It's Fish, not Feesh

We landed in Seville, got our rental car, and with the assistance of my hand-written set of extremely detailed directions courtesy of my adult student Paco (detailed drawing included) we headed in the direction of Valverde. Scratch that, first we pulled over to the side of the highway because my father couldn’t figure out how to make the car go over 30 mph. Once we got that figured out it was on forth to Valverde. Oops, yeah we missed our first exit and had to turn around. After having completed a loop of the airport NOW we were ready to make our way to Valverde.

After a rocky start it was smooth sailing all the way to Valverde. We had enough time to check into the hotel, freshen up, and tour my house and surrounding neighborhood all before our first of two dinner dates. The first night our hosts were Ana and her family. They were delightful as always and had a giant feast of tapas (all my favorite’s and a few new one’s) all ready for us. I never doubted for a moment that we wouldn’t have an amazing night. Antonio kept my dad busy with stories and anecdotes about Spanish history and culture while Ana and my mom talked about cooking and art. My mother received a tour of the house and an up close look at all of the artwork that surrounded their lovely house. Sergio spoke about five words more than usual and remained at the table for a record of 15 minutes. I was lucky enough to get a picture of everyone together before Sergio went to bed and Paco left. I was so overwhelmed with joy that my parents finally got to meet the people I’ve talked about for so long in person and got to experience their warmth and charm personally. Like I had expected the meal didn’t end until around 2am and only at my mother’s insistence. They would have gladly continued talking and drinking wine with us until daylight but my parents had to get up early because they were going to school with me the next morning so we eventually departed. Another successful dinner at the house of Ana’s (as the Spanish would say).

The next day I picked up my parents at their hotel and walked them over to the school. I gave them a short tour of the school and they got to meet Pocho before accompanying me to my first primero class with Toni. I did my best to prepare my parents for an hour of noise and ensued chaos. Unfortunately the students were finishing up an art project from the previous session so class wasn’t conducted as usual. I did my best to keep order, with no help from the actual teacher, but you can’t control 25 kids at the same time your helping one individual. It could have been a lot worse but it wasn’t the kid’s best behavior by any means. When everyone had finished the kite I had about ten minutes to introduce the next unit, fish. The first time I made the kids repeat the word fish I ended up saying “feesh” and it just stuck after that so I couldn’t go back to “fish”. It was my British English coming out. I’m so use to hearing Rocio say a word first in a British Spanish accent and then having to repeat it that way even though we say it a little differently in America. For example all of the kids say “bean” instead of “bin”, aka trashcan. It might sound like a small difference but it greatly affects my speech and now I end up saying, “bean” and consequently “feesh”. Just wait until you hear me in person once I return. It will take me a while before I’ll lose my robot voice and British voice.

It was now time for the second primero class with Rocio. What a contrast. The kids were angels and silent for the majority of the class. It was clear to my parents that Rocio maintains total control over her class at all time. She doesn’t tolerate “toneria” and isn’t afraid to discipline. I much prefer Rocio’s strict order to chaos but at the same time I wish I had a little more interaction or free time to help the kids more. I only really assist a child if I notice an error on his or her paper or if one of the slower kids falls behind and Rocio loses patience with him so she asks me to help him out (it’s always a boy). After class I found out that Manuel #1 (there are 5 in that class) took a liking to my dad and they had fun with each other. My mother was also very impressed with a girl that was right in front on her (Luna) because she was extremely organized and took control of situations that needed to be fixed. Once class was over my mother used the water closet while my dad got to interact with Pocho’s third grade class. They introduced themselves to him (one at a time) and asked him all kinds of questions (what’s your favorite animal, what’s your favorite food). They were very cute and enjoyed asking him questions. When their class was over they all made sure to say goodbye to my dad. Before my parents left to explore Valverde on their own they got to meet a few of my colleagues downstairs in the staff room. After they left every teacher came up to me and said that they could visibly tell how happy I was that they were here because I couldn’t stop smiling. It was true, I had waited a long time to show my parents my life over here and they were finally getting to experience a day in my life. I tried but I just couldn’t stop smiling.

My parents met up with me once school was over so we could go to the grocery store together before lunch. Elisa and Pablo had decided to make paella for lunch and invited us to join them at three. After picking up some wine for the lunch and a few snacks for my parents for the road we headed back to my place. When we arrived a little after 3 the place was packed with people. A handful of Elisa and Pablo’s work friends were gathered in the terrace as well as Corrie, Kate, and Ruben. I introduced my parents to everyone and shortly after we got to sit down and eat. Since we didn’t have enough chairs for everyone one of Elisa’s friends got out lawn chairs from the back of his car. This was my first homemade paella experience as well as my parents. The paella consisted of mussels, clams, octopus, cuddle fish, chicken, prawns, rice, and peppers. Instead of the usual yellowish orange color that is typical of paella due to the use of saffron, this paella was dark green instead. My dad really enjoyed it but my mom wasn’t as big a fan mainly because of the kinds of seafood that was in it. I’ve had paella in Spain four times and every time I end up only eating the rice so I’ve come to the realization that I’m just not a big fan of it. There are other typical Spanish foods that I would be more inclined to eat.

After a filling lunch my parents thanked Pablo and Elisa for hosting and headed back to the hotel while I took a much-needed siesta. I really needed to catch up on my sleep so I passed out from 4pm- 7:30pm. Tonight we had another dinner date but this time with Pocho and her family. Christen was also planning on attending so that was good because we ended up needing her translating skills. We had another wonderful meal with Pocho’s entire family. She cooked different tapas that my parents had yet to try so they really enjoyed that. She made salmorejo and ensaladilla just for them. I just under strict orders from my mother to get the recipe for the ensaladilla before I return home. While the conversation wasn’t quite as free flowing as the night before we all had enjoyed ourselves and my parents got a chance to get to know both Pocho and her husband Antonio. I myself hadn’t spent much time with Antonio so this was also a great chance for me to get to know him a little better. My parents were really quite tired so at around 12:30am we called it a night and said our goodbyes. Another successful night. This was way better than eating out at one of two mediocre restaurants in Valverde.

