Your Favorite Sister

Hey there, I've hijacked Hannah's blog.  Just wanted to see if she'd notice.  

What a good looking family!

And look at that cutie pie.  That's Hannah's mom, and her youngest neice ... it doesn't get much cuter than that!

Okay, sorry Hannah, you shouldn't leave your blogger account open on other people's computers! Love, your favorite sister.

Fugitive

I´m in Sevilla. Yesterday I saw a cleverly titled pamphlet in the tourist info office called ¨Youthing¨. It had listings for movies, clubs and plays for the next couple weeks. The very first entry was for a free film called ¨Brad, una noche más en las barricadas.¨ (Brad, one more night in the barricades). About the assasination of a journalist in Oaxaca. 8pm. 55 minutes long. What did I have to lose?

I googled the address, circled it on my map of Sevilla, and headed out towards what I expected would be a small, alternative, independant film theatre. Something like Liberty Hall maybe. What I found was something quite different.

The street the ¨theater¨was on was really an alley that turned a corner and then came to a stop where four blue wooden planks formed what resembled a door. One of the middle planks was torn off to make room for people and bikes to squeeze and duck through. It looked nothing like a small independant film house, but I knew I had the right street, so this had to be it. Upon entering (and I felt somewhat brave just for doing that) I was surprised to find that I was still outside, no roof overhead, and the surroundings were:

a table of miscellaneous flyers announcing upcoming activist events and current government proposals to be battled against,

a small tree in a pot and several small sad potted plants,

sheets of white crate paper taped everywhere with lists in marker of things to be done/ways to volunteer/volunteer schedules and duties etc,

a few hippie types,

a couple maybe-big-into-drugs types,

and all of this set in the entryway to a huge abandoned building, with random abandoned building crap scattered about and halfway torn down, halfway graffitied abandoned building walls.


I later found out it used to be a fábrica de sombreros (hat factory).


I had arrived late, but they were still in the process of setting up chairs and the computer in the room where the film was to be projected onto a cement wall. Then they had tech problems and sent a guy out on a bike to bring another computer, but that still didn´t work so we ended up not watching the movie.


But while waiting for them to start it I started talking to the two women in front of me, in Spanish of course. It was soon apparent that they weren´t Spanish, so I asked where they were from. England. We continued speaking in Spanish, however, because they were really serious about practicing. They invited me to another movie event they knew about that took place in an urban garden area. So I followed them there, where we checked out the garden´s compost heap (which Katie found lacking), checked out the figs of the nearby fig tree (overripe, dry, and a few with maggots), then helped ourselves to the tubs of free wine and beer. I met one of Katie´s friends named David, then watched a great portuguese documentary projected onto the side of one of the buildings surrounding the garden. It was called The Island of the Flowers. David invited us to go to a bar where he´d arranged to meet friends, so we went, and talked to his friends, one of whom lives on Avenida de Kansas City, one of the most important streets in all of Sevilla. She told me there´s a statue of an indian in the middle of the avenue.

The next morning I experienced one of the bigger coincidences of my life, but since I´ll be in the states tomorrow I will just wait and tell that story in person.

Right now I´m in an internet cafe hiding from my landlord, who doesn´t know that I didn´t move out of the apartment at the end of May. I was calmly packing my bags when Elvira came to the door to tell Belen and Raquel that someone was going to come view the apartment within 15 minutes. I hastily shoved everything into my suitcases and fled, and now I wait for the ´´safe´´ call from Belen.

surprise surprise

A lot has happened since I last wrote.

After Paris I went to Almorox to have a dinner with Melissa, Jessica and Merle. We finished dinner about midnight, stayed up till 3 talking, then went out to the bars and I finally got to play foosball. Over the course of the after dinner chat, someone said that Americans who never learned that song about the states couldn’t name all 50. I never learned the song, and took this as a challenge. Being fairly confident that I’d be able to come up with all 50, I passed out the pens and paper. Turns out, I got 46. Sorry Nevada, Minnesota, Wisconsin and Wyoming. Jessica only missed one, but she’d learned the song. Melissa and Merle, also songless, did worse than I did – Melissa squeaking out 42 and Merle a measly 38. Merle is the future teacher of the group.

