5-13-12 The Canary Islands

I guess you could say I saved the best for last. As a matter of fact, this trip was full of lasts; my last Ryan Air flight for a long while, my last trip of the year, and my last blog post until I come home in a few weeks. However, with all of the lasts, this trip brought a lot of firsts as well; my first time scuba diving, my first time renting a car, and my first time driving in 8 months. I have much to tell you about the car, but I will save that for later.

This last weekend, Elizabeth and I went to a small island in the Canaries called Lanzarote. Lanzarote is an island that not many Americans know about. In fact, if you speak English on Lanzarote, everyone assumes you are British. It was the first time of the year when we would tell people that we were Americans, and they would look at us like, "Really? Well...what are you doing here then?" Lanzarote is a touristy place, but because of the time of year we were there, it was almost empty, and when it is occupied, it is mainly  Germans and British. Our SCUBA instructor, who is also a nurse at the local German hospital, said it really isn't even necessary to speak Spanish to work in the hospital because everyone is either German or British.


Before I get any further, mostly for the sake of my extended family, I would just like to make sure you know that Elizabeth and I are friends. Only friends. However, with that said, our friendship became much deeper this weekend.

My parents have already asked me how I liked the Canaries in comparison to Hawaii and our family trip this last summer. Hawaii is a very tropical place; there is vegetation all over the place, there are many different varieties of flowers, trees, fruits, etc. Lanzarote is a volcanic island; it wasn't tropical even though there were still many types of flowers and trees. When I think of Lanzarote, I think more of Lake Havasu where it is completely barren and brown until you go within about 100 feet of the water, then everything is green and lush. None-the-less, I think Lanzarote is a gorgeous place- maybe because it reminds me so much of Lake Havasu. As far as which vacation did I like better, well... yes. I enjoyed this trip to the Canaries quite a bit more than our trip to Hawaii, but that is not discounting the time we had in Hawaii in any way. On this trip, Lizzy and I made a point of NOT planning. The goal of this trip was to relax, rest up, eat well, read, and do whatever our whimseys told us to do. On our Hawaii trip, we had to get up at 7:00 am most mornings to be on time for whatever  it was we were doing that day. Another reason why I favor the Canaries over Hawaii is the price. Lizzy and I spent 72 euros for an apartment for three nights, about 50 euros each on airfare, about 40 euros on food for the entire weekend, and the rest was just extra. Another reason I enjoyed this trip more is because Lizzy and I were calling the shots; doing whatever we wanted when we wanted to do it, and that freedom really added to the relaxing factor and overall enjoyment of the weekend.

I don't exactly remember the weekend in a chronological order, so I will just talk about things as they come to me.

I guess a good place to start is the apartment. Our apartment had four rooms; a living room, a bedroom, a good sized kitchen and a bathroom. Just to settle any questions that anyone might have, Lizzy slept in the bedroom and I slept on the couch in the living room. Everything was nicely decorated and very "homey". Our complex was very nicely decorated with all kinds of cacti, palm trees, and flowers, most of which can be found in Hawaii. Just outside our window was a huge plumeria tree and just a little bit beyond that was the pool and lounging area. We had a patio, and since our complex provided us with patio furniture, every morning we were there, we made breakfast, and ate out on the patio as we enjoyed the view of the pool, the flowers, and the beach.

For breakfast every morning we were there, I made omelettes, Lizzy made potatoes, and we also had a fruit salad and breakfast tea. We spent 40 euros the entire weekend on food and ate like kings. For dinner, we made spaghetti with tomatoes, oil, garlic and basil, a salad with spinach, tomatoes, strawberries, oranges and oil on top, and on our last night, we had a special soda from Brazil that I haven't had since 7th grade.
On Sabbath morning, we went with a professional scuba guide for a two hour dive. I can very easily say it was one of the coolest experiences of my life and if the opportunity ever pops up again, I will definitely take advantage of it again. It was like watching a National Geographic documentary on coral and underwater life, but a million times better because I was actually there and experiencing it first hand. After we were suited up, our instructor gave me a weight belt to put on. The only experience I have with weight belts was at Catalina Island in 5th grade when I wore a 4 or 5 pound belt that didn't seem to have any effect. This time, the instructor gave me 10 kilos (22 pounds) of weight to put on. Once I figured out how to put that on, she helped me get on and strap down the vest that held my oxygen tank, and that must have weighed another 20-30 pounds. I felt like I was backpacking to the water's edge, but worse. In backpacking, all of the weight is on your back, and you can shift it around and take it off if need be. As I was standing there with everything on, it felt like I weighed 100 pounds more than I do- as if all of that gear were a part of me. Needless to say, I didn't want to play basketball right then.

We were diving in a little lagoon, and since we had about two hours of dive time, I figured we would go out of the lagoon, go around the coral, go up the coast a little ways, and make our way back. As it turned out, we spent the entire two hours in the lagoon and the deepest we ever went was 7 meters. I was so focused on the fish, the coral, and just the sheer excitement of breathing underwater, that I didn't really pay attention at all to where we were going and it seemed to me like we went way farther. After what seemed like 15 minutes, our time was up, and it was time to get out. That was easily the quickest hour and a half to two hours of my life. To my sheer surprise and delight, my scuba suit that took me a half an hour to put on practically just pealed right off.

After our dive, we asked to be dropped off at the airport so we could rent a car. At the airport, there are about 5 different rental car agencies right next to each other. I am 20 years old and don't have my international driver's license. We went right down the row and each one told me I had to be at least 21 or have my international driver's license or both until we got to the last place. At the very last place I could finally rent a car. Until we got to the last place, I was so afraid that we would have to walk back to our hotel again -about 4 miles- and worse than that, we would have to use taxis for the rest of the trip which are horrifically expensive there, and since we had plans on the other side of the island, it would be almost impossible.

