Monday, May 2, 2011

Look at the bright side (Tenerife Part 1)

When you plan a vacation to an island that gets 300 days of sun a year, you would expect your end-of-April holiday to be filled with glowing rays right?  Well, that is what Joseba and I had planned for when we booked our trip to Tenerife, the biggest of the Canary Islands, at the end of January.  For our 'Spring Break' we figured we would relax on the beach, have sunny mountain walks and come home in May brown as berries.  Well, that's not exactly how it panned out, but in the end, the trip, albeit with a bit of crazy weather, was a great island vacation.

After a taxing trip to even arrive (6 hour bus ride to Madrid, 3 hours sleep on the tile airport floor, then a 3 hour flight), we happily got into our rental car but with a cloudy sky couldn't figure out what to do - it was 10am and there was no way we were going hiking since we had just arrived and we couldn't go to the beach.  With our two main plans out of question, we picked a city and decided we would drive there, wait the sun out and then just wander and get a feel for this 'possibly Atlantis' island.

So you get an idea of the size, think of Tenerife as a bit smaller than Rhode Island.  From the south airport, we drove about 20 minutes and were in a town called Candelaria.  Religiously famous, it is said that in 1390 the waves brought the image of the Virgin appeared to Candelaria (then named Chiminsay) and that the Mencey (or King in the ancient language) of Güímar took it to his cave where it stayed until the Spanish conquest.  Thereafter it was kept in the first Catholic temple on the island.  With many renovations, the original building is long gone, but the basilica that remains today is the prize of the town, her tower overlooking the sea.  With threats of rain above we began popping in and out of shops til the sky cleared a bit and we decided to leave the small town and head South to see if we couldn't see some blue sky.

Along the highway we stopped off at a few little towns to check out the beaches the man at the Tourist Office in the airport had recommended us - obviously hoping the next day would be sunnier and we could work on our tans.  Around 12pm in El Puerto de Güímar (or as they called it El Puertito - little port), we parked, and decided with blue sky and not such drastic wind, we could atleast try and enjoy some sunshine on our first vacation day.  We first stopped off in a little tasca - neighborhood bar/restaurant - for some food.  The friendly waitress with her permanent tan rushed through the Menu of the Day and although I speak Spanish, hers was almost impossible for me to understand.  Try to imagine having a fast conversation with a person from Alabama or Mississippi or something - all thier words kind of mush together into one phrases.  How are you doing? becomes Howy'alldoin?  Well, same effect on Tenerife.  My Spanish is quite crisp and I enunciate most everything as they do here in the North, and have even been complimented on my 'Basque' accent in Spanish.  The island life however has made these people's tongues lazy and it took a bit more concentration on my part to comprehend the laundry list of food she ran through.  Somehow we settled on a tuna salad and small calamaries.  The calamaries were delicious but the tuna salad surpised us a bit.  We had expected a green salad with tuna sprinkled atop, but what came out was cooked tuna with onions and peppers surrounded by sliced fried potatoes.  Delicious nonetheless, our full bellies were happy to rest of the black sand of the beaches while we snoozed a bit.

As you may remember from a previous blog, Tenerife is quite famous for it's active volcano, Mount Teide.  Later on I will tell you about how we hiked to the top peak, but until then, you can just think of the moutain as the reason I was laying on black sand - left over lava from previous eruptions.  While many people think of a beautiful island covered with white sandy beaches, the beaches of this island are the exact opposite.  Many are quite rocky and the majority are black as coal, making walking on the sand quite a challenge.  But, as we lay our towels down, the heat from the sand warmed our backs and made us forget about the whipping wind and allowed us to enjoy our first vacation day seaside.

Due to a foul up with our flight, we ended up deciding to come one day earlier than we had planned, and since our apartment we had rented didn't start until the following day, we found a nice little hostel to stay the first night in.  Named Casa Esmeralda, the house, owned by a Dutch couple, was nestled into the foot of the rocky mountains and the southside had an entire wall of windows with amazing views of the ocean.  Our room was all wood with its own balcony and absolutley gorgeous.  When we booked the hostel we saw the photos of that particular room and wrote an email to the hostel requesting that specific bedroom and voíla, we got it! 
The chatty host recommended us a nice little Chinese joint in the town 5 minutes away so we were off!  Named El Médano, the town had a lively main square full of tourists as far as you could see, or hear.  The Canary Islands are quite a popular vacation spot for many Europeans, and our menu was available in something like 10 languages!  Even Finnish!  With live music in the square and a huge selection of restaurants in cute little terracota-roofed buildings, we decided that if we were touristy type people, we would definitley select this town as a week-long vacation spot.  However, we are more outdoorsy and headed home quite early to get a good night's sleep for the first of our fresh-air activities the next day.

When we woke up we were shocked at the spread the Dutch couple had set up for us.  The hostel said 'breakfast included' but this buffet breakfast was grand!  Even more for the fact that we were the only two guests!  With fresh-squeezed orange juice awaiting us, yogurts, granola fresh fruit, hams, cheese and salami to put on crossiants, rolls or fresh bread and 5 varietes of jam to make your toast incredible and coffee we both ate like kings!  Eating the feast while gazing at the sea was unbeatable and we worried a bit that maybe we should have booked the entire trip there instead of the one we had booked, but alas we got around and headed out towards the north of the island where we would stay the rest of our 7 days...which I will tell you about soon to come!

The Guanches, the original inhabitants of the wild island of Tenerife, didn't actually communicate much through words when they lived on the land in the 1300s.  Instead, the spoke in a language called Silbo, which means 'whistle' in Spanish.  This whistling language was full of different sounding calls that could be heard over long distances, gaping ravines, vast valleys and high peaks (it's quite a mountainous and rugged terrain).  Even with Spanish conquest and almost extinction, the language lives on and is now a required subject for school children, keeping it alive.  So, instead of closing my blog with a normal kiss, I'd like you to try and read this aloud and though I am completely sure it is NOT Silbo, it will count for effort.

