Catch Up

Other things have taken priority over blogging: I've been trying to act like a functioning adult and start taking care of myself. While I still spend far too much time in front of a computer, typing words on a screen hasn't been on my to-do list. But now I've found myself with gobs of free time as the year winds down  and the children are taking exams. So I'm sitting here in the school's computer room, surrounded by shouting 6th graders, and suddenly compelled to update this dang thing. In the spirit of laziness, here is the Cliff-Notes version of these past months:

October

I love Halloween. Always have. This year I convinced Álvaro to take me to the Parque de Atracciones to check out the Halloween-themed decorations and haunted houses. We went with his aunt, uncle, and cousin. In one haunted house, I had a complete stranger cling to my dress the whole way through. Fun times.

Halloween at school was the usual dress up in the afternoon merriment. I was a pirate. Again. I was also sick. Again. I watched the original Night of the Living Dead. Again. I am a creature of habit.

November

I still have this idealized vision of a potluck Thanksgiving with expat friends, to compensate for the loneliness often felt while being away from home during the holidays. Didn't happen. So, I had two options: cry about it or suck it up and have my own dang Thanksgiving. I chose the latter. I managed to make a tasty meal without an oven (I cheated and bought a chicken from a Kebap place). It snowed the day of. Overall I was satisfied. 

Also, I finally decided that I was tired of fiddling with my phone during my two-hour lunch break, and took up knitting. 

December

Christmas! Holidays! Festivities! I love the schools at Christmastime, when you get to spend time singing songs with the kids, and suddenly you have delicious dinners with your co-workers. 

Unlike last year, I got to go home for Christmas, bringing Álvaro with me. I decided not to waste my two weeks at home, and actually got to visit a few old friends in the area. The weather was way too hot, but overall I left feeling content. No place like home.

January

I got pick-pocketed for the first time! Fun! It could have been prevented, but I had let my guard down for ten minutes while walking down a relatively empty street on a Saturday morning. I would've been impressed if I wasn't so upset. On the upside, Álvaro was a champion and helped me look through nearby trashcans on the off-chance that I could at least recover my ID card (the only really valuable item stolen). No luck, but watching him take pictures of the inside of trashcans was so ridiculous that I felt better.

February 

I turned 25! Álvaro turned 26! I had a CAT scan on my ankle. I now have a cool 3D image of my foot. I made hats. 

March

After applying back in September/October, Álvaro and I finally had our appointment for pareja de hecho, the American's golden ticket to long-term residency in Spain. While we mostly did it for immigration purposes, I was definitely giddy about adding an extra level of commitment to the relationship. Nothing has really changed, but now I can legally claim him as family. That's pretty cool.

I made my first pair of socks.

We went to Zurich, specifically to see James Mercer perform in Broken Bells. I was in the front row and it was glorious. Worth a post on its own.

April

Weather warmed up. I made a shirt.

We hit three year mark in our relationship, and went to Portugal. The students took some exams.

In late April I was rejected from a supposedly non-competitive auxiliar program, which meant I was suddenly scrambling for employment next year.

May

Lots of holidays, but little to report. Students have taken exams, and have essentially checked out for the remainder of the term. I'm still looking for a job, but to save my skin I've signed up for a CELTA course. This means I can't go home this summer, but hopefully it brings good things. We'll see!

Dia de la Bicicleta

I think I'm finally catching up with real-time events. As it turns out I am allergic to exercise, and as punishment my body has broken my ankle. Stupid glass bones.

But there is a silver lining to having a bum ankle! I am currently out of commission for running, which is quite unfortunate because despite being absolutely abysmal it's the only thing that keeps me motivated to do anything. When I stop running I stop doing everything else. There is an exception: I don't hate cycling. I'm also terrible at that, but I can spend an hour or two on a casual bike ride and not want to hang myself after.

However, living in a dollhouse-sized, 5th floor walk-up apartment makes owning a bicycle a challenge. I would have to be able to carry it up five flights of narrow stairs, and then somehow fit inside a tiny apartment. I would also have to be able to do this on a semi-regular basis.

The best option, therefore, was a folding bike. After searching on segundamano (a second-hand website), I bought a bike.

Nice and folded

And, as luck would have it, my new purchase coincided with Madrid's annual bike festival, where they close down a few streets to let families, cycling enthusiasts, and guiris with new bikes ride around. 