Finally, we were sitting in the car in the rental car parking lot. I hadn't driven in over 8 months before this, and I hadn't driven a stick shift in over 3 years. I took a good ten minutes to just identify the controls that were necessary and think about the positions on the gearbox, which were quite different than what I am used to.
As we were pulling out, I stalled three times consecutively. I knew it had been a long time since I had driven a stick-shift, but did I really forget how to let out the clutch and give it some gas? After a quick reassessment, I figured out rather quickly that I was in 3rd gear. Sheesh. Because the gearbox was different, I had a hard time knowing what gear I was in from the start, and that caused even more problems later.

It was Sabbath afternoon, we had the car, and after about 15 minutes of cautious on the borderline of scared driving, it all started coming back, and I was able to calm down and drive a little bit more relaxed. Elizabeth was the co-pilot, and she did a great job of telling me when another car was coming, just in case I didn't see it, or when I was going to fast and other things like that.

Since the island was very small, and because we were about an hour away from sunset, we thought it would be nice to go finally watch a sunset that happens over water (something I haven't seen since I left home because the beach faces the east in Sagunto). We headed off, and because the island is so small, navigating can basically be done by just keeping track of where the water is. We found our way fairly easily to a good spot to watch the sunset.

Even though it was fairly easy to find the beach on the other side of the island, at one point, I made a wrong turn that lead out to a gravel road out in the middle of nowhere. The answer seems pretty simple, right? Just  turn around. That is exactly what I...tried to do. I started my three point turn, and just as it was time to go backwards...we kept going forwards. 

Look at the picture on the left. The gearbox on the left is the kind of gearbox I am accustomed to back in the states. That's not to say that all gearboxes in the states are like this, but of the three or four manual cars I have driven in my life, this is how it has been. Now, look at the gearbox on the right. That was the gearbox I was dealing with at this particular moment. Because it showed reverse as all the way to the left and up, that is exactly what I did... and we kept on rolling forwards. Because we were on a very wide gravel road, I didn't even need to do a three point turn, so I turned the car around onto a straightaway, and tried again. I jammed the stick all the way to the left and up and hit the gas...and we still kept going forward. How could this be? I spent the next five to ten minutes shifting between first, second, third, fourth and fifth, seeing if maybe just the diagram on the top of the stick was wrong, and maybe reverse was hidden somewhere else, like maybe where I am accustomed to it. Nope. I tried a hundred more different combinations with the stick just seeing if somehow I could find the reverse. Nope. It was the funniest feeling in the world to think that I was stuck with a car that seemingly didn't have reverse. Is it possible that some idiot in the factory forgot to install it? Is it possible that you have to move the stick  in a particular way it to get into reverse? Nope. It was as if I just didn't have reverse. I was beyond frustrated at this point, seeing as how I had spent the last half hour just looking for the ****** reverse. After about a half hour, I discovered a little button on the handle of the stick. I pushed it and kicked the stick to the left again, but this time, it was different. This time it went even farther to the left. I tried the gas...AND WE STARTED ROLLING BACKWARDS!! Hallelujah! Finally, after a good half an hour to forty minutes, we had learned how to go into reverse!

We saw the sunset, and even though it wasn't spectacular, it wasn't shabby either. It was getting dark when we left, so we needed to figure out how to turn on the headlights. After another ten minutes of playing around with all of the controls, I found the windshield wipers, cruise control, trip meter, and a few other things, but still no headlights. This car was quite a mystery to me. It was like a team of puzzle makers put it together with the goal of hiding all of the functions. Finally, I found the headlights that were basically at the level of my left knee. With all of the basic car functions figured out, and some not-so-basic ones that we found accidentally while looking for the basic ones, we were finally ready to head back.

The next morning, we were planning to go out on a surfing lesson. However, because our flight was sooner than we had originally thought, that didn't workout. Our flight left at around 5:00 pm, and checkout was at 11:30 from the apartment. What were we going to do for about three to four hours? We rented the car to take us to surfing lessons on the other side of the island and back to the airport. Now that we weren't going to surfing lessons, we decided to just start driving around the island, and that is what we did. We drove back to the same spot we were at the night before, to the other side of the island, and to the national park.

This national park was truly one of a kind. Lanzarote is a volcanic island, so this national park is right near the volcano and all there is to see is volcanic rock. That's it. No trees, no mountains besides the volcanoes, no wildlife of any kind, no rivers, just black rock everywhere. As we were driving up to the entrance, I was expecting to come around a bend somewhere and see the island paradise I was imagining Lanzarote to be. Nope. Not even close. However, even though it wasn't a normal person's paradise, it was beautiful all the same. I have never, and will never again, see so much metamorphic rock in one place. It was spectacular to see the volcanoes, the red hills and the black rock against the blue sky.

As we were headed back from the national park, right near the entrance, there was a random group of camels parked by the side of the road. Lizzy and I still had about an hour to kill, so we decided to just see if they were for riding, and if the price was reasonable. As it turns out, the price was very reasonable, and the next thing we knew, we were climbing one of the mountains on the back of a camel. This was unlike any camel ride I have ever taken before, and I can say things like this now that we rode camels in Morocco. This camel was a two-seater, and there were legitimate seat belts on the seats. When I first saw the seat belts, I just started laughing- how ridiculous is it to ride camels with seat belts? However, once the camel got up and started moving, I was never more glad to wear one. Our ride lasted about a half-hour, and afterwards, since our bags and everything were already in the trunk of the car, we wondered our way back to the airport and headed out.

