What!!!!!!!!???????
Wednesday, August 08, 2012
Oh No You Di'int!
The other night Inaki, Irene and I were watching the Spain-Brazil game on TV and the Spanish announcers were in rare form with their color commentary. They were perusing the crowd and one announcer goes, "And look who's here tonight... it's Michelle Obama!" This is what the camera zoomed in on:
What!!!!!!!!???????
What!!!!!!!!???????
Thursday, August 02, 2012
El Tributo de las 3 Vacas
On July 13th, Inaki and I were
able to get away from the crazy party rockin’ good time in Pamplona and soak up
some Basque culture, high in the Pyrenees mountains in the valley of Roncal. Roncal is
home to much of Inaki’s father’s extended family, some delicious wines and some
really kick-ass, cured, stinky cheese. The valley stretches up into the Spanish Pyrenees until the border with France and its residents are known as Roncaleses, not Spanish. This
area also holds a tribute each year that recognizes what I’m told is the oldest
peace treaty in the world.
Cows chosen and crowd thinning, we walked up to eat some migas and drink some wine with the locals. Migas, or literally “crumbs” in English, are an old Basque shepherd tradition. Going out to be with their herds for days at a time, shepherds would pack a loaf of bread and cured meat and cheese to eat. After a day on the mountain, the bread would get hard and in order to make it edible, the shepherds would cut it into chunks and fry it using the fat from the cured meat. This makes a yummy sort of fried stuffing that you eat directly from the pan. Inaki always says “cucharada y paso atras” which means, take a little spoon full and step back. This way, someone else can get in for a bite while you’re eating yours and washing it down with some red wine.
In the 1300's the valley of Roncal was lush with grass and greenery for all their cows
to munch on and grow fat for all the cheese, milk and meat they would produce. The French side of the border had not had so much luck with the weather during the time period, which left their hillsides dry and barren, creating problems for their
growing animals. One day, a sly French farmer thought, “maybe if I let a few
cows across the border to eat some of that yummy Roncal grass, we’ll
be able to slaughter a couple of cows this year.” So, he turned his cheek, and whoops, his animals were fed.
This went on for who knows how long and
eventually, the Frenchman was caught by someone on the Roncal side of the border.
Naturally, this act enraged the Roncaleses. How could this man steal
their grass and feed his cows? What an asshole! Once the group simmered down
over a bota of wine and some Queso Roncal, in my vision anyway, they decided to
make a pact. The French could feed their animals using Roncal grass if they then gave the Roncaleses 3 cows from the herd every year, chosen by the Roncal side. Hence, the tribute of the 3 cows began and the French side has
given the Roncal side 3 cows every year since. The herd is led up to the
border in the mountains, the Roncaleses join with the French over a stone that
marks the border, they pile their hands one on top of the other, take an oath and
that’s it. The cows are then picked over by the Spanish side and 3 are chosen.
The people that come to watch then head up the hill for some migas and wine and
all is simpatico.
We arrived at the tribute early and only
had to park a quarter of a mile down the mountain and hike up. We had a
beautiful day and I felt so lucky to get to be a part of this piece of history!
We sat on a grassy hillside above the border stone and
cut chorizo for sandwiches and slices of cheese to snack on while we
waited. Here’s a shot of Inaki rocking at drinking from the bota bag.
And here's the stone that marks the border with France.
The wine was a little vinegary, but chilled and tasty. I heard some singing coming from over the hill on the other side of the road and decided to investigate. It was a mass being held before the tribute outside on the plain. Everything was in French because when I crossed the road I was on the French side of the border. Here's the view.
The wine was a little vinegary, but chilled and tasty. I heard some singing coming from over the hill on the other side of the road and decided to investigate. It was a mass being held before the tribute outside on the plain. Everything was in French because when I crossed the road I was on the French side of the border. Here's the view.
I came back to our spot on the hillside, Spain again, and
the tribute began.
The traditional garb was interesting
to see and the oath sounded much like a wedding…
“Do you, Roncales,
agree to take this 3 cows and zip your lip when the French cows feed on your
grass?” “Si.”
“Do you, Frenchie, agree to let this Roncales take
any 3 cows he damn well pleases from your herd that was fed on Spanish grass?”
“Oui.”
“Does anyone have a problem with this? Speak now or forever hold your
peace.” (silence)
“I now pronounce this pact live and in effect.”
After this, we all hoofed over to the
French side and watched the Roncal farmers pick the 3 cows. It was really
gross. These huge white jerseys were fenced into an area too small for the group
and farmers proceeded to stick their fingers up the cows noses, causing the
cows to open their mouths exposing their teeth. I guess good teeth are a sign
of good health. One of the mayors in a town in Roncal was perched at one
end of the coral and nodded in approval when healthy white teeth were flashed. The
chosen cow would then be marked and led back into the herd, nose dripping with
blood. The other cows were all in a panic in the small space, running around,
jumping on each other and pooping. The coral turned into a slippery mess of cow
fluids and excrement and isn’t a part of the tribute I need to see again. Yes,
I’m a city girl through and through. I still took pictures though.
Cows chosen and crowd thinning, we walked up to eat some migas and drink some wine with the locals. Migas, or literally “crumbs” in English, are an old Basque shepherd tradition. Going out to be with their herds for days at a time, shepherds would pack a loaf of bread and cured meat and cheese to eat. After a day on the mountain, the bread would get hard and in order to make it edible, the shepherds would cut it into chunks and fry it using the fat from the cured meat. This makes a yummy sort of fried stuffing that you eat directly from the pan. Inaki always says “cucharada y paso atras” which means, take a little spoon full and step back. This way, someone else can get in for a bite while you’re eating yours and washing it down with some red wine.
It was fun to elbow through the crowd and
get some real migas from Roncal. We ate a little and headed out to try to get to
the car before traffic started. Driving through the Pyrenees always makes me
carsick, so I can’t imagine what it would have been like with traffic. Our next
stop was the dolmen, known to Inaki and I now as the puto dolmen, which I’ll
have to explain some other time.
Thanks for reading, I miss you Portland and all you Portlanders!
Monday, July 23, 2012
Baile de la Alpargata
I'm a little obsessed with Hemingway. As far as his writing goes, not so much. His prose is a little too macho, macho, man, unga bunga for me to stay interested for very long. All the impotence, war and desperately flawed females just don't do it for me. This is a personal opinion, and though I'm a writing and lit major, I don't consider my opinion to be all that important, so don't give me any crap about, "oh, well who are you to say that about Hemingway..." I am obsessed with Hemingway because of the life he lived, especially here in Pamplona. I couldn't get through The Sun Also Rises, or Fiesta, in college, but after living in Pamplona, reading it was like buttah. All the descriptions were familiar and it made me feel like I was, and am, walking in his footsteps as an ex-pat and a Navarra lover.
The last time I lived here, I went out... a lot. At the end of each good night, which was usually at about 7 in the morning, my friends and I took a picture in front of the Hemingway statue near the bull ring. It's a large bust of Hemingway, and I've said this before, but it basically says, "dear Hemingway, thanks for partying your ass off here, love, Pamplona."
