1-22-12

Well, I am sitting at my desk on Sunday night with some homework to do...and I don't really want to do it yet. I realized that I haven't written anything since Christmas, so I figure I can kill two birds with one stone right now; procrastinate on my homework, and give you an update of what has been going on around here with me.

For starters, I started off this quarter with 22 credits. Before you ask me how I could be that stupid, I would like to point out that I am taking a class in Flamenco dance- a class easier than P.E., I am in a praise band that I get a credit for, and I have accepted the position of being the "Semi-Youth Pastor" of the Americans", which I also get a credit for. So I really only had about 18 credits of actual classes that require studying, and I started this quarter off in group C, which I felt was not challenging enough. When I weigh all of these factors, I can guestimate that I really only had about 16 credits of actual classes.

At the beginning of last week, I talked with the director of ESDES, and he allowed me to move up to group D, one level higher than group C. This meant that I would have to rethink my schedule a little, because that would be impossible for me. I ended up dropping two classes that I didn't really need anyways; a class on the history of Spain and a class on Spanish literature, and now that I think about it, why on earth did I sign up for a Spanish literature class?! I don't even like studying literature in English! Not only does this make my schedule lighter, but my class schedule now allows me to go into town on Wednesdays for the market in case I need anything. However, I have decided to keep my Flamenco class, my praise band participation, and my position as the semi-pastor of "los americanos". Now I have 18 credits, and am studying in a level a little bit more challenging, and a lot more fun for me.

As the semi-pastor of the Americans, I am basically the social vice president who was told to put a spiritual element into everything we do. my job is to think of stuff to do that incorporates the students into the church life. The teacher that offered me the position said that my first task would be to hold a small group for the Americans like the rest of the church was already doing. He said I could do whatever I wanted for that group as long as it had a spiritual element to it, but I had no idea what to do to keep these guys entertained each week. On Friday night, I filled in for Juan who does afterglow each week, and normally, when afterglow is over, everyone goes home. This week, we stayed longer and just sang songs until about an hour after it was supposed to be over. The students said they really enjoyed that and wanted more of that, and one even suggested we do something like this every week. Basically, in short, the idea for my weekly small group came from the mouth of that person. Now, we will be singing every Wednesday night at 8 pm in the Frontera (a multi-purpose type room).

Later on in the week, one of the deans informed me that the Americans who were supposed to be doing music for chapel on Thursday nights hadn't been showing up, and asked if I would do something about it. Now, my schedule is as follows: Monday night  is praise band practice, Tuesday night is the praise band performance, Wednesday night is my small group, Thursday night will be me and probably two or three friends each week doing the music for chapel, and sometimes on Friday evenings and Sabbath mornings, the praise band does music for the church services. Somehow the lyrics of a song I sang back in my good ole' days at MGA come to mind, "...my life goes on in endless song...", and I think those are very appropriate lyrics for right now. However, I am not complaining one bit- I am looking forward to seeing how it goes.

This last Sabbath, our praise band/choir did the worship service, and I discovered something revolutionary. Now, you might think this isn't even worth noting, but I think this is the coolest thing since soy milk. Here in Sagunto, there is only one printer we have access to on a regular basis, and it is in the school office. Whenever we have a new song to learn, I don't print it out because we are only suppose to use that printer for "more important" stuff like assignments, or airline tickets. My best option has been to just simply try to memorize each song, but that only goes so far sometimes, considering how often times we will get four new songs on Monday and we perform on Friday...and I have a life outside of memorizing music. This last week, I have found out that I can put the lyrics and chords on my tablet in PDF form, and just view them straight from my tablet like a song book- simply swiping side to side to change songs. Now, not only do I save myself the hassle of printing, and saving paper and ink, but now I can have my entire song book with me all the time without having to carry around bunches of papers. I was so excited on Sabbath to show the rest of the choir my newly discovered gem I had found...and no one really seem to care. Oh well, it still makes all of the difference in the world to me. I think I will continue this practice even when I go back to Calimesa.

One of the theology students studying here, who plays the bass in the praise band while I play his guitar, just bought a bow and arrow set from Decathlon, the Sport Chalet of Europe. For the last few days, we have had the best time shooting up his cardboard boxes, and I am sure we will continue to destroy more. One of the first times I saw him with his bow and arrow, I asked him, "Este es tu ocio nuevo?" Which means, "So this is your new hobby?", and he looked me square in the eye, and with all of the seriousness in the world he said, "Este no es un ocio, es un deporte", which means, "This isn't a hobby, it's a sport!". I laughed a little, but he was dead serious. So from now on, while I am with Igor and his bow and arrows, I will remember to call it a sport, even though I have questions about that classification.