The next morning I had to say my goodbyes to my parents for it was time for them to explore the rest of Andalucía on their own. They had three days of sight seeing alone in Ronda, Estipone, Granada, and Cordoba. On Saturday I was going to meet back up with them as they explored Feria and the other touristic sights of Seville.

Geez, you're SO Gaudi!

I had the wonderful pleasure of visiting Barcelona two weeks ago. Better yet I got to experience the wonderful city with my parents. I was eager to see them and share my knowledge of Spanish culture with them through first hand experiences. My journey started out rocky, as always I guess. Thursday afternoon I took the usual bus from Valverde to Huelva. I was faced with the same situation as before where I arrived just in time to make the 6pm bus but the bus driver wouldn’t let me buy my ticket on the bus and told me to go to the ticket booth. Once again he told me to leave my luggage below and as before I begrudgingly obliged. I had a little comfort knowing that the man behind me also left his luggage below and was behind me in line to buy tickets. I finally bought my ticket and ran to the bus. The bus was gone. The man and me were fuming. The bus driver acknowledged that we had luggage on his bus and were buying tickets and yet continued to leave without giving us the courtesy of a heads up or leaving our baggage behind. I then proceeded to send an angry, fowl-mouthed text message to my dad telling him what just happened. The man and I went up to the head security guard and told him what happened. The guard said he would contact the bus when it got to Seville and he told us not to worry—“No te preocupes. No pasa nada.” I just scowled at the man and walked away. Don’t tell me not to worry. For all I know my luggage will end up like my mom’s friend Lenore’s (it’s a long story but basically rebels stole it from a bus in Africa and then demanded money for its return which never happened).

So an hour later than I intended to arrive in Seville the man and I went searching for the Damas office. We found a little office with both of our bags in a corner (thank god). We both went in but another bus driver who was driving by told us to wait outside for him to assist us. We both waited for the man but after 5 minutes I was like f* this, this is ridiculous and I shouldn’t have to wait anymore. We both retrieved our bags and departed. I told you, every time I ride a bus something happens. Oh and it’s never once been a good thing. Ay dios mio.

Since my flight to Barcelona was at 9am on Friday I was forced to spend Thursday night in Seville and thankfully I had a couch to sleep on at Emily’s (once again). I really enjoy Emily and all of her roommates. They are always so welcoming and they treat me like a fourth roommate. We spent the night exchanging stories about our travels and comparing future plans for after Spain. I invited Emily to accompany me on my final trip in June because I knew she didn’t have any plans and was just going to go home right after school ended but she politely declined. She too was ready to go home and didn’t want to postpone it any longer than necessary. Nicole, one of Emily’s roommates, gave me all kinds of suggestions on what to do and see in Athens so that was really helpful as well.

Friday morning I hauled a taxi and made my way to the airport. After checking in I stopped in the small bookshelf and noticed that they did indeed carry books in English, Hooray! I was going to purchase the third and final book from the Millennium series, which I was dyeing to read, but alas I only had 10 Euros and the book was 15 and the man wouldn’t accept a card. So close! After a delay in boarding the plane I was finally in my seat. Unfortunately for me I was placed in the middle of this large group of Spanish friends, aging around 26 years old, all flying in a plane for the first time. First off all of them talked extremely loud, like unnecessary loud, and they were right next to each other. Second, the man behind me, who I figured was like the ring leader of the group, kept poking his head in between my seat to talk to his friends as well as constantly knocking my seat. Third there were an incessant number of pictures being taken. I understand being excited about flying for the first time but they were adults for crying out loud, get a grip. The best part was take-off. The two girls next to me sandwiched me against the window in order to see out the window and every little sound or jolt that the plane made released an equal exasperation or cry of worry from everyone in the group. I was in hell. I tried to rest my eyes/fall asleep but every so often the girl next to me would reach over and adjust the window shade. First it was up, and then it was down, and then it was halfway up, and then it was down again, and so forth. I needed the plane to land IMMEDIATELY. We finally landed in Barcelona and people began to disembark. When the first few people from the large group were just about at the door then decided to stop and wait for the rest of the group. That’s great except for the fact that in a one-man aisle you can’t exactly pass people. Finally the flight attendant told them to continue moving outside of the plane. At last I was free!!!! Maybe it was one of those situations where one thing sets you off and therefore any little thing starts to bother you or maybe any normal person would have been equally bothered as I was, I just don’t know.

Once I retrieved my luggage from the conveyor belt I received a text message from my dad saying that they missed their flight and that it would be another hour before they would arrive in the airport. No pasa nada. At last I was reunited with parents and we made our way to the hotel. And it was smooth sailing from there…

After settling into the hotel our first mission was food. We found a typical tapas restaurant and so the sampling of traditional Spanish cuisine began. While both my parents were eager to try tapas they aren’t the best things to eat when you’re starving and in true tapas form each one came out as a bite size. They were good but not filling. After lunch we commenced the touring of Barcelona by doing the most obvious touristic thing possible: riding the big blue double-decker bus complete with matching blue headphones. First major stop was the Sagrada Familia aka Gaudi overload, and that’s being generous. He incorporated numerous architectural styles within one building, all resembling something in nature for that was his inspiration. He was so consumed with the Sagrada Familia that he never got the chance to finish it and so the community of Barcelona have taken over the construction of one half of the façade. The entrance fee every person pays to visit the Gaudi masterpiece goes towards eventually finishing the construction of it. I liked several of Gaudi’s favorite architectural styles, like spirals or the wave, but all of it together is a bit overwhelming for my taste. My dad wasn’t a big fan of Gaudi’s but that’s because he’s a simplest. He prefers Frank Lloyd Wright, but who can blame him, there practically twins :)

After the Sagrada we rode the bus all the way around the red line until we were back in front of our hotel. After the bus we got some gelato and then it was time for a siesta. Since my mother can’t nap I took advantage of our alone time to talk everything and anything on my mind. I relished our alone time because I finally got the chance to talk about things that I’ve been thinking about for a long time, I’m talking for three or more months. I do send emails fairly regularly to both my parents but talking in person is far superior to emails for it allows me to change the topic at a whim or go off on another tangent completely, you know the kinds of things you can only really do in person. Before we knew it three or so hours had passed and it was time to get ready for dinner. I had also planned on going out that night and meeting up with one of the guys I met in Prague so I needed a little more time than usual to get ready.

