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.

4-9-12 Recap of ROME

The last time I wrote, which was about two weeks ago, Las Fallas, a festival that takes place here in Valencia had just ended. Since then, so much has happened that I am not even sure if I remember all of it. Oh well, we'll make a go at it anyways.

Three days after Fallas ended, my dad, Ms. Mumper (my math teacher in highschool), and Eric's family came out to Valencia for the week. Eric and I went out to the train station Sabbath morning to meet them, and after about fifteen minutes of waiting, which seemed like an eternity, they popped up out of the metro stop. I was the first to recognize my dad as we were sitting at the entrance of the train station. It wasn't because of his beard, but because of what he was wearing; a bright orange t-shirt that said "CRESENT CITY CALIFORNIA", and shorts with mid-knee socks. Now, in Europe, Spain in particular, t-shirts are fairly rare on the streets, but even rarer than t-shirts are shorts with socks that come up mid-knee. He hadn't taken five steps out of the metro stop that I took just one look in his direction knew it was him- even before I got a good look at his face.

Early on Sunday morning, Ms. Mumper, my dad and I took a taxi to the airport and caught a flight to Pisa. When we arrived, we took a city bus straight to the tower. Ms. Mumper and my dad already organized our tickets to climb up the tower, which is a good thing because I never would have payed that much to do it if I were on my own. We climbed the tower, and it was one of the weirdest experiences I have ever had because when I was on one side of the tower, it felt like I was almost climbing downhill, but once we got to the other side, the slope was about twice as much as the stairs. It was somewhat of a mind bending experience. Once we reached the top, we took pictures, and came down. Short stay on top. Just as we were taking our last pictures, a man came and told us very assertively that we needed to come down. He wasn't having a very good day I suppose.

After we went to the tower, we went inside some of the other buildings like the baptistry, the cathedral, and the cemetery. Inside the cemetery, we saw the grave of the famous (in the math world anyway) Leonardo Fibonacci, the man responsible for 0+1=1, 1+1=2, 2+1=3, 3+2=5, 5+3=8, 8+5=13, etc. We left the colossal plaza of tourists carrying our suitcases (ironic, isn't it?), and went to get lunch at a pizza and gelato shop. I would like to propose that on this trip, we kept the gelato industry in the black and then some.

After lunch, we got on a train and headed to Florence. On arrival, we found our hotel, dropped our stuff off, and headed to see the Accademia, home of the David by Michelangelo. While my dad and I went into the museum, Ms. Mumper went shopping and wondering around... I think. Going to art museums with my dad is so much fun because neither of us are the type of people that can spend hours and hours in an art museum. The only difference between us is that when I go to an art museum, I usually walk through every room fairly quickly, look at all of the different works, and usually select a favorite or two by the end. My dad on the other hand likes to see the big stuff. We walked into the museum, walked through a section on classical instruments that we both found fairly interesting, walked straight to the David, did a once over of David, and hit the exit. I had already seen the Academia, so I was fine with that, I was just a little surprised that we spent all told about fifteen minutes in the Accademia.

 We walked around Florence a bit more, and stopped for dinner and gelato. Can't forget the gelato. What made me laugh this whole trip was that Ms. Mumper insisted that we go to all of these different gelato shops for all of these different flavors; she knew exactly which gelato shop had that specific flavor she likes, and we stopped at pretty much every single one, even if it had only been just a little while before since we last had gelato. Well, "When in Rome (and Florence)" I guess.

We had done a lot of walking that day, so as it was night time, I told Ms. Mumper that I would like to go to the Michelangelo monument on the hill in Florence, and she said she would go too, but dad was done- his shoes looked like they were done too. So Ms. Mumper and I left my dad on a bench and climbed the hill. When we got there, the monument was pretty cool- a life sized replica of David in Bronze- but what was cooler than that was the view. We could see the Duomo, the Medici Palace, and another church rising from the skyline of Florence. My camera couldn't even come close to capturing it, but I tried anyways.

The next day, we walked around a bit more, and headed out to the SDA campus in Florence. The campus was very very nice, and the people were great as well. Ms. Mumper met up with some of the people there that she had been with the summer before, and we also met some others as well.

