La Primavera Ha Venido -- Spanish Springtime

While teaching first grade yesterday I found this poem on the homeroom teacher's desk. I smiled because I had studied it in one of my Spanish literature classes in college. The poet is an Andalucian writer, Antonio Machado. For those who don't know Spanish, this specific poem is about the coming of spring in March. I feel lucky to be able to actually see what had inspired his words here in Andalucia right now.

While my Minnesota self was lucky to spend one winter away from constant snow, ice and car towing catastrophes on the beaches of Southern Spain, I have become weak. I wear a jacket when it's 60 degrees out and the rest of my new weaknesses I am too ashamed to share. Either way, spring has come here, and no matter what the location is in the world, it just seems to happen one day, which is why I love this poem.

The first two lines compose an extremely popular Spanish saying which translates to:

"Spring has come
Nobody knows how"

I challenge the rest of you to check out the entire poem in Spanish.

La Primavera

La primavera ha venido.

Nadie sabe cómo ha sido.
La primavera ha venido.
¡Aleluyas blancas
de los zarzales floridos!

Nubes, sol, prado verde y caserío
en la loma, revueltos. Primavera
puso en el aire de este campo frío
la gracia de sus chopos de ribera
Los caminos del valle van al río
y allí, junto al agua, amor espera

Tejidos sois de primavera,amantes,
de tierra y agua y viento y sol tejidos.
La sierra en vuestros ojos los campos florecidos,
pasead vuestra mutua primavera,
y aún bebed sin temor la dulce leche
que os brida hoy la lúbrica pantera,
antes que, torva, en el camino aceche.

Tú y yo, silenciosamente,
trabajamos , compañera,
en esta noche de marzo,
hilo a hilo, letra a letra
¡con cuánto amor! mientras duerme
el campo de primavera

La primavera besaba
suavemente la arboleda,
y el verde nuevo brotaba
como una verde humareda.
Las nubes iban pasando
sobre el campo juvenil...

-- Antonio Machado

I'm going to the beach now.

Kenzie Shea

Morocco. Part I.

I have always wanted to be picked up at the airport by a driving escort. Being a 23 year-old penny traveler, I didn't think that this would happen anytime soon. Don't get me wrong, I would rather be greeted by hugs and smiles from loved ones. But come on, doesn't everyone want to see their name on one of those signs just one time at the gate? Well, this small dream of mine finally came true in Marrakech, Morocco when Liz and I were picked up at the airport. Ironically, a half hour later I was in a location far from having a personal driver.

As our taxi driver drove Liz and I from the airport into the red walls of the inner city (called the Medina) of Marrakech, I gazed out the window at a landscape and cityscape that seemed to appear from magic. It could have been the antibiotics I was on from the strep throat I was battling, but I was tripping out on where such a short flight on two connecting flights could bring me. Insert travel love here. Liz and I decided a long time ago that a large portion of our travel funds was going to go towards an intensive trip to Morocco. We got what we planned on our seven day vacation.

Marrakesh Medina

Shortly after we entered the walls of the city that seemed to barricade the hectic heartbeat of life in the Medina, our taxi driver stopped the car. We were on a dirt road in the middle of a market, being beckoned out of the car in a combination of Arab and French. I swear five mopeds wizzed by within seconds of stepping out of the car. Everyone has a moped there, and no street is too busy, small or off limits to drive on. The driver took our suitcases out and an older man in a worn suit, slightly dusted in the brown dirt that seems to hang in the city from covering the side roads, greeted him with the customary kisses on the cheek. The older man grabbed our suitcases and threw them in a wooden wheelbarrow sitting next to him. Our smiling taxi driver waved goodbye and before I could get out any form of money to pay him, the man with the wheelbarrow nodded in a direction to us and started walking. We realized we should probably follow him. So, we did.

This man defined the meaning of "barreled" as he ushered himself through the foot traffic of the Medina(get it...wheel barrow?) Ya, lame joke, I know. I couldn't resist. I can remember this walk so vividly because the change of location and culture for us happened so quickly. The hordes of the city's Muslim inhabitants (about 99% of the country's population is Muslim) shuffle around one another and the random tourist in this fast-paced, almost over-stimulating environment filled with Arabic, French and the sound of mosque's loudspeakers calling everyone to prayer. Aside from that, the new smells of the third world city combined with the bright and intoxicating colors of the pottery, scarves, fresh herbs and incense that line the streets can overwhelm upon one's first moments.

I knew I was in an exotic place at that moment as I made my way through the winding streets of Marrakech, following a random man with my suitcases. For me, this was paradise. I love being overwhelmed and over-stimulated by new sights, smells and foreign languages. I couldn't ask for a better environment. It is safe to say that I am addicted to the new. I think this can be one of the most dangerous addictions as life is a constant search for new stimulation, which isn't always what life is about with the whole responsibilities aspect. I think I'll always strive for both. However, I haven't found any rehab programs for addictions to "the new". You know my E-mail if you do.