The event wasn't very well planned, and the mass amounts of people were backlogged right at the starting gate. It is frustrating to have to walk your bike shoulder-to-shoulder in a hoard. Plus, children on bikes can be dangerous and unpredictable, and I had to be very careful to avoid crashing into some kid who decided to suddenly swerve/stop in front of me. That said, it was a gorgeous day and near the end of the ride they offered everyone free sodas and fruit, plus a concert. Also, eventually groups of people stopped, left, or slowed down, allowing me to ride more at my own pace.

All in all, it was a cool way to test out my bike. I would've preferred a more organized event, but I'm still happy to have participated. 

That time I tried to run a 10k

I found out about Madrid Corre por Madrid in June. I was just getting back into running--if that's what you would call my 10min/mile zombie shuffle. The event description drew me in. Run through all the main sights of Madrid? Commemorative T-Shirt? Yes, please.

T-shirt

There was just one problem:

It was a 10k race.

To a seasoned runner, or perhaps anyone who isn't a couch potato like myself, a 10k is a doable distance. I had never run beyond 3 miles, and the idea of not only reaching but doubling that distance by September seemed an impossible feat. Plus, where would I find time among working at camp, going to Germany, and going home?

But I signed up anyway, and the goal of completing a 6-mile race kept me fairly motivated through a non-stop summer. Exhaustion, changing schedules, and persistent ankle pain didn't stop me. Well, the ankle pain kind of did.

Race day came, and I wasn't prepared. I had cut my training short four weeks before the race, due to that nagging left ankle. And then everything went wrong.

I slept maybe 4 hours, thanks to jet-lag and pre-race jitters. I woke up feeling awful and nauseated. Then, right as we were about to leave the house I realized that Álvaro had forgotten my motorcycle helmet back at his parent's house. He had promised to drive me to the race that morning. So, I ran to the metro. Álvaro didn't follow suit and suddenly I was running late, left by myself with no one to hold my stuff during the race.


I managed to miss both trains, adding an extra 13 minutes to my travel time. Once off the metro, I rushed to the bag check to drop off my stuff and headed to the starting gate. By this time the stress had intensified my nausea. I found my place at the back at the pack just as the crowd surged forward and the race began.

The nausea didn't go away. I spent the whole race gasping for breath and with my stomach in knots. I'd had easy run days where I could go for an hour without problems. This was not one of those days. I had to fight the urge to walk. The last kilometer was uphill and eventually I gave in and had to alternate between walking and running. 

Due to being so slow, I was out there for over an hour. That's a long time to fight with oneself. Despite this, the adrenaline of having finished kicked in and I somehow forgot every bad moment I had endured. It wasn't a great race but I had pushed myself farther than I had ever gone, despite less-than-ideal circumstances. I'm sure there's a life lesson in there somewhere.

And that ankle pain? STRESS FRACTURE AWW YEAH.

Home Again

Almost one year after I said goodbye to the United States, I boarded a 13 hour plane bound for the Los Angeles International Airport. On tiny screens in the middle of the aisles, the Iberia flight showed The Great Gatsby. While I like the book, I'm not a particular fan of the movie—too much flash and not enough substance—but nevertheless the film's final words (taken verbatim from the novel) echoed in my head.

Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter — tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther.... And one fine morning —
So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.

It's one of my favorite concluding paragraphs in literature, one that particularly resonates with me. I am unfortunately a nostalgic person. I have the tendency to reminisce and to miss bygone years, while letting my present pass me by. I've spent the past year in Spain, working at a decent job, involved in a good relationship, and occasionally traveling. Yet, I can't resist comparing to my final years of college, where I still lived close to my friends and we saw each other every weekend.

Moving on is part of adulthood. People change cities, get married, have kids (or don't). Some get great jobs and some still live with their parents. Before graduation, we had our lives more or less laid out in similar trajectories, taking classes and studying for exams. After graduation, some people (myself included) moved back home. Some started working. Some continued to grad school. Some changed states. I changed countries. It's normal. It's what happens. But I have still had trouble accepting that it's time for a new phase.

Anyway, I've spent several paragraphs waxing philosophical about The Great Gatsby while failing to address the whole point of this post: my trip home. For the first two weeks of September, I flew back to the good ol' US of A. My first year in Spain was admittedly a bit lonely. I spent many weekends sitting in my apartment, playing the Sims or refreshing Facebook for the 1,000^th time. I missed living down the street from my friends, where every weekend we would hang out together and play video games. I had been away from California for a year, and I was looking forward to reconnecting with everyone.

I came home expecting to be embraced by the familiarity of my home country, and I was surprised to experience reverse culture shock. Flying into Los Angeles, I was overwhelmed by the immense concrete sprawl. I wandered through my grocery store and marveled at the jumbo tub of nacho cheese. Was everything always this big?