A few weeks ago at school, Isa had some things to work on with Nuria, so she told me to take the 5-year old class to the recess area to play the games I knew with them (hide-and-seek, 4 corners). I’d told Isa about Sardines as well, and decided to play it that day. (Sardines = one person hides, the rest have to find her/him and hide with them…last person to find the group is it).

The recess patio is just the small concrete area around the school, without many hiding places, so the game was really more about running than seeking, and always ended with the entire class finding the hider within about 20 seconds. All was going well until it was Javier’s turn to be the hider. We counted. Javier hid. The kids ran around the building in opposite directions, and then we all, surprisingly, met in the middle with no sign of Javier. After about two minutes all possible hiding places had been checked and my heart rate had doubled. Maybe he broke the rules and hid in the lower recess area by the pre-school classes, I thought to myself. The other 13 kindergarteners quickly scoured this even smaller playground. Still no Javier. I told Isa and Nuria what had happened, my face obviously showing the anxiety any Auxiliar de Conversacion would have when a student disappears on their watch.

I stayed with the class while Isa and Nuria went to check the other playground. I heard Nuria ask if the front gate was open. It was. It had been open when we started the game and it hadn’t occurred to me to shut it. Javier is kind of a wily kid, the one the other 5-year olds are always telling on for annoying them. He’s also gay, according to Isa. But if there is any kid in that class who would take advantage of an open gate and run away from school, it is Javier. I should have thought to shut the gate. Now Javier’s gone and it’s my fault.

Or maybe he decided, right as it was his turn to hide, that he just couldn’t wait any longer to take a piss and went into the school’s bathroom without telling anyone.

Last week was the “Comenius Project.” Kids from Hungary, Romania, Poland, Italy, and a school in the Spanish town of Guadalajara all came to our school for a day of Traditional Games and cultural exchange on Tuesday. We had to be there early to set things up Tuesday morning, so Isa had the idea of spending the night at the school. Of course I was down, as were Nuria, Laura and Miriam. The idea was to get more sleep I think. In that respect it failed, because we stayed up until 1:30 drinking hot chocolate, eating apple bizcocho (spongecake) and talking. But it was a lot of fun, and I got to take this picture of Isa and Nuria in their colorful, flannel matching pjs that I think no one over the age of 8 wears in the US.

Tuesday went really well, Isa did a great job of organizing everything. Our students put on a big production of songs and dances, and I played “Jesu, O Joy of Man’s Desiring” as the opening act. It was a “surprise surprise” because none of the kids knew I played the violin until the curtain opened and I was on stage playing.

Sunday night Isa invited me to go out to dinner with her and her friends. She picked me up at 8:30, but said we had to go back to her house because she’d left the backdoor open and needed to go shut it and make sure the cat was inside. As we entered the house, the coat rack fell over, as it often does. I started to help Isa pick up all the fallen coats and she started saying over and over “don’t worry about it, don’t worry about it, I’ll get it, go to the living room, go to the living room.” It was so bizarre, I couldn’t understand why she was being so weird about the coats and insisting I not help her. The thought even crossed my mind that maybe there were drugs or something among them that she didn’t want me to see. I mean what else could cause her to act so strangely about me helping her pick up coats? So finally I took one coat into the living room, the lights were off but came on right as I entered. There was a few plates of food on the table, which confused me for half a second until 6 of Isa’s friends jumped out from their excellent hiding places, yelling “Sorpresa!” I jumped and screamed and then cried a little. They’d thrown me a going away dinner party.

Paris Take 2

Two weekends ago I went to Paris (again). But this time I was healthy and with friends. I met Janet Thursday morning in a metro stop in SW Paris, from there we met her friend Jeff (actually Jean-Francois) who took us to his cute studio apartment. Then Jeff and his brand new GPS took us to Versailles, where we spent the rest of the day. It was cool walking through the palace with a Frenchman, who, though not passionate about history (an “enginerd” as Janet says), obviously knows a lot more about French history than I do and pointed out important/famous portraits. It was V-Day too, so the fountains were running that afternoon in the gardens.