On maybe the 10th or 11th of July during San Fermines this year, Iñaki's father got us some invitation only tickets to the Baile de la Alpargata, the Ball of the Alpargata. It is heald in the upstairs rooms of the Iruña, which is a bar located in the middle of the Plaza del Castillo. It is said that Hemingway used to hang out there when he was in Pamplona for the festival and stayed in the hotel across the street, if you can call it a street. It's more like a cobblestone road. It is also said that these 2 upstairs rooms were once casinos and that Hemingway was often invited up to lose some pesetas. Here's what the ballroom looks like.
And here is the view from the balcony, panorama pic at the top of this blog also.
Heading past the bouncer who checked our tickets at 9 a.m. and walking up the warn white quartz stairs to see beautiful vaulted ceilings, golden mirrors and stained glass roofs made me a little emotional. I really don't know why I feel such a strong connection to the man, but I love being where Hemingway was and feeling his history. I guess knowing that another American felt the way I do about this city and the people who live here makes us distant kindred spirits. Plus, I really loved Midnight in Paris this year and Woody Allen's depiction of Mr. Ernie made me feel like I knew him even better. Here's a bit more ambiance for you.
I should explain, an alpargata is a typical shoe from this region. It's the simpler, original version of a TOM'S that all of the folks coming to San Fermin in days past wore for the whole festival and in their daily lives. These days, some people wear them during the day, but to wear them at night would be risky as you might get a chard of glass through the foot. The ball has been modernized and has a stage at one end with a singer and they play various typical songs that people dance to. They also serve churros and chocolate, the customary breakfast for any Sanferminera. However, these churros left a lot to be desired, as the place to go is the Churreria, hands down the BEST. But, we got some good pictures.
Iñaki wasn't up for much dancing, so we just hung out on the balcony and in the hallway between rooms bobbing and swaying to the old timey Spanish tunes. Paco and Inma cut a rug, of course, and it was fun watching them twirl around the dance-scuffed parkay. I wish we'd snapped better shots of the ballroom because it was just enchanting. Dwight, we need you there next year!
This was one of those situations that made my butt tingle with excitement, like being on top of a tall building or eating great food (who am I kidding, great food makes me cry!). I'm not sure I've properly described it here, so just let me finish by saying, if I'm ever homesick during this adventure, I think a nice glass of port or a shot of brandy at the Iruña will always clear my head and remind me that I am trying to snatch life by the huevos and do something most people don't get to, rather than sitting back and waiting for life to happen. And, yes, I have had half a bottle of wine. C'mon, it's a Hemingway entry, it deserves a little drama and a lot of tinto!
Love to all!
The last time I lived here, I went out... a lot. At the end of each good night, which was usually at about 7 in the morning, my friends and I took a picture in front of the Hemingway statue near the bull ring. It's a large bust of Hemingway, and I've said this before, but it basically says, "dear Hemingway, thanks for partying your ass off here, love, Pamplona."
On maybe the 10th or 11th of July during San Fermines this year, Iñaki's father got us some invitation only tickets to the Baile de la Alpargata, the Ball of the Alpargata. It is heald in the upstairs rooms of the Iruña, which is a bar located in the middle of the Plaza del Castillo. It is said that Hemingway used to hang out there when he was in Pamplona for the festival and stayed in the hotel across the street, if you can call it a street. It's more like a cobblestone road. It is also said that these 2 upstairs rooms were once casinos and that Hemingway was often invited up to lose some pesetas. Here's what the ballroom looks like.
And here is the view from the balcony, panorama pic at the top of this blog also.
I should explain, an alpargata is a typical shoe from this region. It's the simpler, original version of a TOM'S that all of the folks coming to San Fermin in days past wore for the whole festival and in their daily lives. These days, some people wear them during the day, but to wear them at night would be risky as you might get a chard of glass through the foot. The ball has been modernized and has a stage at one end with a singer and they play various typical songs that people dance to. They also serve churros and chocolate, the customary breakfast for any Sanferminera. However, these churros left a lot to be desired, as the place to go is the Churreria, hands down the BEST. But, we got some good pictures.
Iñaki wasn't up for much dancing, so we just hung out on the balcony and in the hallway between rooms bobbing and swaying to the old timey Spanish tunes. Paco and Inma cut a rug, of course, and it was fun watching them twirl around the dance-scuffed parkay. I wish we'd snapped better shots of the ballroom because it was just enchanting. Dwight, we need you there next year!
This was one of those situations that made my butt tingle with excitement, like being on top of a tall building or eating great food (who am I kidding, great food makes me cry!). I'm not sure I've properly described it here, so just let me finish by saying, if I'm ever homesick during this adventure, I think a nice glass of port or a shot of brandy at the Iruña will always clear my head and remind me that I am trying to snatch life by the huevos and do something most people don't get to, rather than sitting back and waiting for life to happen. And, yes, I have had half a bottle of wine. C'mon, it's a Hemingway entry, it deserves a little drama and a lot of tinto!
Love to all!
Thursday, July 19, 2012
Chupinazo
On the 6th of July, at 12 o'clock p.m., every year, on the dot, the mayor of Pamplona steps out on the balcony of the government building in the middle of old town and yells, "Viva San Fermin!" A crowd of around... I have no idea how many, but so many that it's freakin' scary to be in it... this crowd answers back, arms raised to the sky, hands holding red handkerchiefs, "Viva!" The mayor yells, "Gora San Fermin!" The crowd answers "Gora!" Then cheers erupt from the group so loudly you feel your bones shake under your skin and goose bumps jump out from places you didn't even realize you had pores! A single person could hardly hear the rocket that is set off from the government building balcony if they didn't know to look and see it.
I am lucky enough to know to look. I am also lucky enough to have a friend that has an apartment in the government plaza that has its own balcony where I can comfortably watch the wine stained, sweat soaked, drunkenly joyful crowd below. This experience is called the Chupinazo and marks the beginning of the 10 day festival San Fermin, more commonly known as the running of the bulls.
Last year, I wasn't able to make it out for the festival, so this year I had an ambitious goal: 24 hours of P-A-R-T-Y, party! Many doubted me and my approach. "Darby," they said, "you'll be too tired," OR "you're jet lagged though," OR "at least plan a nap." And, though never stated, I know the thought occurred to people, "you're not Spanish, you just can't do it." Well guess what? I DID IT. I so freakin' did it.
Here's how it went... we got up at around 8 a.m. and prepared some reserves of rum and coke for the day. We were a bit worried about not having enough rum to last us, so we emptied half a 2 litre bottle of coke into an empty 2 litre and filled the rest of each with, what else? Brugal. Rum in tow, Iñaki, Irene and I headed to the old town to park and walk the rest of the way into meet at our friend Gallo's house for breakfast, Kalimotxo (wine and coke) and to wait until the festivities commenced.
Here's the view from our perch. The building you see behind us is the government building where the mayor speaks from to start the party.
I believe the clock in the background says 10 o'clock. 2 hours before the rocket is set off and the crowd was already rockin'. Also, you'll see that Iñaki is holding an unusually large drink. That size is called a Katxi (sp?) and it's Spanish, or Basque if you prefer, for "big ass drink", por favor.
Our breakfast was the bomb. Pilar and her sister whipped up fried eggs, chistorra (a salty red sausage) and coffee. We ate this with fresh bread and other snacks. So yummy! Plus, a good base for the long journey ahead. By the time 12 rolled around the crowd was looking more like this.