As I have said before, this trip was unlike any other this year, and in many ways, it was by far the best one. Now, we have less than two weeks to go. At this time in two weeks I will be back in the good ole' U.S. As I reflect back on this year, and I think about all that has happened, I realize how lucky I am to have met all of the people I have met, to have gone to all of new cities, countries and continents, to have had a year to slow down and take it a little bit easier, and to have learned as much as I have about myself and about my God. This next week is a very busy one, and next week we have finals on Monday and Tuesday, we have a field trip on Wednesday, and that is it. I leave very early on Friday morning out of Valencia, and I will be home very late Friday night.

It has been a privilege writing to you this year and letting you know a little bit about what has been happening around here, but as they say, all good things have to come to an end sometime. I will miss this place greatly, all of the people, the orange trees, the beautiful hills, the beach, and the experience, and I do plan to return sometime in the next few years. However, the emotion that I feel even stronger than how much I will miss everyone is the sheer excitement I already feel to come home. The next time we talk, it will be in person and I am looking forward to that day very much. So what are my last words to finish off my blog of my year in Spain? I can't say until next time like I normally do, because this is the last time, but I guess all I can say is that it has been a privilege, and until we meet in person, take care, and I'll be seeing you very soon.

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...

5-1-12

Friday night and Sabbath morning, our praise band was responsible for the music. On Friday evening, we sang all of the songs we know very well, so I was able to play along, sing, and look like I was enjoying what we were doing, as I am usually able to do. Sabbath morning, however, we did all of the songs that...well...I guess you could say are not very well known to some of us, myself included. My sheet music was on the floor because we didn't have an extra music stand, and I was standing in front of a mic. So I was standing up playing guitar looking at the ground the whole service long. Oh well, I guess it could have been worse.

On Sabbath morning, it was my job to introduce one of the songs. Since it was one of the songs I didn't know that well, I made up the best introduction I could that sounded like it had something to do with the song. Sometimes, to be in our music group, you have to be an improv expert, in Spanish no less. So five minutes before we were about to start, our group leader told me which song I was introducing, and of course at that moment I blanked out and couldn't remember how it went, the words, or anything. The title was "Todos mis dias" (All my days), so I made up something that sounded relatively related to the song on the spot. I don't even remember what I said, but it was something about how we follow Jesus all of our days.

Just before the song service started, Josh told me that he had the offering call, and asked if I would do it. I really didn't want to do it, because I'd already had enough fun improving my way through the song introduction, but he kept on asking, so finally, I just agreed. Oh well, I thought I would just have to make up another sentence to call up the deacons, and that would be it. Boy was I mistaken; as it turned out, the offering call was at the very end of the service just before Sabbath school started. Guess where I had the privilege of sitting for the rest of the service? That's right, best seat in the house; on the platform directly behind the pastor with two others. I didn't sleep very well the night before, so I was tired, but of course I had to look interested in the sermon, and I couldn't dose off, which is really all I wanted to do at that point. Droopy eyes and all, I just sat there and tried to keep my eyes on the pastor as he was preaching. To make it worse, every once in a while, the pastor would turn around and preach to us; Loli the head elder, Monica, who was up there to call for the offering, and me. When this happened, I did my very best to nod and look interested, but I didn't catch a single word of the entire sermon which lasted for over an hour. During the sermon, some of my friends tried to cheer me up every once in a while from the first few pews, but at that point, I was tired and grumpy, and the reason I was grumpy was because I was up there in the first place, so I just stared right through them. Afterwards, several of my friends told me that I even looked tired from where they were sitting. Every once in a while, I would look over to Josh who was sitting in the front row, and very discretely would slide my finger across my neck, then as soon as he saw me, I would start fake-scratching my neck. He just laughed at me. After the pastor finally sat down, Monica called for the children story, then there was a special music, and then it was my time to call up the deacons. I got up there, said my sentence to call up the deacons, and went to go sit down again. Amazing, I sat up in front of church for over an hour to say three words at the very end!  After the service I told Josh that he would owe me a BIG, BIG one.  Sitting up in front of church when I was very tired and grumpy was one of the worst experiences I have ever had inside of a church.

After the service, I  walked straight from the platform down through the sanctuary, up the stairs, and went straight to bed.

I took a nice long nap, and by the time I woke up, it was about three in the afternoon. It was very cloudy outside, and it looked like it was going to rain any second, so all of my afternoon plans were put on hold. My very favorite thing to do on Sabbath afternoon is go on a bike ride around the mountain,to the beach, or to just go exploring. Usually, when it is not raining, my other hobby is to read in my hammock out on the balcony. However, since it looked like it could rain at any second, I took my hammock down, thus making reading in my hammock a bit more difficult.