Mwaaaak!
Amanda

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Amanda & Joseba gone wild - Spring Break 2011

I am officially on vacation!  I have been enjoying my first few days riding around on the bike, drinking coffee on the outdoor terraces, and studying on the porch in the sun.  However, on the agenda for the holidays is the lovely island of Tenerife - part of the Canary Islands, off the coast of Africa.  With about 300 days of sun each year, I am hoping with all my heart that we get 8 days of them!

We started planning this island getaway at the end of January and I am so happy that it's finally come!  I have been reading up a bit on Tenerife and have found some random but interesting facts that make the trip all the more anticipated.

 - Some say that the highest peak of Tenerife, Mount Teide, could be part of the Atlantean Mountains, where the lost city of Alantis once was.  The people who worshipped the God of the Sea, became too wealthy for thier own good and Zues got angry with thier greed and punished them with tidal waves and volcanic eruptions...leaving us only with mountain peaks to admire.  Mount Teide is rumoured to be one of the remaining peaks.  We are planning on hiking to the summit, so when we get back I will give you my best Greek history opinion.

 - Knowing that we are hiking up to the top of Teide, the highest peak in Spain, it is also an interesting thing to keep in mind that it is an active volcano that is about due to blow.  Christopher Columbus reported seeing it explode in 1492 as he passed on the way to America.  More reports show it blew in 1706, 1798, and last in 1909 - so basically around the turn of each century.

 - On a grosser note, I have recently learned that the cockroaches of Tenerife are amazingly resilent.  It appears that if you cut off their head, they can manage to live for a whole two more weeks!  And the only reason they die is because they can't eat, not the fact that they are headless!  I hope to God I don't meet one - with a head or not.

 - Last but not least, a literary piece of info.  After an 11-day disappearance where she claimed amnesia, Agatha Cristie escaped the media attacks by going to Tenerife.  While there she wrote a few short stories and even mentions the island in The Man From the Sea, (anyone read it??).  So, hopefully while I am there, I too will be inspired, but instead of short stories, I will use my enthusiasm from the beautiful island to return and write you all some memorable blogs!

Muxu!
Amanda

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Ideas of an immigrant

It's quite strange to say it...but I am an immigrant.  When the word comes to mind, I think most Americans either think of 1) our great-great grandparents sailing over from Europe to America or 2) of the immigration wave that is happening in the country now.  I know, that saying the word, I think of these two things, definitley not that it is a word that defines me, but alas it is.  I am an immigrant - but just one who happened to immigrate from the USA to Spain.

Today I read in El Diaro Vasco (The Daily Basque - the newspaper here) that the latest numbers show that the foreign population in Guipuzcoa (my county) has risen by about 5% since 2001.  So now, in Guipuzcoa, there are about 43,000 immigrants, and I guess reading the paper today, made me realize that I am one of that number.  Coming here 3 years ago, I planned to stay one year - a year of adventure, learning a new language, seeing new places, experiencing a different culture - but as we have all seen, I am so happy, that I am just going to stay!  So, instead of thinking of myself as a temporary visitor, I now think of myself as a Donostia resident for the long-haul.

When I first arrived here, my only foreign experiences had been a weekend trip to Vancouver, Canada with my dad, and a evening of drinking and dancing to Rosarito, Mexico with a group of college friends.  I had lived away from home since freshman year of college, so the living on my own aspect of moving here didn't shock me so much.  Nor did not knowing a soul when I arrived.  I was after a life-changing experience, and obviously I got one - I have completely changed my life!  But, I am starting to realize that no matter how long I live here...I will still always be an immigrant, which I am think is something I will always be proud of. 

Living here though, I have been able to take a step out of the 'American bubble' and see how everyone else sees Americans.  Here, I don't have one American friend, so I am constantly confronted with different points of view that sometimes don't match up with mine or opposite ideals or other ways of thinking.  And it's great!  On the day I left the States, September 10th 2008, my mom told me my horoscope for the day had been: Stray from your familiar clan to have a conversation with someone of a completely different world view. You still won't agree, you'll have to stretch your mind just to understand - and that's the whole point!  I am not much one for horoscopes, but this one is spot on.  The best is that thinking differently doesn't have to be an entire ideals change, it can just be a simple something.  For example, I have a Japanese friend here who just recently had a baby.  She is a friend from my Spanish class last year, and our little group that still gets together for coffees from time to time include me, this Japanese girl, a German 40-year old woman, and a Polish girl my age.  So, a lot of different ideas over a 4 coffees!  Us three non-pregnant girls decided we wanted to throw a baby shower for our friend.  Being American, I have been raised to give a baby shower before the baby is born.  But, my Polish and German friends told me that they had been raised to give the baby shower after the baby has been healthily born.  Something so small, but something I would have never thought twice about. 

I do bring little drops of American culture across the Atlantic from time to time.  I try to find a happy medium of the things I am accustomed to and the new culture I have settled into.  A few examples include: decorating Easter eggs with my students last year, celebrating Thanksgiving dinner and making cookies from scratch.  The thing about living in another country is that all that you have grown up with, doesn't fit perfectly into your new country.  The Easter eggs were fun, but since they only sell brown eggs here, didn't work out as well as our bright-white-before-dyed eggs.  Celebrating 'Acción de Gracias' here is a bit difficult seeing as they don't sell whole turkeys.  And making cookies from scratch requires me to send a grocery list to Grammy for special ingredients - like molasses!  Although a bit more complicated, you better believe I still manage to keep some of my Americanisms alive! 

Trying to maintain who I am while being surrounded by such different ways of life has really given me a new appreciation for all the immigrants in the States.  I have to admit, living at home, I have gotten annoyed by an immigrant who couldn't speak perfect English; or didn't realize how many newspapers, posters, etc are only in English; or never tried to empathize with children who go to school in a language different that the one they speak at home.  Being an immigrant, I think I have experienced the negativity that I had before myself and it has completely changed my thinking.  When someone is rude to me for not speaking perfect Spanish, I feel offended - I am doing my best here, and it's obvious I am trying.  Or when I got my tests results from the doctor and couldn't undestand the abbreviations all over the paper, I was frustrated that it was only in Spanish (well, Basque too but come on, that's not gonna happen for me for quiteeeee some time).  And when I am in my Euskera class, learning a 3rd language in my 2nd language, I sometimes just wish ughhh can't I learn in English!  In no way is my life bad - I am so crazily happy to be exactly where I am, but have been noting more and more quirks about living abroad forever. 