I also had to face the more sobering reality that my friends were no longer available to hang out, either due to distance, responsibilities, lack of interest, or some combination. I suppose I had anticipated that people would be more eager to see me stateside. Instead, my phone remained silent for my duration home (unless you count the “wrong number” who told me they loved me. Thanks, dude).

That isn't to say that I had a bad time. At the very least I was able to spend lots of time with my family during those two weeks. With my dad, I went on a 7-mile hike and a few 19-mile bike rides. With my mom, I went shopping (I really missed Target of all places). We went to the beach and out to dinner. I spent my afternoons relaxing on the couch or playing with my cats.

In many ways, the trip home served as a reminder that my life is forming here in Spain now. I didn't realize that until I went home and felt foreign. I will always miss the states. My family is there, and there are customs I'm not willing to let go of (holidays, food, etc). But now it's time to let go of the past and focus on my life here.

Germany

I've almost been to Germany quite a few times in my life. When I studied abroad in Madrid in the spring of 2011, I highly considered a weekend getaway to Berlin. However, flights were too expensive so I chose the cheaper alternative--Amsterdam--for my northern European fix. Then, this past winter, I learned about German Christmas markets. I thought, "Well that should be a lovely way to spend Christmas break, since I won't be going home." NOPE. Álvaro hesitated too long when making a decision regarding winter break travels, and airfare skyrocketed. Spring break rolled around, and I dreamed of stomping around Berlin in a pair Doc Martens. WRONG-O. Indecision won out yet again (although thanks to an intervention from Dan my Docs were allowed to stop the streets of Barcelona).

So when Álvaro approached me about a possible one week course in Dresden, I reacted with skeptical optimism. It seemed at every stage of planning I expected our plans to completely fall apart as they had in the past. First, he considered not applying altogether. Then, he doubted that he would be accepted. When he received confirmation of his admission, he debated going. 

By this time, I had left for camp. The course was about a month away, and I was too busy controlling a hoard of children and adolescents to look for flights abroad. While I can write a long list of very nice things about Álvaro, "trip planning" is not on that list. He has a tendency to wait too long until the opportunity passes him by. In fact, all of our trip this past year have been last-minute, "Hey, I just got this great idea to go to this place!" affairs. It's not conducive to finding cheap plane tickets. 

You can imagine my surprised when, mid-July, I received an e-mail with two tickets booked for Berlin from the 20th to the 30th of August. Admittedly, the rest of the planning fell on my shoulders, but who cares? I was going to Germany!

We spent five days in Berlin and six in Dresden, renting rooms we had found on Air BnB. I definitely recommend this route for people who want a few extra creature comforts without the price of a hotel. We had access to a mini fridge in both cities, and in Dresden we had a kitchenette, sofa, and a private bathroom with a huge bathtub!

Berlin reminded me very much of Berkeley, my college town. Both are very eclectic cities which welcome and celebrate the "weirdos" of the world. The organic stores, bicycles, and international cuisine made me feel like I was back at university. I immediately felt at home in Berlin. There are some cities that are interesting to visit, but feel like massive tourist traps (I'm looking at you, Venice). Berlin felt like a place I could live. We went on walking tours, learned about World War II and German history. I ate currywurst and doner kebap. Most of the time I was content to just stroll around the cities and take in everything.

The humblest of Protestant churches

The Spree river and famous TV tower by Museum Island

A day trip to Postdam

Modeling around Tiergarten park

Beer: check. Wurst: check. Fries with frysauce: check and check.

German parliament building: best free views of the city (but full of spiders). 

I absolutely wasn't ready to leave for Dresden. I wanted to spend more time in Berlin, but Alvaro had his summer school, so away we went. I admit that Dresden also grew on me. It doesn't have the allure of a big, sprawling city, but what is lacks in urban culture it makes up for in natural beauty. Dresden is a city that would normally only merit a day trip. I had seen the majority of the sights in just one day. Plus, since Alvaro was in class for most of the day, I was on my own. I took advantage of this time and explored the nearby villages, which looked like something out of a postcard.

Stumbling around a palace

This church was mostly destroyed in WWII

Went on a steamboat

In a town called Pirna

I'm on a boat! (that song's still cool, right?)

In "Saxon Switzerland"--the Sandstone Mountains

Königstein

A fort!

This is real. I saw it with my eyeballs.

PROOF.