Anyways, as we wound through the small streets, we found ourselves in smaller, less populated roads, only able to fit a moped or well, wheel-barrow. Liz and I both looked at each other nervously as we bumbled down the tiny roads. Even though the man didn't speak English, neither of us said anything. The man stopped at a dead end in front of an old door and after knocking and being greeted by the owner of our riad, I attempted to tip the man who had literally pushed our suitcases for a mile in a wheel barrow.

Rooftop terrace at our riad

This was quite comical as I didn't exactly have a grasp on the tipping customs in Morocco, something I kicked myself for in the moment for not researching before the trip. More importantly, I didn't know which coins and bills were what as new currencies always seem to be Monopoly money. The task of converting their value to Euros always becomes easy, but not within in the first hour of a country. If you didn't know, Moroccan currency is called Dirham. So I just stared down at my newly exchanged Dirham that seemed like I should use to put a hotel on Broadway or Park Place. I waited for a feeling, or just something, anything, to come to me to decide how much to tip. Nothing. I'm pretty sure I tipped him the equivalent of 50 cents, but I kind of blacked out what I actually handed him as I tend to do that when I get extremely nervous. Either way, the man was not content. Luckily our riad owner, a British man about 30 years-old, had money on him and helped us out. Embarrassing situation where I want to kill myself #1 out of the way in the first hour there. Success. I'm very good at this.

After some peach tea in the beautiful terrace of our riad and an hour of conversation with our new 30 year-old British friend, Liz and I were ready for dinner. In Morocco, you can opt to stay in a riad, which is a refurbished traditional Moroccan home, rather than a hotel. Because it's a home, they are usually situated in typical neighborhoods in the middle of the city. Ours was absolutely amazing. The traditional architecture and ambiance of these homes is unlike any hotel you could possibly stay in. I will take authentic culture over tourist fake any day.

Traditional Moroccan fresh mint tea and sweets

Our riad owner was also a skateboarder, so he offered to show us to the main square on his way to board with his Moroccan friends for the night. After being dropped off in Marrakesh's main square, Djemma el Fna, Liz and I found a restaurant with an indescribable view. We ordered some couscous (traditional Moroccan cuisine), freshly squeezed orange juice and and watched in awe as the sky turned to a deep red behind the shadows of the palm trees and the Atlas Mountains in the distance. To finish we had the traditional mint tea and looked down as the Marrakesh's most busy area bustled below us with snake charmers, mopeds, and locals walking to the nearest mosque to pray after the loudspeakers called all to prayer.

Djemaa el Fna

As you can see, I have so much love for this city. During our trip, Liz and I spent four days staying here, navigating our ways through the maze of streets. The unceasing noise and movement of the city is addictive, and while I can't say I wasn't grabbed or hassled by anyone during my time there, the majority of people were so unbelievably friendly, kind and helpful. I have full intentions of writing about the city and sites we visited as well as our trip to the mountains and desert, but it's too much for one blog.

Besos,

Kenz

People have a way of blinking and missing the moment.

I'm not sure what you do when you get excited about life, but I go running. That probably explains why I have spent the last three sunsets running on the beach. If you didn't know, I spent the last week in Morocco, navigating my way through the spice filled streets of Marrakech as well as the country's mountains, desert and small African villages. I haven't felt this full of life and inspired in so long. Even after my long runs on the beach I literally have had a hard time sleeping because I am looking forward to the next day. I've went to bed the last few nights and have had trouble drifting to sleep. After I finally allow myself, I wake up an hour before my alarm in excitement for the next day.

I know. It's kind of sickening to hear. However, I have had times in my life where I have used sleep as the cure for my problems as it can bring peace for a short time when nothing seems to be going right. But this is not one of those times in my life, and I am going to take advantage of it, treasure it, and remember this feeling in hopes that I always feel this way and can recall it when I need to.

I have such a better outlook and attitude about taking advantage and making the most of my last 3 months here. I love feeling motivated.






Before Morocco, I had fallen into a slump here in Spain. My work and private lessons schedule was my life and I was in the exact definition of a rut. OK, I'm in a foreign country communicating in a foreign language everyday, obviously I wasn't in a rut. I was skiing in amazing mountain ranges, hiking with Spanish friends and going out to tapas all of the time. I guess it would be correct to say that my mentality was in a rut. Everything seemed so normal here. Aside from my life functioning in Spanish, these Spanish people and their customs of greeting with two kisses, putting umbrellas in trashcans, saying hello every time you enter a room, eating dinner at 10:30 p.m., and smothering every form of food in olive oil all seemed like normal life. Exactly how life passes. Nothing odd or out of the ordinary. Because I felt everything was so normal, I wasn't pushing myself mentally like I always try to do. I don't think the fact that I got the flu one week, recovered, and then got the worst case of strep throat I have very gotten with a horrible fever and hallucinations the next week really helped. Either way, my abroad mentality that constantly challenges cultural norms and life ideas had checked out for a while.

