Sunday, May 6, 2012

5-6-12

Photo Credit: Eric Mathis
 
Here in the Valencia area, it hardly ever rains. In fact, I remember maybe 20 days this whole year when it has rained, and 14 of those were in a two week period in February, and then the rest were basically in the beginning of April. Whenever the forecast on my computer says it is going to rain the next day, I usually wake up the next morning to little or no clouds in the sky, and the sun shining down on us as it usually is. My forecast says it will rain quite often, but I have learned to just ignore it because it is only right once about every 7 times it says it will rain. However, yesterday; the one day of the year that we were actually praying that it wouldn’t rain, it rained.

Mery and Denis, our praise band and choir leaders, planned for us to have a picnic in an absolutely gorgeous park on Sabbath morning and afternoon, and I had been looking forward to it for a while. One reason why I was so excited for this picnic was because it got me out of going to the Pathfinder campout this weekend. Normally, I love those Pathfinder outings… in the US, but in this club here, sometimes the kids don’t exactly behave the way we would like, and that is a sheer understatement. To make matters worse, when I am with the kids and they are disobeying, it is very hard for me to think up directions to yell at them right on the spot as it is happening, so basically all I can tell the kids is, “Come here”, “Stop that”, “Give me that”, and a few other short phrases of this nature. Many times, even the directors have trouble keeping the kids in line, and as you may have guessed, Spanish is their first language. For me, it is frustrating being in charge, or even helping someone else who is, and not being able to speak very well to the ones that are disobeying, and even if I could, they probably wouldn’t listen anyways. In the Pathfinder Club at my home church, I am accustomed to giving directions, and if they don’t obey, I have them stand at attention for a minute or two, or have the run laps around the parking lot, and usually that takes care of their extra energy. Here, discipline is practically nonexistent: they don’t march, so they don’t even know what attention means, they get away with a lot more, and usually it takes five to ten times of telling them to actually get them to do something. Anyways, the point is, I didn’t have to go this weekend and I am truly grateful, though I feel for some of my friends that did.

Photo Credit: Ismael Lopez
We drove about an hour to the park, spread out the blankets and started the day off. This park had a little river running through it, some waterfalls off of some nearby cliffs falling into the river below, many hiking trails, and a nice grassy area for sitting, relaxing, and playing. We started off with a little singing, but because Igor and I “forgot” to bring a guitar like we had been asked to, it was a little different. What really happened was that since I don’t actually have a guitar here in Spain, I was counting on Igor to bring his, but since Igor’s guitar is very nice, he doesn’t like to bring it outdoors on events like this. Hence, we were guitarless. After singing five or six songs, and after a little Sabbath school lesson put on by Mery and Denis, we had about 45 minutes of free time before lunch.

For our 45 minutes of free time, some of us went on a little hike. We followed the path along the river for 22 ½ minutes, and since many of us were hungry, we turned back. We arrived right when they told us to be back, but of course, since this is Spain, it is basically expected that you show up at least 15 minutes late, so the food wasn’t ready. Vanessa R, Andrea, Laura and I took off again but this time in the other direction. We hiked up a little trail that went up to one of the waterfalls. I am not exactly sure what the name of the water fall was, but it should have been called “Shower Falls”, because we got a free shower trying to get up there. We took a few pictures together, and headed down. When we got back to the rest of the group, they were already eating away. What nerve! Anyways, we sat down on the picnic blankets with everyone else, and began.

This was quite a feast we had. Mery packed sandwich makings for everyone, but aside from that, she thought of everything. Here in Spain, sandwiches are very common, but Mery also brought hard boiled eggs, tuna, all of the veggies under the sun, dessert, drinks, chips, dip, and more. We were all sitting in a huge circle on the blankets, and the food was spread out everywhere inside the circle. It kind of reminded me of Bible times, or maybe of how I envision the middle east or parts of Asia. I stuffed myself, and Mery kept insisting that I have more. That was one of the best, yet simplest meals I have had in a long while.
After lunch, we sat around a while, napped, talked, laughed, and enjoyed our time together. Just as we had finished eating, it started to sprinkle. We have had the weirdest weather these last few days; it is sunny, and there are only one or two clouds in the sky, but those one or two clouds just happen to be right over us and are crying. 