After our tour of the school, we headed back into the city, and Dad and I got on a train for Rome. Ms. Mumper was going to stay and get together after classes with some of her professors...I think. As we got to the ticket machine, there was a train for 34 euros, and a train for 17 euros. Of course we weren't thinking at all at that point, so we bought two seats for the train for 17 euros. That doesn't sound so bad, right? Yeah, it didn't sound too bad to us either. The ride from Florence to Rome should have taken about 2-2 1/2 hours. However, since we bought the cheaper train, two hours later, we looked at the map, and discovered that we weren't even half way there yet. One clue that might have been helpful before hand was the fact that the train was making stops at every single station between Florence and Rome; every single one. But in its own way, it was kind of a blessing; we got an extra long chance to rest our feet and talk.

When we arrived in Rome, it was about three hours later than we were planning on, so all of our plans of seeing what we wanted to see before everything closed were out the window. However, we bought our metro passes, and went up to the Spanish steps. We just started making our way down from the Spanish steps to the Pantheon, the Trevi fountain, past the capital building and the forum, and made our way down to the Colosseum. Maybe it was a blessing that our train took more than twice as long as we expected it to, because instead of rushing to two or three things inside of a few hours, we just took our time, walked slowly, and enjoyed it.

The next day, our only full day in Rome, we had a lot to see, and not that much time to see it in, so it was time to get moving. We started off in the Forum, and followed it up with the Colosseum. A cool trick that not many people know about is that the ticket for the Forum and the Colosseum are the same ticket; a two for one. So what you can do is buy your ticket at the Forum and waltz on over to the Colosseum whenever you please and walk past all of the people in line giving you dirty looks right up to the entrance. Not many people know that the line to the Colosseum is for buying tickets, so if you already have your tickets, you can skip the entire line. We did exactly that, and we must have walked passed 150 to 200 people. Somehow skipping a line of that size puts one in a very good mood to see the Colosseum.

After we saw the Colosseum, we grabbed a quick bite and headed out to the Vatican. Remember how I said that my dad and I don't like art museums? Well, last time I was at the Vatican, my friends and I took a browse of everything there before going to the Sistine Chapel, the very last thing at the end of the line. Not this time. Nope, we charged through the entire museum in about twenty minutes like blockers for the San Fransisco 49ers; always charging our way forward. Once we got to the Sistine Chapel, my dad went in, looked around for a few minutes, found the painting of God's finger and Adam's finger almost touching, pretty much ignored the Final Judgement by Michelangelo, and two minutes later said he was ready to leave. Incredible. Well, off we went.

After walking around Rome some more, we met up with Ms. Mumper and told her that we were going to Hard Rock Cafe for dinner. She almost had a heart attack. Her thought was that we were in Italy, land of the gourmet, and she was right. However, at that moment, we both wanted a little time off of "experiencing Europe", and just wanted a little time together. On top of all of that, I hadn't had a good burger in about seven months. She didn't let us hear the end of it for a long time, and I can imagine that she still teases my dad about it today when it comes up. Nevertheless, it was a great meal, again something that I wouldn't do if I was on my own, but it was great spending time with my dad without the mentality that we had to be somewhere seeing something.

Later on that night, we went to get gelato. As we were leaving, everyone used the restroom except me. I felt fine, and I forgot that restrooms in Europe are sometimes pretty few and far in between. Just from that sentence, you can probably guess exactly where this is going. We left the gelato shop and went to a grocery store to buy food for the next day's flight. Just as we were in the checkout, not 15 minutes later, it was like someone had grabbed my bladder and was twisting it- I had to go badly. Now, first of all, you'd think a grocery store of this size would have a bathroom, right? Wrong. I basically told Ms. Mumper and my dad as more of an FYI as I was halfway out the door that I was going back to the gelato shop to use the facilities. Technically, you have to be a customer to use the facilities in a place like that, but since I had just been a customer a half hour before, I figured I was all right. I took off running, and then it suddenly occurred to me that the gelato shop was on one of thousands of tiny, narrow streets nearby, and I hadn't been paying attention to where we came from. I heard Ms. Mumper say something about going to the right...so I went to the right. When I didn't find it, I went to the left. Still no luck. I was running up and down every block looking for that gelato shop. Still couldn't find it. Next I ran to the right again, figuring that maybe I missed a street. Still nothing. My bladder might as well have told me to just finish it off at that point. However, I found out that it wasn't quite as painful if I kept moving. Needless to say, I kept moving. After circling the block about five times with still no luck of finding the gelato shop, I decided to try another few blocks. Eventually, after literally running in circles, passing the Trevi fountain about five times, and still ending up completely lost, I decided to ditch plan A, and work on plan B, which was simply to find any bathroom I could at whatever cost. I ran by a McDonalds at one point, so I dashed inside and upstairs, and was relieved. As I left the McDonalds, it was still my mission to find the gelato shop that I was supposed to meet Ms. Mumper at, but I found out really quickly that because I didn't know the name of the gelato shop, and because it was one of hundreds of gelato shops in the tiny streets, asking for help was virtually useless. I asked a few people if they knew of a small gelato shop in that area on a tiny street, and of course they gave me a funny look and asked me which one I was talking about. After about an hour and a half of running around, I finally just gave up and took a metro back to the hotel where my dad was. He was already in his pajamas. When I told him that I had lost Ms. Mumper, he told me that the gelato shop was near the Pantheon. That's where I went wrong; somehow I crossed the major street between the Trevi Fountain and the Pantheon without realizing it, so I only stayed on the wrong side of that street looking for the shop. No wonder I couldn't find the gelato shop. He said that we had to go back to the gelato shop and find Ms. Mumper. Just as we were about to leave the hotel, Ms. Mumper came walking in. Thank goodness, because the hotel was on the other side of town from the gelato shop.