BUT...

I happily can say that after my Morocco trip my mentality is back and more prevalent than ever. It was so refreshing being without internet, phones, television or technology for a whole week. I need to go without it more often. I always forget how much more I like life that way. I was able to quiet all of the crazy things in the world out of my mind and really enjoy the moment for what it is.

If you know me you know I'm a moment person. I believe in the power of the moment and feeling it for all that it genuinely is. Some moments you share with others and some you always just have for yourself. Either way, I think it's easy to forget the power of moments and get caught up in the past and future.

My trip with Liz to Morocco was just what I needed. I needed to be reminded of the power of the moment. Without technology, all that we did all week was really enjoy moments and real conversations with each other and strangers. On our trip we were lucky to meet so many other travelers from all different parts of the world. Without technology and distractions, all that you want to do is sit down and really connect, maybe learn something new from someone from a totally different culture. They are new friends now, not strangers. Even though I might not see them again, it's almost scary how we will always have the memories of our amazing trips with each other.

Sitting in the Sahara Desert watching the sunset over the dunes away from all forms of technology and distractions made me slow down with worrying about things in the future or past. As I looked up at the purest, most breathtaking view of the stars at our camp in the desert that night away from any form of light pollution I wasn't thinking about my job search when I get home or one of the many small worries I have. All that you are left with is yourself and the opportunity to enjoy the moment for what it is. I can't say that I had exactly forgotten about taking advantage of moments, I just needed to be reminded of their power.


One of my biggest pet peeves in the United States is when I sit down with someone out to eat at a restaurant or with a group of friends and I see someone reach to put their cell phone on the table. I can't say that I have never done it, although it has always bothered me. But if I said that I never had, that would be a lie. However, I am going to try to not do it again. The opportunity to sit down and enjoy a meal and real conversation, to really connect and enjoy time with loved ones, is precious. It was just extremely nice to be reminded of the value of communicating and connecting. You learn so much more from people when neither of you are distracted.

So, I guess that's my two cents after my trip. I have a free afternoon tomorrow, so I'll attempt to write something more fun to read about Morocco on what we actually did. Better than MacKenzie's thoughts on life. Promise promise.

Besos,

Kenz

February 17, 2011

Today I started out thinking that the only place that I wanted to be was at home on my couch (the most comfortable couch in the entire world), watching TV with my amazing Mom making me homemade soup and grilled cheese. Also, a never ending supply of freezies would be by my side.

I'm sick with a horrible cold. I haven't gone to school for the past two days and have canceled all of my private lessons. Calling in sick is not like me, but I have no voice, I can't process any information from my head that feels like the size of two basketballs, I have a kleenex attached to my hand at all times, and absolutely no energy. This is all even more crappy seeing as one of those days was my birthday.

Anyways, I have camped out on our couch in the living room doing extremely useful things. Yesterday I planned out our upcoming trip and desert adventure to Morocco. Today, well, I hate to admit it but I became a Glee fan and watched more episodes online than is healthy for a human in one day. I also ordered a pizza to be delivered to my Mom's house with "Happy Birthday" written in pepperonis for her birthday today. Like I said, very productive day.

Being sick abroad is horrible. The combination of figuring out foreign medicines and yearning to be at home can not be fun. Luckily, after being here for 5 months I feel extremely at home. However I would still trade in these sofas and my left arm for my couch at home.

For me, the worst part about being sick abroad is that you feel like you aren't taking advantage of the day. I can barely look at sunlight without getting a migraine right now but the fact that I'm not out, talking with Spaniards, taking in the sea, going for a run, teaching my kids and that I'm missing out on conversations and sights drives me insane. I hate the feeling of missing out. I want to make the most of each day I have here. Really live it. I have recently realized I will be home so soon and the thought of me not taking advantage of being here the last two days has killed me.

Anyways, this isn't me just whining. After my long, hard day of accomplishing nothing I made my way to the little convenient store down the street, Opencor, for Kleenexes, meds, juice and the ingredients for a grilled cheese. These people know us very well and at this point they must think I always wear the hat that I throw on in my attempt to put myself together when I need a late night box of popcorn or Coke. As I walked home from my one short journey outside of our piso today I had my February 17, 2011 moment.

The moon.

The moon here tonight is indescribable. I saw a bright light peeping from behind a building and as I tilted my head to the right juuuust enough, I saw it. It isn't yellow here. Tonight the moon is a bright, translucent and purest of pure white. Absolutely stunning. When I got home I instantly walked to our patio to check it out over the water and somehow it got more beautiful from the moment I almost fell down leaning over in the street with my Opencor bag of sick goodies in hand. The clouds are moving fast over the sea tonight as well and as they pass over it, the bright white light shining from the moon turns into an abalone cascade. It's so beautiful. I know that my words can't describe it...as previously stated in my paragraph topic sentence.

