, I have never just said the line as it is written. I am pretty sure anyone who has every seen me do anything up front can attest to that. I read for the main idea the line is trying to portray, and just keep on rambling until I somewhat make the point of that line. I am guessing Lupe hasn't had much experience with people like me, and she didn't seem like the type to be able to improvise, even though her Spanish is much better than my own. I didn't think I could improvise in Spanish, but it turns out, rambling in Spanish is becoming just as easy as rambling in English while I am up front. Despite my rambling, and Lupe's fun trying to keep up with me and trying to read the lines exactly how they were even after I had partially, and wholly  said her lines, the party was still a huge success, and everyone had a great time.

Now that I have new, more "up to date with the times" clothes, I have been told that I don't have the right shoes. Whatever happened to the days when a good ole' pair of Nike's worked for everything? I have been having fun wearing my new fashionable clothes with my old "unfashionable" shoes and sandals. I have a pair of sandals here that I love to death because they served well as we were backpacking this summer, and have come in handy many times since then. I tried them with my new jeans tonight, just to see how they look, and I kind of like the look. I went to one of my fashion savvy friends on my hall as we were passing, and asked if the sandals worked with the jeans. Without even turning around, in the most serious voice, rather rudely, he said, "Not at all". I kind of figured "Steven Style", and "Europe Style" weren't exactly seeing eye-to-eye, but in a way, it made me glad that my sandals didn't go with my jeans. The problem I see with fashion as it is here is the mindset seems to me to be, "what do I have to do to fit in? I need all of the latest fashions to feel good about myself", and I have been asking myself if getting these new clothes would make me feel the same way; if I would want to go buy accessories for everything, and spend another 100 euros on more shirts, shoes, etc.. I realized that even though I have some nicer clothes, the person wearing them hasn't changed; the person that likes the way stuff looks and doesn't care that everyone else thinks it is absurd, and who wears it proudly anyways. Now it is too cold to wear my sandals with my new jeans, but when spring time comes, you can bet on my sandals and my jeans becoming better aquanted. They will become like old friends.

Now, it is Sunday night, and there are finals tomorrow, so I guess it is time to get crackin'. We are on the road for the next month starting Wednesday, so I am sure I will have plenty of opportunity to write then.

Hasta la proxima vez...