As the rocket went off, all of these people tied their handkerchiefs around their necks and the party began. This meant ponytail time for me, as you never know when someone is going to drop a glass of wine on your head! As the crowd dispersed, the partiers begged us to drop water from the balcony. We obliged.
The next step was hitting the streets ourselves. At about 1 p.m., nice and rummed up, Irene and I went in search of our traditional pitchers of sorbete de limon. We happened to get this drink for everyone during one other San Fermin, so it's now a tradition. Sorbete de limon is basically a pint of lemon sorbet blended with a bottle of cava (Spanish champagne). It's freaking delicious. And, Irene happens to be close personal friends with a man who rents out a bar and sells it during San Fermin because he's got the best recipe around. We had to fight to get to the bar, but once there, we were ushered to the back door and given to pitchers and an ear full of fun chat time.
On our way back to meet the rest of the group at the Iruña (a bar Hemingway was famous for hanging out at), we met all kinds of old friends from my basketball team and made many new ones, wanting to taste the mysterious drink we toted. We always said, of course, but traded for a snack or a slug of whatever that person had on hand. The Iruña wasn't as awesome as it usually is and we headed up to the Caballo Blanco, a bar on the edge of town that provides a great view of the city beyond downtown.
At this point, Irene, Iñaki and I broke off from the rest of the group and went to dance the Riau Riau, which we found, had been cancelled. So, photo shoot time!
We also bumped into the gigantes, giants that roam the streets dancing throughout the whole festival. Iñaki told me there is one from each continent.
It was around 6, by this time and we ran into Iñaki's cousin Fermin. He was on the way to see his dad, so we followed and were invited to a few cold beers, which was a nice break from the rum, which had become warm and sticky as I clutched it to my chest as if it were my first born.
Iñaki and I hung with them for a few hours and bar hopped until our
friends from Barcelona showed up with Irene. I did not know Sara, Ester
and Iban before the festival, but we became besties like that!
The six of us headed to the plaza de los fueros for fireworks and one of the free concerts are put on during San Fermin. This one was Macaco. It's a pretty rad group usually, but the concert left a bit to be desired.
This was the moment we had to fight to get over the hump. It was about 1 a.m. and we were all tired because the concert was a little too chill. We needed energy fast. Only one place to go, Irene's favorite bar, El Gorriti. We fought our way to the back and occupied what came to be known as "our corner" until 6 a.m. We danced our asses off, sang, jumped around and I taught our new friends the art of the double fist.
We emerged from the bar with the dawn and it was a downhill coast from there. We went in search of caldo, which is just broth, but a lot of bars serve it during the wee hours when people are heading home. Imagine, a day of drinking, walking, dancing, eating and talking until you're hoarse. Wouldn't a hot cup of chicken broth with a bit of olive oil, garlic and onion just taste so good? Well, I still want to know if it would because we didn't find the damn broth! But, we grabbed a coffee and got ready to ring in day 2 with the Dianas.
The Dianas are songs played by the city band, the Pamplonesa. At 6:45 a.m., the band gathers at a random place in old town and starts playing tunes to wake up the town. All the drunks, hardcore San Ferminers, old folks and families gather together and dance through the streets with them to get the party going again. We ran right alongside them and Iñaki and I got our picture in the paper! I can't find it online, unfortunately. I'm sending it to mom and dad though, if anyone is at their house and wants to check it out. This one is pretty similar.
One of the songs they play has words that Iñaki just taught me this year and is roughly translated as:
"All the priests come here,
to get laid during San Fermin.
The one from my town is a bastard,
Instead of once, he gets laid a bunch of times."
It rhymes in Spanish.
After the Dianas, Iñaki, Sara, Ester and I went to buy the typical breakfast, churros with chocolate, and munched on them as we strolled to a bar to watch the bulls run on T.V. We lost Iban and he never reappeared. Later that day, after we'd all slept and got back together, he told us that we went one way and he thought the other way looked much clearer, so he went that way instead. He expected to meet up with us eventually, but never did. Oh San Fermin!
We got home at about 10 a.m. and tucked ourselves into bed for the day. We went 26 hours strong and it was so much fun. On the night of the 7th, we woke up at about 8 p.m. to do it all again. But that's another blog!
I am lucky enough to know to look. I am also lucky enough to have a friend that has an apartment in the government plaza that has its own balcony where I can comfortably watch the wine stained, sweat soaked, drunkenly joyful crowd below. This experience is called the Chupinazo and marks the beginning of the 10 day festival San Fermin, more commonly known as the running of the bulls.
Last year, I wasn't able to make it out for the festival, so this year I had an ambitious goal: 24 hours of P-A-R-T-Y, party! Many doubted me and my approach. "Darby," they said, "you'll be too tired," OR "you're jet lagged though," OR "at least plan a nap." And, though never stated, I know the thought occurred to people, "you're not Spanish, you just can't do it." Well guess what? I DID IT. I so freakin' did it.
Here's how it went... we got up at around 8 a.m. and prepared some reserves of rum and coke for the day. We were a bit worried about not having enough rum to last us, so we emptied half a 2 litre bottle of coke into an empty 2 litre and filled the rest of each with, what else? Brugal. Rum in tow, Iñaki, Irene and I headed to the old town to park and walk the rest of the way into meet at our friend Gallo's house for breakfast, Kalimotxo (wine and coke) and to wait until the festivities commenced.
Here's the view from our perch. The building you see behind us is the government building where the mayor speaks from to start the party.
Our breakfast was the bomb. Pilar and her sister whipped up fried eggs, chistorra (a salty red sausage) and coffee. We ate this with fresh bread and other snacks. So yummy! Plus, a good base for the long journey ahead. By the time 12 rolled around the crowd was looking more like this.
On our way back to meet the rest of the group at the Iruña (a bar Hemingway was famous for hanging out at), we met all kinds of old friends from my basketball team and made many new ones, wanting to taste the mysterious drink we toted. We always said, of course, but traded for a snack or a slug of whatever that person had on hand. The Iruña wasn't as awesome as it usually is and we headed up to the Caballo Blanco, a bar on the edge of town that provides a great view of the city beyond downtown.
At this point, Irene, Iñaki and I broke off from the rest of the group and went to dance the Riau Riau, which we found, had been cancelled. So, photo shoot time!
The six of us headed to the plaza de los fueros for fireworks and one of the free concerts are put on during San Fermin. This one was Macaco. It's a pretty rad group usually, but the concert left a bit to be desired.
We emerged from the bar with the dawn and it was a downhill coast from there. We went in search of caldo, which is just broth, but a lot of bars serve it during the wee hours when people are heading home. Imagine, a day of drinking, walking, dancing, eating and talking until you're hoarse. Wouldn't a hot cup of chicken broth with a bit of olive oil, garlic and onion just taste so good? Well, I still want to know if it would because we didn't find the damn broth! But, we grabbed a coffee and got ready to ring in day 2 with the Dianas.
The Dianas are songs played by the city band, the Pamplonesa. At 6:45 a.m., the band gathers at a random place in old town and starts playing tunes to wake up the town. All the drunks, hardcore San Ferminers, old folks and families gather together and dance through the streets with them to get the party going again. We ran right alongside them and Iñaki and I got our picture in the paper! I can't find it online, unfortunately. I'm sending it to mom and dad though, if anyone is at their house and wants to check it out. This one is pretty similar.