Everyday is a day to find something beautiful. I need to remember this whether I'm forcing myself to be camped out as a sick couch vegetable trying to relax for once to get better or if I'm working a full, long day. I need to find something so beautiful I can't describe it. It's an important thing to always do I think. I hope I never stop doing that.

That's all for me today. Maybe this will be interesting to read tomorrow when my Nyquil haze is gone. Time to go back to accomplishing nothing and wishing for the day I can breathe out of my nose and mouth again...

Kenz

The Accordion Man

We have an accordion man. He plays for the people sitting in the cafés on the boardwalk underneath our flat and the restaurants across our street. However, it's amazing because he pretty much plays whenever I lie down on our couch and open up our sliding glass door to take an afternoon siesta. Oh yes, I can't forget that he begins a tune when we try to sleep in on Saturday and Sunday mornings.

I used to really despise him because he seems to have some sort of telepathy to pick up his accordion from the rolling cart he pulls behind him whenever I finally sit down to relax and listen to the waves outside. But we've made peace. When else am I going to have a happy, Spanish accordion man playing me random songs next to the Mediterranean? Yup, never.

I could stand on our patio or sit in our open living room all day looking at the Mediterranean, taking in the sea air while I look at the boardwalk and water. I love the smell of fresh sea air, and when the pizzeria beneath us is open the smell is always mixed with a bit of woodfire, authentic Italian pizza that wofts up to us. I normally  don't like this because it makes me want to sprint down and order one. 

Little kids run back and forth to the beach as their parents drink coffee and wine at the little cafés, the accordion man bumbles from audience to audience, Spaniards walk at a pace so slow that it doesn't qualify as a stroll, and dogs run so freely and happily on the sand. Watching dogs sprint across the sand and dodge in and out of the incoming tide is one of my most favorite things to do. Their tails can't wag fast enough and their feeling of freedom is palpable and transmissable. The moment their owners let them off their leashes they are just so incredibly happy. Man, I need a dog.

So anyways, here's a video of a typical afternoon view of our backyard everyday. Courtney has a digital camera that can shoot video -- not the best but better than nothing! The quality is better than the still frame though, I promise.

Until later,

Kenzie

I Hope Someday You'll Join Us

Town Celebration

I hope you are ready for positive/world peace/ world citizen MacKenzie. If not, well, I don't have a witty remark right now.

My internal radio has been tuned to "Imagine" for the last week. John Lennon's voice has been ringing in my ears. I can't say it's the worst song to have stuck in my head. This is because our school celebrated Peace Day recently. The school halls are plastered with posters of famous peacemakers and uplifting and positive words. Not a bad atmosphere if you ask me. All of the words about love and peace are always more beautiful and poetic to me in Spanish. One of the posters was on Rigoberta Menchú Tum, a Nobel Peace Prize Laureate I interviewed in May last year in Spanish. Seeing that poster in the hall made my Spanish life here come full circle for me. But that is beside the point of this blog. Moving on.




Each of the Spanish schools holds a peace assembly outside on their patio where the different classes perform songs and dances. All of the kids at my school dress in white and last year I was told that they even let a dove go. However, my new student teacher friend, Sergio, told me that last year the dove all of a sudden couldn't fly and fell down and the children were devastated...I laughed. Maybe I'm a bad person with weird humor but the thought of it is pretty funny. Substitution for the dove humor was yours truly on stage leading "Imagine" into a microphone for the whole school on the afternoon of Peace Day.

This is where "Imagine" comes in. As a bilingual school, obviously there is a need to have some sort of English repertoire. Therefore, my job the entire week was to teach the song to all of the kids from level 3 and up to sing as a school on Peace Day. I listened to the lyrics day after day and hour after hour as I sang them aloud to help the kids with their pronunciation.

Kids from different elementary schools singing at the town gathering

I realized that I have become one of the people that Mr. Lennon would like to join him. The lyrics aren't exactly the most complex composition of poetry, but they're dead on. Sometimes people need dead on and simple. No countries, no possessions, living today for today...I'm not going to break down every stanza. However, I will tell you that I really wanted the kids to understand the song and take something from it, even though I know that their English level and analytical comprehension isn't that complex yet. Maybe someday they'll remember their wacky English teacher who was passionate about this song and break it down on their own like I find myself doing with Spanish songs.

Anyways, on top of each school's celebration, in the town that I teach in, all of the elementary schools gathered together as well. Each of the grades from the different schools put together performances to share about peace with their fellow elementary school kids. There were annoying recorder performances (I'm sorry I hate the sound of a recorder) and even a dance with a parachute (remember the rainbow striped ones) that made me want to go back to elementary school gym class and play games.