Saturday evening was the Spanish national basketball tournament of Adventists here at the school. The ACA guys formed a team, there was a team of teachers that teach here, a team from Puerto de Sagunto, and one team made up of some of my Spaniard friends. For being the national tournament, the representation was a little bit...well...stacked. As it turns out, the team from Castellon didn't come, the team from Madrid didn't come, and the team from Zaragoza didn't come. After the first few games, Cristian, one of my professors, invited me to play on the team of some my Spaniard friends. I didn't play on the ACA team because they already had about 10 people on the team, and I figured that since I am not nearly as good as some of the other guys, I probably wouldn't be playing a whole lot. My first game with my Spaniard friends was against the Americans, and they absolutely crushed us. For us, it didn't really matter because we knew from the start that they were much better than us. However, what did matter to us was the game right after we played the Americans. Our next game was a team that we could actually beat, and if we did, we would get 3rd place in the tournament, because there were only 4 teams. Before the match started, Cristian talked with all of us, and told us that our game plan was simply to sprint down the court every time and try to get an easy basket. If that failed, then we would pass it around, drive in, and kick it out again. We started off with that game plan, and it worked beautifully, especially because the other team had a few older guys on it, but after about three times of sprinting down the court for a lay up, we were all worn out too. Nevertheless, we kept running, and we kept getting layups, short jump shots, and floaters. Towards the beginning of the game, it seemed like non of my shots were going in, but as the game went on, more and more it seemed like anything I threw up would go in. Many of my shots in that game were pretty lucky. The other team was playing pretty well, but their shots just weren't seeming to want to go in. In the end, we won by about five points. For me, it wasn't about winning, even though it was nice to get the 3rd place trophy and all, it was just fun to play with my friends and play hard. The next game was the championship game between the Americans and the team from Puerto de Sagunto. In the beginning, both teams were playing very tough defense, and the score stayed pretty low. However, the advantage the Americans had was that they had 8-10 very good players; the other team had six guys, and only one guy was tall, very good inside the paint, and was very athletic. After a few minutes of the Americans double teaming him, he was struggling, and meanwhile the Americans were getting fast breaks and very good shots from all over the key. After a while, the other team was just settling for three pointers, and I don't remember very many going in. In the end, the Americans won the game, and the tournament. This is the first year that Americans have one this tournament, and if you ask any of us, we will most likely tell you that there were eight teams playing in the tournament, and they were all very competitive.

On Sunday, Elizabeth and I finished organizing our trip to the Canary Islands, the Hawaii of Europe. Originally, we had about 4 or 5 people saying that they were interested, and I was really excited for the potential our group would have, but in the end, only Elizabeth and I were able to go. Nevertheless, I am still very excited for this trip. In fact, in some ways, I am more excited about this trip than about any of the others I have taken this year. The island that we are going to is a tiny one that is only about 20 miles across, and about 15 miles wide, but in this tiny island, there is a national park with tons of gorgeous hiking trails that overlook the sea, there are a few golf courses, there are bike rentals, there is snorkeling and scuba diving, and of course, there are beaches. On all of the other trips I have taken this year, we have had a checklist of all of the things we wanted to see, and on which days we want to see them. This trip is different; there isn't anything to see, and there is absolutely no rush. I plan to bring a book or three, rent a bike, go hiking, snorkeling and maybe even golfing, walk the beach, wake up at whatever hour I want, maybe swim in the pool at the apartment complex where we are staying, and do whatever my whims tells me to do. The goal of this trip is not to walk 15 miles a day like it has been on most other trips to see the sights; the goal of this trip is simply to relax and enjoy the time we have there.

Last night, I received an email from the Teaching Learning Center (TLC) in Walla Walla saying that I am officially hired for next school year to tutor in the languages department. Wow, that is the easiest job application I have ever had, and will ever have. They emailed me and told me that my adviser recommended me, and asked me if I was interested. I said yes, so they emailed me a PDF of the application, I printed it out, filled it out, and faxed it back. That's it. I am very excited to get the chance to help others learn Spanish, and hopefully, make it as appealing and fun for them as it has been for me.

I am off today, and tomorrow evening is the banquet of the dorms, and I have been asked to dance the Sevillanas with some of my fellow flamenco dancer classmates.  This next weekend, I will be out camping with the Pathfinder club, and I haven't decided yet if I am looking forward to it or dreading it. The following weekend, I will be in the Canaries with Elizabeth, the weekend after that, I will be going on a camping trip with Cristian, some of my ACA friends, and some of my Spanish friends, and the weekend after that is the DELE test. The weekend after the DELE test, I will be home. All of my weekends are filled up from now until I come home, and that is only 4 weeks away! It is unbelievable how fast this year went by, but how does that saying go? Oh yes, "Time flies when you're having fun."

4-21-12

Toledo

Let's see, it's Saturday night, I am sitting in my dorm room right now, and somehow when I weighed all of the options of what I could do tonight, this came out on the top of the list. This is a very unlikely result, but I figure it is better to get it done and out of the way while I still have the energy to do it.

First off, I have been informed by Brian that my grandpa keeps a binder at his house of all of the blog posts I write. I may not understand his reasoning, but I would like to make a shout to my grandpa and to that binder so that in 20 years or so when I find that binder in the garage or under the coffee table, I will have made a shout out to myself.

In other news, last night, I checked my email, and the Teaching Learning Center of Walla Walla U contacted me and said that I had been recommended by one of my teachers to tutor next year in the language department. I am really excited about this, because if everything works out, it will kill two birds with one stone for me. One bird is that I need to continue working with Spanish so that I don't forget it, and the other bird is that I will need a job to help my depleted bank account after a year year of the cursed euro. Also, I will not be working at summer camp this summer, and in the past that has usually been my time to rebuild my bank account for the year.

Even though I don't get to work at summer camp this year because I will be taking Physics at La Sierra instead, Pastor Paul sent me a message earlier this week asking if I could help out with a few things at the beginning of staff training, and possibly a few days here and there if I have time. There are no guarantees that I will have any free time once classes start, and in fact, there most likely won't be, but I am very excited to do what I can to help out the camp this summer and still get to be a small part of it.