"All the priests come here,
to get laid during San Fermin.
The one from my town is a bastard,
Instead of once, he gets laid a bunch of times."
It rhymes in Spanish.
After the Dianas, Iñaki, Sara, Ester and I went to buy the typical breakfast, churros with chocolate, and munched on them as we strolled to a bar to watch the bulls run on T.V. We lost Iban and he never reappeared. Later that day, after we'd all slept and got back together, he told us that we went one way and he thought the other way looked much clearer, so he went that way instead. He expected to meet up with us eventually, but never did. Oh San Fermin!
We got home at about 10 a.m. and tucked ourselves into bed for the day. We went 26 hours strong and it was so much fun. On the night of the 7th, we woke up at about 8 p.m. to do it all again. But that's another blog!
Sunday, July 15, 2012
Back and in effect!
Here I am, back in Spain. Last time, I was a wide-eyed, bushy-tailed vagabond, here to absorb, learn, see, do, taste! This time, I'm pretty much the same. The worry is stronger, as I don't have a job wrangled yet, but I know this will be a great experience. Iñaki and I have talked about this at length and our goals are to make enough money to fix up the apartment and then use the rest to travel until we drop. We're 10 days into our new lives and it's been a party the whole time. San Fermin 2012 just wrapped up and we'll be settling into real life now, but the fiestas were a wonderful welcome and I'm gonna miss them!
I've got tons of San Fermin stories, but I thought my first post should be on our new home. I want to show you the before pics now, so you'll be so surprised when we make updates. Our apartment is in Mutilva, a neighborhood outside of Pamplona. I guess it's technically a suburb, but it's basically like living in NoPo in reference to downtown Portland. We've got 3 bedrooms, 2 baths and can't wait to have visitors! Here are the pics...
Kitchen
Living Room
Guest Bath
Our Room
Our Bathroom
Our Bathroom again (Iñaki really wanted a pic in the bath)
One of the guest rooms (the other one is just like it)
View from the bedroom side of the apartment
View from the kitchen/living side of the apartment
(cont'd)
Utility porch
It's got all kinds of potential and we're pumped to paint and get some real furniture in it. There's about 10 feet of nice brick tile that extends on a roof outside the bedroom side of the apartment. We may be able to put up fences out there and have a patio that's like 10x40 feet. I'm not sure if I explained that very well, so you'll just have to come and visit so you can visualize.
Well, it's taken me forever to get back in the swing of this blog and I'm tired. I don't want to waste a second of possible humor and this post is as dry as the wine I'm drinking, so I'll sign off. But, San Fermin stories are to come so check back! Here's a little treat the whet your appetite! This is from the balcony of our friend's apartment for the Chupinazo, opening day of the fiesta... thanks Gallo and Pilar!
Love and hugs!
Darb
I've got tons of San Fermin stories, but I thought my first post should be on our new home. I want to show you the before pics now, so you'll be so surprised when we make updates. Our apartment is in Mutilva, a neighborhood outside of Pamplona. I guess it's technically a suburb, but it's basically like living in NoPo in reference to downtown Portland. We've got 3 bedrooms, 2 baths and can't wait to have visitors! Here are the pics...
Kitchen
It's got all kinds of potential and we're pumped to paint and get some real furniture in it. There's about 10 feet of nice brick tile that extends on a roof outside the bedroom side of the apartment. We may be able to put up fences out there and have a patio that's like 10x40 feet. I'm not sure if I explained that very well, so you'll just have to come and visit so you can visualize.
Well, it's taken me forever to get back in the swing of this blog and I'm tired. I don't want to waste a second of possible humor and this post is as dry as the wine I'm drinking, so I'll sign off. But, San Fermin stories are to come so check back! Here's a little treat the whet your appetite! This is from the balcony of our friend's apartment for the Chupinazo, opening day of the fiesta... thanks Gallo and Pilar!
Darb
Monday, April 07, 2008
Back to the big ear
I bought my ticket home this weekend. 10th of July. I have mixed feelings. At first I was very excited. I'll have Sara with me and we'll get to do a tour of the West coast. I'll get to see mom and dad and the rest of the fam who I miss so much! I'll also have a good chunk of time at home to get sick of it again.
But, now I'm realizing I have no idea when I'll be back to Spain. I'm really going to miss Iñaki's family and how they've welcomed me here and tried to make me feel at home. We had a birthday lunch for him on sunday with his dad's fam and I found myself looking up at the faces around the table and getting a little choked up.
And, I don't know if Iñaki will get to join me at home or not. Because we don't know where we'll be next year yet, he may just be in Spain, saving money until we can meet at our new home, wherever that might be. Scary. I know I can handle it, I'm Darby, not the girlfriend of Iñaki, but I kind of like having him around ; )
No matter what, I'm excited to be in Portland for the summer and in my neck of the woods and with my peeps and my language and my culture. I need to recharge my bats.
Aight, I better get to Spanish class. I'm taking the intermediate test for a degree in about a month! Javier says the intermediate should be easy for the level of our class and the advanced, a challenge. Since I have to pay to take the test, I'm taking the int.
Love to ya!
But, now I'm realizing I have no idea when I'll be back to Spain. I'm really going to miss Iñaki's family and how they've welcomed me here and tried to make me feel at home. We had a birthday lunch for him on sunday with his dad's fam and I found myself looking up at the faces around the table and getting a little choked up.
And, I don't know if Iñaki will get to join me at home or not. Because we don't know where we'll be next year yet, he may just be in Spain, saving money until we can meet at our new home, wherever that might be. Scary. I know I can handle it, I'm Darby, not the girlfriend of Iñaki, but I kind of like having him around ; )
No matter what, I'm excited to be in Portland for the summer and in my neck of the woods and with my peeps and my language and my culture. I need to recharge my bats.
Aight, I better get to Spanish class. I'm taking the intermediate test for a degree in about a month! Javier says the intermediate should be easy for the level of our class and the advanced, a challenge. Since I have to pay to take the test, I'm taking the int.
Love to ya!
Friday, April 04, 2008
Bum foot and Catholic guilt
Hi!
I've had a pain in my right foot for a while now. It's the same foot that caused me lots of discomfort in college with plantar fati-whatsits. Gotta love wearing a boot to bed. Now, the issue seems to be a little tendony and is starting in my ankle and aching down to my big toe (phys ther majors, feel free to comment), especially after practices and games. I'm taking a week or so off of hoops in hopes to heal up.
The issue is, I feel bad. I've never really taken a large amount of time like this off from a team. And half of me really wants that time off, injury or not. So, I'm afraid I'm making to big a deal of it. But, it's hurt for a month and not improved, so no matter how minor, I need to rest it or it won't get better.
Isn't it strange how playing competetive sports can do that to you? Guilt you? I mean, hello, my good basketball days are over, college was as competetive as it's gonna get and if I want time off I should take it. I don't even care about this team and half the time I spend with them is just uncomfortable for me. Why can't I just listen to my own body's reaction and stop? I want to stop. I should stop. But I feel bad.
It's Catholic school... just kidding. It's being conditioned to never stop. Sad but true. I'm a product of a thousand different psychological games that coaches have to play with you, it is their job to play with you, to get you to preform at your highest level. Sick and twisted.