Wednesday through Sunday was full of fun. My dad came to a few of my classes, we all took numerous trips into Valencia, a trip to the beach and to the castle, and we also had dinner at Ana's house.

It seemed like the week flew by in a matter of hours. Before we all knew it, it was time to say goodbye. On the morning that they left, I went down to the train station with them, and that is where my dad and I said goodbye. We both cried. However, from today it is only a few short months remaining before we will all be together again. It was an excellent week, and I can't wait to be home again, even though I am starting to miss this place already.

3-18-12

  Sunday, March 18, 2012

Right now, we are on break for Las Fallas, a festival that takes place in Valencia. The general gist of this festival is that the residents of Valencia build ginormous monuments and at the end of the festival (tomorrow evening), they burn them. Some of these monuments are about five stories tall, and the people have been working on them since the day after last year's were burned. Why all of this madness? I believe the idea is that when the fallas are burned, it symbolizes a fresh new start... in the middle of March. Maybe it is like the whole Chinese New-Years thing, but maybe due to language barriers, the Spaniards got a little confused. 

I went out to Valencia on Friday with some friends to see these monsters, and I was thoroughly impressed. These aren't just five story blocks of wood and cardboard, these are intriguingly made and painted works of art. We spent all day walking the streets of Valencia looking at the fallas, because there is nearly one in every intersection, with a grand total of almost 300 in all scattered around the city. 

Here in Spain, sexuality is taken with a grain of salt sometimes, and especially this time of year in the festival. There were many female ninots (the smaller human figures that make up the fallas)  that were about 4'10'', but had breasts that are more like beach balls, and of course they were not even halfway covered. If those women were real, I imagine them crawling around town on their hands and knees. 

There were many tasteful ninots as well, but 99% of the ninots were caricatures. In other words, it was either a disproportional nose, disproportional breasts, disproportional feet, and of course, there had to be a few disproportional crotches as well. 

With some friends, I am heading out to Valencia tomorrow again, because tomorrow night is when the fallas are burned. I am not exactly sure how they plan to burn five-story monuments made of wood and cardboard sitting right out in the middle of the street without setting the town on fire, but I guess since they have been doing this for many many years, I am sure they have a system, and I will find out what that system is tomorrow.

Las Fallas is a festival that really stimulates the senses. One of the senses that I haven't discussed yet is the use of hearing at Las Fallas. In many of the streets, there are little shops selling fireworks. Now these fireworks don't actually glitter or sparkle, or shoot out cute little pink sparks. Oh no. These fireworks are used for one purpose, and one purpose only; to make an infinite amount of noise so they can annoy people like me.  Basically, here's how it works; people buy the fireworks, and whenever there is a break in the crowd and a visibly open patch ofsidewalk or street (sometimes even a street with cars), someone will light one, and chuck it onto the open patch of ground. 

 

About five seconds after a firework is thrown, one of three things happens. What happens next depends on what type of firework it is. If it is a tiny cute firework that is about the size of a cigarette, it will make a cute little popping sound, you see a little explosion, you may blink, you may not, and that is it. Next, there is the medium size firework, which is about the size of a roll of pennies. With this one, you hear a bang that you definitely notice, you jump a little bit, you turn in the direction that it came from and give the person who set it off a thumbs up (not necessarily with your thumb), smell a little smoke, and get back to what you were doing. Then... there's the big mama. This firework is about the size of a roll of quarters, and it just looks like it is asking for trouble. 