It stopped raining just as we were about to leave. Anders, Andrea, Vanessa and I were the first ones to leave. It wasn’t that we were bored, or even wanted to leave just yet, but Andrea had an appointment with her bed, Vanessa had to work in the dorm, and Anders and I had plans of our own for the evening.


When we got back to the campus, Anders and I went and found Josh, Erik, Eric, and Jon. Our plans for the evening were to go see the Valencia Futbol Club play. Going to a soccer game here in Spain was the last thing on the list of things I wanted to complete while here in Spain. Also on that list was a bullfight (until I learned exactly just how cruel I think it is), going to the big science museum in the Arts and Sciences center, seeing the Gulliver park, which I wrote a report about last year at Walla Walla, and a few other things.

We were all ready to go except for one little detail; we hadn’t arranged a ride back from the stadium. At around 10:30 pm, the train station in Valencia shuts down, taxis are super expensive, especially because there were 6 of us, and the buses close down even before the metro. Anders called around, but no one was available to drive us. Finally, we went to our last resort; we called Vanessa, who was now working, and asked her to see if there was anyone who would be in the area, or if she could find anyone who was willing to drive out to Valencia at 12:00 am to pick up  6 Americans. If no one came, we would have two options: find a really cheap hostel for the night, or just simply walk around until about 7:30 a.m. when the trains open up. With no real knowledge of what would happen after the game, we took off walking to the train station, because there wasn't really anything we could've done about it anyways. As it turns out, the bus went closer to the Mastalla than the train, so we decided to take the bus instead. The Mastalla is the stadium where Valencia FC plays. The bus is cheaper than the train, but as far as which one is quicker or more direct, I wouldn't really be able to tell you because I crashed within the first few minutes of the ride.

We arrived at the Mastalla about two hours before game time so that we would have time to buy tickets, get something to eat, and maybe even have a little time to walk around. We walked around the entire stadium and finally found the ticket booth. We bought our tickets, but since it was so close to game time, and because of the seats we wanted, we couldn't find 6 together, so we got tickets for two, two, and two.  After buying tickets, we went to the official team store to see if we could get something to wear or wave to support our team- which we knew literally nothing about. We figured that jerseys would probably be more than we wanted to pay, so maybe if we just bought t-shirts, or maybe a banner, that would do. As it turned out, the jerseys cost 60 euros, but they were 50% off. It was still a little bit more than I was anticipating on paying for some small piece of memorabilia, but we decided to do it anyways because this was our one time going to a futbol game in Spain as students. As it turns out, all of the jerseys came blank, and once they were purchased, the store would press the logo onto it, and for 5 euros more,  we could have whatever name and whatever number put on them as well. Originally, I was going to put my last name on it, and maybe the number I wear on my Walla Walla volleyball jersey, but I thought it would be kind of tacky to go to a game like this with my own name on my jersey, and it would also take away from the experience a little bit. Remember how I mentioned that we literally knew nothing about the team? Well... that was exactly right. When we went up to the cash register to buy our Jerseys, we had to ask the cashier who the best player was, or even who a player was. He told us that the best player was Canales, but since they ran out of Ss, the next best player was Pablo. Eric, Jon, Anders and I all bought jerseys, and Erik and Josh bought scarfs. Eric, Jon and Anders all got Pablo on the back of their jerseys, so when the cashier asked me who I wanted, I said, "give me someone other than Pablo." He thought for a second, and said, "How about Aduriz? He is playing the striker position tonight." I responded, "Sure, that sounds great." I don't know a single thing about the game of soccer, so I don't even know what striker means, and as far as the name, that didn't really mean anything either, but it didn't matter, we were now ready to go cheer for the team. As it turned out, Aduriz, the player on my jersey, is number 11. On the Walla Walla volleyball team, I am number 11, so I started to feel some strange abstract connection to this guy from the get-go. I had been in a real pickle about whether to choose a white jersey (the home jersey that they would be wearing in the game tonight), or an orange one (which was an alternate jersey that is only worn by the team on special occasions). The white jersey had a really cool design on it I really liked, but the orange one had a collar, and looked a little bit more sporty. In the end, I chose the the white one, and after I discovered that Aduriz was number 11, I was actually really glad I got the white, because my Walla Walla jersey is that exact same orange color, so it would have been like I would have just bought another volleyball jersey.
Photo Credit: Josh Toppenberg