My boss, who is Swedish, has lived here about 10 years and said something the other day I found quite interesting.  She said living in a different country is a never-ending job, and if you stop to think about, she's right.  No matter how great my Spanish gets, it's never going to be MY language.  No matter how well I understand it, I am never going to be able to sit on a bus and eavesdrop on every conversation, while listening to the radio and reading a book and get 100% of ALL of it.  When something scary happens, I still exclaim in English.  And if something horrible ever happens (knock on wood), I will immediatley want to call 911, but here the emergency number is 112. 

Even if it is a full-time job, I am happy to be 'employed' by this immigration duty.  I still, 3 years later, still try to see things with open eyes.  I normally tote my camera in my bag, just in case something catches my eye.  And, as you read my culture shock blog, you can see I have gotten used to some differences between the two countries, but still know that there are some that will always strike me as different.  Overall, I think that being an immigrant is a challenge but an incredibly rewarding one, where you are able to get to know yourself better than you ever imagined.

I found a quote from Jack Paar that says 'Immigration is the sincerest form of flattery', so I guess I will have to admit I love it here.  I love the cobble-stone streets I walk on every day, I savour the café con leche I drink each morning, I die for mouth-watering pintxos, I can't imagine dinners without good wine, I welcome the sea breeze when I step out of my apartment, I can't get over the mix of old castles and cathedrals in each town and although sometimes confusing, I thoroughly enjoy mixing 3 languages in my head.  I may be an immigrant - away from maple bar breakfasts, English TV channels, self-check-out grocery stores and measurements in inches, feet, gallons, pounds and Fº - which don't get me wrong, I all miss dearly, but I am dang it, I am one happy immigrant! 

Kisses, Besos & Muxuak
Amanda

Sunday, April 3, 2011

A culture shock preview

Hello again everyone.  As many of you know, my sister, Alex is planning on visiting me in the summer.  She is quite excited and it will be her first time abroad.  Having lived here for 3 years, to me, San Sebastian is normal and not much really surprises me any more.  Of course there are the random days that something that I have never seen happens or something out of the ordinary goes on, but normally I just lead a normal life but it just happens to be in another country.

So, lately I have been thinking...what culturally shocking things have I become immune to?  What things will Alex see with new eyes that I have learned to overlook?  And it's quite a funny thing to think about, because when I really set my mind to it, I realize there are things that are a bit strange that now I just accept as normal - but for Americans it's definitley a different cup of tea.  Here are a few things I think she will notice right off the bat...but things I no longer bat an eyelash about:

Breakfast:  Now normally we are accustomed to toast, maybe some eggs, or a bagel or something filling for breakfast.  It is afterall said to be the most important meal of the day.  Here...breakfat isn't such a big deal though.  Most people have a strong coffee and a few cookies - not chocolate chip or anything, but something similar to graham crackers.  Healty digestive cookies.  I often eat yogurt with granola, fruit and raisins, but that is out of the norm for a Spanish person.  Alex will soon experience the exciting breakfast of galletas y café.  Don't worry Mom -I won't let her catch onto the cigarette and coffee breakfast I see a lot of people enjoying each morning!

The Toilet:  Here it's not called the bathroom.  If you have to go to the bathroom in a bar or a restaurant, you don't do the polite thing and ask 'Excuse me, where is the bathroom?'.  No, you ask 'Excuse me, where is the toilet.' I mean, I guess since there is no BATH in a public restroom it stands to reason.  On top of that, in the bathroom in most American homes, what do you have?  A plunger, right?!  Well here, I don't know a single person that owns a plunger, instead, they have sitting comfortably next to the toilet a toilet-bowl cleaning brush standing in a little bowl of a bleach-like solution.  You never seen poop-tracks in the toilets of someone's house, because it is common courtesy here that if you poop, you wash the toilet bowl.  I quite like the idea.

Napkins:  Now you may think that napkins are a decent-grade of paper that you use for your meal and later throw away.  Here, the idea of napkins has been downgraded quite a bit.  Napkins here are almost as hard as cardboard (don't even think about blowing your nose in one of these babies) and normally say Eskerrik asko, which means Thank You in Euskera.  Also, they are so bad, you go through atleast 5 with each meal.  Think minimum 1 per pintxo.  And when you are finished with it, don't worry about throwing it in the garbage because 1) there are no garbages in sight and 2) you just throw it on the floor along with your bread crumbs.  Later, someone will sweep it up. I once saw a lady chuck her dirty napkin from across the bar towards the bar stools where most of the garbage already was - I guess making it easier for the sweeper later?  Normal...

Meal Times:  I am quite accustomed now to the strange eating times of the Basques and Spainards.  Breakfast is quite early in the morning - right when you wake up.  Between breakfast and lunch you normally have a little snack because Lunch doesn't happen until atleast 1pm.  You can't possibly get a good lunch menu anywhere before then, and unless you want McDonald's, it's worth the wait.  Later, around 5 or 6pm, the merienda usually happens.  A fancy way to say snack again, half-sandwiches or fruit are the meriendas I normally see my students with.  Dinner commences around 8pm at the earliest.  I have gotten used to eating dinner no earlier than 9pm.  Alex, craving dinner around 6pm will be sorely disappointed, and by 9pm her tummy will be growling as loud as ever!

