Today is Tuesday (again)...

...and I missed Monday

Tunes: random

I'm going to miss this time of isolation (to an extent). I don't say that in a strong sense of the word, but my time abroad has given me a lot of time to myself, really forcing me to come to terms with internal conflicts and my relationship with God. At times, it has been one of the most difficult thing I've experienced. At times, it has been one of the most beautiful things I've experienced. My time of being in starkly different places with starkly different cultures has forced me to take my external and internal events, and process them with the one ever-consistent thing in my life, God himself.

On Sunday, we had a message about the blessing of prosperity that God gives, and how that applies to the internal health of our hearts. More than ever, I have been experiencing this here in Spain, specifically with regard to having my needs met in a time of isolation. Through events, he has opened up my heart to be able to express myself through writing and music, and he has also given me a group of friends to pour into via a bible study on Monday nights.

So I guess after writing this, I guess I can't say I'm going to miss this, because I will experience this same application of God's provision in different aspects of my life in the different seasons that I come to. Perhaps a different physical journey, but with the same spiritual destination: salvation.

Today is Sunday

Tunes: O.C.M.S.

And I'm going to my church Vida Abundante (Abundant Life). I stumbled upon the place because an American I met at Portland Ale House invited me to check it out. Since that day, my friends Allison, Catherine, Nick, Julian, and Caitlin were started trickling in and were all adopted into the Vida Abundante family. We were met with hugs, words of encouragement, and excitement, as this growing evangelical church showed us God's love.

When I say family, I mean it in many different ways. In the spiritual sense, they are a messy group of brothers and sisters who love God and love people. They do a pretty dang good job. In the traditional sense, I've noticed how every child has 30 uncles and 30 aunts. They love their children and everyone else's children... it's just one big source of love. They've got Spaniards, S. Americans, Americans, Gitanos (gypsies), and people from all over. Christ has broken down barriers in order to create this family, and it's changing lives.

AND they have a fog machine. It was pretty ridiculous when I saw it the first service I attended, but they have a fog machine to accompany their heartfelt music and dancing. If you know my friend Joe Courage, and have experienced his dancing during worship, he has a 70-year-old doppelgänger in Spain who jumps and spins and shouts. And he gives the best hugs.

Off to read and 'descansar' before two days of heavy studying for my last exam on Wednesday :)

Today is (pretty much) Saturday

I'm going to miss random nights staying up late in my kitchen pondering my life while playing solitaire, accompanied by random accordion players passing by my apartment.
Here's a short clip of a street performer in San Sebastián that I recorded:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-6Cr4xgKLic

I'm going to miss late-night hangouts with my Italian friends, trying to make sense of a mix of Spanish, Italian, and English to explain the lives we live.

Today is Friday

Tunes: Sviatoslav Richter

I'm going to miss the sociality of Spain. Yes, I admit it. Every night, I pass by tapa bar after tapa bar, and marvel at how well Spaniards know how to get their friends together to eat, drink, and socialize. Just the whole idea of tapas is contrary to most American ways of eating. At home, we each have our own plates, and might share with friends. In Spain, at least with tapas, you basically order a ton of appetizers and share them with the entire table. It's reaching across each other, passing food, talking about anything and everything...

Maybe one day I'll open up a tapa bar. Main items: bravas, jamón serrano, pan, chorizo, croquetas, y calamares. Look out.

First test tomorrow. It will determine my entire grade for my history of philosophical and scientific thought class. Let's see how this brain can perform on Spanish soil.

Today is Thursday

...and I missed an entry yesterday.

I'm studying. A lot.

I'm going to miss the beach here. I haven't seen it in more than a week because I hurt my knee and I've been studying a bunch. I'm just minutes away, and I already miss it. Well, after my exam on Saturday I'll spend some time out there. It's been so nice having the Mediterranean in my back yard.

Today is Tuesday

Tunes: The Acorn

I chose not to write about something I will miss, but something that I will not: the politics and a few cultural aspects of Spain. It has been very good for me to be in Europe, in order to see a collectivist sort of system, which is the opposite of our individualist system in the US. It has helped me to see the idols of both systems, and has taught me very much about the hearts of these people I have been interacting with daily. I have to thank Carmen Manuel, my US lit teacher here, because she has been the one to point out most of these cultural differences.