We still had about an hour until the game, so we went to grab something to eat at Burger King. As I was eating, I was thinking about how much fast food I have actually eaten this year. There have been many times this year when we have been dropped off in a food court, arrived at a train station, walked into town, and landed in an airport, and simply didn't have any other option, or all of the other places cost about five times as much. As I was finishing, I came to the realization that once I got back to the US, I will need to take a huge break from McDonald's, Burger King, and other similar joints. 

After chowing down and filling up for the game, we walked back to The Mastalla. We entered, and because we had bought the cheapest tickets we could, we were on the highest level of the stadium. That meant that we had to walk for what seemed like a mile up a spiral ramp. This ramp wasn't very steep, so it seemed like we were just walking in circles. As we got to our seats, we realized that something wasn't right with the tickets. What happened was that the guy at the window who sold us the tickets put us as two, two, and two. The problem was that he made a mistake; Jon's ticket and mine were the seats right next to each other, but in different sections! Jon just told me to come sit with him- it shouldn't be a problem. Josh and Erik were sitting right behind us and a few seats over, and Anders and Eric were in the next section over, but still pretty close. The stadium didn't look too crowed, so the worst that could happen was if someone came and wanted my seat, I would just have to move to the other side of Jon, or we would just have to move a few seats over, or something like that- no big deal. 
I have been to many professional baseball games, and a few professional basketball games as well, but, I was more excited about this game more than any of the others, and I am not even quite sure why. The game started, and it was awesome watching these guys play. I have only ever watched one professional soccer game in its entirety in my life, and that was on TV when France and Italy were playing for the FIFA cup in 2006. Other than that, when I flip the channels, I usually don't even take a second look at the games. Before last night, I always thought that the guys just ran around like chickens with their heads cut off; I hadn't realized before how organized it was. In many ways, it was very similar to basketball in that the game plan was fairly similar. The idea was the same: start the ball up top, swing it to the sides, have the others make cuts, and if someone opens up, feed them the ball and make a cut yourself until two or three are collapsing on the goal to challenge maybe two or three of the other team right near the goal. If that doesn't work out, dish it back outside, bring it up to the top, and start over. Unlike basketball, there is no shot clock, so the team can keep the ball the entire half if the other team can't make a steal. 
 
Valencia kept control of the ball about 70% of the game, and played pretty well except for a few close calls. In basketball, the idea is to always move the ball closer to the basket. In soccer, or futbol, it is very common and necessary to bring the ball backwards to regroup and look for more options. Many times, the ball gets kicked all the way back to the goalie so that he can throw it somewhere else, or kick it down field. One time, one of Valencia's player kicked it back to the goalie, and I am not sure if he just wasn't looking, or he wasn't paying attention, but there was a player on the other team standing right there, and he almost intercepted it and he would have been wide open to make a goal. That was the scariest moment during the entire game. 

About 15 minutes into the game, a dad and his kid came down our row, and I was sure that one of their tickets would be the seat I was sitting in. As I mentioned before, there were still a few seats around us, but many fewer now. The dad saw that something was funny about the seats, and what I mean by that is that I was in one of them. The kid looked at his ticket, looked at the seats, and very matter-of-factly pointed to the seat next to me and said that was his seat. Huh? That didn't make any sense; they had seats 106 and 107, and Jon and I were sitting in 104 and 105, yet there was another group sitting right next to me. Maybe whoever was selling tickets that night was a little bit off their rocker, but with that said, I am sure it didn't help the situation that I was sitting in their section. Instead of making a big fuss over who who's seat was who's, the man just told his son to go sit in the row in front of us where there were two empty seats. Whew, needless to say, I was very relieved when he said that.