But, I think I turned out ok. And, since I am obviously detoxing now, I think I'll make it through.
Newest update... Thailand may be in my near future. I just got a tiny bit of info on it and now I'm telling everyone. I'm so lame. Tomorrow it will probably be going to Australia to teach a small aboriginal tribe that wants to assimilate to the world! A ver...
Besos y abrazos y Guillrmos mojados!
I've had a pain in my right foot for a while now. It's the same foot that caused me lots of discomfort in college with plantar fati-whatsits. Gotta love wearing a boot to bed. Now, the issue seems to be a little tendony and is starting in my ankle and aching down to my big toe (phys ther majors, feel free to comment), especially after practices and games. I'm taking a week or so off of hoops in hopes to heal up.
The issue is, I feel bad. I've never really taken a large amount of time like this off from a team. And half of me really wants that time off, injury or not. So, I'm afraid I'm making to big a deal of it. But, it's hurt for a month and not improved, so no matter how minor, I need to rest it or it won't get better.
Isn't it strange how playing competetive sports can do that to you? Guilt you? I mean, hello, my good basketball days are over, college was as competetive as it's gonna get and if I want time off I should take it. I don't even care about this team and half the time I spend with them is just uncomfortable for me. Why can't I just listen to my own body's reaction and stop? I want to stop. I should stop. But I feel bad.
It's Catholic school... just kidding. It's being conditioned to never stop. Sad but true. I'm a product of a thousand different psychological games that coaches have to play with you, it is their job to play with you, to get you to preform at your highest level. Sick and twisted.
But, I think I turned out ok. And, since I am obviously detoxing now, I think I'll make it through.
Newest update... Thailand may be in my near future. I just got a tiny bit of info on it and now I'm telling everyone. I'm so lame. Tomorrow it will probably be going to Australia to teach a small aboriginal tribe that wants to assimilate to the world! A ver...
Besos y abrazos y Guillrmos mojados!
Friday, March 28, 2008
I did Madrid... in part
I'm at a crossroads... yet again. I think, maybe until I "get settled", I will continue to have these crossroads because it will be a constant battle to find work from year to year. But, I've been asking everyone's advice on this, so let's not taint the blog with more of it, shall we? I suppose any type of tainting to this pathetic excuse of a blog, at least this year, is a good thing. Words to the page my friends, it's much harder than it sounds.
Madrid and Salamanca were b'u't'full last week. Salamanca is small. The main square can be seen in a new movie that's out called "Vantage Point." They say the whole thing is in Salamanca, but mostly the overhead shots and the main square are it. The stuff outside the square is in Mexico. But, for a taste of where I was, check out the movie. There's a famous Spanish actor in it named Eduardo Noriega. It's his first American film. He's quite the looker behind the beard ladies... and gents?
Anyhoo, we walked all around Salamanca for one evening and saw the cathedral, the university and the main square. We went for pintxos at night and it was great. The cathedral was kind of creepy as it's all saints week so they have all the dying Jesus floats out on display and those always weird me out. As you remember last year, folks dress up like klansmen, but it's religious garb here, and march the stations of the cross, among other statues, through the street. Everytime I make eye contact with a dead or dying Jesus I get a chill and a cold feeling.
I bought a special t-shirt for good Friday actually... It's from the Big Lebowski. Remember Jesus, the professional bowler played by Jon Toturo in that movie? Well, I found a sweet T in Madrid that had a picture of him on it being super sassy, and the caption reads "Nobody fucks with Jesus." I felt it was approriate. After all, they say Jesus rose, hence, you can't really fuck with Jesus (son of God) because he comes back. As well, in the Big Lebowski, Jesus is the best bowler around. So, it's a double meaning. Anyhow, it's my first religious/raunchy T-shirt and maybe the only one of it's kind. Two themes on one shirt that have no business being in the same sentence, but really, they do. I dunno, I have a twisted sense of humor.
Anyhow, my trip... The university in Salamanca is one of the oldest in the world. They have a large door facade on one side with a million things carved into it and one tiny frog somewhere. If you find the frog, you have good luck. So, we did that... yay luck!
It's a fairly small town, Salamanca, so we saw most everything in one evening and then went for pintxos. Pintxos is how they say tapas in the north of Spain. I actually prefer it to the term tapas because when you say you went to a tapas bar, people always think you said topless bar. Back to it, the pintxos in Salamanca are famous. Not for their deliciousness, though they are, but for the price. Each time you order a drink, you get a free pintxo. And they're not small. We got tiny plates of paella, eggs and potatoes and chunks of bread with various mayo based spreads slathered on them. At one place, we had two wines a paella and a potato/egg/chorizo mix a piece for 9 euros total. It was great. A fabulous ambiance too. The bars are packed and you fight to the front to order, stand on one leg to eat and then off to the next bar, nextdoor to see what tiny treat they have prepared for you. Well, that doesn't sound wonderful when I read it, but such great people watching to do and convos to listen to.
Next, Madrid. I will have to go back. We had one awesome night out. Gma Billie and Pa Pete would be proud of how Iñaki and I cut the rug... or the cigarette covered, waxy concrete floor, as it was. It was a Thursday night and still lots of folks out and about. One club just had really great music, so we hung there most of the night and danced hardcore. I'm talking a little swing, a lot of dipping and twirling and maybe a salsa attempt. Anyhow, great fun.
We walked around on Friday as well and it reminds me of NY how it's sectioned off into various neighborhoods, with big buildings everywhere and a large park in the middle and museums. Everything was closed on Good Friday, so I'm going back some weekend soon. I'll take more pictures then.
Here area few links for a bit of visualization...
Alive and pretty healthy. Lovins' by the tubfull!
Saturday, February 09, 2008
Carnaval
This past Tuesday, Katie and I decided to ditch our obligations and soak up some Basque culture, which I truly needed. I gave my 14 year old girls team the night off and rescheduled my Tuesday tutoring session for Thursday.
And why do all this you ask? Car-nah-vahl... carnaval! It´s sort of like the Mardi gras of Basque country but much older and a totally different celebration. It´s sort of like Halloween, but there are specific, historic, legendary costumes. Some kids just go as whatever, and others choose a typical get up. There´s no door to door trick or treating, but a big party.
Katie and I went to Lanz. Here´s a tiny description. As the link tells you, the winter nights were long and boring and needed a bit of folklore and a reason to party. As well, a great way to ring in the spring. In Lanz, they follow the old carnaval legend of Milochin. Milochin was a giant robber, they say. He used to come down from the hills and rob the townspeople of Lanz with his buddy, Silipot (I think is how you say it), and then they would run back up into the mountains with all they had stolen. One year, the townspeople decided to stop him and captured the pair and ran them through the town for everyone to see. Afterwards, they killed them both and had a big bonfire and dance in the center of town. Mom, you should ask Tom Graff if he knows any of this stuff.