That night we went to a barbeque - French style - where we ate shishkebobs and sausages on hard bread, and Jeff and Janet both broke wine glasses. I won't go into details, but the next day involved a visit to the military museum where Napolean is buried, the purchase of a $12 (8 euro) box of tampons, Janet obsessing all day, a successful search for hydrogen peroxide (aided by a grocery store worker, a manager, a security guard, two friendly shoppers and a female pharmacist), an informative, quick, and free visit to the Louvre (Janet had an art history class), and Janet clutching my hand in a movie scene dash across a busy Paris highway.

Saturday I left midday to Madrid, but in the morning we visited the Eiffel Tower and then went on a fruitless search for tecktonik, the dance craze that's swept Europe's teenage population.

Pictures from Paris, and Toledo's party in the valley --

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2068144&l=3847c&id=36106375

more pictures from Prague

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2066980&l=14489&id=36106375

Did an allergy test today, don't have them.
8 school days left. Wow.
Going to the pueblo of Raquel, my principal, this weekend. Another look at Espana profunda.
Decided I really need to come back to Spain in a couple years and do this again. Probably in Madrid. Preferably with Janet, Laura and Mark. A combination of the three would be acceptable too though.

every man a Buffalo?

Prague continued...

That night at the bar Jon and Ashley and I also discussed the diet that Ashley is currently experimenting with – Raw foodism. The idea is that food loses its nutritional value when cooked above 115 degrees Fahrenheit, and that our bodies evolved to handle raw food, not cooked. So raw foodists pretty much eat only raw fruits, veggies, dried fruit, nuts and seeds. (no bread, rice, pasta, meat….) Ashley said it was really tough (duh!) and that she only succeeded in making about 80% of her diet raw, but whenever she went four or five consecutive days of 100% raw food she felt amazing. Jon said he didn’t like the terms “raw foodism” and “raw foodist” and suggested they be changed to “rawism” and “rawists”.

The next morning I was talking to my Australian roommate when I realized his t-shirt said “Kansas State Buffalo”. I’m kicking myself now for not taking a picture.

I invited myself to join Ashley and Lin for sightseeing that day. They said okay, and Jon joined us of course (he and Ashley had some “chemistry” going between them). We went back to the Old Town Square, where Lin and I went to the top of the Town Hall clock tower :

Then we met up with Kate and Maureen, and were going to go to a sex machine museum that those girls had heard about, but we ended up not going because it was too expensive, even with the group discount they gave us. At that point Jon had a total of 200 crown (about $13) to last him until he left Prague. He was planning on taking his guitar to the square the next day to go “busking” (playing in the street for money). He’d done it once before in Vienna and made 8 euro in one hour. I’m really curious about whether I’d be able to make any money playing my violin here in Toledo some Saturday afternoon, but I’m probably too much of a chicken to try it.

Since the sex machine museum was a bust, the six of us walked towards the Petrin Tower, and Eiffel Tower imitation that’s much smaller than the ET but on a hill, so you get a great view of Prague. But on our way across the Charles IV bridge we stopped to look at all the caricaturists, musicians and the old statues lining the bridge and ended up losing Kate and Maureen. So the four of us continued up to Petrin Tower, stopping in a hydrangea filled section of the hill to rest. Then we climbed a tree and took these pictures:

I’ve done a really bad job of describing this day, but maybe that’s because it would be nearly impossible to do justice to everything I felt that Saturday in Prague. I saw less “sights” than I’d planned on, but had a lot more fun than I would’ve had sightseeing alone.

I also ended the trip feeling as if the teasing of my college friends, who used to say that I’d grown up in a box (because, for example, I’d never seen Star Wars or American Pie), might have contained a lot of truth. After meeting so many people who knew so much about things that I only had a vague notion of, I really started wondering “what was I doing while these people were reading about/discussing/forming opinions on Darfur/Iraq/NATO/UN/Burma/China?” And I guess the answer isn’t that I spent too much time playing tennis or running or reading fiction (because I like doing all those things and don’t regret spending my time there), but maybe that I just wasn’t overly interested in world news in high school and college, that it’s more of a recent interest (perhaps encouraged by living in Spain and traveling) and I just have a lot of catching up to do.