What to Drink??  This question only has a few answers, water is not normally one of them.  The choices I normally stress between are wine (red, white or rose....uffff tough decision) or beer (I also like beer mixed with sprite, sounds bad but its delicious).  To order a water (always bottled) or a Coke is MORE expensive always than a glass of wine or a cup of beer.  Go figure.  On top of that, it is accepted that water wouldn't even cross your brain as an option while eating out.  Awhile back I went to the doctor for my yearly physical and here is what he asked me:  'How often do you drink?'.  Not, 'do you drink' because come on, everyone knows that everyone drinks socially here - its just a part of the life.  No one would ever understand a person who GASP doesn't drink at all!  Knowing that Alex doesn't drink, I will introduce her to a world of beverages here...she has no idea what she is in for.  She can always order a Coke, but it's gonna cost her!

I am sure along with the temperature, language, hours and the fact that she will be halfway across the world, she will be in quite enough culture shock - but it will be good for her.  And if we go to Paris, oh God, even more culture shock!  We will see..but until then, I will easily amuse myself by thinking of things that will make her eyes pop out of her head.

Muxu!
Amanda

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Couch Surfing

Surfing on a sofa?  Does it sound like a foreign concept to you??  Well, its actually quite a popular new movement thats going on.  The idea is that an online community communicates via internet to look for places to sleep while travelling - but not hotels or hostels, right on people's couches.  Hence, surfing the couches.  Say you are going to south of Spain, but don't want to pay for a hotel...what can you do?  Log onto couchsurfing.com and find a free couch there and contact the person and ask if you can stay.  Voila, if they say yes, you've got free lodging and a local to show you around.  Sounds pretty crazy huh?  Just letting someone you don't know come into your house, sleep in your spare bedroom or on your couch and have breakfast with you?  Well, I agree, it kind of caught me off guard the first time I heard of it, but then Joseba and I hosted a 'couchsurfer' for the first time, and I have to admit, it was a good experience. 

On the website, each person has thier own page, where they can list interests and such.  On this page, people also leave comments about how thier stay with you was.  So, if you see someone was a super jerk and locked you out or something, you obviously won't contact them to stay.  Joseba's profile shows that he is interested in music, sports, and that he has a spare bedroom for couchsurfers.  So, awhile back, a guy named Wijnand Boon, contacted Joseba through the website explaining why he wanted to stay in Orio.  Apparently, the Queen of the Netherlands said that social media (like facebook, blogs, couchsurfing, etc) is making man more detached from his fellow man.  With that in mind, Wijnand set himself on a mission to prove her wrong.  He has challenged himself to make a pilgrimage to all the 3 major pilgrimage spots of Europe - Santiango de Compostela (Spain), Rome and Jerusalum walking.  Yes, walking.  And how will he manages to do all the lodging via social media, to show the Queen that although yes, social media cuts down face-to-face communication, it CAN bring people together. 

So, after contacting us, we said yes and prepared for our first 'couchsurfer'.  We picked him and his massive backpack up at the town square and took him home, where he was happy for a hot shower and meal after a long day of walking.  Over dinner we talked about his mission, history, music, art, just everything.  A real nice guy, it was a bit strange letting him stay awake to check his emails and such while we went to bed.  But, for some reason, we trusted him.  The next morning, at 6:30am we awoke and everything was still as it was when we had went to sleep.  We hadn't been robbed by a crazy Dutch man.  I made breakfast while the boys got ready and we had a half-awake conversation at the breakfast table and then headed out.  Before setting off on his next route, he took a photo of us to put on his website.  You can tell its about 7am!  Later that week, he posted on Joseba's couchsurfing page that it was a pleasure to stay with him and that he was a great host - and two thumbs up for an entire spare room insted of just a couch! 

The other day, an article popped up on my Time Magazine website (which I read religiously).  It was about couchsurfing!  It talks about one guy's experience with couchsurfing and how well it turned out.  It's not just saving money, its about a new way of travelling. It also delves a bit into how instant trust, like we developed with Wijnand, can develop.  If you are interested in it, click HERE.  Reading it, I thought it might be an interesting thing to share for those who might not already know what couchsurfing is!

Muxu!
Amanda

Sunday, March 20, 2011

A Day in the Life of a Volunteer

Good morning everyone!  It's Friday morning, the one weekday that I don't have to catch the bus early for work or go to Basque class, so what might I be doing?  Well, I am heading off to volunteer at a shop down the street from my house called Intermón Oxfam.  Listed as the largest NGO in the world, I volunteer in thier shop selling fair-trade items from around the world.

Formed in 1956 as a religious project aimed on helping in Bolivia, Paraguay and India, the organization gained more force in the 70s as it worked for social change in countries around the world.  In 1997. Intermón joined with 14 other groups and formed Oxfam Internacional - which is how it is now today, or Intermón Oxfam (the Spanish branch of the organization).  By doing this, they sucessfully were able to call themselves the largest NGO and now work in 46 countries around the world.  Since they are a large organization now, they make quite a big impact, and although I am only a little part of it, I am happy to do what I can.  What I actually do is work in one of the free-trade shops that guarentees products that were purchased with a fair wage and equal working rights between men and women.

I learned about the massive organization because I myself was a shopper at the store where I now volunteer.  I found out that they sell biological fair-trade coffee and tried it and liked it.  While I am not saving the world, I think paying a bit more for my coffee so that the person who made it gets a fair wage is important.  Throughout the store we have tons and tons of things, things that each time I dust or ring up, I realize more of which I want to buy.  From hand-made instruements from Asia or children's toys from Latin America or hand-sewn scarves by women in Africa or hand-carved wooden games from South America, all of the things I see, I love.  In a genius marketing move, a lot of the packaging has a photo of a person who 'could' have made your product.  There is a certain face for the coffee I buy (a nice black man wearing South American dress) or the biological rice (a South American woman with a beautiful smile).  Other things are marked with a sticker that states which country they were made it.  In the end, with the Indian or South American 'mood' music in the background, the brightly colored items decorating the store and the free-samples of delicious biological and fair-trade chocolates, its a dream place to volunteer.  Well...it's a dream until one day I end up buying the handmade leaf covered notebook, the stunning red glass vase, the simple but lovely scarf, the key chain of little stones, the colorful picture frame or tons of ecological pasta!  Then it will be like I'm paying to work there.  And although there is a recession, I guess I try to remind myself that there is a recession everywhere, and if I can spare a few extra Euros, then I would rather spend it on a fair-trade item that I need (food, coffee, etc) than the newest T-shirt on the market. 