On Friday, Alfried, one of the ACA students I was with, bought a few. Throughout the day, David and Alfried had been setting off the cigarette butt and penny-roll fireworks at any chance they got. However, just as we were about to leave, Alfried pulled out the big guns. Just as there was a pause in the traffic, he lit it, ran out into the middle of the street (in that order), put it down, and ran back. I knew it would be loud, because even the penny roll bomb was enough to startle me pretty good if I didn't know it was coming. I was standing on the sidewalk, and this is was a six lane street, three lanes each way. I jammed my fingers in my ears, closed my eyes, turned my back to it, bend down into the fetal position while still standing up, and watched my life pass before me eyes. It seemed like an eternity waiting for this firework to go off. For the size of this thing, and it's capability, it doesn't even serve to call it a firework. It is basically a grenade. Finally, after waiting for what seemed an eternity, not only did my ears ring, even with my fingers jammed into them, but I could literally feel a shock wave hit me, and I felt my whole body rumble from head to toe.

Now, I was standing a good 80 feet away from this thing, and I knew it was coming. Most of the people passing by were closer than I was, and had not a clue what had befallen them. What made it even worse (and funnier) was that a parade had just finished with a bunch of little children in it, and there were still tons of little children still hanging around. I think your imagination can do the rest for you. 

Another way to stimulate your sense of hearing at Las Fallas is to listen to the mascleta. The mascleta is basically a big row of the big moma bombs that Alfried bought, except they are lined up to go off in succession, and each bomb is about three times the size as the big momas. The whole mascleta lasts about six minutes. Six minutes of multiple bombs going off in succession, each the size of a used toilet paper roll. The only words I can really use to describe it are...Naval Warfare.

 The mascleta is truly a masterpiece. They have had I am sure hundreds of years to get it right, so I am sure it is about as safe as it can get. Even so, the paramedics and the fire department were standing by. I just couldn't help but wonder what would happen if just one of those bombs malfunctioned. To make it worse, we were practically in the front row. As the mascleta was just about to the grand finale, I could feel my ear drums rumbing. It was truly a unique experience because it wasn't like I had any trouble hearing afterwards, but the whole time the mascleta shook my whole body and hurt my eardrums. For about two minutes after the mascleta had finished, I could legitimately say that my ears hurt. 

In other news, today I was informed by Rachel Tohm, one of my friends from southern California who is now at Walla Walla, that because I mentioned that I saw a woman that looked like her in a previous blog post, when she googled her name, she found the article I wrote. I thought it would be a nice gesture to say her name again, Rachel Tohm, so that if she decides to google her name again, she will stumble upon this article discussing how she googled her name and found the last article. I have a very odd sense of humor. I know. 

Anyways, I am really excited for tomorrow,  and this next quarter. I can't believe that my dad comes in less than a week, and in less than two and a half months, I will be back in the good ole' US! 

Until next time...

Photo Credit: Eric Mathis

Wow, what a week. This has been the busiest and longest week that I have had in quite some time. Now, it is Friday afternoon and I am looking forward to a relaxing weekend...of studying and preparing for finals. Oh well, at least it is the weekend, and Sabbath will soon be here.

The first reason that this week seemed about three times as long as it should have been is because I had a report due on Friday of a book I started reading on Monday. I only had to read about 100 pages, but this was not a book with any sort of storyline, plot, or in my opinion, any point to it whatsoever. It was a book about the science of translation. I had to read this book because I am in the translation class here, and the name of the class pretty much sums up the point of the class. This was a book on how to translate; a book of more than 300 pages explaining translation, the science behind it, its history, and of course, its importance.  Let me give you just a thirty second synopsis of what I have read this week, and what I have learned from it: Translation is the art of converting a written or spoken work from one language to another, it has been going on ever since those knuckleheads at the Tower of Babel got all mixed up, and last but not least, it is important because it makes works and ideas in other languages more universal for more people to understand.  There. You have just learned all I have learned from 100 pages of the most boring book in the world. Not only was there no flow and no relevance from topic to topic, but of course it had words that are used just to make the author sound smarter than she really is, half of which I had never seen before.
I have woken up every morning at 6:30am pretty much every day this week to read that **** book. Now that it has been read, and my report on it has been written- which basically says exactly what I just told you about the book, just buttered up a bit for the professor, I plan to sestar (if you know a little bit about Spanish, you might get the joke. If not, don't beat yourself up- it's my kind of humor), play basketball, go on a bike ride, and shoot the breeze in my hammock.