Well, that is about all that has happened around here for the last week or so. Until next time!

Christmas Travels Part 3

Last night our month of travel and exploration came to a close. It was sad, because it truly was the trip of a lifetime, but the emotion I felt much stronger was relief. This year, Christmas break was backwards; usually, you leave school to go home for the break, and it is really hard to leave home when you have to return to school. This year, we left our ‘home’ to go travel, and when we returned, it is as if we returned ‘home’, making it much easier to come back. I must have at least tripled my traveling experience this month. It is a completely different world using the trains and metros daily, bartering for lots of things, having to figure out city maps, which I still need lots of practice on (just ask Josh and Eric), figuring out the best way to get to where we needed to go, staying every few nights in a different hostel, buying all of the food we needed, and learning about a new country and a new culture. It has all been an unforgettable adventure, but I am more than ready to be back in the café with food I don’t have to pay for each time I go, to have a place to call my home (for the time being), and to be with my school family. Our plane landed just after 12 a.m. last night, we didn’t arrive at the school until about 1 a.m., and I didn’t get to bed until almost 3 a.m. Needless to say, I slept in very late this morning. As we were driving through Sagunto, it almost seemed as if we left only one day before. That was easily the quickest month of my life. When I got back to my dorm room, it was the most inviting room I have ever seen, possibly with the exception of my actual bedroom in California. Aside from the joy we all felt from being reunited, this place seems a bit empty from all of our friends who returned to the US to pick up with their lives there. However, we didn’t say goodbye forever; we will see them in just a few months.

Ok, let’s pick up where we left off before my car had an unexpected reunion with its maker. The last place that we discussed was Rome, so let’s start there.

After Rome, we took a train up to Florence for four days. When we arrived at the station, it was cold and it was dark. We could all see our breath, and we didn’t know exactly where our hostel was. With our scarfs tied tightly around our necks, and our gloves on our cold little hands, we grabbed our bags and started marching. We walked down a few small streets, turned a corner, and BAM! As we turned the corner, we had a very unexpected surprise; a meeting with the Duomo, which was standing tall and majestic over us right in the center of town. It was indeed beautiful, but what was even more impressive was the sheer size of it. We walked around a bit more, and finally found our hostel. This was a very nice hostel, maybe because we got one of the biggest suites they had, but the downside was that the owner smoked like a chimney, so the lobby was always painful to be in. Every time we would arrive at the door to the lobby, I would take a deep breath, open the door, charge through there like a Navy SEAL on a mission, and close our door behind me as soon as I possibly could.

On our first day in Florence, the 24^th, we tried to do everything we could because we didn’t know how many museums would be open on the 26^th. On our first day, we saw the Duomo, climbed the Duomo tower, went to the Accademia Museum (home to David by Michelangelo), saw the Leonardo Di Vinci museum, and the Medici Museum. My favorite parts of that day were seeing David, and seeing the section in the Accademia devoted to musical instruments of the 1800s. I saw a few harpsichords, a few Stradivarius violins, and some instruments I had never even heard of before, like the Serpent; an s shaped tube with holes every so often in it.

For our big Christmas dinner, Eric, Josh, and I went out to eat on the 24^th, because everything would be closed on the 25^th. We had a huge meal at a family run restaurant that was both delicious and very reasonably priced; something that is hard to find sometimes in Europe. We ate like kings, and since the waiter/owner made a very small mistake in our order, he threw in a free tiramisu for us to share. In short, this tiramisu was by far the best I have ever had. Period. Afterwards, we went and got some Christmas gelato at a nearby stand.

On Christmas day, there were plenty of people in the street, but as we suspected, nothing was open. I woke up at around 7:00 am to skype with my family during their celebration on Christmas Eve, and that half hour made my entire Christmas. For a half an hour, I felt like I had teleported from the hostel right into the living room of my Aunt’s house and was participating in the festivities. As I was skyping with my family, Josh and Eric were both skyping with their families at the same time. After we all had skyped, we just hung out in the hostel and ate the food we had bought from the grocery store the day before until the afternoon. In the afternoon, we went out for a little walk that lasted about two hours, came back, and just relaxed some more. That was Christmas this year.