Other ways that Intermón makes a difference are through Development - in which they create long-term programs to get rid of poverty and demand justice.  They also respond to emergencies with volunteers and aid in times of disaster.  And it seems they always have a campaign going - always trying to raise awareness of how the world can change for the better.  This weekend, the campaign I will be helping with is called the Project Tanzania - and is set up to help combat the drought that they are suffering.  With aid and a year-long help program, Oxfam is working to help Tanzanians back onto thier farming feet.  With the activities planned throughout the year, it is estimated that 4,300 people will be directly helped and as a result of that, more than 70,000 will see the positive results. 

This weekend in San Sebastian, there was a huge tourism convention, with booths from around the world.  We were offered a free booth to sell the fair-trade items and inform people about the organization.  So, of course I signed up to help!  Bright and early Saturday morning, I headed to the convention center and as soon as I arrived put on a volunteer shirt.  For part of the day I worked helping sell items and the other part of the day I helped in the 'kids area' of our booth assisting a bunch of children to make windmills and pins!  They loved them!  The best is that the parents let thier kids stop and make a toy and then they have to wait around, so what do they do?  Buy things from the shop.  At the fair, I didn't know practically anyone, so I made a bunch of new friends - some right around my age!  Two girls, Nerea and María work on Fridays like me, but in the afternoon, and we are already talking about on Friday night meeting up after thier shift is over.  So, not only did I get to help volunteer, but also met some nice people.  In April, there is another festival that we can sign up to volunteer for, and you bet your bottom dollar, I'll be there!

Overall, I am very happy and proud to have become a member of a meaningful volunteer project.  While I am just starting, I am yearning to learn more and participate in more campaigns throughout the year.  I am happy to share with you all, the link to the website of Oxfam International HERE.  This is the English website, so you can all enjoy.  But, for those of you who trust your Spanish, here is the website of the wing of the organization that I am part of by clicking HERE. 

Muxu!
Amanda

Thursday, March 10, 2011

A shattered American Dream

Last weekend, Joseba and I went to Madrid to meet up with some friends of ours who we were meeting from London.  I stayed over until Monday to do some things at the Embassy and had been somewhat formulating an idea of what I expected the Embassy to be like when I arrived.  Well, all of my ideas were WAY off and I hate to tell you, but I was rather disappointed!

Here is how I had imagined it:  I'd walk in, under the Stars and Stripes, maybe I'd hear some of the National Anthem or atleast see someone saying the Pledge of Allegiance (I guess I was hoping someone's job was to say it all day, and of course even though I am out of practice, I'd join in) and then as soon as I'd enter the doors there'd be some roller-skating (think A&W circa 1950s) cheerleaders in Uncle Sam costumes, maybe some cowboys, etc.  I was also hoping for a Starbucks giving away free carmel macchiatos or an open breakfast buffet of potatoes and gravy, meatloaf, corn on the cob (I mean, I know I know, impossible).  In my wildest dreams I also hoped for maybe a huge couch in front of a massive TV showing a football game (none of this European football (soccer) crap.  I was dreaming of AMERICAN football!).  While watching a few minutes of the game, I'd eat some sour cream and onion Lays chips (impossible to find here) and drink a Dr. Pepper (equally difficult to locate in Spain).  I was hoping that it would be like a lil clubhouse - where everyone happens to speak my American English and understand my silly sayings .  Maybe there'd even be a blow-up doll of Barack and Michelle that I could pose between. I guess I was just imagining a little American microcosm in the middle of downtown Madrid. 

Talk about a dream-crusher.  I arrived and had to wait in line to enter the 'grounds' but before that, had to go through security.  I mean...in the movies if the police are running after you, you just have to make it to your embassy right?  You cross onto American property and you're olly olly oxen free no?  Well, if I were being chased by Spanish police (which we already established are quite fearful) I'd had to have waited for some time, give up my electronic devices and show my American passport to enter.  Pretty sure the Guardia Civil would have time to catch me in that slow-moving process.

So, who cares, the entrance wasn't as grand as I had hoped, but for sure, entering the actual building was going to be awe-inspiring.  Again, wrong.  It looked like the DMV, except that in one of the windows was a uniformed man.  That was about the closest I saw to anything that I saw in my dream of the Embassy.  But I didn't even get to GO to the window with the military man, I had to go to the window with the Spanish citizen who spoke only OK English.  I had YET to hear my accent in its pure form and I was already in the door.  No music, no Barack dolls, no flag, no accent.  Surely disappointing.  After receiving my number (see, just like the DMV), I passed into a waiting room with probably 100 chairs.  Turns out, if you don't have a European Union passport and you want to visit the States, you more than likely have to apply for a tourist visa, and to do that, you have to come, in person to Madrid for that.  So, the waiting room was full of foriegners!  GASP!  I wanted some Harvard hotties, some Nascar fans, some cowboys, some men in suits, some sorority girls or anything that would give me a glimmer of the good old US of A!  Nada.  Yea, it must be said in Spanish because that was the language  I mostly heard.

When it was my turn, I was happy that my notary clerk did 1) have a legit American accent and 2) knew that Washington is a state not just a city.  She explained the forms I needed to fill out in beautiful American English and then sent me on my way to fill it out.  When she charged me for my notarized documents, she first told me that amount in dollars!  Eventhough I was paying with my Spanish bank card, I was happy to know how many dollars I was spending, although it was quite a high number.  Next, I waited some more in the not-at-all American waiting room until my number was called again for me to pick up my forms from the Consular.  She also spoke American English, and get this, I actually THANKED her - not for signing my expensive piece of paper, but for speaking my English.  I mean, I speak English all day here, but never with an American.  She kind of chuckled and said, yes it is always a relief in a foreign country to hear your own accent.