Meissen: known for its wine. Full of old tourists

View of Dresden from the train

In addition, I was able to spend some time with some of Alvaro's classmates, an international bunch of students. We were almost all expats who had lived (or were currently living) abroad, and so we swapped stories of cultural quirks over glasses of German beer.

Overall, it was absolutely one of the most memorable trips I've ever taken. My only complaint? The language barrier. I've heard that German is supposedly easy for English speakers to learn, but I didn't understand a word of it. After spending a year in Spain, I'm used to being confronted with a foreign language, but at least I can understand it. With German, I was completely lost. Germans generally know some English, but we definitely ran into a few people who didn't speak a word. By the end of those two weeks, I was tired of feeling like a foreigner. I had a fun trip, but I was definitely happy to be home.

And then several days later I got on another plane to Los Angeles....

Candeleda

I'm quite backlogged on blog posts, so even though it's already October I'm writing about the weekend of the 16th of August. (I changed the publish date because its my blog and I can do what I want)

I've touched upon the notion that Spaniards have a pueblo--usually a vacation home in a smaller village, possibly where their family grew up (not always).Alvaro has two villages, and I've had the misfortune of visiting both in winter. Imagine a popular summer destination town in the winter. It's cold. It's deserted. There's nothing to do. So I was quite pleased that, after two years of listening to Alvaro talk about his beloved pueblo Candeleda, I had the opportunity to see it flourishing over the summer.

View Larger Map

Candeleda is a small village on the border of Castilla y Leon and Castilla la Mancha, in the province of Avila and about two hours from Madrid.

"Natural Pools" where people go to swim. A fish bit my foot here.

To be honest, there isn't much to write about my weekend there. I had just returned from the summer camp, and I was going through a bit of a reverse culture shock. I had spent over a month essentially in isolation, surrounded by nature. When I returned to Madrid, I had trouble adjusting to the smells and the views again. A trip out to the countryside was a welcome break in my transition back to the big city. In addition, I had purchased a pair of hiking boots and I was eager to test them out for the first time.

My legs are still two different colors from summer camp :(

We went by motorcycle, which meant packing light and a long, uncomfortable two hour ride. Alvaro's aunt and uncle were very kind to lend us their newly-purchased house for the weekend. Although it still didn't have a fridge, it still had the modern comforts of home (shower, bathroom, etc), compared to his parent's house which is more rustic.

That weekend was hot. It was an oppressive, windless heat that didn't dissipate at night. Alvaro and I managed a seven-mile hike up to an old Roman bridge, and despite the crowds that had flocked to the village for the weekend, the trail was almost abandoned. We dipped in the river, and napped in the afternoon when it was too hot to do much else. At night, Alvaro's parents barbecued our dinner. On the way back, I somehow managed to get stung three times by a wasp--while still on the motorcycle.

Conqueror of worlds. Wearer of ridiculous shorts.

Álvaro off in the distance doing Álvaro-things

Roman bridge

Surrounded by nobody

Overall, a nice, relaxing weekend.  

Caminando por el bosque: One and a half months at camp

I'm alive! Back in May I mentioned a potential summer camp job. Admittedly, I was hesitant to write more in fear that at the last minute things would fall through and I'd be left unemployed for the summer. On the contrary, I was originally only offered 3 weeks and ended up working 6 weeks! So, that explains my long absence.

F.A.Q. about That One Time at Camp:

Where did you go?

I was in two camps in the province of Castilla y León. For the first two weeks of  July and August, I was here:
Molino de Butrera

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It's the same camp as the encuentro, and my personal favorite of the two locations. The scenery is absolutely gorgeous. For four weeks I was surrounded by greenery and rolling hills and forests. The downside: bugs. So many bugs. I quickly learned the word for ticks in Spanish. 

During the second half of July I was here:
Vegafria

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This camp is in Segovia, and significantly different than the Molino. For one, it's situated smack-dab in the middle of the village. I was told by the coordinator that this camp was designed as a "trampoline" for kids who had never been to camp. Downside: flat landscape typical of La Mancha (ok, so we weren't in Castilla La Mancha), and the flies. Oh dear god the flies.

Source

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What did you have to do?

In a sense my job wasn't much different than that of an auxiliar. I was hired to play the ignorant foreigner who "didn't know Spanish." I wasn't there to teach English classes, although I was occasionally assigned entire English activities. Most of the time I was placed within a normal camp activity (sports, archery, etc) and expected to explain it in English. During my free time I was also there for English conversation.

Aaand that's actually all the questions people ask because nobody really cares about my camp experience.