So, the town re-enacts this each year when the sun sets on carnaval and it´s so cool. Katie and I went way too early, because someone from my school said we had to. But, Irene and Angel were there an hour before to meet us and they got a better parking spot than we did! Anyhow, we arrived at 4 and waited around and walked around the tiny town about 10 times, sat on an old wall, chatted and had a snack in the car... it was a beautiful day, and crisp. A good one for passing time in a small town. There was just one bar so we had a beer and a coffee and then just perused. Anyhow, once the sun set, the festivities began. Irene, Angel, KT and I stood on the side of the road and all these guys dressed as sort of clown witches and sacks of potatoes came running by and hit the townspeople and threw them all around. I guess they are Milochin´s gang. The sack guys have huge wooden pitchforks and they really get scary with poking you. The witch clowns hit us with brooms. Angel is much smaller than Irene and Katie and I and they grabbed him and threw him across the street, it was hilarious!
Then came Milochin, in capture. He´s a big giant they´ve made out of broom sticks and dressed like the clown witches. Silipot is a big fat guy that rolls along behind him, also captured, and is dressed like the potato sack guys. They walk them all through the town to show they have caught them and they are guarded by the guys who are going to shoot them in the town square and two guys carrying the fire to burn their bodies with. Sounds violent, I know, but all old legends are that way.
So, the whole thing finished in the town square, where the exicutioners waited for the criminals. They shot them, and dismantled them and then did an old Basque dance in a circle for a while. The news was there and Irene said I should have gone and been like, "I came all the way from the U.S..." But I was too shy. I think I could have done it though, the español´s gettin´pretty good.
We headed home after that, but it was a cool adventure. I´ll try to upload my pictures soon.
I hope all is well back home. Talk to you soon I hope!
And why do all this you ask? Car-nah-vahl... carnaval! It´s sort of like the Mardi gras of Basque country but much older and a totally different celebration. It´s sort of like Halloween, but there are specific, historic, legendary costumes. Some kids just go as whatever, and others choose a typical get up. There´s no door to door trick or treating, but a big party.
Katie and I went to Lanz. Here´s a tiny description. As the link tells you, the winter nights were long and boring and needed a bit of folklore and a reason to party. As well, a great way to ring in the spring. In Lanz, they follow the old carnaval legend of Milochin. Milochin was a giant robber, they say. He used to come down from the hills and rob the townspeople of Lanz with his buddy, Silipot (I think is how you say it), and then they would run back up into the mountains with all they had stolen. One year, the townspeople decided to stop him and captured the pair and ran them through the town for everyone to see. Afterwards, they killed them both and had a big bonfire and dance in the center of town. Mom, you should ask Tom Graff if he knows any of this stuff.
So, the town re-enacts this each year when the sun sets on carnaval and it´s so cool. Katie and I went way too early, because someone from my school said we had to. But, Irene and Angel were there an hour before to meet us and they got a better parking spot than we did! Anyhow, we arrived at 4 and waited around and walked around the tiny town about 10 times, sat on an old wall, chatted and had a snack in the car... it was a beautiful day, and crisp. A good one for passing time in a small town. There was just one bar so we had a beer and a coffee and then just perused. Anyhow, once the sun set, the festivities began. Irene, Angel, KT and I stood on the side of the road and all these guys dressed as sort of clown witches and sacks of potatoes came running by and hit the townspeople and threw them all around. I guess they are Milochin´s gang. The sack guys have huge wooden pitchforks and they really get scary with poking you. The witch clowns hit us with brooms. Angel is much smaller than Irene and Katie and I and they grabbed him and threw him across the street, it was hilarious!
Then came Milochin, in capture. He´s a big giant they´ve made out of broom sticks and dressed like the clown witches. Silipot is a big fat guy that rolls along behind him, also captured, and is dressed like the potato sack guys. They walk them all through the town to show they have caught them and they are guarded by the guys who are going to shoot them in the town square and two guys carrying the fire to burn their bodies with. Sounds violent, I know, but all old legends are that way.
So, the whole thing finished in the town square, where the exicutioners waited for the criminals. They shot them, and dismantled them and then did an old Basque dance in a circle for a while. The news was there and Irene said I should have gone and been like, "I came all the way from the U.S..." But I was too shy. I think I could have done it though, the español´s gettin´pretty good.
We headed home after that, but it was a cool adventure. I´ll try to upload my pictures soon.
I hope all is well back home. Talk to you soon I hope!
Monday, February 04, 2008
Parqueso
Hello!
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Hortz and T-day
First off, happy Thanksgiving! I hope you are all thankful for something this year.
Second, I have to share... many signs in Pamplona for various businesses are written in Spanish as well as Basque. The language is spoken frequently. In fact, the school I teach at is Basque. Anyhow, sometimes I get a kick out of reading both and realizing what certain words are in Basque because of the Spanish sign.
My favorite, by far, one that always makes me laugh is the word for dentist. There are lots of "Clinica Dental"s around in each pueblo. As you probably guessed, this means Dental Clinic. The word for clinic in Basque is simple enough, "Klinika." But the word for dental is a kick in the pants... "hortz." Hortz klinika. So, when basque people go to the dentist do they say, "I have an appointment with the hortz"? Isn't that hilarious? To me, it sounds like an old Jewish man. Isaiah Hortz. Anyhow, I just wanted to share.
In otehr news, I'll be having a proper thanks giving this year. Last year was fun, but no turkey. This year, I ordered a turkey from the butcher, which I'm rather proud of, and will be having around 10 people over to the apartment, a few Americans, Canadians and some English. It'll be great. Did you know they have thanksgiving in Canada? It's a different date that our though. I always thought it was a celebration of a day of peace between pilgrims and native americans. I don't think Canada has native americans... ha. Plus, we're having English people... shouldn't they be sort of mad about thanksgiving? I mean, we broke from them. But, technically, english people probably had the first thanksgiving on American soil, as they were the pilgrims. We will be quite historical. Not to mention, Iñaki, the only Spaniard coming. He will be representative of Columbus.
Anyhow, I have a class in one minute, so I better go. Happy thanksgiving and I'll see you all soon!
Second, I have to share... many signs in Pamplona for various businesses are written in Spanish as well as Basque. The language is spoken frequently. In fact, the school I teach at is Basque. Anyhow, sometimes I get a kick out of reading both and realizing what certain words are in Basque because of the Spanish sign.
My favorite, by far, one that always makes me laugh is the word for dentist. There are lots of "Clinica Dental"s around in each pueblo. As you probably guessed, this means Dental Clinic. The word for clinic in Basque is simple enough, "Klinika." But the word for dental is a kick in the pants... "hortz." Hortz klinika. So, when basque people go to the dentist do they say, "I have an appointment with the hortz"? Isn't that hilarious? To me, it sounds like an old Jewish man. Isaiah Hortz. Anyhow, I just wanted to share.
In otehr news, I'll be having a proper thanks giving this year. Last year was fun, but no turkey. This year, I ordered a turkey from the butcher, which I'm rather proud of, and will be having around 10 people over to the apartment, a few Americans, Canadians and some English. It'll be great. Did you know they have thanksgiving in Canada? It's a different date that our though. I always thought it was a celebration of a day of peace between pilgrims and native americans. I don't think Canada has native americans... ha. Plus, we're having English people... shouldn't they be sort of mad about thanksgiving? I mean, we broke from them. But, technically, english people probably had the first thanksgiving on American soil, as they were the pilgrims. We will be quite historical. Not to mention, Iñaki, the only Spaniard coming. He will be representative of Columbus.
Anyhow, I have a class in one minute, so I better go. Happy thanksgiving and I'll see you all soon!