On the day after Christmas, we took the train from Florence to Pisa, and from Pisa to Lucca. Our entire stop in Pisa took about an hour; about ten minutes actually at the tower. We got off the train, walked for twenty minutes, found the tower, took about 5 photos, waited for the bus, and when it didn’t show up, walked back to the train station, and headed to Lucca. Pisa is a nice enough town, but it is overrun with tourists. If that tower wasn’t there, the town of Pisa would be a nothing town. My guess is that most of the money that keeps Pisa running is made in tourism. At any given time, you can look out over the masses that gather at the tower, and you will see about twenty hands up, posing for a leaning shot against the tower.

Lucca, on the other hand, was much more likeable. For starters, over 50% of the people inside of the walls were actual residents. Cameras weren’t so common, and no one was posing for anything. The town felt cozier; more natural. Lucca is a medieval town that has a wall around it for protection, but was never attacked. In Lucca, there were no sites to see, and no hordes of tourists, only a very well preserved medieval town that was both charming, and of course, gorgeous.

Leaving Florence on the way to Venice, we had purchased reservations for first class train seats. They cost the exact same as second class, so we figured “why not”. We were riding pretty until the ticket checker came around. He checked Eric’s ticket, Josh’s ticket, then my ticket. He seemed to be fine with their tickets, so I wasn’t worried because we hadn’t had any problems until then. Just as he was handing my ticket back to me, he pulled it back and said, “Wait a minute…”. He then told us that we had second class Eurail passes, and a first class ticket- a combination that shouldn’t have been. We had already gotten first class reservations a few times before, so we didn’t know it made a difference, but kindly and rudely at the same time, he told us either we pay 25 euros each for the difference or move back to second class. Of course we moved back to second class, and to be honest, the only real difference was that first class was full of pompous rude businessmen, and second class was full of everyone else; normal people. It really wasn’t much worse at all, in fact, it was better without some of those businessmen. Oops, now we know for next time.

We only spent about two full days in Venice, but they were definitely two days well spent. For the entire time we were there, we simply just walked around, took pictures, and got lost on purpose. Venice isn’t too big, so it is easy to get lost, but also very easy to find the way again. Eric and I became very experimental with our pictures trying out different combinations of effects, and different modes. Venice is just like every other town, except of course, on the water. This place is touristy simply because of its beauty- not much else. The big thing to do in Venice is to go shopping, which of course is very overpriced. On one of our days, we took a water taxi to the island of Lido. Lido is a normal city; not much to see, average beauty, and normally priced stuff. We walked around for the afternoon and returned. It was nice to be away from all of the other tourists and the tourist trappers.

Because the Eurail system is the way it is, we couldn’t use our passes to get a night train to Paris in time for New Years as we had planned. The way it works is that only a certain amount of seats on each train may be reserved by Eurail pass holders, and all of those spots were taken. In short, either we would have paid just over 100 euros each for about 15 hours on the train arriving January 1, or we could pay about 200 euros for an hour and a half on a plane and arrive early for the celebration.  Since New Year’s in Paris was what we were coming to Paris for, we chose the 200 euro plane option, and I am really glad we did.

When we arrived in Paris we went to our hotel, which was very nice, and just relaxed the rest of the night. In the morning, we had to move to a hostel on the outskirts of Paris because this hotel was booked for the next night. It took us a while to find our next hostel, and while we were lost walking around, it started to rain. Perfect. While we were walking, the handle on Josh’s carry-on broke clean off the rest of the bag, so in the rain, he stooped down, picked up the carry-on in his arms, and kept on walking. Finally, after much frustration, and realizing that we may never find it, we found the hostel. The hostel was named “Cheap Beds”, and in some ways, that name was very fitting, and in some ways, not very fitting at all. Because it was the night of the 31^st and most of Paris was booked, these “cheap beds” actually cost about the same as our nice hotel the night before. If you want to know about the state of the room we stayed in, it wasn’t “Cheap Beds”, it was more like “Practically Free” beds. When we arrived, there were hairs on the bathroom floor from who-knows-where, the only chair in the room was like a chair found in a classroom, except the seat wasn’t actually attached to the frame, so the first time I sat down I slid right off, the piping under the sink had a leak, so every time you ran the water, it would go into the drain, and straight down to the floor, and last but not least, the shower was a bathtub with no showerhead, but a hose connected to the low faucet with a nozzle on the end. It was anything but paradise, but the good news was that we were planning on being out late celebrating anyways, and we only had one night there.