Practice the week before

In preparation for the town celebration, I helped and watched our first graders to learn a dance 2 weeks before. There is nothing better than being paid to sit outside in the sun on an afternoon, teaching and watching little Spanish children dance to their own internal rhythm to a Spanish song.




I know that I may be biased, but their performance was by far the best at the entire gathering. No lies.


Just in case you forgot...

Imagine there's no heaven
It's easy if you try
No hell below us
Above us only sky
Imagine all the people
Living for today...

Imagine there's no countries
It isn't hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the people
Living life in peace...

You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will be as one

Imagine no possessions
I wonder if you can
No need for greed or hunger
A brotherhood of man
Imagine all the people
Sharing all the world...

You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will live as one

-- John Lennon

Yup,

Kenz

No Spelling Bees in Spain

I was in fifth grade in Mrs. Wegehaupt's class. It was the entire grade's spelling bee in the upstairs library, and the contest was down to myself and a fellow classmate, Desiree Dantona. The last two words were dealt out to us. I was first.

"Chasm" was my word. I was 11.

Chasm? You have to be kidding me. How is an 11-year-old supposed to know an adjective for an abyss or gorge? Desiree got off easily with "platypus". I mean seriously, everyone knows how to spell platypus, come on. It's an animal. Eeeeasssy.

I think we all can tell I'm still a little bit bitter about this loss.

I was recently reminded of this pivotal spelling moment in my life as I sat down with Maria, the 12-year-old that I privately tutor, and my cup of green tea on Wednesday afternoon. We were going over past simple verbs, or how to say "I went", "I ate", "I played"...etc. The list of verbs was in alphabetical order so we first learned to pronounce bought, and as we continued we came to taught, and then thought. As I sat there and watched Maria struggle to pronounce these three words that rhyme in English, I realized something that turned my whole world upside down. I'm a loser who gets really excited and interested in odd things -- we already know this.

They don't have spelling bees in Spain.

OK, back up. For those of you who don't speak Spanish, it's an easy language to listen to and then write because all of their vowels and consonants have one sound. The most important aspect is that each vowel has one sound. Even if there is a word with multiple vowels in a row, if you know the sound of the vowels, you can easily read the word and repeat it.

So, I sat at my flat's dinner table looking out at the Mediterranean and coached Maria through the idea that the "gh" is silent and that "augh" and "ough" have the same sound. I also had to have her make a chart of the "ed" past simple verbs as I read each one aloud because we make three sounds even though they are all spelled the same. For example; played ends in a "d" sound, parted ends in an "ed" sound, and stopped ends in a "t" sound. I know, each day I realize how strange and difficult English can be.

As I watched Maria write down "taut" in her notebook, the lightbulb in my head went off that these Spaniards don't have problems spelling in their own language. Forget about the weekly spelling tests and words to memorize. Students don't have to sit and memorize how to spell "apartheid" or "hemorrhage" at home before their spelling test the next day. Maria doesn't ever have to worry about staring a Spanish word like "chasm" in the face in front of her entire grade. Why is that "h" silent anyways?

Most importantly though, there is no yearly National Spelling Bee! Spain has no televised national program on a station like ESPN where the country waits for awkward, nerdy kids to get so nervous they pass out.

Maria was lucky because after I laughed to myself and then spouted off a long-winded story in Spanish to her about these contests we have in the United States, I instantly grabbed my laptop. We usually spend the last 15 minutes translating Justin Bieber lyrics (she says he is her boyfriend and it motivates her to get through the lesson), but on Wednesday we watched YouTube videos of the National Spelling Bee. She thought I was absolutely nuts as she watched these Americans stand in front of a microphone with numbers around their necks and spell in English, with of course, her crazy English tutor next to her looking at the videos and cracking up.

So, if you are as easily entertained as me, enjoy in our weird custom of spelling words in front of audiences:

1)The classic kid fainting:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=06JUfkiMOVc

2) Boy is giving the word "numnah"... sounds like...:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fc1jSQkIyIo

3)My favorite, little boy can't stop laughing at funny word he is given:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xfMNtRHtA5E

In case you are wondering, I actually confirmed that they don't have spelling tests or spelling contests like we do with my teachers today. I promise.

I have to add that I am fairly certain that is exactly how the fifth grade spelling be went down, but maybe not.

Until the next random thing happens and I feel like writing,

Kenz

Great Expectations...

Nothing like some Charles Dickens to make you think.

"I loved her simply because I found her irresistible. Once for all; I knew to my sorrow, often and often, if not always, that I loved her against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be. Once for all; I love her none the less because I knew it, and it had no more influence in restraining me, than if I had devoutly believed her to be human perfection."

- Pip, Great Expectations
Charles Dickens

This isn't a picture or story about my day and experience in Spain, just a reminder of passion and the power beyond reason of it. Always important.