This week has been the week of prayer here, and our praise band/ choir was responsible for Tuesday and Thursday. I have thoroughly enjoyed the week of prayer so far, and it has been a blessing, but some nights it was hard to head out there and keep my head in it when I knew that about two hours out of my evening were gone, and once I got back to the room it would be time to not only work hard, but try to make up some time as well. All in all, everything worked out, and we are here at the weekend, Gracias a Dios.

Another source of stress for me this week was our Flamenco class performance on Thursday. Of course the big question of  the week was, "are we ready", and of course we were all asking that until the performance. Brittney, my dance partner, and I felt pretty good about the dance we had to do, but of course, just one moment of forgetfulness can mess up the rest of the dance that all of us have worked two months on, and it can look like we just horsed around the whole time, but I guess that is just what performance is. All in all, everyone did very well in the performance, and we all had a great time, though we were all happy for it to be over with.

 Well, in four more school days, finals will be over, I will have a week off, and my dad will be here three days after I start school again. If I can just make that final push, it is all gravy after that. Happy Sabbath to everyone, and have a great week.

26-2-12 Recap of the trip to Barcelona and Andorra

Our trip started off with getting out of bed earlier than normal, an early breakfast, and of course like any great trip, a nice long bus ride.

Usually, I like to get a seat near the front of the bus. I don't know if that is just because that is where I always sat with my dad on Mesa Grande trips, or if I enjoy talking with the teachers more than my classmates, or if I just like de-bussing first. However, by the time I boarded the bus, the only seat left that I could find was in the very, very back- the very last seat.

The buses in Spain are a bit different than the buses in the U.S.; at least the ones I am used to. In the back, instead of there being two seats on each side and an aisle; the way I like it, there are five seats straight across the back. The seat I got was seat 4 out of 5 which means I was sandwiched between Casey, a much buffer and taller guy than me, and Eric, who was scrunched up against the window asleep for a lot of the ride. Also, the seats in Spain are closer together, which means there is more legroom in the backseat of my brother's Civic coupe than these beauties.

Within the first five minutes of the ride, I quickly remembered the reason I don't like sitting in the back of a bus; claustrophobia and squished legs. I tried sleeping, but when there is a guy sitting on either side of you, your knees are already crammed into the seat in front of you, and your seat doesn't recline at all, sleep is very elusive. With sleep crossed off of my list of in-bus entertainment, I tried for the number two candidate; reading. I read a good 20 pages in very good time, so I thought I would just take a little break before continuing. Taking the break was my worst mistake, because once it was time to get back into the book, I had absolutely no motivation to do it. That pretty much sums up my relationship with  reading.

So, no sleeping, and reading was not fun anymore, so I went to number three on my list; listen to music. Many times when I listen to music, I can find a song really quickly that I want to listen to, set my Zune on shuffle, and just let it do its thing. This wasn't one of those times. Somehow I wasn't in the mood for any of the music on my Zune; out of thousands of songs, I couldn't even find ONE that I was in the mood for.

 Finally, I just decided to put the music away, and just sit. After a few moments, I started doing what I do best; free association thinking. I don't remember exactly what I thought about, but with the amount of time I had, I am pretty sure I covered everything from the Dodgers to why humans drink cow's milk to my favorite Christmas gift of all time to why couldn't they invent better buses.

Just as my self-help therapy session was coming to a close, we stopped at a gas stop where we all ate. This was a funny restaurant because it only sold sandwiches with omelet filings. I paid about 4 euros for two huge slices of bread and an omelet- all smashed together. It wasn't exactly gourmet, but like everyone else, I was hungry, so I ate it and kept my mouth shut.

We boarded the bus again, I assumed my position at the bottom of the sardine can, and we continued. I must have been really exhausted at that point, because about five minutes later, I rested my head on the seat rest of the seat in front of me, and the next thing I knew we were almost to our final destination in Andorra.

Andorra is a really nice place to go, don't get me wrong, but getting there is murder. Andorra is in the Pyrenees mountain range, so not only is it an ever climbing road, but the road is also very windy. Being in the back of that bus took me back to the days when my family would drive up to Pine Springs Ranch for the church retreat, and how we would have to stop every fifteen minutes because we all felt nauseous. One of our chaperones offered us some motion sickness gum, and I took some not really because I was feeling nauseous but because I just wanted something to do. We had to stop a few times because some people were about to lose their omelets if you catch my drift.

Finally, we arrived at our hotel in Andorra. My room was on level 5 on the 6th floor- no elevator. That is one thing that really bugs me about hotels in Europe; when your room is on level 5, that really means that you have to climb up one level of stairs just to get the level 1. I can't wait to come home to elevators in hotels, and when I get a room on the fourth floor, I will go to the FOURTH story. Anyways, after we put our stuff down and got settled in, we walked around the city we were in for a few hours, found dinner, and met back up at the hotel.