This last week has been very stressful for me. I have had to make up certain assignments from when I left on vacation a day early to go to London, and on top of that, I had a worship talk hanging over my head all week long. The guys I work with in somewhat of a committee for spiritual life here on campus asked me at the end of the last vespers we did if I would like to give a talk for this one. I eagerly agreed, because it has kind of been a rite of passage that in the past, some of the American students have given worship talks near the end of the year, and more than that, just to say that I did it sounded like enough reason to do it. However, I thought I was giving that talk in a few weeks. Turns out, we had just arrived back from our trip to Madrid, I went of Facebook for the first time in a few days, and there was a message saying that it was for this last Friday. Well, I started writing away. It didn't take quite as long as I thought it would to prepare, but then the real work began; translating everything. I could have written everything in Spanish, but I believe it was actually faster the way I did it. I am at the point where I can think in Spanish, but my thoughts somehow go down on paper about three times as slow as English. With the help of ideas from my dad, and grammatical help from Chelo, one of my teachers here, I was practicing by Thursday night. In the end, I didn't do spectacularly well, but the spirit moved, and that is all that matters. It has always been kind of funny to me how the worst music, and the worst sermon can still be sweet music and can still touch many if the spirit is moving, while on the other hand, there could be a song service where the music is flawless, and the speaker doesn't make one single mistake, but if the spirit doesn't move, it doesn't really mean anything.

On Thursday, I walked out of one of my classes, and there in the hall was Andrew Haglund, a member of the our church, randomly standing in the hall! I walked up, and very kindly asked him what in the world he was doing here. There was another man standing right next to him, and they both had identical Loma Linda polos on. I kind of put it together before he actually told me that they were here to talk to the students about Loma Linda University. As it turned out, I actually missed the meeting because I was up in my room working on my worship talk for the next night. We had a nice conversation that made me about five minutes late for class, and I didn't mind a bit. As it turns out, the other man that was there with him that I hadn't previously known was Rick Williams, and he told me that he and my grandpa had worked at La Sierra together many years ago as assistant presidents of something or other... I forgot exactly. Wow, talk about a small Adventist world. I rejoined the two of them, along with Eric at lunch time and we had a great conversation. After lunch, we all went out to the sign of the school and all took pictures together. Andrew said that he would email them to Pastor Isaac, and Pastor Isaac would probably put them up on the screen on Sabbath before church started. I have no idea what became of that, so if anyone would like to let me know, I am actually really curious to know if they ever actually did make it up on the screen on Sabbath morning.

From here on out, we have five weeks left, and counting. It is so strange talking about our remaining time here in WEEKS, instead of months. I am starting to miss this place already, especially now as the weather is warming up and the orange blossoms leave a gorgeous perfume in the air. I have one weekend trip to the Canaries left, and possibly a weekend trip to Dublin, Ireland. My time of traveling has almost come to a close! It has been a spectacular experience, and I have seen places this year that I never would have dreamed of seeing even at the beginning of the year such as Olympia, Athens, Jerusalem, Izmir, and Carentan. I think when it is time for me to come home, I think I will be  ready to take a break from any major traveling for a little while, at least for a summer until we go to Lebanon at the end of the summer. I am ready to say goodbye to bread and cheese, Ryan Air, small hostel rooms with strangers' hair on the shower floor, packing everything for a trip in a backpack, including the camera, zune, and any other carry-on items, and above all else, I am getting ready to see my own lands and my own people once more. However, I realize that as soon as I arrive home, I will wish I was right back here, so I am trying to enjoy it as much as I can.

Well, hasta luego, que tengais una buena semana!

4-9-12 Recap of London

Yesterday, Juan, Elizabeth, Stephanie, Esther, Ashley, Eliana, Michelle and I headed to our bus at 3:30am to make our 7:30am return flight to Valencia from London. This trip to London was one of my favorite trips all year long, and there isn't any one reason why. It was a mixture of good company, an awesome city, and the fact that almost nothing went wrong. I stress the word almost. However, the grand majority of the trip was absolutely fantastic.

This trip started out on Tuesday around 8:00am when we set out for the train station to make our 11:35am flight. Everything was running like clockwork. We got to the train station, our train was sitting there waiting for us. We got to the metro station and then the airport within an hour because our train made very few stops. We arrived at the airport around two hours before our flight, and that is when it started to get...interesting. As we walked in the front doors, there was a line like I have never seen before, a line maybe 100 people long to get the passports checked. You're kidding me. The most I have ever seen in that line is about 5 people, and it usually takes 3 seconds for each person. Also, we checked the board, and our flight that was supposed to leave at 11:35 now said 14:00. Well, we got in line and waited, and waited, and waited. After about 20 minutes, we hadn't budged an inch. Upon asking around, we learned that there were two flights to Paris that had been cancelled and that is why there  was a ginormous line where there shouldn't be. A few seconds later, someone came and asked us if we were going to Paris, and we said no. They directed us to another line with maybe 10 people in it, and that line was moving.

While I was standing in line waiting for my passport to be checked, there was a young man directly behind me in basketball warmups who was at least 6'3". I noticed he had an American passport, so I asked him if he spoke English. It is a surprisingly awkward situation when you are in Spain and you have no idea what language people speak, so you don't know whether to ask if they speak English, or habla espanol. He told me he did, and I asked him where he was going, etc. and we broke out in conversation. His name was Teddy, and he is from Minnesota. He was in a Spanish immersion school from k-8, and now he plays basketball semi-professionally for a team in Alicante, which is in Andalucia. That explains the warm ups. Anyways, he had about a week off, so it was his time to go traveling. He was doing the Italy tour, practically the same one I just did with my dad and Ms. Mumper the week before. After we got out of line, I wished him the best, and we headed for security.

After we got out of security and through our gate, we waited, and waited, and waited. The board changed periodically, mostly moving backwards. I went to the little cafe and grabbed some food, Juan listened to music and slept, Lizzy and Stephanie watched movies, and I listened to music and tried to read my book. Eventually, we all got lined up and got ready to board, then the message came over the loudspeaker for everyone to sit down. It was a false alarm. We waited some more. Finally, at around 3:30pm we got in line, and by 4:00pm, we were in the air. Later on, we found out that there was a strike of all of the air traffic control men. That explained a thing or two.