Socialism:
Marx is held in high esteem here, and if you do not have a socialist train of thought, you are considered heartless. The thing about this system, is that it relies on those who earn the money to pay for everybody else. The communist creed is this: "From each according to his ability, to each according to his need." - Karl Marx. Spain has a very steeply graduated income tax, and the wealthy support (or attempt to support) the spending of this country. Big business is looked down upon, and so is being personally wealthy. If you have money, you are called a "pijo," which means posh/snob/spolied, and despised (I have seen this attitude displayed countless times). So despite the fact that the upper wealth bracket supports a large percentage of the entire economy, they are not rewarded for their success. I just don't understand it. I won't pick at each way this system isn't working, but I will note that this country, along with Portugal, Ireland, Italy, and Greece (google search PIIGS), are some of the most financially hurting countries in Europe.

Conformism (externally and internally)
-Externally: Perhaps this is a minor thing, but appearances are very much a part of the culture here, and if you do not follow the general trend of "do's and don'ts" for fashion, you will be stared at. If it is not June, then it is not yet summer, and you will be stared at for wearing sandals, tank-tops, or shorts, regardless of the temperature.
-Internally: Thought processes. The high school system does not teach critical thinking, but a heavy load of memorization and repetition. The "papers" written in college are akin to what we would consider an outline, and it is mostly 'copy and paste' from other sources. I don't see much challenging of the credibility of the sources from which my colleagues gain their knowledge, and it scares me when I hear the amount of slanted journalism they accept unquestioningly.

Absence of "The American Dream"
I titled it that because Carmen Manuel, my US literature teacher was the first one to point this out to me. There seems to be a general acceptance for one's position in society, and it is bizarre for someone to try to rise above their socioeconomic status. When I first encountered it, it seemed to me as hopelessness. Carmen always talked about how Spaniards are so good at finding someone to blame for each problem, complaining about it, but not doing anything to change the situation because such action is a social abnormality. Carmen usually equates it to Spain's Catholic mindset in opposition to America's Protestant mindset, and I have been playing with that idea very often these past months.

I feel like writing any more seems like me whining about Spain, and such a medium for such sensitive cultural topics leaves much to be desired. If anyone would like to talk about any of these observations in more detail, lemme know.

Off to (try to) study!

Today is Monday

Tunes: iTunes shuffle

Today is Monday, and that means I only have one week and two days left in this faculty. The 16th is my last exam, and then I head to Alicante to kick it with the Fryes until I head home. I was considering what I was going to miss (about our cafeteria) over a cup of coffee: the lady who always greets me by yelling "AMERICANOOO" when I walk in, 80 cent coffee, the most random music playing over the stereo, and all of my classmates that would make me sit with them because it's weird to sit alone in Spain.

Good memories. Perhaps I will pick different aspects of my experience and describe what I will echar de menos when I return. It will be a good way to process my transition and waste time while trying to study.

New pics

Check 'em out

An unforgettable night

Tunes: Timshel

Sunday night: get back from the beach, and have an email waiting for me from Karioka, my capoeira teacher, asking me if I want to party with him and his friends in Elda. Down. So within 5 minutes, I threw some things in my bag and headed out the door for pickup. We caught a bus, and headed down. I had no idea what we had in store for us. (Oh, btw, it was 7pm when I left VLC, and Elda is about 2 hours away in bus. So the commitment meant being out all night and catching a train the next morning to make it back in time for classes. Which happened)

So we arrived in Elda, and grabbed a kebab while admiring the festivities of the Moros y Cristianos festival that was going on: thousands of people dressed as Muslims, pirates, and centurions parading through the streets. That was quite a sight by itself, but it was not what called us to the town. Karioka (Which is a nickname for a guy from Rio de Raneiro. His real name is George) has some friends of many years who wanted to celebrate in their own manner. We met up with them in a bar, and the laughs ensued. The group was 40 years+, and we were the weirdest combination of people. One guy from Las Canarias, one from Brazil, one from McAllen, Texas, a 20-year-old from the US, one from Spain, and a hob-glob of friends who came and went like a swarm of giddy children.

After a few bars, where I was not permitted to buy anything, we headed to Pepe's warehouse. What were we doing there, I wondered... I soon found out, as a series of Brazilian drums were brought down from shelves and distributed to every able hand. Karioka had taught these guys how to play years back, and we were going to make our own parade to outdo the Moros and Cristianos. After about 30 minutes of practice, we hit the streets.

Our Brazilian conductor was so meticulous, ensuring each person was dead-on. The result: a fantastic melody of beats, whistles and yells, accompanied by a town-full of people ready to join in and dance around us. We went from street to street, plaza to plaza, drawing crowds and smiles. We played from 1am to 7:30am. I don't understand how it was possible. Here's a photo of what that did to my hand:

I'll soon post photos of the smiles, dancers, and insanity of it all.

And I made it back to class the next day?? Yupp. Nothing a little siesta, food, and frisbee can't fix. Man, that was a great night. I don't know how it happened, and don't know if it will ever happen again. Thank you God, thank you Spain.