With all the fanfare (miliary suit and 2 American accents) over, my time at the Embassy came to a close.  After picking up my camera, cell phone and ipod at security, I walked right back onto the street - no handshakes, no God Bless Yous, no fireworks, nothing.  So, what's the best thing a disillusioned American can do when feeling homesick and incredibly disappointed by her Embassy?  Some of you might have answered get McDonald's, but that I did not do.  No, instead, I got a Starbucks coffee.  I mean, in my dream it was free and served by a green-apron smiling person, but instead I ended up paying for it but enjoyed it just the same. 

Although I was sorely surprised with how mundane the Embassy was, I am quite happy all the paperwork got sorted out.  I am sure some day I will have to return again, but atleast now I won't get my hopes up.  Maybe though, I will wear an American flag T-shirt or pin an American flag pin onto my lapel, to atleast zest up the place a bit and make it feel like home sweet home. 

Kisses!  Big American kisses or I could just say xoxoxoxoxo (also very American)
Amanda

PS- after a few questions about if this blog is really serious, I would like to say that it's a joke.  a big silly blog :)

Monday, March 7, 2011

A run-in with the police!

So, I would say I am quite a upstanding citizen.  I don't do anything illegal and I don't harm anyone else.  So, it may seem hard to fathom that awhile back I had a run-in with the police that resorted in me having to get out of the car while they searched it.  We all know I don't do drugs, so what in the heck could the police have been looking for and WHAT in the world had I done?

Well, these aren't just any police, these are the Guardia Civil - the Spanish police or Civil Guard.  Like the States, each 'state' of Spain has thier own police force that takes care of the community.  However, because Basque Country has a 'terrorist group' called ETA, a seperatist and nationalist group that has been fighting for an Independant Basque Country since 1959, Spain feels it necessary to place national police in the area.  You might have heard of them in the news - bombs or kidnappings.  In total since thier start they have killed 829 people in thier attempt to have Basque Country liberated from Spain.  This is the reason that the Guardia Civil are in Basque Country - constantly to keep an eye out for possible terrorists or links to the secretive ETA.  Dressed in dark military-looking uniforms and always holding guns (to me they look like machine guns, but I am a girl and have basically no idea what kind of guns they are just that they are big, no pistols here).

My first taste of the Guardia Civil was when I first arrived and there was a demonstration in the street.  These green uniformed men scared me to bits with thier guns and I couldn't understand what warranted such a weapon for a peaceful protest.  Since then I have seen them from time to time.  They often set up road blocks and monitor each car that passes - looking in the windows to see if they see anything they might consider terroristy.  I have even had them board the bus with thier gun, staring at everyone's face.  Quite scary if you ask me.  Well, this brings me back to the day with the run-in with the police.

After our amazing trip to Sweden, Joseba's brother and sister-in-law came to the airport to pick us up.  On the way home, we saw the road block but didn't think much about it - they are everywhere and it just becomes commonplace.  However, this time was different.  They stopped our car, asked Iker (Joseba's brother) who was driving a bunch of questions - where were we coming from, how do we know each other, where was a flight landing from, etc.  Not satisfied with his answers, he asked us to all get out of the car and leave all belongings in the car and to hand over our identity cards or in my case my passport.  We were then told to stand with our backs to the car about 100 meters away in silence while they tore the car apart looking for something that could be suspect.  I was scared out of my wits.  Things like this don't happen to me and my head was somersalting around, terrified they would find a reason to take us to jail or send me home or something miserable.  On top of everything, the whole event was of course in Spanish, which when I am nervous I don't comprehend perfectly.  After about 25 minutes standing outside, the police man handed us back our identity cards and we were allowed back in the car - of course under the watch of many gunned men.

Back in the car, we were able to each take a deep breath.  For them, this has happened before and wasn't so shocking, but the most interaction I have ever had with a police officer is getting a speeding ticket (us Americans, we are always in a hurry!) so this was a whole new ballgame or me.

No matter how long I live here I don't think I will ever get used to the constant police presence.  So as many jokes as we make about our cops - donut eating and all - I definitley would prefer them to armed and masked Spanish Guardia Civil!

But no worries, in the end I didn't get into any trouble - nothing to put on my rap sheet.

Muxu!
Amanda

Thursday, March 3, 2011

An apple a day

I am getting along quite well in my Basque class.  We just had a midterm exam and I got a 38/40, so am quite pleased with that.  Imagine how excitd Joseba was!  I've promised him that one day I WILL speak Euskera and here I am making progress - be it slowly but surely.  Anyways, along wtih memorizing verbs, saying sentences a 5-year old would scoff at and racking my brain, my Basque classmates have all formed a group bond.  We often chat a bit after class and sometimes even get coffes together.  So, it wasn't completely out of the ordinary that one classmate (Jose Marí) suggested that we all get together one night at a sidrería - to do all things Basque - eat, drink and be merry (while speaking Basque of course haha).

Last week, 9 of our class, including me, headed to a cider house (sargardotegi in Basque) for a fun night.  Before I wow you with the scrumptous food and the refreshing cider, I want to tell you a bit about sargardotegis and where they come from.  First we will start with the word sargardotegi.  In Basque sagar means apple.  Ardo means wine.  And tegi means 'place where something takes place'.  So, all together sargardotegi can be roughly translated to -place where apple wine takes place.  Rough I know, but it makes sense because at these huge buildings which are a cross between a bar and a restaurant along with a wine cellar but the wine is made from apples!

So, these sargardotegis house this delicious Basque cider which has been part of this culture for years and years.  In fact, the Basques fondness for apples shows up in documents all the way from the 11th century.  The King of Navarra in that century mentions sending an envoy to the Basque region and mentions apples and cider-making.  Beyond that, in a pilgrim's 1134 diary, he mentions that Basques talent for apple growing and cider-making too.  An inquistor in the 17th century coined the 'land of the apple' for the Basque Country and various books mention the Basque fishermen's preference of thier cider to water while on long whale-hunting trips.  History books tell us that the vast apple orchards used the be picked by the entire community.  This way, even if you didn't have an apple press you were guarenteed some of the delicious drink.  Nowadays, apples are picked with a long tool that has a nail-like point.  Traditionally, the apples were brought to a two-story farm house and on the top floor were pressed with a quite-advanced contraption at the time, which pressed all the juice out of the apples and caught the liquid and on the bottom floor it was bottled in large barrels to ferment.  Now though, machines do the heavy work.  But the proess after the smashing is still the same - the liquid goes into a huge barrles (think about 250 gallons) of oak or chesnut for a fermenting process to 1) turn the natural sugar to alcohol and 2) to get rid of the sour taste of the apples.  Apple-picking goes on during the month of September, October and November and finally on the 19th of January, the sargardotegis open thier doors and let all the cider fans in with the officially opening day of cider season.