After we got  settled in, we headed out to the party. There were about 20 ACA students on the cruise, and most of us planned to meet up again in Paris for New Year’s. At around 10 pm, we all met up at a metro station, and started heading out to the Eiffel Tower, and the Champs-Elysees. I am not sure exactly how to describe the metro ride out to the tower. A sardine can would be a start, but it still wouldn’t bring justice to that ride. I was standing next to Michelle, Eliana, Josh, and Daisy, and we were so packed, that I didn’t even have to hold on to anything, because there was nowhere to fall to- I was pinned upright by those around me. The most fun part of that was pulling into a stop with a metro that was already 120% full, and having to fit on about 15 more people at every stop. It was literally a bonding experience for all of us, even to the strangers on that metro. Of course everyone on that metro got off at the exact same stop, so it was like a large school of minnows swimming through a 1 foot diameter pipe, or at least that’s what I can imagine that I could compare it to.

When we arrived at the Champs-Elysees, it was much the same story. Trying to keep a group of about 15 together was almost impossible. The Champs-Elysees was absolutely gorgeous; there were lights in all of the trees, and of course at the end of the street, the Arc de Triomphe stood majestically. I am not sure why, but someone in the group decided that it would be better to go to the tower instead, and just like a flock of sheep, we all followed their lead. At this point in the evening, every other person in the massive crowd was drunk, and as the night went on, more and more people became more and more intoxicated. By the time we reached the tower, we had about ten minutes until the big moment, and in those ten minutes, we experienced a variety of things, including people acting ridiculously drunk, and homemade fireworks flying overhead, and of course, those fireworks boomed extremely loudly right over our heads. I truly thought someone would be killed from those things, or at least a massive fire would be started. When the time was right, the tower started blinking, and small fireworks went off in the distance. That’s it. No count down, nothing. Needless to say, we were all expecting a little bit more. The moment wasn’t very spectacular as we had been dreaming, but the after party helped make it up a little bit.

Up until New Year’s, I had always had an uneasiness around people who were drinking, or who were drunk. On New Year’s I learned that just because they were drunk didn’t mean I should be afraid or uneasy. In fact, I have learned that drunken people can actually be very fun to be around. A little disclaimer: I myself have no interest in getting drunk, and New Year’s further cemented my desire for sobriety in my mind. From what some people who have been drunk before have told me, while someone is drunk, they feel on top of the world. Of course while they are drunk, they act in such a way that they normally would not: often embarrassing, or damaging themselves or others around them without even knowing it. One of the guys who was with us that night had never been drunk before; he had tried alcohol in little sips, but had never drunken enough to make a substantial difference. That night, he bought a wine bottle of the $3.25 quality; the good stuff. I know next to nothing about wine, but I do know that good wine costs more than $3.25 for the bottle- even more than that for a glass. Anyways, he drank the whole thing, and about two minutes later, he was walking like a dizzy person, he became the most outgoing person I have ever seen in my life, and funniest of all, he had to go to the bathroom really bad. Normally, my philosophy is, “When a bro’s gotta go, a bro’s gotta go”, but when a drunk bro wants to take a wiz out onto the open sidewalk in the middle of a busy street as he did, we decided it would be best to hurry him along to one of our hostels so he could properly use the washroom. Despite the desperation in that situation, I thought the whole thing was absolutely hilarious, even though I was the one grabbing him by the arm and leading him around. Despite the funny people, there were also people getting into fights- drunk as skunks. There was a man walking in the same direction we were who just couldn’t walk in a straight line; he would drift into someone, go the other way, plow into someone else, and best of all, he plowed into a nearby fence, and started a fight…with the fence.

When we finally got to the hostel, we all had to use the restroom, for there had been none along the way. Guess who went first? Yep, you guess it, our very own drunken skunk. At this point, it was about three in the morning, and the metro that went back to our hostel didn’t open up until about 5:30am, so we just stayed at that hostel that was already jam packed before we arrived. I sat down next to the bed, put my head down just for a sec, and was completely gone. That’s where the picture on facebook came from (thank you Eric Mathis). If you don’t know what picture I am talking about, it is probably better that way.

At 5:15 am, I was woken up, and we caught the metro back to our hostel. When we arrived there, we crashed instantly. Once we all woke up at around 11:00 am, we packed up, and our next task was to find our next place to stay, which was a British woman’s guesthouse for the next three nights. The moment we arrived in her yard, she made us feel like family. She was very friendly, and she went out of her way to help us with whatever we needed.