The receptionist gave us a card with directions to a good Spanish restaurant, not tapas. The map in which I was following was completely wrong so it took us a little more time than expected to find the restaurant but we did find it. I only had to ask for directions once. We had a lovely dinner, everyone trying something different and as usual we were one of maybe four other tables of people, all foreigners who eat at normal eating hours (8-10pm). We didn’t get back to the hotel until around one. I said goodnight to my parents and then headed out to meet up with Pau. I took the metro for the first time all the way to his University. I was a little nervous riding by myself at 2am but as soon as I got on a car I felt safer since there were other young people around. I got to the metro stop and waited for Pau. He didn’t show up for another 15 minutes and I almost didn’t recognize him since he now was sporting a mustache (lol). Instead of going out on the town to a club he brought me to a math party. Haha before you judge you should know that they only have this big party at the end of the year and everyone from all of the departments tries to get into it. You need a nametag equipped with a mathematical number in order to get it. That’s VIP for ya. Pau managed to find a number nametag on the ground and was able to re-stick it to my shirt so I was good to go. After the stampede to get inside it was awesome. We were in this enormous courtyard full of people and lights strung up. At one end they had a huge stage with live music and at the other end a huge tent to buy drinks.

In true Spanish form there were three steps in order to obtain a drink. Step 1: Buy cup for 1 Euro. When you return the cup, you get the Euro back. The cup had a giant backwards E with an exclamation point (only at a math party) on it. Naturally I wanted to keep the cup since it had my initial on it. Step 2: purchase ticket stub at a different tent that is a certain color that then pertains to the drink you prefer. Once you finally get your stub you have to make your way to the other enormous tent/man-made bar where all the booze is held where you engage in Step 3: clawing and elbowing your way to the bar and then screaming bloody murder until someone waits on you and brings you your half full cup of whatever drink you asked for, in my case Sangria. That alone took half an hour.

With my drink in hand it was out to the “dance floor”. I met a bunch of Pau’s friends and listened to the Catalan music. We talked half the time in Spanish; well mine was more like Spanglesh and the other half in English. He speaks really good English so when we got to more advanced topics that was the language of preference. I had a really nice time and I enjoyed hanging out with him. The math party started at 5pm and was supposed to end at 5am. We didn’t make it that long because Pau was tired and I so was I (but I didn’t tell him that). At 4:30am we both managed to hail taxis and part ways. We were going to meet up the next night to go to an actual dance club but that never happened because the soccer game got out to late. When I told Pau that I was going to Istanbul he was so jealous because that’s one of the cities he really wanted to visit. I extended an invitation to him to join me on my adventure but he doesn’t have the money to go at the moment. Que lastima!

The next day (Saturday) nobody got out of bed until 11:00am. That is the latest I have ever seen my parents sleep, particularly my dad. With our late start to the day we quickly ate breakfast and then headed straight for the double-decker buses. This time we were going to take the blue line. It was rather peaceful on top of the bus. We got a wonderful tour of all of Barcelona. We saw the beautiful port, we rode all the way up to Mount Jew (Montejuic) and back down, through the commercial area of Barcelona and then got off at the Barrio Gothic. It was here that my parents suffered their first major tiff of the trip. It was bound to happen; I just tried to mediate it as best as I could. The discovery of a place to eat brought an end to the misunderstanding. The restaurant was another tapas place but this time the portions were a bit bigger. The food was delightful and the atmosphere of the place was gorgeous. It had brick archways down one side of the wall and this elegant black wall on the other. It was really a marvelous place to eat. After lunch we made our way back to the hotel via Las Ramblas, the most famous street in Barcelona.

Las Ramblas is home to various street performers, street vendors, and pickpockets. As I recalled when I was on this street 9 years ago it had more street artists, marionette or puppet people, and as usual people dressed as statues. This time around the place had a section dedicated to flowers and another to animals. They had the cutest little bunny rabbit. I guess as times change so does Las Ramblas. In order to avoid another squabble we suggested dad head back to the hotel while mom and I shopped for postcards. After postcards we hit up the Official FC Barcelona store and then this store I had never heard of called Disigual. I later found out that they have them all over the world (one in NYC and another in LA) but this was the first time I had seen one. I loved the store because the clothes were so colorful and full of patterns and designs. It was unlike anything I’ve ever seen in an American store. If you wore something from that store you were bound to stand out, but in a good way and you also didn’t have to worry about someone wearing else the same shirt, skirt, jacket, or dress.

It was finally time to make our way to the Espanyol Stadium. Too bad we weren’t entirely sure which stadium to go to. We received conflicting information about where to go from people, audio phones, and the Internet. Espanyol’s own website had the wrong stadium on it. In the end we decided to go with the directions that the ticket lady told us. Logical thinking made me deduce that she would know better than anyone else. Sure enough once we got on the metro fans surrounded us from both Espanyol and Barcelona so we knew we were going to the correct stadium. It didn’t take us long to reach the stadium from the metro stop and then again to find our gate to enter. To my surprise our seats were the third row from the corner flag. However barbed wire on one side and Plexiglas on the other two encapsulated us. I felt like I was in a cage. I ended up with some pretty good close ups of the players, mainly Pique, so it wasn’t a total loss. Nobody sat in front of us nor were there smokers in close proximity so that was another plus. Yes we had things obstructing our view at times but it was cool to be that close to the flag and sandwiched between the diehard Espanyol fans and the minuscule Barcelona section. Also I got some decent videos of the fans chanting. The environment throughout the entire game was awesome. The fans chanted the whole time and it was very loud. The game was also very entertaining. I would even go so far to say that the Espanyol fans were more passionate then some of the fans I’ve experienced in England. It wasn’t until the game ended that we got a little upset. Our section for some reason was not allowed to leave when the rest of the stadium departed. I think we waited an extra 45 minutes or so before we were able to leave. We tried to find our metro stop but ended up finding a different stop. It ended up going to the same place but required extra money.