Sunday, November 04, 2007
Halloween pics
Hi dudes!
Here are some shots of my lovely Halloween that caused me to lose my voice which has yet to return in full force...
I was Harry Potter.
Iñaki was a Pimp-pire. So, a cross between a pimp and a vampire. He has this obsession with pimps lately, maybe that should worry me... my head is so tiny in this picture.
This is my new friend Kait. She´s an art major and did her own zombie makeup, great huh?
This is one of the bars we were in. As you can see, most people do not wear costumes.
Irene and Iñaki dancing til they drop.
And that was about it, we went home shortly after this. But it was really fun. I got my hair cut the other day and here´s the picture... I think I´m really going to like it, but I have some more experimentting to do with it. 
I´m feeling a bit better about the whole basketball thing. I always do when we win, whcih we did last night. Send me positive thoughts for this week so I can stay positive!
Here are some shots of my lovely Halloween that caused me to lose my voice which has yet to return in full force...
I was Harry Potter.
Iñaki was a Pimp-pire. So, a cross between a pimp and a vampire. He has this obsession with pimps lately, maybe that should worry me... my head is so tiny in this picture.
This is my new friend Kait. She´s an art major and did her own zombie makeup, great huh?
This is one of the bars we were in. As you can see, most people do not wear costumes.
Irene and Iñaki dancing til they drop.
And that was about it, we went home shortly after this. But it was really fun. I got my hair cut the other day and here´s the picture... I think I´m really going to like it, but I have some more experimentting to do with it. 
I´m feeling a bit better about the whole basketball thing. I always do when we win, whcih we did last night. Send me positive thoughts for this week so I can stay positive!
Saturday, November 03, 2007
Like stretching a balloon over a cowboy hat
I know sometimes this blog is used for complaining... now again. Sometimes it's just nice to put my gripes in writing for everyone to see and possibly relate to.
It's Saturday afternoon around 1 o'clock here. We had Thursday and Friday mostly free for all saints day on Thursday. I had a kick ass Halloween and went out with a bunch of American students and Inaki and Irene plus the usuals. No one really dresses in costumes here, but I dressed as Harry Potter. It was a good one. I can't upload pics to my computer, but I'll post when Inaki gets home with his compy. Anyhow, a great time was had by all.
Thursday, I decided not to do anything. It was great, but at the same time, there were so many things looming in my future and things that needed to be done, that it was hard to enjoy. Friday, I got my hair cut, shorter than I've had for years. I love it by the way. It's basiclly the same I had during the summer but shorter.
Here's where the stretching too thin comes in... I had to coach a practice and then play in a practice last night. After, my team had a cena, so I went to that, which I didn't want to, but for some reason they all seem so offended if I'm not there to check in with every 20 minutes and yell short phrases to in English. I have to read a 23 page unit and try to get it done by tomorrow and clean the apartment still. I had to get up and be at a basketball game today to coach, but I didn't really want to. I took about an hour for me time after the game, but now I need to get all my stuff done before I play in my game tonight and am expected to go out with the team after and don't want to.
It's just so hard to say no to all these things and when I don't, I'm just angry to be where I am. I don't feel like playing hoops really anymore. I just feel angry during practice and no one works hard which makes me not work hard and then I suck, which makes me work even less hard. I know, I'm being a victim and should play hard all the time.
I feel resentful that I have to coach as well. I'm pissed that there are a million things that I'm not doing for me and just continue to be places for other people. I dunno.
I'm no saint, these things that I'm doing should be fun and I should enjoy them. I'm just not. I'm not sure how to get it back. I am pretty happy teaching and am enjoying getting to know all the little kids and going to my spanish classes. But the bball is on my nerves. I don't know how I'm gonna make it through the year, but I have to. I can't just quit. What do you guys at home think? Gimme some advice if you have a momento.
Other than these little annoyances, I am well. I need to do more creative posting for sure. Entries wander through my mind all the time and I forget to put them in. Like cute little moments from my classes. A positive: the kids I'm teaching are sometimes fabulous. There's one group of 7 year olds that really likes me and the last time I went into their classroom, they bowed at my feet and chanted "Darby". As I've said to a few people, everyone should be greeted like that once a week. A little girl from one of my 9 year old groups made me a gimp key chain that is actually really cool. Another little boy from that group freaks out every time he sees me and runs up and hugs me and yells "Darby!" like he can't believe that I really exist. Once he ran up and hugged me and a huge group of kids followed him and we had a big group hug before I left for the day. And as I walk down the halls in school all the kids say, "Hello, Darby, hello Darby, hello..." These are the little perks that make my job great. I think it's amazing how little the language you speak has to do with a positive teaching experience. Silliness, smiles and high fives are universal.
Okay, enough saying how great I am. I hope all is well at home and the fall is treating you to calm cozy evenings. One of my favorite quotes about the fall, possibly the only one I know, is when Tom Hanks says he'd like to send Meg Ryan a bouquet of newly sharpened pencils as the first orange leaves start appearing in "You've Got Mail." Well have a great day and go sharpen some pencils.
It's Saturday afternoon around 1 o'clock here. We had Thursday and Friday mostly free for all saints day on Thursday. I had a kick ass Halloween and went out with a bunch of American students and Inaki and Irene plus the usuals. No one really dresses in costumes here, but I dressed as Harry Potter. It was a good one. I can't upload pics to my computer, but I'll post when Inaki gets home with his compy. Anyhow, a great time was had by all.
Thursday, I decided not to do anything. It was great, but at the same time, there were so many things looming in my future and things that needed to be done, that it was hard to enjoy. Friday, I got my hair cut, shorter than I've had for years. I love it by the way. It's basiclly the same I had during the summer but shorter.
Here's where the stretching too thin comes in... I had to coach a practice and then play in a practice last night. After, my team had a cena, so I went to that, which I didn't want to, but for some reason they all seem so offended if I'm not there to check in with every 20 minutes and yell short phrases to in English. I have to read a 23 page unit and try to get it done by tomorrow and clean the apartment still. I had to get up and be at a basketball game today to coach, but I didn't really want to. I took about an hour for me time after the game, but now I need to get all my stuff done before I play in my game tonight and am expected to go out with the team after and don't want to.
It's just so hard to say no to all these things and when I don't, I'm just angry to be where I am. I don't feel like playing hoops really anymore. I just feel angry during practice and no one works hard which makes me not work hard and then I suck, which makes me work even less hard. I know, I'm being a victim and should play hard all the time.
I feel resentful that I have to coach as well. I'm pissed that there are a million things that I'm not doing for me and just continue to be places for other people. I dunno.
I'm no saint, these things that I'm doing should be fun and I should enjoy them. I'm just not. I'm not sure how to get it back. I am pretty happy teaching and am enjoying getting to know all the little kids and going to my spanish classes. But the bball is on my nerves. I don't know how I'm gonna make it through the year, but I have to. I can't just quit. What do you guys at home think? Gimme some advice if you have a momento.