Almost half way into the game, it started raining. Not a hard rain, but definitely a rain. Great. It had rained on our picnic, and now it was raining on our soccer game on the one day in the last month that it has actually rained! It wasn't too bad, and about a half an hour later, the rain stopped. we were wet; not soaked, but wet. However, I was so focused on the game that I didn't even notice.  By the end of the game, no one would have really ever known that it had rained.

One thing that really surprised me was how the crowd got into the game. When that player on Valencia almost gave it to the other player right in front of the goal, all of us were yelling and whistling, kind of as if to say, "What on earth are you doing." Whenever the ref made a bad call, same story: yelling, screaming, whistling. Whenever someone on Valencia would almost make a goal, and maybe the goalie stopped it, or maybe he just missed, he would usually get a round of applause. However, that wasn't always the case. One time, a member of Valencia had the ball and was charging down the field, and the goalie came out of the box, and somehow the Valencian got past the goalie and had a wide open shot, and I am still not quite sure how, but he blew it. He not only got whistling, screaming, and shouting, but he also got the Spanish equivalent of booing as well. 

Valencia had control of the ball almost the whole game, and there must have been about 6 or 7 times when everything was done perfectly, the play went exactly to plan, but the only thing that didn't go as planned was the kicker's aim when trying to kick a goal. One time, two Valencians were challenging the goalie and one other player of the other team. They ran a perfect play, and one of them had an almost wide open shot, but it bounced off of the goalpost. Those are the most frustrating mistakes out of all. Again, screaming and whistling. 

No one scored in the first half, even though Valencia had plenty of opportunities, and now the game was just about over, and still no score. There was about thirty seconds left, and with one final opportunity, they ran a play, and one of the guys took a little chip shot that was basically a lob, but that is all it took. The goalie was standing out in front of the goal, and the chip shot went just out of his reach, dropped really quickly, bounced once, and found the goal! Finally! After like 10 of these plays that went wrong the entire game, in the last thirty seconds of the game they finally pulled it off! Jon and I were screaming and cheering, and high-fiving, and it was an amazing sight to pan the stadium and see so many people with their arms up in the air. Villarreal didn't even have enough time left to bring the ball back to the middle and start another play; that was the game, 1-0. Jon and I had almost lost our voices from all of the times it didn't go right, but once it did, we lost our voices and then some.

After the game, we all got together and took pictures from the top level. The stadium really isn't that big, and the stands are very steep, so even though we bought the cheapest, furthest away seats in the house, we had an excellent view of the players and the field. 

After the pictures, we left the stadium and found where the opposing team's bus was parked, with all kinds of policemen and security surrounding it. Within a few minutes, Villarreal came out of the locker room and boarded the bus. All of the Valencia fans were there chanting and mocking them, and even though I know it is just sports, I felt kind of bad for the other team. What a night for them; to lose the game 1-0 in the final seconds, and then having to walk out with all of the Valencia fans mocking them. Talk about salt in the wounds. 

We kept walking around the stadium, and we found where all of the Valencia players exit the stadium. Surprisingly, the crowd to mock the other team was bigger than the crowd gathered around to meet the players. Since the players all leave at different times, we only saw two or three leave, and then it was time for us to leave. As it turned out, there wasn't anyone to come pick us up, so Vanessa got Andrea to cover the last hour of her shift, and she drove out and picked us up herself. We were all very, very grateful for what she did, and we made sure she knew it. 

Yesterday was a fantastic day, and it was really a good opportunity to get closer to the people here, even including a few of the ACA students. I definitely have a new appreciation for the game of soccer, and I think from now on I will pay more attention to it. Now, it is Sunday: the time for homework, and to prepare for the upcoming week. Luckily for me, this week is only a 4 day week because Elizabeth and I are skipping Friday to go to the Canary Islands. Well, until next time in the Canaries...







1 comment:

  1. Thanks for sharing :) Sounds like you had a great day and made a lot of memories. Have a good week - Can't wait to hear about the Canaries!
    Love DAD

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