 When we landed in London, we went through customs, changed some money, and bought bus tickets from Stansted to the actual city. Ryan air is notorious for choosing the airport furthest away from the actual city. Customs were...well, customs. We were asked why we had come, why we were in Spain, and if we had ever been to a British province before. When the officer asked if we had ever been to a British province, I completely forgot about how I had been to Canada, but I asked him if Gibraltar counted. He smiled, gave a little chuckle and said no.When I changed money, I gave the lady 100 euros and got 70 pounds. I got a bit jipped, but at least I had money in my pocket because I didn't think my card would work because I forgot to tell the bank that I was going.

In the bus, our worlds were turned upside down. For twenty years of my life, I have always been on the right side of the road- like normal people. Now, we were barreling down the highway at a good 110 km/hr on the LEFT side. Something just felt wrong. It felt like we would crash any second. When we pulled up to a roundabout, we went around it THE WRONG DIRECTION! That bus ride was truly a shock to me, because it is one thing to hear about driving on the left side of the road, and another to actually see it; to go around a roundabout the wrong way, check to the right while making a left-hand turn on a red, etc.

When we got to the stop, we went to the underground, bought some passes, and went to the line we needed. Because our hotel was outside the metro system all together, once we arrived at the final station, we didn't know what to do. We were lost. Luckily, we went to a McDonald's and somehow without a password Juan miraculously tapped into a secured wifi connection and got us a route to our hotel. We had to take bus 3 out to the very end of the line, and walk about ten minutes from there. That gives you an idea of just how far out our hotel was; not even the bus went out that far.

Once we got to the hotel, we checked in, or at least tried to. The total bill came out to over 200 euros for all four of us, and Lizzy, the one who booked it, was having problems with her card. Perfect. Well, I stepped up to the desk, praying the whole time for the miracle that my card somehow work even though I'd even had trouble in Italy, which is way closer to Spain than London. The desk attendant swiped my card, and for about ten seconds, which seemed like an eternity, Lizzy and I held our breath. Finally, the attendant gave me a little nod. Whew, thank you Lord. We were checked in, and everything was taken care of. So how come my card was giving me trouble in Italy, and somehow it works perfectly in London? I don't have an explanation, but all I can say is thank you Lord.

The plan for that evening was to go to Hard Rock, the original Hard Rock. Stephanie talked the whole day about how she was craving Hard Rock. Stephanie is a vegetarian and when I asked her what she likes to get there she said that she'd never been there before. Smooth Stephanie, really smooth. I chuckled a little...well okay, a lot.  We got into the room at around 10:00pm, so all bets for Hard Rock were off, and we were all exhausted on top of that. We all were beat, and I was the first one to say my goodnights, and hit the sack.

There is a one hour time change between Spain and England. We gained an hour. So I went to bed around 11:00pm Spanish time, and woke up around 7:00am English time. I tried to go back to bed, but it was worthless. I listened to music for a while, and got the day rolling. We all went to breakfast, which was the same every morning we were there; cereal, toast, and orange juice.

We set out for our first day in London after breakfast, and this is the first trip I decided to use my tablet for a map/GPS. On all of the trips I have ever gone on with Eric, he has always used his Droid for GPS, but since it is much smaller than my tablet, and since he always would walk in front of me, I always thought he was just a genius when it comes to finding the way around a new city. He always knew where we were going and we never got lost. This trip I was the genius. It was so simple! Why didn't I do this before?! All you have to do is load the map of London on google maps while you have wifi, and once you step outside of the wifi zone, the GPS in the tablet will still follow you around and track you. We only got lost once for this entire trip, and that was only because there is a Brompton Street, and an Old Brompton street. I thought we were going to Old Brompton street.


Anyways, we took to the city after a nice little walk and a nice long bus ride. Our first thing to see was Buckingham Palace and the changing of the guards. We arrived about a half hour before anything happened, but it was pretty spectacular once it did happen. It was like a parade with only Buckingham Palace guards. Not only were there guards with guns, but there were marching band guards, and another division on horseback with sweet medieval looking armor.

After Buckingham Palace, we grabbed  a quick bite, and went to go see the London Eye, Westminster Abby, and Big Ben at the Parliament Building. On the way Stephanie went to go withdraw some money, and the machine ate her card, so we went inside to talk to the bank clerk to see if we could get it back. Apparently, Stephanie punched in a wrong code, so to get it back, Stephanie's bank, a no-name bank that only operates in North Carolina, would have to call this bank and tell them that it was okay to give her the card back. Great. Well, Stephanie decided that she would have to talk with her mom first, and see what to do from there. So we continued.

After we had seen Big Ben, Westminster Abby, and the London Eye, which I could have sworn was broken that day because it wasn't moving, we walked around a little bit more and took some pictures.

A little while later, after many pictures, I left the group to go meet with a friend that I haven't seen in over a year who is studying in Newbold this year. We agreed to meet in Trafalgar Square at 3:00pm, and at about 3:03, I saw Caitlin walking towards me. Wow, good timing. After hugs, hellos, and how-are-yous, we decided to just start walking in a somewhat random direction to explore London. To my surprise, Caitlin had only been to London twice before, and so many things were new to her too. I guess that made it more fun for both of us; we were both exploring the city. About twenty minutes in, it started sprinkling. I whipped out my umbrella, and about two minutes later, it stopped raining. It didn't rain for the rest of the time.