The inside of Caldea

In the city where we stayed, there is a spa called Caldea, and whoever planned the trip arranged for us to experience it for 3 hours; I am very grateful to whoever planned that. This spa is absolutely huge. In the picture, you can only see the inside; there is a little "lazy river" that takes you outside to an area with another few spas, another lazy river, and more areas to lounge in- and you never have to leave the water. On top of all of that, they had a sauna, an ice room, another few luxurious ways to heat and cool yourself that I had never even heard of before, and of course, massages for an extra cost. It was a great experience, and I am really glad we did it. It was pretty cold outside the night we were there, but the really cool thing is that when you go outside, you are still in the water that is the same temperature as the inside, so we were still warm even though it was almost freezing outside.

There is only one thing I would change about the whole experience; the temperature of the water. The water at this place is all the same temperature; every single spa, outside, inside, everything except the sauna and ice water, was all the same temperature. If I could change just one thing, I would make each of those tinier spas different temperatures, because while the water isn't "cold", it isn't exactly "hot" either- it was lukewarm, which isn't a bad thing in itself, but I don't really consider a spa with cold water a "spa", just a really small pool. 

"Floor plan" of Caldea

Caldea from the outside

 

Outside portion of the spa

On the second day, we left Andorra and took to the mountains of Spain to see the Montserrat Monastery. This drive wasn't nearly as bad as the day before, partly because the view was just gorgeous, and partly because I grabbed a seat towards the front .From the second day onwards, I sat near the front where I "belong" next to Kristy, a girl from PUC that I didn't know super well, but over the course of the trip, I got to know her much better.

When we arrived at the monetary, the view was  absolutely gorgeous, and we were all glad to pile out of the bus. Dario, our history teacher, and for this trip, our chaperone, had studied Latin for quite a while, so as we were touring the monastery, he would tell us what all of the inscriptions meant in Spanish. At 12:00 midday, an all boys choir that is supposedly really famous came out and sang a few songs for us in the basilica. By the way, do you know what the difference between a cathedral and a basilica is? I just learned it on this trip, and apparently, if the sanctuary area is shaped like a cross, it is a cathedral, and if the sanctuary is not, it is a basilica. The boy choir was...cute, and the acoustics were pretty good, but as far as being "wowed", I have heard better at the MGA christmas concert. However, what did impress me was the level of discipline all of these kids had. Of course, doing this day in and day out, I am sure they know exactly what is expected of them. After we heard them sing, we took a little lunch break for about an hour, and headed down the mountain.

This time, sitting next to Kristy, I had plenty of room, and five minutes after we had set off, I was out like a light, and I was awoken later on to someone telling me that we had arrived at our next location. We arrived on top of the mountain known as TIBI DABO. Tibi Dabo is Latin for "I will give it to you". Tibi Dabo is a mountain that has a breathtaking view of all of Barcelona and the sea, and one of the reasons it is called Tibi Dabo is because there is a legend that says that this is the mountain where Satan tempted Jesus, even though that is believed to be in the middle east somewhere. We saw the view, and of course took tons of pictures.

After we saw Tibi Dabo, we headed to our hotel, and spent the rest of the day as free time. I walked around with Jarrel and Elizabeth, and we walked all over the area, stopping in many stores and stopping for food a few times as well. One of them got the idea to go to the movies, then the other one got the idea to just watch a movie back at the hotel on one of our computers. We all liked the second option better, so we headed back, and on the way, we stopped by the market and bought some sweets to enjoy during the movie. The movie was Invictus, and I really enjoyed it, and we all had a pleasant evening together. One of the rules is that when a member of the opposite sex is in your room, you have to keep the door open. Elizabeth was in our room and our door was closed- we forgot. When Loli, our other chaperone on the trip, came by to see if everything was alright, she opened the door, stuck her head in, saw the three of us lying on the bed watching the movie, smiled, asked us if everything was alright, and said goodnight- didn't even acknowledge that our door should have been open. In the morning, Dario thanked everyone for keeping the rules the night before very well; for leaving doors open, puntuality, etc. I laughed a little bit inside when he said that because I had remembered what had happened in our room.