The 12 Grapes: Spanish New Years Eve

"12 Lucky Grapes"
You can buy cans of 12 grapes in the grocery store. Liz and Courtney bought this one.

I'm not sure what you were doing when the clock struck midnight and we dove into 2011, but I was stuffing 12 grapes into my mouth while attempting to say "¡¡Feliz año nuevo!!" and kissing each cheek of a group of Spaniards in a Spanish couple's apartment in Almería, Spain.

I was lucky enough to be placed in a school with a handful of younger teachers. Now, by younger teachers this means 30 and above, but they tell me that I seem to be around their age from a combination of who I am added onto the fact that the majority of Americans leave the coddling of their parents home at the age of 18. Spaniards normally leave this protective environment at much older ages which can span into their 30's and therefore makes a large difference between myself and Spaniards my age. It's just a different culture-- and before you judge -- it works for them.

Anyways, my luck has given me some pretty amazing Spanish friends outside of the workplace. Only one of them speaks English with me, so it's even better!

One of these teachers, José Ramon, is from Almería, another Andalucian city up the coast 3 hours from Málaga. His family still lives there, and he always tells me that his "heart" is there (I figured this was a girl but this wasn't actually confirmed until this weekend). Next to Almería is a National Park which has been the obsession of my GoogleImage searches for sometime now. José just happens to also have a bungalow there as well and has been trying to get me to come and visit him in his city. I decided I had to take advantage of the situation and so Marilo (another teacher from my school) picked me up in her car last Thursday and we drove to Almería. I knew it would be a weekend to remember full of more Spanish than I could imagine, and I couldn't have been more correct.

After a beautiful 3 hour car ride on the Mediterranean Highway (no seriously, that's its name) filled with Spanish conversation about Chinese immigrants and Spanish dating rituals, we arrived at the Almería Bus Station where José met us with his moped. He led us to his family's old apartment which they still own in the city. I'm always excited by a free place to stay and at this point in my traveling experiences after sleeping on trains and my luggage in airports, I consider a bed a luxury.

I had an amazing weekend aside from the New Year's Eve celebration (blog coming), but I have never felt so immersed in the language and culture as I did the night of December 31st.

Before the New Year's Eve festivities, they had asked me if I wanted to make any food to bring along. I had been prompted in the car on the way to the supermarket with them, so I started racking my brain for ideas. The recipe I described to them that follows is something that they bring up all the time and make fun of me for. They now call them "MacKenzie's Special New Year's Crackers". Well, the title is in Spanish, but you get the picture.

In my mind I decided it would be easy to get some crackers, spread cream cheese on top and then jelly/jam. For Spaniards, this would be a very rich food, which is something that I wanted to share with them because a majority of the foods that they have are not extremely flavorful. So I described that I needed crackers, cream cheese and preservatives in Spanish to them. The problem is that the Spanish word "preservativo" means condom. I already knew this, but in my whirlwind of telling them this recipe I had just thought of in the car and the obvious fact that I forgot that the word "marmalada" would have been correct, I told my friends that I was going to make crackers with cream cheese spread on top, topped with condoms. You should have seen the look on their faces. Priceless. Right after I said it I started laughing because I realized what I had said but it was too late. They will never let me live that one down.

Marilo, José Ramon, his girlfriend and I all went over to one of José Ramon's friend's house where I met three Spanish couples. I found out later that one of the men was José Ramon's cousin. They had prepared a grand spread including chorizo, jamón ibérico (a special ham unique to Spain), a Spanish form of quiche, a weird Spanish version of an empanada, and of course, a heaping mound of shrimp. I have found that shrimp (with eyes intact and all) are served at all formal meals. I don't even notice the eyes anymore because the shrimp is so amazing. They keep on insisting I eat the weird mush of the brain because it is the "best" part, but I'm going to be honest and tell you I'm still working myself up to that. We all ate and drank until we couldn't move. I was then presented with a party bag they had purchased with party hats and such to use for the countdown. In Spain the whole country tunes their TV's to watch the countdown featuring la Plaza del Sol in Madrid, Spain, where a Spanish party the equivalent to Time Square in New York City occurs.

The customs for New Year's Eve are quite different here. I love the name that they have for New Years Eve, which is called the "Old Night" in Spanish. A joke in true Spanish form, like everything here. After all, the oldest night of the year is December 31st, right? Anyways, Spaniards have told me that it is customary to eat dinner with your family (remember dinner is at about 9 p.m. here) and then go out to a club/bar or sing Christmas carols with your family until the wee hours of the morning.