When our metro train approached I did what I always do and found an empty gap close to the edge to assert myself into the car. As I moved to the gap I noticed in the corner of my eye a man following me to the same spot. I know it’s normal to push and gather once the door or the cars get closer but this guy was all up in my grill and unnecessarily so. The doors opened and I squeezed my way through. It wasn’t until I found an empty spot to stand and turned around did I notice my dad coming in a little behind me. As the doors were about to close I noticed the man that was invading my bubble get off the car. It wasn’t until the train started moving that my dad told me two guys tried to pickpocket him and that same guy was one of them. Apparently that man and another buddy sandwiched my dad so that he couldn’t move once people started boarding the car and put their hands in my dad’s pants pockets. Ha ha, little did they know that my dad hides his money and other valuable things in a different place. My dad said he was about to give one of the guys an elbow to the face but refrained because he knew that it would only get him in trouble. After comparing each others recollections of the men we came to the conclusion that I must have been the target at first but since I squeezed in to quick and my dad tried to get on to the car right after me he became the new target. As we were discussing this a man who spoke a little English asked us if we were pick pocketed and when we said yes he offered to report the incident for us. We told him that it wasn’t necessary, that the men had gotten off the train already, and that we were getting off at the next station but he was very insistent. He found the security guard and I guess told him about our incident because we had to get off as the man was talking to the guard. We were impressed that the random guy was so adamant about reporting the crime.

As we got off the metro escalator my dad informed us that once again the man behind him on the escalator tried to pickpocket him. Yes, that’s correct, that would be two pickpocket attempts on my dad in one metro ride. The man literally put his hand in my dad’s pockets while my dad’s hands were still in them. My dad just turned around and glared at him. He said the next person that pulls something like this is going to get an elbow in the face, no holding back anymore. I guess my dad just screams “FOREIGNER” or “PICKPOCKET TARGET”. At dinner we all just laughed it off. We were eating like true Spaniards at 11pm that night. I got a kick out of the menu because the English translations for some of the words weren’t exactly correct. For example, chicken was spelled “chichen” and oven potatoes were spelled “owen potatoes”. It was cute. The best moment at dinner was when the waiter asked if we preferred plain bread or tomato bread and in unison my dad said “tomato bread” and my mom said “plain bread”. That moment couldn’t of summed up my parents any better lol.

We slept in again on Sunday, but not as bad as Saturday. Instead of stopping for breakfast we headed straight to the Picasso Museum. We all really enjoyed seeing Picasso’s work. We were all pleasantly surprised by his pottery work. If they were for sale I’m fairly certain we would have come home with one or maybe even two plates. This is one of the few museums that I’ve visited during my travels that I was really interested in but even that wasn’t enough to keep me awake. I can’t help it but museums make me sleepy. After Picasso it was lunchtime. After a nice lunch with very good bread we grabbed a smoothie and then found the metro and walked to the FC Barcelona stadium, Camp Nou. Unfortunately we were about two hours to late. I guess that was the one thing we didn’t accomplish, a stadium tour of Camp Nou or going to the FC Barcelona Museum. Of well, just another reason to return I guess. One’s loss is another’s gain for now we had more time to explore Parque Guell: home to the renowned Gaudi lizard that I had been taking about from day one. It was the one and only defining feature I could remember from my trip to Barcelona in the 8^th grade besides Las Ramblas.

We walked part way up the steep hill and part way by escalator. Without the assistance of the escalator I don’t think half the people at the park could have made up there. It was quite a hill. The view from the park of the city was spectacular. We especially enjoyed the fact that Las Ramblas was so clearly visible due to the fact that the street was lined with large green trees. I really enjoyed the curved cave and the wavy bench. Both were unmistakably Gaudi as well as the museum and the castle like structure. My mother really enjoyed the music that was playing in the main area. She liked the guitar so much that she bought the group’s CD. All I could think about when I heard the music was the scene from Vicky Christina Barcelona when Vicky and the guy go to listen to the Spanish guitar and Vicky is so moved by the music that she cries. It’s so Barcelona. After spending a great deal of time at the park we ventured by way of metro over to the Magic Fountain for dinner and then for the show at the fountain. It took us a very long time to find a place to eat but once we settled on a place we were very happy with our choice. After our meal we could hear the sounds of a futbol game being played in the other room so we went over to watch ourselves. I chatted with one of the waiters about our mutual preference for Madrid over Barcelona in the city where it is forbidden to speak about the Madradistas. They were really nice and we tipped them for their kind service. When we got to the fountain we realized that the show was only from May – October. All that for nothing. At best it gave us an excuse to revisit another part of Barcelona that we hadn’t had time to see when we were on the bus.

The next morning was our last morning in Barcelona. Mother and I took that time to shop at stores that we had passed the day before but didn’t have a chance to go into. With my assistance my mother was able to purchase gifts for just about everyone on her list, which let me tell you was no easy task. In one store my mother analyzed every piece of pottery they had, which took a good 15-20 minutes, only to come out of the store with a thimble. Let’s just say it was a good thing my father wasn’t with us. I also came away with a skirt so it was a good morning.

At noon it was time to say our goodbyes to Barcelona and head to the airport. On the way to the airport our taxi driver was distracted by his conversation with a fellow taxi driver that he lightly hit the car in front of us. The car honked and the man yelled and our taxi driver just replied with “no pasa nada!” That’s how it works; nobody gets out of their cars and threatens to sue each other. They say no big deal and go on with life. No es importa. And that’s how we left Barcelona.