Other than these little annoyances, I am well. I need to do more creative posting for sure. Entries wander through my mind all the time and I forget to put them in. Like cute little moments from my classes. A positive: the kids I'm teaching are sometimes fabulous. There's one group of 7 year olds that really likes me and the last time I went into their classroom, they bowed at my feet and chanted "Darby". As I've said to a few people, everyone should be greeted like that once a week. A little girl from one of my 9 year old groups made me a gimp key chain that is actually really cool. Another little boy from that group freaks out every time he sees me and runs up and hugs me and yells "Darby!" like he can't believe that I really exist. Once he ran up and hugged me and a huge group of kids followed him and we had a big group hug before I left for the day. And as I walk down the halls in school all the kids say, "Hello, Darby, hello Darby, hello..." These are the little perks that make my job great. I think it's amazing how little the language you speak has to do with a positive teaching experience. Silliness, smiles and high fives are universal.
Okay, enough saying how great I am. I hope all is well at home and the fall is treating you to calm cozy evenings. One of my favorite quotes about the fall, possibly the only one I know, is when Tom Hanks says he'd like to send Meg Ryan a bouquet of newly sharpened pencils as the first orange leaves start appearing in "You've Got Mail." Well have a great day and go sharpen some pencils.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
A busy month
Hi everyone!
I´m so sorry I´ve dropped off the face of the earth for a month. Thanks for all the well wishes on my birthday. I didn´t do much, just laid around and watched season five of the Gilmore Girls. I needed it, as I´ve been keeping a crazy schedule. My friends Jennifer and Katie also came over for dinner, so that was nice. Irene and Dori had me over for cake and lunch too. Iñaki was an all-star and got me a ton of cool stuff. My old dinosaur computer from GFU now has WiFi, so that´s cool.
Other than that, I hurt my back a bit a week or so ago, but it healed quickly. I should do a whole other blog on how Iosu stretched me out and the amount of awkwardness that occurred.
I´ve been teach-teach-teaching lately. I do my own lessons for the school and all my other classes, so it´s some great experience for the future. I teach grade levels 2-6 and have 2 business classes, two individual classes and various little groups of kids in Zizur. I have my biusiness classes early in the morning and then start at the school around 10 each day and finish at 1. Depending on the day, I have more classes for the acadamia or some of my own to teach in the afternoon. It´s so busy. It´s getting pretty hard to stay motivated to play hoops and I´m missing more practices than I ever have in life! But, I don´t really feel bad about it.
I´ll be home for Christmas for 3 weeks, woopie! Leaving here the 18th and coming back the 8th. I really need a recharge from home.
So, I want to show you all more of my apartment. I decided it will never be totally clean, so I´m just going to give you the actual tour instead of the cleaned up version.
This is me in my usual teaching garb. Inlingua is the acadamia I work for and they gave me a sweet bag! I bought this jacket for myself for my birthday, it´s super chulo, I think. And, as always, rockin´the iPod.
This is our kitchen door, which is pretty, so I wanted to show it. But, the actual kitchen really is too messy to show.
This is the hallway as you come in the front door. We call the rug sort of thing on the wall to the left "the mop."
Moving down the hallway to the left, here´s what you see...
The first two doors on the right are Iñaki and my bathrooms. His is the first, mine is the second. At times we refer to his as his office. On the left side, which you can´t really see, is the door to the first guest room, which is where I have all my teaching stuff and where we do our laundry. Here´s where the mess starts. Really, it´s a utility room, so it can be messy.
This next one is of the actual guest room at the end of the hall. It´s quite cute with twin beds and bright bedspreads, but has becaome our walk-in closet. Don´t worry, if you come visit, it´ll be nice again. We´re still having issues figuring out the huge japanese lantern that covers the light. It reminds me of that one Whit had in her room forever that she bought at a garage sale and probably ended up getting beaten down.
Now, here is our room, which I love. It´s usually clean, and is true to form here.
The bed´s low to the ground and has the phases of the moon on the headboard. That door leads out onto the terrace which you´ll see in a sec. This next one is of our cool closet on the other side of the room.
Here is the fabulous view from our terrace and then a shot that looks back into our room from the terrace...
And that´s your virtual tour! I hope it gives you a better idea of where I live. I better run because I need to plan my next lesson with two little 10 year old girls, classes for tomorrow and my practice for this evening with my team. We lost our first game by the way, but only by 122 and wee scored 38! Vast improvement from the 25 to 0 finish at the tournament. Love you all, and send me your updates!
I´m so sorry I´ve dropped off the face of the earth for a month. Thanks for all the well wishes on my birthday. I didn´t do much, just laid around and watched season five of the Gilmore Girls. I needed it, as I´ve been keeping a crazy schedule. My friends Jennifer and Katie also came over for dinner, so that was nice. Irene and Dori had me over for cake and lunch too. Iñaki was an all-star and got me a ton of cool stuff. My old dinosaur computer from GFU now has WiFi, so that´s cool.
Other than that, I hurt my back a bit a week or so ago, but it healed quickly. I should do a whole other blog on how Iosu stretched me out and the amount of awkwardness that occurred.
I´ve been teach-teach-teaching lately. I do my own lessons for the school and all my other classes, so it´s some great experience for the future. I teach grade levels 2-6 and have 2 business classes, two individual classes and various little groups of kids in Zizur. I have my biusiness classes early in the morning and then start at the school around 10 each day and finish at 1. Depending on the day, I have more classes for the acadamia or some of my own to teach in the afternoon. It´s so busy. It´s getting pretty hard to stay motivated to play hoops and I´m missing more practices than I ever have in life! But, I don´t really feel bad about it.
I´ll be home for Christmas for 3 weeks, woopie! Leaving here the 18th and coming back the 8th. I really need a recharge from home.
So, I want to show you all more of my apartment. I decided it will never be totally clean, so I´m just going to give you the actual tour instead of the cleaned up version.
This is me in my usual teaching garb. Inlingua is the acadamia I work for and they gave me a sweet bag! I bought this jacket for myself for my birthday, it´s super chulo, I think. And, as always, rockin´the iPod.
This is our kitchen door, which is pretty, so I wanted to show it. But, the actual kitchen really is too messy to show.
This is the hallway as you come in the front door. We call the rug sort of thing on the wall to the left "the mop."
Moving down the hallway to the left, here´s what you see...
The first two doors on the right are Iñaki and my bathrooms. His is the first, mine is the second. At times we refer to his as his office. On the left side, which you can´t really see, is the door to the first guest room, which is where I have all my teaching stuff and where we do our laundry. Here´s where the mess starts. Really, it´s a utility room, so it can be messy.
This next one is of the actual guest room at the end of the hall. It´s quite cute with twin beds and bright bedspreads, but has becaome our walk-in closet. Don´t worry, if you come visit, it´ll be nice again. We´re still having issues figuring out the huge japanese lantern that covers the light. It reminds me of that one Whit had in her room forever that she bought at a garage sale and probably ended up getting beaten down.
Now, here is our room, which I love. It´s usually clean, and is true to form here.
The bed´s low to the ground and has the phases of the moon on the headboard. That door leads out onto the terrace which you´ll see in a sec. This next one is of our cool closet on the other side of the room.
Here is the fabulous view from our terrace and then a shot that looks back into our room from the terrace...
And that´s your virtual tour! I hope it gives you a better idea of where I live. I better run because I need to plan my next lesson with two little 10 year old girls, classes for tomorrow and my practice for this evening with my team. We lost our first game by the way, but only by 122 and wee scored 38! Vast improvement from the 25 to 0 finish at the tournament. Love you all, and send me your updates!
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