The next morning, we saw some of the works of Gaudi', a famous architect in the Spanish world. First, we drove past a few houses that he designed. I am guessing that based on those houses, Gaudi was the type of guy that didn't like to fit in; those houses looked more like gingerbread houses to me. Nothing on them was in the least bit "boxy" or even really had an edge for that matter, and we learned very quickly that Gaudi liked nature, because he decorated all of his buildings, including the cathedral, with a very naturish look (e.g. with fruit baskets at the top of some of the towers and pillars that were shaped like trees). We then went to a park that had some of the architecture he designed, and it looked to me like it could have come out of Jungle Book or maybe Jurassic Park.

After our bus tour of the park and the houses, we saw the grand finally, La Sagrada Familia, a cathedral also designed by Gaudi. This cathedral is unlike any other cathedral in the world; it is actually gives off a "happy" vibe. First of all, it is very well lit, and all of the stone is white so it has a very warm feeling to it instead of the dark somberness of most cathedrals. All of the artwork, including the pillars, is modeled after nature, and all of the stain glass windows are very brightly colored. On top of all of the stained glass windows, there are also a lot of regular windows as well, so the whole thing is very well lit. On top of being very well lit, everything is  very brightly colored from the windows to even the tiniest decorations.

It was indeed a very different cathedral, but that doesn't make it my favorite. It was very busy decoration wise inside; very busy, and the outside was busy as well. It was impressive, but it wasn't classy. Sometimes, the beauty of a cathedral comes from its symmetry; sometimes from its size, sometimes from its classiness. The things that impressed me about this cathedral were the size, the inspiration, and the colors. Even though it isn't my favorite cathedral of all time, I am really glad we saw it.

Random facts for the day; Gaudi was killed by a train- not suicide- in 1926. La Sagrada Familia is funded only from donations of residents of Barcelona- or so they say. La Sagrada Familia is expected to be finished in the next 20 to 50 years; no one knows for sure.

For the evening, we went to a Picasso museum. I am not one for art museums, but this one was pretty interesting. The paintings were in chronological order, and it starts off with gorgeous portraits, scenes, and landscapes that were all very lifelike. As we continued, the portraits started getting a bit more abstract, and eventually, the paintings were all just boxes and squares- still representing some of the same people, scenes, and landscapes. I would like to venture a guess that Picasso went loco at some point in his life, and it kept getting worse as his life progressed, because towards the end, I felt like I could paint a better portrait using just the skills I have now than some of his works.

On the last day, we walked the streets as a group with Dario as our leader. He took us to a few old buildings, including some Roman ruins and a cathedral. After that, we had free time until the afternoon when we would embark on our journey home. I hung out with Kristy, Jarrel, and Alfried for the afternoon, and we all had a fantastic time together. Jarrel goes to La Sierra and lives about an hour out of Nashville, Alfried is our only ESDES student who is not American; he is from Germany and he already speaks English, French, German, and now he is learning Spanish. Towards the end of our time together, Kristy and I got to talking, and it turns out she is in the honors program at PUC, and her and Brittney, another ESDES student who is my dance partner in Flamenco class, went to Italy this last summer with Alex, one of my very close friends. Of course we had a big aha moment when we found our connections. Alex had told me of a girl who made up 10 words for her class project, and Kristy told me it was Brittney. I thought I would have a little fun with her, so the next time I talked with Brittney, I slipped one of her own words into the conversation, and she gave me a look of almost disbelief. She even asked me to repeat what I had said just to be sure. Of course the whole story came out, and we all realized just how closely connected we all are. We're Adventists, what can we say?

All in all, it was a great trip, I only wish it had lasted longer. In just about three weeks starts our "siesta spring", or so I call it, because from the 15th of March until about the 15th of April, we are on non-stop trips and breaks. The finish line is in sight, and it seems like we arrived here yesterday- what's up with that? I guess the old saying "time flies when you're having fun" really holds water here. Well, until next time...

2-12-12

I am going to change things up a little bit right now; I am pretty sure I have started off every single blog post up to this point with the word 'well'. Right now, I believe it is time for change; change is a good thing.

So, it is now 1:00 am my time, but since I took a three hour nap this afternoon, I am pretty sure that I will not be a victim of  narcolepsy before it is due time to go to bed. It has been a while since I have written anything, and that is not because I didn't want to blog, or that I forgot. OK, I will admit, I kind of did forget, but that is because these last few weeks have just flown by. We haven't had any huge "adventures" very recently, but that doesn't mean we aren't still having a blast.