We were all in agreement that the city was fabulous and had this special sparkle to it that you don’t find everywhere you go. I don’t know what it would be like teaching English in Barcelona but I could see myself spending more time there. I feel like there is so much more to experience. I welcome the chance to visit it in the future. Possible destination wedding???!?! (just kidding)

Oyia, it's FERIA!!!

Feria in Seville, there is nothing like it. Honestly I can't think of anything in America that comes close to Feria. The entire city comes together and networks for an entire week. Nobody works. Instead they relax in their private casetas (tents) and drink, dance, and talk with friends and family. Every woman, girl, child, and baby had on a matching dress, shoes, shaw, earrings, and flower or comb in their hair. The colors of the dresses were rich and stunning. When you break it down, it was basically a big state fair but when you experience it for yourself it is something much more authentic.

Here are the few photos i took of my brief Feria experience as well as another night at La Carboneria for some bangin flamenco. Enjoy.

Feria

I know I promised an update but it's so hard staying indoors and writing a blog entry for three hours when I could be outside reading, walking, running, or eating my meals on my step. I've missed the sun for three months so now i don't want to waste a minute of it. Everyone has noticed my change in skin color hehe. Give me another half week and I'll stubbornly sit down and write about Barcelona and Feria. Madre mia! :)

Barca Barca Barce (Espanyol!)

Barcelona with the parents pictures. They are horribly out of order but none-the-less they are all there. ENjoy, we sure did.

post to follow in the coming week.

Barcelona

scenic roma

since i was alone for two of the days and deathly ill the entire time there was no need for me to get in any pictures. i didn't want to remember what i looked like during that horrible period of time. ENJOY!

1 Evening in ROMA

1 Evening in ROMA

change in the routine

I now have a new teacher to work with in replace of the teacher that broke his leg in a motorcycle accident. Her name is Toni. Upon our first meeting she basically just observed me as I taught the class on my own. It was a disaster. The kids would not listen to me and I had to keep attempting to raise my voice to keep control of the classroom. I wanted to help the kids one on one and make sure they were comprehending the new material but i couldn't be in two places at once. I tried to get Toni to help me out by making her teach a small part of the worksheet but she was no better at getting them to listen and reinforcing discipline. I miss Gregorio. At the end of the class i told her that normally i don't talk this much, that she's the one that should introduce the material and reinforce comprehension using Spanish when necessary. I did this in hope that she would understand her position in the class as the head teacher and mine as the assistant.

Well the next class was no better. Once again she stepped aside and I had to basically run the class. Half way through i made her teach the topic so that i could assist Angela, the girl that needs a lot of one on one attention, and the other kids that I know also need some personal attention. Instead of taking the initiative to help other kids Toni would kind of follow me and help the kid that i was already working with. It was extremely counter-productive and a bit annoying. If this is how the class is going to go for now on it will soon become my least favorite class of the week. Without the authoritative assertiveness that Gregorio brought to the class i now have "trouble maker" kids. This one kid, Guille, who use to be one of the smartest kids in the class has now turned into the most disruptive. He refuses to stay in his seat and he's always talking to his neighbors. I've tried to control him by threatening to move his desk away from everyone and then i did it and yet he still won't listen. I'll give it another week but if things don't change I'm going to have to ask Pocho for help in that class.

It's kind of funny but i have the complete opposite experience with Rocio's class. She is a VERY authoritative teacher and controls her class like a dictator. I almost think she's too unforgiving when a kid says something out of turn. I don't really do much in her class besides help them learn the vocabulary in the beginning and then maybe help a kid one on one who's fallen a bit behind. I barely talk and my presence isn't really needed when it comes to it. But i can't complain when i think about the other class in comparison.

So last week out of all the places in the world, Valverde was the host to the Motorcross World Cup. How crazy is that? Last weekend our tiny town was full of foreigners. At dinner we met people from France, Italy, and Germany. I could not get over the fact that our town was the host. Where there is normally the Saturday flee market instead was tent after tent full of motorcross sponsors and advertisers. The rows of tents went on for three blocks. There were four different tracks all within the area from Valverde but you had to drive to them. However there was this test track that i could see the people riding around in a circle from the outdoor terrace in Corrie and Kate's house so I did end up seeing some of the event. It was televised and advertised all week long in our town. It definitely spiced up our weekend.

The arrival of spring has also brought the arrival of "Paella Season", as i like to call it. It's the time of year where people prepare homemade paella in their backyards (or patios) using these ENORMOUS paella skillets. Elisa told me yesterday that she wants to make paella relatively soon so I'm patiently awaiting that glorious day. I've also been invited to try Pocho's paella. Paella is rather a touristic thing to eat in the major cities of Spain and most of the time it isn't very good, but homemade paella is a whole other story. That is the good stuff and the reason why Spanish restaurants in America serve it. I can't wait to write a blog about my paella experience hehe.

Tomorrow I head to Seville after school and then on Friday take an early flight to Barcelona to meet up with my parents. After a weekend in Barcelona they return with me to Valverde for two days and then venture on their own throughout Andalucia. I can't wait to show them Valverde so they can finally put an image to the place that I've ragged on and complained about for over seven months hehe.

Pictures of Roma are on the way i promise. you can blame the slow internet for the delay.

On an Evening in ROMA

So like I mentioned in the previous post I arrived to Rome sick as a dog. Not only had my sickness not gotten any better a week later but now I had to add strenuous walking and being outdoors 24/7 to my every day routine. Also I now had to share a room with 5 other people. Privacy is probably the number one thing you need when you’re sick and it was the absolute last thing I had in Rome. You can’t always win when you travel. This was definitely the hardest traveling experience to date due to the sickness and then being on my own for the end of my trip. The flight wasn’t too bad to Rome and from the airport I took the train to the main train station that was apparently only 5 minutes from my hostel. Once again I was only equipped with an un-detailed Google map. If there is one thing I’ve learned by now it's that Google maps are not very helpful unless you have the smallest scale in which EVERY street is identified but then you sacrifice having a broader map to use. Well I walked up and down the main street for a good 10 minutes trying to find a familiar street that was on my map so I could affirm that I was going in the correct direction. I saw a touristic couple with a map so I asked them if they could locate the street I was looking for for me. They couldn’t even find where we were on the map so I knew they were a lost cost, however an old man walked by and I he said in Italian what I presumed was, “what are you looking for?” I said “Mazoni” and he pointed me in the correct direction.