Most sargardotegis, along with the one we went to, have a large dining room where you normally eat standing up and the 'kupela' room - or the barrel room.  Originally sargardotegis were just for testing the cider and then when you left you would buy bottles of the cider from the barrels you liked most.  Nowadays, it is a dinner and social event, but still with the old-time drinking right from the barrel cider.  The meal always starts off with little pieces of txorizo - a sausage - along with some bread.  Next comes a cod omellete and of course bread.  Out of the kitchen comes cod normally served with some green peppers.  And then a txuleta - a huge steak that is practically still bleeding but oh so good.  Last but defintiley not least is the dessert - Idiazabal cheese (a Basque sheep cheese that is very strong) with membrillo (a sort of apple jelly that you cut in pieces and put on top of your cheese slices) and some nuts (that you have to crack yourself - either with your hand or the table).  A very-filling meal is punctuated with many trips to the kupela to fill up the glass of cider.  THe thing is that you never actually fill up the glass - instead you catch about two or three drinks worth of cider in your cup, normally drink them in the kupela room and then go back for more eating and talking.  This is where the 'standing up eating' comes in handy because you are always free to go to drink some more cider!

The cider drinking tradition lost a bit of speed when Navarra upped thier production of wine.  And cider was practically dead during the Spanish Civil War when most people abadoned thier orchards, but since the invention of Sargardo Egun (Cider Day) in 1981, cider has made a huge comeback.  This still-cider (not sparkling) is mostly made in Gipuzkoa (my county) and over 9.5 million liters are produced annually (about 2.5 million gallons).  Only 10% of that is drunk in sargardotegis, the rest is bottled and bought in stores to enjoy at home!  Which I do too!

That night, our group of 2 grandpas, 2 moms, my roommate and our 29-year old Mexican friend and a 30 year-old guy, our teacher and I enjoyed a delicious meal (although at 33€ a pop is quite a hefty bill) and some tasty cider - varying from sour to sweet.  And we did manage to throw some Basque words into the mix.  The two most important words were:  txotx (pronounced choch) which is the cider-makers call that he is opening a barrel and to come and fill up your glass and topa (pronounced toe-pa) which is the Basque way of saying cheers!  My favorite line was Azkena which means 'last one', which is what everyone was saying each time we'd take a drink of cider.  It was so delicious you just have to say 'one more, one more'!

As you can see, my Basque class isn't just about crazy words and off-the-wall grammar, but a nice group of fun people always ready to live the Basque way - by eating like a God, washing down your food with a incredible drink and talk talk talk.

Muxu!  (kiss in Basque)
Amanda

Monday, February 28, 2011

Walking in a Winter Wonderland (part 4)


To start 2011 off right, we spent our last day in Stockholm hitting the pavement early.  After dropping our suitcases off at the bus station, we headed towards Djurgarden - yet another of one of the many islands in the archipelago.  Being Royal Land, it has escaped commercialism but instead is a peaceful oasis close to the city center.  Full of old wooden houses, Joseba and I set off to make a loop of the island and admire the playfully colored homes before it got dark. 

With some street food to hold us over until lunch, we made the trek to the island on a tree-lined walkway.  With snow covering the limbs, it felt more like we were walking through a snow tunnel and magically came out at the bridge over to Djurgarden.  With joggers whizzing by and tourists shuffling towards one of the many museums on the island, Joseba and I strolled along the snow-packed roads, without a set destination, just appreciating the woodcarved decorations on the homes, the mixes of stone and wood, the hanging icicles and the smoke puffing out chimneys.
As dusk set, we headed back to the center of the city to meet up with our friends for one last meal before we both headed back to different countries - us again to Denmark and them to Finland.  With enchiladas on the brain, we hit up the Mexican restaraunt we had eaten at the first day again and after walked Laura and Alain to the metro station in the dark.  With only three hours to spare, we continued our destination-less walking tour and stumbled upon Riddarholmen, or 'The Knight's Island' as it translates to.  Home to the very important Riddarholmskyrkan - the church on the island, which has been deemed the final resting place of Royals since the 16th century, the island is packed with buildings that were used in the 17th century.  Now, it is most well-known for its views of the Stockholm skyline.  That evening, it held up to it's popularity, and we were able to see all the lights of the city, Christmas ones and normal ones, shining across the water.

Cold to the bone, we spent the last few hours in and out of shops, and finally in a small restaurant, planning our remaining days in Scandinavia.  Our next stop, which we were excitedly reading about, was to be Malmo.

After about 6 hours on our night-bus, Joseba heard the loudspeaker announce we were coming up to Malmo.  Now, we had originally planned to go all the way back to Copenhagen, drop off the suitcases and make the train trip back across the bridge to Malmo - Sweden's second biggest city and only a stone's throw from the Danish capital.  However, we were lucky and the bus went right past it, so we were able to get off early and save the whole hassle!  The only downside was that we arrived at the bus stop 30 minutes before it opened and had to do some serious dance moves to keep warm until the sliding doors opened at 7:30am.