I should mention that here, they don't refer to Christmas as the two days most Americans use to refer to it. Spaniards start the celebration Christmas Eve and it goes until January 6, which is the "Dia de los Reyes". This literally means the day of the kings (the Three Wisemen). In Spain, Santa brings the kids a small present for Christmas morning, but they wait eagerly for the morning of January 6th when the the Three Wisemen bring them all of their gifts. This is celebrated in conjunction to when the Three Wisemen gave gifts to Jesus. While this blog is about New Year's Eve, it's important to understand that New Year's Eve is in the middle of the week and a half span they refer to as Christmas. Because of this, everyday you tell people merry Christmas, and on New Year's Eve many families are still singing Christmas carols.

The 12 Grapes

Before the clock struck 12, all of the Spaniards were hastily separating 12 grapes into different cups before the countdown began. Some were even taking the seeds out (cheating, mine had the seeds and all). Here, everyone counts down to the new year from 12 seconds, and every second you put another grape into your mouth. The goal is to have eaten all of them when the clock strikes midnight. This sounds easier than it is. Eating 12 plump grapes in 12 seconds is quite a feat. At midnight, there isn't the usual yelling and instant kissing on the lips between people in relationships, or, well, haha, those who just want a friend for the night. Instead, everyone gives the classic "dos besos". In Spain, every time you haven't seen someone, meet someone new, or I swear enter a room you greet people by kissing each cheek.

If you can't fit all of the grapes into your mouth, you will have bad luck for the next year. Luckily, I was successful my first attempt at this custom, so let's hope I really do have good luck.

Afterwards we sat around and José Ramon, his cousin and his other friend played the guitar and a variety of cultural drums from until 2 in the morning. Then, of course, as usual with most outings, we had a change of venue. I was told we were going to walk to his cousin's home where their whole family was.

I was greeted by a group of about 20 people from the age of 35 to 65. They were all dancing and singing. A man sat at the piano playing song after song with a boat captain's hat on. It was miraculous because in true Spanish form, he was smoking a cigarette at the same time. However, it needed to be ashed about 5 minutes before so I was just amazed that the ash hadn't fallen into his lap from the cigarette that was no more. They sang song after song. Spanish Christmas carol after Spanish Christmas carol. All of these 55 year-olds dancing, singing, getting high, topping off wine glass after wine glass. I of course was forced to eat every type of food they had eaten and tried to out of politeness. No seriously, I had no space in my stomach but they all wanted me to try "Spanish" food. It was amazing. Everyone was truly enjoying themselves and the night with each other. Women broke out in live flamenco, men added crazy instruments, people traded positions on the Spanish flamenco box drum, and everyone clapped in true flamenco form.

I have never seen people of that age party harder than me until 6 a.m. Then, they broke out the Beatles. "Hey Jude" was up next on the piano and I was of course beckoned over to teach the correct lyrics to the song. Luckily it's one of my all time favorites. I listen to broken English all of the time and I don't ask questions or correct unless I am teaching in fear of coming off harshly, but "Hey Jude" is one thing I need to hear correctly.

I went to bed at about 9 a.m. that night. I don't think I'll ever forget it. Once again, people took me in as one of their own. I can't be more thankful. Other people's kindness here has inspired me to always make a true effort in the future to make people feel as welcome as these people have.

In order to say thank you for all of their generosity for the long weekend I made a huge American breakfast the next afternoon when we finally woke up. They are so amazed we eat so much in the morning. I don't think they'll ever understand it. I can't imagine bringing them out for an all you can eat brunch.

Miss you all.

Kenzie Shea

OK, I admit it, I miss America.

I know that most of my blogs center around my love for Spain. I love this country, but I definitely miss America. I consider myself lucky to buy a pepper for 40 cents in January, bumble through a market for all of the fresh produce my heart desires, and eat the most amazing cheeses and meats for next to nothing from living in the South of Spain. However, aside from the fact that Americans know how to form a line and walk down a sidewalk, I'm going to be honest; I miss America sometimes, and especially the food. So, in honor of this, here comes my list:

Top 1o Foods I Miss from America
1) Freezies
2) Gedney Pickles
3) Buffalo Wings
4) Chicken Fajita Burrito from Chipotle
5) Tex-Mex Breakfast Burrito from the Uptown Diner with an amazing cup of coffee
6) Dove brownie ice cream
7) Goldfish!
8) Gatorade -- they only have Powerade here.
9) Steak. They have bistec here...a very thin filet of beef...just not the same.
10) Water. OK I obviously have water here. But the look I receive when I ask for a glass of water at a restaurant is weird. I miss drinking large, multiple glasses of water when out to eat at restaurants. Simple but true.

Yup that's it today. Very introspective : )

P.S. I lied. This is 11 things I miss. I miss milkshakes! No one has milkshakes. Yes. Definitely would like a real milkshake.

January 14, 2011

I'm going to try and do some short blogs of photos from my day. Sometimes describing things doesn't do them justice. On that note, sometimes photos don't either, but I'll try my best...