Sure enough within a few minutes I had found my street and I was getting closer to 55 Manzoni. I arrived at the number 55 Manzoni and what I found was a locked gate with no door on the other side, just a basement window. WTF now? I then proceeded to call Kate and Christen for help because they arrived earlier that morning. Just my luck both of their phones were turned off. Now I was panicking. I was so exhausted, I just wanted to crawl into bed and I had no one to help me. I decided to cross one more street and see if there was more than one 55 Manzoni. To my greatest relief I found my hostel as the third 55 Manzoni on the next street. Thank god. I only made it up the first flight of steps before I hurled over wheezing for breath. After my heart rate finally went down I climbed the last set of stairs and checked into my room. To my luck the first night I only had to deal with one other person in the room with me. That gave me at least one night to try and get rid of the sickness before I would have to share a room with a group of 5 people all traveling together.

The only thing I did that first day in Rome was meet up with Christen and Kate for dinner near the Trevi Fountain. That didn’t seem too complicated except for the fact that the hostel ran out of maps so I had to find the fountain using memorized directions for the receptionist. I did pretty well but I was also banking on the fact that I would find a sign for the fountain as soon as I got off the metro but I was mistaken. I saw a large group of American students so I asked the group where the fountain was because I assumed that’s where they had just come from, sure enough I was right and they lead me right to it. My next challenge was finding my friends in the troves of people that crowded around the ENORMOUS fountain. I got a text saying they were eating in this restaurant off the main street from the fountain. That’s really specific, especially for someone without a map. I asked a random hostess if they knew where this restaurant was and she told me it was impossible to know where it was because there were hundreds of restaurants right in this area. Oh great, that’s just what I wanted to hear. I was so annoyed and hungry that I gave up and just ate a small slice of pizza. Finally Kate called me and told me that she was looking for me. We finally found each other (a good 45 minutes later) and we had dinner. I still had no appetite so I ate a simple salad and water instead of trying on of the delicious looking pasta’s or wine that the girls had gotten. It sucked, I was in a country where I loved all of the food but I couldn’t stomach anything more than a little bread, salad, and water. Ughh.

By the time I got into bed I had felt a lot better and really thought that I was finally on the way to recovery. Boy was I wrong. That next morning we had agreed to get up very early in order to get in line for the Vatican Museum before the rest of the world. It was the worst morning. I got a whopping 2 hours of sleep and felt horrible. I was this close to calling of the whole day and staying in bed. I struggled with the decision in my head for a good twenty minutes and then I finally decided that you only get the opportunity to be in Rome once (so one would think….) so I shouldn’t waste my time here. Struggling through it and telling people that I’ve been to the Vatican and saw the Sistine Chapel is better than saying I was in Rome but didn’t leave the hostel. Not much of a story there. It was a good thing I ended up going because slowly I felt better (which is relative to the state of sickness that I had been in days earlier) and I ended up really enjoying the museum. It was incredible for so many reasons. Pictures don’t really do justice to how impressive and detailed everything is. The craziest part of the visit was running into my friend from GWU who is studying abroad this semester in Seville. It’s one thing to run into her randomly in Seville or even SPAIN for that matter, but in Italy, in Rome, in the VATICAN (which is huge btw). I’ll say it again; it’s a very small world. I will also say that for all the hype, I was a little disappointed with the Sistine Chapel. I mean, don’t get me wrong it is incredible that MA painted that entire Chapel and the shear size of the ceiling, but the place was scarcely lit (probably to preserve the paintings), it seemed almost underground, we weren’t allowed to take pictures of any of it, and it wasn’t vibrant in color. I was way more impressed with St. Peter’s Cathedral than the Sistine, but that’s just me. The not so fun part about touring the Vatican was losing Kate, not once, not twice, but THREE times. One of the three times was back-to-back. How I ask you is that possible, I don’t know and I can’t explain it to you how someone in her mid twenties can constantly lose track of the people she’s with. I was beyond annoyed because it took a big chunk out of our time just to look for her. Christen’s phone was out of saldo (time) so it was up to me to call her and I didn’t want to waste my saldo calling her to figure out where she went. She was the one that kept losing US so I thought the least she could do was initiate the calls. I should have bought her a tracking bracelet for her birthday instead of sweets. Now that would have been a practical gift.

We didn’t really efficiently go through the museum and ended up back tracking a lot so it took us about fourish hours to go through it all. It was definitely worth the 8 Euros (normally 13 but we got a student discount holla). After the Vatican we got lunch and then walked around the plaza in front of St. Peter’s for a little. We were going to hit up the Basilica but the line was to long and this was Kate and Christen’s last day in Rome so we decided to not waste the time standing in another long line and instead headed over to the Coliseum. I read the description of the Coliseum from the new book I bought about the architecture of Rome as we waited in line to buy tickets. The Coliseum was another very cool place to visit. It’s really a hoot to think about how big it actually was compared to what’s left of it now. Can you believe that they held naval battles there at one time? That’s right, they filled the place up with water and had actual ships in it. Crazy! To no surprise we lost Kate once again but the Colosseum is a giant circle so we didn’t worry about it this time.

After that I had to get back to the hostel and take a small break in order to muster up more strength. Crossing the street we lost Kate yet again. I wish I was making this up but sadly I’m not. That was my last straw. I just wanted to get home and now I had to wait to find her once again. When we finally found her I just started walking in the direction of the hostel. Of course along the way we had to stop for gelato (!!!!!!!) and then for pasta and cheese (!!**%&&%%*). I had it and told them I was just going to head back because I needed to rest. I ended up napping for 3 hours before I was waken up by the group of 5 that were now staying in the room with me. It was 8pm and I wasn’t up for walking anymore so I told my buddies to have a nice last night out but that I wouldn’t be joining them. I had another restless night of no sleeping but I decided to sleep in a bit and wait for the group in my room to file out before I got up for good. I now had two FULL days to explore the rest of Rome at my own pace and leisure and not have to worry about losing anyone.