Over the next few days, we saw the Louvre, The Eiffel Tower, The Champs Elysees, The Arche de Triomphe, Notre Dame Cathedral, and Versailles. When we arrived at the Eiffel Tower, we were debating amongst ourselves whether or not to go up, and because of the rainclouds overhead, the winds, the cold, and most importantly, the huge line, we decided against it. Not five minutes after we decided not to go, the winds started whipping up like crazy, and it started raining hard. Because of the wind, this rain was coming almost perfectly horizontally. My umbrella did jack squat out there. In fact, the winds demolished it when I tried to fend off the rain; it was broken in about 30 seconds. Good thing we didn’t decide to go up; we would have been on our way up, and the line to get down would have been even worse than the line to go up.

When our adventures in Paris came to a close, we packed everything up, and headed out to Normandy. Eric set up a tour for the three of us with a veteran in the airborne division who served a few decades after WWII. This was one of the most knowledgeable guys I have ever heard talking about WWII. We  started off the day in Saint Merecles where the Airborne division landed on D-day. A few nights before we arrived in Carentan (Normandy), Eric showed Josh and I the Band of Brothers series so we would get a little history before we went. It was very exciting to see where one of the guy’s parachutes caught on the corner of the bell tower of a church, and where he hung for at least 5 hours while Germans were shooting from inside that very bell tower (and that soldier survived). Our guide took us to a bridge where a major battle took place, he took us to Omaha Beach, Pont du Hoc, Utah beach, and last but not least, the Normandy American Cemetery where some of the American soldiers from D-day were buried. As I looked out on the sea of white crosses, it really made an impression on me. In history books when you read that 5,000 died, or 50,000, or whatever number, you think, “Wow, that’s a big number”, then you move on with your life and don’t give it another thought. When I was standing in the middle of that sea of crosses, the number had a much bigger meaning than just a number on paper. Every tombstone had a name on it, or a message saying that this was an unknown soldier. It hit me that beneath each of these crosses, there lay more than a soldier; there lay a man; a father, a son, a brother. For each man lying there, a family somewhere in the United States back in 1944 received a letter that that man wouldn’t be returning home. For each of those crosses, there was a man that was important to someone; to a group of someones. It is really sobering to think of the sorrow that a war like this brings, when the loss of even one soldier is very sad, but the loss of 5,000, or 50,000, or whatever number, is a million times worse. Since this was an American cemetery, for Americans only, there were American flags flying on tall flagpoles. After four months of seeing the Spanish flag, the Italian flag, the European Union flag, and countless others flying, watching those United States of America flags flying majestically in that cemetery with no others in sight, waving tall and proud in the wind, gave me a sense of pride to be an American that I possibly have never felt so strongly before, and often take for granted. Here in Spain, they try to push us to be like them; to talk like them, to think like them, to eat like them, and that is what we are here for, but in that cemetery, I was not an American trying to be Spanish, I was an American who was proud to be an American; not a Spaniard, not a Frenchman, not a Brit; an American. I have never been so proud to be an American than I was in that cemetery. Our tour guide knew the curator of the cemetery, and he arranged it so that we could lower our flag as the sun was setting. I have raised and lowered the American flag for Pathfinders many, many times; I have lead the entire conference in doing so on occasion, but this time meant a thousand times more than any of those ever will. To lower my flag in the spot where one of the biggest wars took place, to be in the company of thousands of men who gave their lives so that I could stand there in that fashion; it was a feeling I cannot put into words.

When our tour came to a close, we headed back to Paris, and spent the next few days just resting up and preparing for the journey back. We learned a lot about many different things on this trip, but one thing we learned about travel itself is that the trip is always more enjoyable when there are times when nothing is planned, and the only plan is to relax. As I have said earlier, this has been the trip of a lifetime. These are memories that I don’t think will ever be forgotten. To have travelled with two of my closest friends for a month over two continents will definitely never be done in the fashion we did it in ever again. This trip was great, but now, I am eager and more than ready to gear up for this next quarter, hit it hard, and conquer it. I have never gone into the beginning of a quarter of school with the finish line already in sight, but I guess there is a first time for everything. I am ready to conquer this quarter, and finish it off already. Maybe I am so eager to get this quarter over with because my dad will be heading out on Spring Break, maybe I just want the time to pass quicker so I can come home sooner, or maybe I am just pumped up to learn. Whatever the reason, bring it on winter quarter.

Until the next time…