Today was absolutely perfect in Málaga. There wasn't a cloud in the sky and it was 70 degrees with a light breeze. Luckily, Fridays are my day off. After a rough morning and early afternoon laying on the beach, Courtney and I decided to walk from our town into the center of Málaga, which is about a 10 mile trek after my GoogleMaps research...






Yup. Officially in love with a region of Spain.

Kenz

Passing or Spending Time?

Where did you spend the holidays? Do you spend a lot of time with your friends? I'm not sure what either answer to these questions is for you, but I passed the holidays here in Spain in my amazing beach apartment and I definitely pass a lot of time with my friends.

Hm.

I'm sure that something read incorrectly for you when I started to talk about my own personal answers to these questions. That would be the way that I used the verb "pass". I am oddly fascinated by the way that Spaniards use "pass" to speak about time in the future, present and past. When I ask them where they spent their last birthday they always tell me they passed it at so-and-so location. In my private lessons my Spanish students always try to tell about where and with whom they passed important moments in their life. When you tell someone to have a wonderful rest of their day you tell them that you hope their day passes well. I like this. No. I love this.

Now, to explain to someone that uses this manner to describe time that they must exchange the English verb "spend", the same verb that they have learned to use with money, the look on their face is quite comical. I understand why.

In fact, I now believe that one of the strongest cultural differences that specifically points out the differences between Mediterranean life here and life in the U.S. is blatantly tied up right in our distinct uses of how we refer to time.

I don't wish to deeply delve into the philosophical idea of time that can turn a conversation into a spider web of thoughts that then ends up in a circle (exactly). There are so many quotes, adages and stories pertaining to the idea of time and how people should think of it or "spend/pass" it. However, I think that these crazy Spaniards just might be onto something, so I will just add my two cents.

Mediterranean life is slower. People walk slower, things happen slower. It's just how it is. Time passes and people sit back and enjoy every moment and the ride for what life actually is. I'm not going to even include how many studies have been released on how much lower their stress levels are here, but the ambiance of daily life and the impalpable feeling of people seizing every single day to enjoy is obvious around every corner. Even when I traveled to Hungary and the Czech Republic after spending 2 months here I laughed at people as they seemed to be running through the streets, trying to make the inevitable and perpetual "next meeting". No I seriously laughed, it was actually funny to watch.

When I studied in Barcelona about a year and a half ago I had a photography internship with a Barcelona magazine which required me to take a conjoining course on the Spanish work environment. While everyone who took that class would agree that the teacher was absolutely off of her rocker, some of the articles I read regarding how Spaniards regard time in a much more nonchalant manner came in useful. My first meeting I showed up to I was 20 minutes late, which for Spaniards was still about a half hour early. Obviously this is not always a norm as is true with most generalizations. However, I have had Spanish friends call me before they pick me up to tell me they will be a half hour late and are preoccupied that I understand that they are not Americans and it is normal.When I got back to the U.S. my boss frequently added reminders onto E-mails for me to remember that the meeting was at ____ American time, cleverly adding the word in, as my tardiness became regular after my time abroad. I'm not saying I'm proud I've become a late person, but I know that I haven't gotten the sick feeling I used to know from being late and worried that I was showing some form of disrespect. At least it's good for my blood pressure.

This new view on time is interesting to me because there are no clocks in the classrooms of the elementary school I work in now. It's crazy. However, people aren't obsessed with time here. It's refreshing.

Here, time is not money. Time is worth much more than any amount of money. I think that if you really believe that you can put a dollar amount on times like one of the best dates of your life when you feel so alive and can't stop smiling the next day, or the half hour after an amazing run when you have a runner's high full of endorphins, or even the moments you find yourself in a downpour without an umbrella and choose to enjoy it, you have some serious life evaluating to do.

You most definitely have not specifically allocated your time to things like this. There is no menu every morning where you choose your day. Life is unpredictable. Life comes at you and you react. The idea that time is "ours" to spend is just a strange idea in itself. I'm not sure, maybe I'm being radical, or maybe this sea air is really just getting to me.

This is all funny because I just realized that in English we have a phrase, "Don't let time pass you by". Well, I am in deep trouble because that is exactly what I am doing, and I am enjoying life so much more because of it. Letting life pass by and accepting it for what it is doesn't have be a negative idea though. Sometimes it can let you truly enjoy what you have been given or truly accept the cards that you have been dealt.

I am not suggesting that you sit back and not actively accomplish anything or pursue any dreams that you have. I just think that not getting an ulcer over being late to a meeting and having a boss realize that maybe you forgot to do something like turn off the coffee pot so you turned around and were 10 minutes late because of it would be nice. Not everyone's boss is like this, but I can say that I have had my fair share of mine already at the age of 22.

Well, I said that I wouldn't let myself talk in a spider web and then end in a circle with no conclusion but I guess I am just a liar because it appears that is exactly what I just did. Sorry.

I hope that your day passes well : )

Kenz