After walking all around the area near Trafalgar Square, I asked Caitlin if there was something new that she wanted to see, because she had already seen all of the big stuff, and if it was new to her, it would surely be new to me. She asked if I wanted to go to Abbey Road, and I agreed. I am not really a Beatles fan, but I still think it was a cool idea because I like random pieces of history like that. We made our way out to the Abbey Road stop on the metro, got out, and the first question I asked her was if she knew where she was going, or if she was good in directional abilities. She said no to both of them. Well, I am no Magellan myself, so I guess we were truly exploring. Sounded like a party to me. After walking around for about twenty minutes with no luck, we were just about to ask someone if they knew where Abbey Road was, and Caitlin looked up and saw the street sign for Abbey Road. Well wasn't that perfect timing? We walked up the street until it dead ended 50 yards later. No crosswalk. We turned around and walked the other way. It seemed like there should be not only a crosswalk, but a sign or a plaque or something. So far we hadn't even found a crosswalk that looks even remotely similar. I told Caitlin I would take a video of her walking across it if we ever found it, and she said that that would be fun, but so far, we didn't even have a crosswalk. Abbey Road isn't a very big road, and it isn't very populated. Eventually, we came upon a crosswalk, but off to the side of the crosswalk was a sign for Hubbard St.. Caitlin pointed out that my cousins, who are lifelong friends of Caitlin and her family, live on Hubbard St. I didn't even know what street they lived on. All I knew is that they live way out in the boonies about fifteen miles away from any civilization. Anyways, we kept walking figuring that if there weren't any more crosswalks, then that one must be it. We found another one, which looked like it had a better likelihood of being the one. Caitlin took a picture of it just in case, but when I offered to take a movie of her walking across it, she pointed out how dumb we would look if it wasn't the right one. She had a point.

There was a little park where the street ended, and since we had no real plans, and nowhere to be, we circled around it before heading back. As we were on the metro on the way back to the main part of the city, a wave of hunger struck me, and since we were planning to go get tea anyways, I figured I would just buy a sandwich as well. My hunger got so bad that eventually it became one of those times when I couldn't concentrate on what Caitlin was saying, I couldn't thinking of anything to say back, and I was yawning the whole time. Eventually, I just apologized for how I wasn't exactly conversational and told her that I was extremely hungry. She said she understood, and the hunger wave had just hit her too. We got to the shop, bought sandwiches and tea, and headed out to St. James Park. Being the idiot I am, I made a slit in the top to my tea cup before we even got onto the metro. Not surprisingly, as I was walking, a few drops spilled out of my cup onto my hand, but because they were so hot, my whole hand jerked and hot tea went all over my hand and my jacket sleeve. Perfect. When we got to the park, we ate, we drank, we talked. There is a beautiful pond in the park, and we were sitting on a bench overlooking the pond and the birds around the pond. At one point, we looked behind us and saw a boy that must have been 5 chasing around a ginormous goose that was almost as big as he was. Just one time, I wanted to see the goose turn around and scare the kid as bad as the kid was scaring it, which I believe the goose was more than capable.

After we left the park, we made our way to the Hard Rock Cafe, where we were planning on meeting everyone else for dinner. Caitlin knows Juan and Ashley from PUC, so she wanted to go see them as well. However, by the time we got to the Hard Rock, Caitlin and I decided not to stay because we were both still full from the sandwiches. I still could have eaten, but I don't think I would have been able to finish a burger, and since those burgers are 15 British pounds each, I figured it would probably be best to wait. Caitlin and I walked to the metro stop where she needed to go to get back to the school. We hugged and said goodbye.

The night was young, and I didn't feel like going back just yet. After all, everyone else was still at Hard Rock, and there is nothing to do at the hotel. I decided to take a walk. Just as I headed out of the metro stop, a small calling to use the facilities called to me. I could have waited probably another half hour, but after my episode in Rome (see previous blog post), I don't take chances anymore when it comes to the restroom. I found a coffee shop, and I knew I needed to buy something to use the restroom. I didn't feel like coffee, I already had tea earlier, so I went for the best thing there; orange juice. This isn't just any orange juice; this orange juice is made from a machine that takes whole oranges, slices them in two, juices them, and sends the juice straight to your glass. No sugar, no additives, no human labor. I used the bathroom, and just when I came out, my orange juice was ready. I found a comfy chair, drank it slowly, and reflected on my day and on the trip.

After I left the coffee shop, I walked quite a distance. I saw Big Ben, London Bridge, London Eye,  and Westminster Abbey, which all look amazingly different in the dark, before getting back on the metro to go to the hotel.

The next few days flew by very quickly. We went to the Tower of London, The British Museum, St. Paul's Cathedral, Harrods, and many other small attractions, as well as some big ones that I am probably forgetting. The four of us, Juan, Lizzy, Stephanie and I went into Harrods, but only Lizzy and Stephanie stayed for more than five minutes. Juan and I decided about five minutes after entering that we didn't really want to stay, but since Harrods is so big, we got lost a few times just trying to find the exit. Instead, Juan and I went to the British Museum. Needless to say, Juan and I enjoyed the museum way more than watching our lives pass before us at Harrods. Everything was so expensive at Harrods that it really didn't make sense for us to even look.

On Sabbath morning, Juan proposed that we go to church. It sounded good to the rest of us, so why not? Juan googled Adventist churches in London, and the closest one to us wasn't that far away. Things were looking up. We all got dressed in the best that we had, which for Juan and I was dark jeans, a button down shirt, and a dressy sweater over everything. As we approached the church, we truly had no clue what to expect. I was sort of expecting a church of ten members in a basement, or maybe a small one room refurbished house with twenty people maximum. As we turned the corner, I was truly surprised to find a church sitting there that was probably about as big as Calimesa. As we entered, none of us expected what was about to happen next.

The front entrance to the church is actually about half way between the pulpit and the back wall, so at least the whole back half can see you come in, but what was even more surprising than that was that the church was completely full...and they were all black. Somehow, four Americans, three as white as  coconuts found ourselves looking out over a sea of black Adventists, and most of them were staring back at us. That was truly an unexpected surprise, and I am sure we were a truly unexpected surprise to them. Now, I am not in any way racist towards blacks. In fact, usually I say African Americans, but in this case, we were the Americans...the white Americans. It was a moment I can't even really describe. A moment where all four of us at the same time were thinking, "Oh man, what have we done? what have we gotten ourselves into?"