For my first full day I started off at the Castle of Saint Angelo. It wasn’t as cool as I had hoped but it had a nice view of the city from the top. I had the joy of touring the castle with at least two different schools of Italian children. After the castle I walked to Plaza Nevona. The Plaza was beautiful and full of artists selling paintings, outdoor café’s/restaurants, and fountains. I really enjoyed that plaza a lot. Along the way to my next destination I lost my self in tiny winding streets. They were so cute and precious. On every corner I found someone sketching. This was made me fall in love with Rome. It was the quiet streets with the vespa’s, artists, and quaint buildings that made the city come alive to me and gave it real personality. That was my favorite part of the trip for me. I eventually passed the Palace of Vittor Emmanuel, which is this giant white marble museum looking building. The tour books say that the locals don’t like this building because it looks new and modern compared to all the other ruins around the city. I finally arrived at my intended destination: The Pantheon. Again, here was another very impressive building that I couldn’t capture with my camera. You just have to see it for yourself to understand the magnitude of greatness that surrounds you inside. Unfortunately half of the outside of the building was under scaffolding so it was the most esthetically pleasing sight, but none-the-less awesome.

I spent the rest of the afternoon people watching in the square in front of the Pantheon and had a nice leisurely lunch. You can’t help but just sit, relax, and forget about time when you’re in Italy. It has that effect on me more so then Spain does, and the Spanish are way lazier. I needed to walk off my giant salad so I walked to Trevi Fountain again in order to see what it looked like in the daylight and to throw my coin into the fountain. I got a spot front and center of the fountain and made my wish. I was really exhausted at this point but I told myself that I had to get to the Spanish steps because it was kind of out of the way and I probably wouldn’t get to it tomorrow. I walked up a menacing hill until I reached the top of the steps. There was no way in hell I was going to walk down the steps in my condition so I took my pictures and then took the elevator down to the metro stop. I made my way back to the hostel at around 4ish and then took a long much-needed nap.

I woke up with more energy and a new plan for the night. I was going to metro back to the major plaza area around the Vatican because that is where all the good restaurants and outdoor café’s were without having to walk very far from the metro stop. My plan was foiled when my metro stop was closed for some reason. They directed all of the metro traffic to a bus stop. Every bus that came was packed full of people and impossible to get on. I gave it some thought and almost scratched the night right there (that would have been the smart thing to do) but I also had time to waste and nothing else to do so I decided to just wait patiently for my chance to get on a bus and just get off when everyone else does. I had no idea where the buses where suppose to let us off at but I figured it would be going in the direction towards my destination, so why not? I finally got onto one of the buses and found a semi comfortable spot, however comfortable you can get on an over-packed bus full of sweaty people. I kept checking for street signs that I recognized but nothing seemed familiar and I got this slow creeping feeling that I was going in the opposite direction that I wanted. Well I stuck to my new plan to wait until a lot of people got off. I would say a good hour later everyone finally got off at this random part of Rome. I followed the flow of people to the metro station that I didn’t recognize. I figured out which way I needed to go and after two rounds of train's (twenty minutes later) I got on one and finally felt a little relieved. I was keeping track of the stops but then all of a sudden there were stops I didn’t recognize at all and I panicked. I figured I should have switched at a past stop of something because this didn’t make any sense to me. I got off at a stop with a decent amount of people and followed them out into the street. I came out to this desolate location with nothing but this two-way main street and nothing commercial within sight (restaurants, stores, houses). Now I was freaking out. Every person who got off the metro had someplace to go and so I was alone waiting for some sort of hope to show up, like a bus with a name I recognized or a taxi for that matter, but nothing came. After 15 minutes of feeling bad for myself I finally walked to this building and asked the receptionist for Manzoni. With her limited English and my limited Italian I got the impression that the metro was my only way out of here. I sucked it up and went back down the metro and tried to find a map. I gave it another whirl on the metro and somehow found my way back to Manzoni. Now my stop was up and running, only two hours later. I have no idea why the stop was “under construction” but it cost me my whole night. I was to upset and hungry to try and go all the way back into the city so I just got off and ate pizza at the first pizza place I saw close to my hostel. It wasn’t anything special but I didn’t care at this point. I was just so mad that I wasted that whole night and that I got lost in Rome all alone. I keep finding myself in the same situation: stranded alone in an unfamiliar place. That’s what happens when I take risks I guess and just “hope for the best”.

The next day was my last day in Rome so I had to be super efficient and hit up everything left on my list. This included Saint Peter’s Cathedral and Basilica, the Catacombs, the Roman Forum, the bottom of the Spanish steps, and few random places in between. This time I had equipped myself with a book and had decided early on that I wasn’t going to return to my hostel until after dinner. That meant I had to stay out from 8am to 9pm. It was going to be a challenge but I had the luxury of going at my own pace, not rushing through things, and soaking up all of Roma. I managed to avoid the lines for St. Peter’s and got to go right in. St. Peter’s was beautiful and magnificent. The gold details everywhere and the intricate royal blue ceilings enchanted me. I really like ceilings and most of my pictures of impressive places are of their ceilings. It was cool that they were getting ready for mass so in line with me was all these priests, nuns, and old people. They even had the Swiss Guard out and about making sure nothing shady went down. I think that might have been my favorite place in Rome. When I was finished touring the inside of the cathedral I got some pictures of the view of the plaza from the cathedral. I saw what the Pope sees. It was cool. On the way out I felt the urge to be really touristic and decided to mail a postcard from Vatican City.