Overview:

July 1-15: Molino de Butrera

The camp had about 90-something kids, which apparently was half as many as the previous year. As a monitor, you are up at 8:30 and in bed by 2:30 if you're lucky. Weekends don't exist. The shift in my sleep schedule also left me exhausted for the first week. I gained the reputation as always appearing half-asleep and yet completely aware of everything. That said, the staff was fantastic and I tried to follow their lead as best as possible. 

Highlights:

I dressed like the statue of liberty for the 4th of July. 

We went on a three day, two night camping excursion through Ojo Guareña park. The monitors camped in tents and we somehow crammed 40 kids inside a church.

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Taking a break after walking 10+ km

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I tried rock climbing. I'm terrible at it!

Too many inside jokes to name.

Getting covered head-to-toe in mud that didn't wash out of my hair for three days.

Swimming in the river.

July 15-28: Vegafria

We boarded the bus from the Molino Sunday afternoon and arrived in Vegafria that same evening. The sudden change was rough. This camp had about 60 kids, but the facilities weren't well-equipped for that capacity. Yes, everybody fit, but the dining room tables had 11 kids each and there were only three bedrooms for the campers. Try getting 30 adolescent boys to be quiet and fall asleep. It felt like things there took longer. Serving food took an hour. Activities always started late. I don't think I ever went to sleep before 3 A.M. I got sick. And there were flies everywhere. It wasn't particularly a bad experience but the constantly delayed schedules tended to wear me down.

Oh no

Highlights:

Almost all of the campers came from Las Rozas (the posh city in Madrid) and therefore had a high level of English.

People kept wanting me to say "queso fresco." Not sure why, but it caught on like wildfire.

Two of the days we had a day long excursion to a swimming pool.

Life is difficult

Canoeing in a canyon and then taking a bus to Segovia.

I did Geocaching for the first time.

Using a compass to hunt for mojito ingredients (admittedly after the campers were in bed).

One kid legitimately thought he was a vampire, and his brother was essentially a 10-year old Hodor from Game of Thrones.

When I got sick, the kids asked me how I was doing. One even gave me a hug. 

Getting porlada, which is a super-secret ritual akin to hazing but I'm not going to tell you about it.

And then I went running with this on my face

I got a call from the coordinator asking if I wanted to stay in August. Yes, it was only because every single other English monitor had gone back to the States but HEY! A job is a job and it was mine for the taking. 

I'm not sure how many wigs I've worn this past summer. Too many

Olympic day

July 29-August 11: Return to the Molino

This time I had all of an afternoon back in Madrid to recharge, do laundry, etc. That Monday we arrived back in Butrera in time for lunch. It was like coming home. We started out with 70 kids and by the second week that number dropped to the 30s. The second week we also had a group taking classes to become monitors (in Spain you need a license to work at a camp), and they were good at engaging the kids during free time and taking a bit of the work from the monitors. 

Highlights:

On the first day they couldn't figure out if I was a girl or a boy. Confidence: Negative 100

Almost going camping again. I went on the hike only to be told I was needed back at camp. Drats!

A girl got a tick on her eyelid.

Mustaches!

I became known for making weird faces. People called me emoticono (emoticon).

The kids represented me in my true form

Buying candles from a German man in a tiny pueblo called Bedón.

Cathedral in Bedón. Also Campsite #2 from the first hike.

Monitores monitoreando

"Camping" literally feet away from the Molino. I carried my mattress into the tent. 

Imagine tents here

Learning how to make new bracelets!

Visiting a cave.

Bat in the toilet. I had to fish it out with a toilet brush.

Shooting stars!

Views from the hike. This area is seriously gorgeous

In summary:

I had a really long but rewarding experience at camp. I am normally averse to nature and have always considered myself a city girl, but I was surprised how well I took to being in the middle of nowhere for a month and a half. I still lack many useful life skills and there's still no way I could survive in the wilderness, but participating in camp activities has opened me up to trying new things. Plus, being away from technology for that long was refreshing. Yes, I would sporadically use my phone for Whatsapp or Facebook, but the time spent connected to the outside world was drastically limited. During that time I wasn't worried about my appearance (thankfully, because I looked like Hell), or my future, or loneliness. I was living in the moment and having a good time. 

If anything, coming back to Madrid has been the biggest culture shock and I still haven't quite adjusted. I've gone from having a full schedule everyday to sitting around on Reddit wondering what I'm doing with my life. I'm stuck somewhere in between my camp self and my Madrid self. I've reverted to my couch-dwelling, internet-fueled persona. However, I've bought some hiking boots and I hope to take them for a spin around the mountains here.

All in all, I would absolutely do it all over again.