Our next big "adventure" is a trip to Barcelona and Andorra in about a week and a half. After we go to Barcelona and Andorra, the next big adventure that I am looking forward to is when my dad, Ms. Mumper, and Eric's parents come out at the end of March during their spring break (just days after Las Fallas, a festival in Valencia that we get a week off for). Not even a week after they leave, we have one of our spring breaks, and a group of us are planning on going to London for a few days. The day after we get back from London, we go on a trip to Madrid and Toledo for another week. Basically, starting March 15, we have about  a month of break/trips with the exception of about a week and a half of school scattered in-between. After our trip to Madrid and Toledo, it will be about April 15 or so, and we will only have about a month and a half or so left before it is time to pack it up and return to the U.S.

Even though there haven't been any big "adventures" lately, that doesn't mean that stuff hasn't been happening around here. As I said in my last post, I have become very involved in the music, and over the last few weeks, there have indeed been plenty of nights full of music practice and performance, and I have been loving it. My little music group on Wednesdays have been going very well, and once it starts warming up around here, I would love to start doing it outside. Speaking of being cold, when I am in Walla Walla and it is 36 degrees outside, I walk around in jeans and a jacket. Here when it is 36 degrees outside (something I thought would not be possible in Spain), I do the exact same thing and many Spaniards constantly are asking me if I am cold- of course they are all bundled up in gloves, scarfs, beanies, etc. I guess the Spaniards and the Californians have more in common than we originally thought. Anyways, back to the music; last night and this morning, the praise band/choir performed for church and vespers. Half of our choir is away on a camping trip this weekend, so we have been few in number, but still doing just fine. One of the other ACA students here asked me to accompany her in a song for special music, and I readily agreed. The song was "His Eyes" by Steven Curtis Chapman, and we arranged it so that she sang the first verse, I sang the second, and we sang the third together. This morning, I am not quite sure what it was, maybe is was because we had some technology issues, maybe it was because I wasn't focused all the way, or maybe I just didn't know the song well enough, but for whatever reason, let's just say it wasn't my finest hour of performance. Of course, I felt like walking out of the church with my head buried in my hands, but even though in my mind I screwed up royally, many people told me how much they enjoyed it, and how much it meant to them. Today has been a great reminder that God can still work through us, even though we ourselves are nowhere near perfect or adequate.

Another subtle thing that has been happening for me is that I can definitely tell my Spanish has been improving. I can now think in Spanish at about the same speed that I can think in English, my vocabulary, speed, and overall flow during conversations has been improving, and I can understand many more people now than I could even a month ago. About a month ago, I could only understand about 10 people perfectly- most of them were my teachers and other ACA friends. It is much easier to understand someone that you are accustomed to hearing. Now, I have noticed that wherever I am, I am understanding the checkout person at the supermarket better, little by little, I am starting to understand the people with thick Argentinian accents, and even as I am just walking down the street, I am starting to be able to pick out little pieces of conversations of the people who are walking by. It is definitely a cool feeling to know I am improving, but as always, there is always more to improve on.

Today in Sabbath school, there was a couple visiting from Scandinavia; one went to school at Southern, one grew up in Ohio, and both are now living in Madrid... it's a long story. Anyways, one speaks fairly decent Spanish, and one only speaks English. Normally during Sabbath school, every last word is in Spanish. Today was very different, and very awesome. I got a chance to do a fair amount of translating, and that was cool, but really the best part for me was how we were "strongly asserting our opinions" (in other words, arguing), about the content of the Sabbath school lesson, and it was really great to have half of it be in English- and half of the people had not a clue what was going on, and the other half was in Spanish- and the other half didn't have a clue as to what was going on. We were arguing so quickly that we literally didn't have time to translate anything. It was definitely heated excitement. At one point, one of our guests made a point that I strongly agreed with, and one of the others strongly disagreed with, so when she had finished, I gave an example to defend the point the guest had made. I was talking to the guest who only speaks English, and Igor (one of my good friends; studies theology here and is from Portugal) was translating for me, because it is nearly impossible for me to say one thing in Spanish, and say the same thing in English, because many times I say things like, "I was caminando down the street this past semana and I turned the esquina to look for my zapatoes". Anyways, I was speaking in English, Igor was translating, and one of the Spanish speakers answered back, I heard the Spanish speaker respond, and with literally no thought; no extra effort, no nothing, unconsciously  my brain made the switch back to Spanish, and I was so focused on what I was saying that by the time I caught on to what just happened, I had already spoken about two and a half sentences to my English friend in Spanish. I now have a slight fear that when I get back to the states, I will be able to speak two languages: Spanish, and Spanglish.

That is sadly just about all I remember about the week, and sadly I am slowing giving in to the need to recharge my batteries all over again. Happy Sabbath and happy week.
Until next time...