Next stop the catacombs. I was only armed with the information of which metro stops to get off at and which bus to get on, and that was it. I had no idea where the bus stop was, where it was that I was supposed to get off at and how far a walk it would be to my destination. I also knew that there were four different places to see the catacombs but I didn’t know which one I should see. I took a chance (and this time it worked out) and once again decided to use my eavesdropping skills and figure out where I needed to go based on the people around me. I found the bus stop without problem and discovered that all three groups of families at the stop were also trying to get to the catacombs. Two were Italian and the other was German. Once the bus finally came (20 minutes later) I watched as the Italian coupled asked the bus driver what I assumed to be “where do we get off to see the catacombs?” So my plan was to get off when the couple got off, that’s easy enough. However, the bus slowly filled up with more and more people and I lost track of my “couple” within minutes. On the plus side I finally heard some Americans and discovered that everyone on the bus was ultimately going to the same destination so I was no longer worried. Everyone on the bus got off at the first catacomb and quickly learned that the only way to visit the catacombs was in a group but luckily for me the English group was leaving within 10 minutes so I didn’t have to wait that long. Nobody was allowed to take pictures so all I got was the signs of the catacombs as proof I went. I found it very curious that within my group of 30 people waiting for the English tour only I would say 7 of us were actually from the USA. Everyone else was from Germany, Finland, Italy, Australia, Austria, Switzerland, Philippines and so forth. The place had tours in literally every language imaginable so I was confused as to why all of these international people were taking the English tour when they could have easily taken the tour in German, Finnish, Italian, etc. I wasn’t really complaining because I’ve become accustomed to surrounding myself with international people and now I really like it. It makes me feel exotic.

After the tour I spent the rest of the day basically on my feet. I walked ALL OVER ROME. I tried desperately to find the entrance to the Roman Forum but gave up after an hour and just took pictures of it from where I stood at various points on my walk. I worked up an appetite and was craving a Panini so I stream lined to the first “Panini stand” I saw. I ate the best Panini everrrrrrrrrrr. Maybe it was finally the first time in over a week I felt like eating something other than bread or salad and could actually taste the food I was eating or it really was that delicious. So yeah basically the rest of the day I spent snapping photos of ruins, walking around in the sun, eating gelato—which quite frankly for some reason wasn’t that satisfying for me, and finding a semi comfortable place to sit and just people watch or rest my eyes. I think I dozed off at one point at one of my many rest stops in Rome. I decided that the best people watching would be at Trevi Fountain so I made the trip there again. I spent over an hour just watching the deluge of people coming to the fountain to throw their coin and make their wish. The best was this group of five French students who all sat on the edge of the fountain and on the count of three threw their coins into the fountain at the same time. One of the boys follow through caught him off balance and in desperation he grabbed onto his neighbors who like a domino effect grabbed the shirts of their partners and consequently almost made all five kids fall into the fountain. It would have been legendary but alas nobody fell in. The next best was this little Spanish boy and his mom. The mom wanted the boy to take a picture of her throwing her coin in but he was hopelessly awful at taking pictures. First he had the cap on, then his finger was obstructing the lens, and then the strap of the camera was in the way. Finally when everything was right all these people walked in front on the camera. The mom was really sweet and patient but it was very entertaining watching the little boy attempt to take the photo. Finally someone offered to take it. I was on my way to offering my assistance but the spectator beat me to it. I was enjoying my resting spot up until two smokers sandwiched me and it was so unbearable I had to move.

I made my way to the Spanish steps and walked up and down them. I found myself a nice spot to read my book on the steps to waste some more time before dinner. Once again two older ladies who just had to sit by me and smoke ruined my tranquil spot. I was stubborn and refused to move since I got there first and I shouldn’t have to move because of someone else’s awful habit. I fanned the smoke away as best I could with my book and after five minutes of coughing incessantly they finally left. I think I’ve become ever more sensitive to smoke since arriving in Europe and can’t stand to be around it. After spending another hour reading my book I finally decided it was time for dinner. I wanted to treat myself to a last supper in style. I was finally at the stage where I could try and eat normal food and maybe even a glass of wine, if I was feeling really lucky. I had set my sight on this one restaurant I passed earlier in the day but en route to it I saw another place that looked cute so I decided to try it out instead. In retrospect I should have stuck to my plan because my “last supper” in Rome turned out to be a bust. My meal was okay, my wine was okay, and my waiter bothered me. The only ray of light was the desert. It was delicious and looked so good that the people next to me asked what it was and ordered it as well. I really wanted to send off Rome in a grand fashion with an exquisite meal and memorable last dinner but that didn’t happen at all.

All in all I managed to salvage my vacation and I got to see everything I wanted to see in Rome and I had a great time people watching and enjoying my leisure tour of the city. Yes it could have been a lot better but it wasn’t a waste and I took plenty of pictures and I have good memories of the city. I would visit Rome again if I had the opportunity. I could see why it’s a popular destination for architecture students and why people fall in love with it. Combining my experience in Rome with my spring break trip to Northern Italy last spring I have to say I really enjoy Italy as a whole. I could spend a month roaming the Italian countryside and getting lost in the scenery, food, and wine. There is something about the Italian lifestyle that differs slightly from the Spanish and for some reason or another I find it more enticing.

My flight back to Seville was delayed by an hour so when we finally landed in Spain everyone clapped. I on the other hand was not happy to be back in Spain. I was perfectly happy with prolonging my return to my life here. I took the airport shuttle and then walked the thirty-minute schlep to the bus station only to discover that the direct bus to Valverde wasn’t running today. Well of course it isn’t running! All my planning to make sure I got a flight that would make it possible for me to get this direct bus was for nothing because I ended having to go to Huelva and than Valverde. I would have screamed if the bus to my town from Huelva wasn’t running but it was. When I FINALLY got to my stop (left my hostel at 7:30am and arrived in Valverde at 8pm) I waited for the bus driver to open the door underneath the bus so I could retrieve my suitcase, but instead he yelled at me to open it myself manually. Good god, all you have to do is press a button and its part of your frickin job but no, I have do it. Take me back to ITALY nowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.