The deacon found us a place, and we sat down. After we sat down, the people around us greeted us warmly and told us they were glad we were there. Church was long, and I had a hard time understanding the preacher, who had an accent that I couldn't exactly place; all I knew is that I had a hard time understanding it. When church was over, about twenty people came over and greeted us warmly. The welcoming coordinator came over and invited us to stay for Sabbath lunch, and of course we agreed. The welcoming coordinator then took us around and introduced us to what seems like half the church, including the pastor.

At lunch, we talked with a group of about four or five members, and we all laughed, shared stories, and ate together. The food wasn't 100% absolutely delicious, but they stuffed us, and we were grateful for it. It was truly an amazing experience. When it was time to leave, we gave many hugs, and many people our names for Facebook friend purposes. They made sure to tell us that the next time we were in town to drop by again. That is by far the warmest church I have ever been to, and I assure you that the next time it is Sabbath in London for me, I will be making my way over to the Brixton Seventh-day Adventist Church just off of the Brixton metro stop on the Victoria line.

In the afternoon, we headed over to St. Paul's Cathedral, and headed off to see Wicked the play.
I thoroughly enjoyed Wicked, possibly even more than the Phantom of the Opera that I saw off Broadway on the history tour a few years back. I don't want to spoil it for those of you who haven't seen it, but I will advise you that if you haven't seen it, if you ever get the opportunity, go see it.

After Wicked, we hurried back to our hotel to pack up and get out. This is where we discuss the "almost" from the first paragraph. Here was the dilemma, our flight left at 7:30 the next morning, and the gate closed at 7:00. Our hotel was out in the middle of nowhere, and the bus stop we needed to catch a bus to the airport at 3:00 in the morning was in the heart of London. The metro closed somewhere between 12:00 and 1:00am, and the buses shortly thereafter. If we didn't make it out of our hotel and onto the buses and metros before they closed, we would be stuck out in the boonies and our only hope would be to call a taxi, which I am sure would cost more just to get us to the bus stop than the actual plane ticket was worth. 

So here was the situation; it was now 10:30 pm, and in an hour and a half, we had to get on the metro, take it to the end of the line, get on the bus and take it to the end of the line, walk to our hotel, pack up everything, check out, find something to eat for dinner, walk back to the bus stop, take the bus to the metro, and take the metro to where the others in our group had an apartment, because they were much closer than we were to the bus stop we needed. We literally ran to the metro from the theater, ran inside the metro, power walked to the bus stop, power walked to the hotel, packed everything up in about 20 minutes- the same 20 minutes our pizzas from Dominoes were being made- checked out, ran back to the bus stop, and ran to the metro, and we were on the metro. It was truly a miracle that we made it to the metro stop that we needed to get to. At 10:30pm, the task looked absolutely impossible, and I truly believe that God pulled a few strings to get us all the way there. It was either we make it, or pay an arm and a leg, in British pounds no less, for a taxi ride. We found the bus that took us to the other group's apartment, and when we got there, I looked so dead, which I was, that I didn't even have to ask; Esther cleared a space between everything she was packing on one of the beds, and within seconds, I was out.

About an hour and a half later, I was awoken and told that it was time to go. I got up, grabbed my bags, and shortly thereafter, we were off. We waited at the bus stop for our bus, and so far, up until this point, everything had worked in our favor, in no small part by God's intervention. We saw our bus coming, so we all prepared to get on, but no one actually "flagged it down". It went speeding by up the street and turned the corner. Just like that, our bus was gone. For a few seconds we all just looked at each other with shocked expressions as if we couldn't believe what just happened. The next bus would come in 20 minutes, and we would probably miss our shuttle to the airport, and have to wait another 20-30 minutes or so for another one, which would make our time in the airport practically non-existent. It was critical that we figure something out that would work for us and get us to the shuttle on time.  There were other buses that came, but they all just went in the general direction of the stop we needed, and we would need to walk from there, so we decided it would just be faster to wait for our next bus. I kept an eye on the screen that said how long our next bus would be, and I noticed that the minutes were dropping very rapidly. At 3:00 in the morning, the bus drivers don't stop unless someone flags them down, so they roll straight through most stops. I estimate that instead of 20 minutes for the next bus, it actually took somewhere in the realm of 15 or 16.

When our bus came, we were all ready for it. We looked like a row of Nazis saluting the "Heil Hitler" as it rolled in. The driver saw us and stopped. For whatever reason, that bus driver was driving really fast, praise the Lord, and we got to the bus station only about 10-15 minutes late. As we arrived, the original bus that we were supposed to take was still there; it had been delayed. Half of our group had reservations for this bus, so they got on even though it was packed. Just as the rest of us were trying to figure out what to do, another bus of a different company came rolling in that was completely empty, praise the Lord.

We all made it to the airport with time to spare, and I truly believe that God was helping us every step of the way. Even when it seemed like things looked hopeless, which they did several times, somehow He came through. That's right, that's the God I serve!

Tomorrow early in the morning, we head out to Madrid; my final big trip for the year, with only a weekend in the Canaries remaining. After this, it is only 6 short weeks, and I will be returning to the states. I skyped with my family last night, and it was so good to see all of them, and seeing them made me want to be home right now. However, I know this year will finish before I even know it, so I guess for now I should just try to enjoy every last little thing until the end of May. I will say though, it feels great talking about my time left in weeks, not even in months anymore; in weeks. 7 big ones from this very moment.