The wait was made worth it, when the customer service woman explained a bit about Malmo and told us her idea of the must-sees in the city.  Quite comical, she highlighted the clothes stores as an important stop in the city tour.  Even more comical is that she didn't recommend a single store for Joseba, just shops I should go see haha.  Map in hand our first priority was to get a coffee and a small but sweet breakfast.  As the Swedes rushed off to work, either on bike or on foot, we sat warmly in a small café in Stortorget - the Main Square.  Originally Denmark's second biggest city, Malmo didn't actually come into Swedish possession until the early 17th century.  Facing almost extinction, Malmo only could claim 1,500 inhabitants in the mid 1700s due to the war and a viscious plague.  After that though, Malmo slowly grew and grew, with the creation of the Swedish southern railway lines and the founding of the shipyards.  Now, Sweden's southwesternmost city is a welcoming stop for people who travel the almost 5 mile bridget that connects Denmark and Sweden.
Knowing nothing about Malmo or having even had thought of visiting it until the day before, we took our guide books advice for our first 'stop' in town - the pharmacy.  Listed as Sweden's oldest pharmacy, Apoteket Lejonet (Lion Pharmacy) has been in business since 1571.  Housed in a gorgeous brick building, complete with reliefs, a pointy green spire and even a few gargoyles, the building was just as amazing outside as inside with old apothecary bottles lining a mezzanie level above the marble-floored pharmacy that was decorated with original wooden inlays and an ancient looking water fountain.

With the streets almost still deserted, we were happy to wander about the streets, taking in the mix of the antique buildings standing short next to newer and modern office buildings.  On one block you could even see the old buildings reflecting in the all-wall glass building across the street from them.  A strange sight to see for sure.

On the hunt for the popular outdoor food market in the international district, we eventually found out that this market, filled with various types of food from all over the world is more of a summer thing.  Stands to reason, seeing as the temperature at the time was below 20º!  Instead of fret, we kept walking and eventually ended up back the Old Part and somehow right in the middle of the square.  Although we had eaten breakfast in the Main Square, the action in Malmo doesn't really happen there, but instead in a smaller square that was added to the city when they decided thier town was too big for just one square.  This square, Lilla torg, is where all the most popular restaraunts and bars are, and although small, is always said to packed.  Since it was built atop an old marshland, I was happy we didn't sink!

Thanks to our book, we headed through a small passageway into a interior courtyard to die for.  With stone buildings at our backs we were mostly in awe of the bright yellow house facing the street.  With the eye-popping yellow against the dark brown support beams, the house looked as if it might collaspe at any moment.  Seeping into the snow, the uneven tiled roof gave proof that the buildings in Lilla torg were from about the 16th and 17th century!

Near the square we next gazed at Radhus, the town hall, which is topped with varios elaborate statues, some of which date back to the buildings erection date of 1546.  It is said that the restaurant below has been in use as a tavern for more than 400 years!  Continuing our walking we mosied along the river which was full of frozen shoes, bikes and assorted other items, assumably from New Year's Eve.  Right off the river stood a large cemetary all with vertical standing tombstones.  After walking amongst the dead and thier fancy tombs, we headed to the multicultural district yet again, but this time for lunch.  En route we passed Folkets Park, or the People's Park, which during the summer is a small amusement park.  With a cold winter hanging out about though, the rides were halted, the children's laughs silenced and the music cut.  BUT the bathrooms still had working heaters!  Hooray!  Warmed from a bathroom visit we set off in search of food - at a Thai restaurant our book had recommended.  It was a bit sketchy, because the book said that at the time it was written the restaurant was actually illegal and didnt have a food liscense but that the food was so tasty, he was going to point people to it anyways.  Lucky for us, Krua Thai was open, and it seemed to have obtained a liscense because it was quite big and equally busy.  With a lunch menu no one could resist, we dined on stirfried noodles and chicken curry soup. 

With my mouth burning from the extremely spicy curry (which I just love) and Joseba full up to his neck with noodles, we slowly made our return to the city center to catch our bus.  On the way though, I made it a point to pass the Malmohus - a castle from the 15th century.  While our book said it was one of the ugliest castles in Sweden (and I have to agree after having seen it), I was determined to see a castle with a moat.  Never having seen one in my life, I think it is maybe every girl's dream to see a castle with one!  After the very out-of-the-way walk, we arrived only to be disappointed as the booked warned us.  With falling bricks and mismatched colors, it seems believable that this castle was used as a jail at some point and that Mary, Queen of Scots' husband was once inprisoned here.

With the sun quickly setting, we made our way back to the bus station just beat.  Our early morning wake up had been helpful and saved us a lot of time, but also took its toll and when we arrived back in Copenhagen 45 minutes later we ordered a family-size greasy meatsa pizza and a beer and just crashed.  Shamefully, our hostel guests were a large bunch of British men, who drunkingly barged into the room around 4am.  This led to us sleeping in very late the next day and missing almost the entire daylight time.  We did manage to seize a bit of the rays and used them to explore Christiania - a free town - of sorts.  If you read my blogs from my first visit to Copenhagen, I spoke more at length about the community and actually posted some pics, but this time, they were quite ardent about no photos, so I don't have any to share wtih you, so instead I will try and describe what we saw.  Walking into what used to be an old naval base, the citizens of Christiania were mostly dressed in black and sported black beanie hats.  I think every single one was smoking a cigarette or marijuana as they socialized over burn barrels ablazing.  Some sat in cafés that were inside makshift buildings or behind a tarp.  Every where you looked though, you saw what I would call garbage.  Extra windows, random items littering the ground, an old TV here and there but the thing is, that these people took all of these 'junk' items and made them great.  One house, which was falling apart, was painted with bright colors like a sunrise) and the extra windows were placed in a mismatched pattern around the house. Other houses were shaped like houses in India, and others with scrap metal decorations - basically a mix of everything.  For it being mostly trash, the 'look' was quite impressive. 

When we left, we crossed under a sign that said 'Entering the EU' which made us chuckle a bit and we headed towards the Old Part, poking into second-hand shops on the way and a quick stop for a piece of pizza that reminded me of the kind you get in school (rectangle with no crust).  Eventually we ended up in Norrebro, a hip neighborhood with a lot of bars and cafés.  There was even a bar that had a laundromat underground - talk about having fun washing your clothes!  For dinner the hostel recommended a hole-in-the-wall place called Kate's Joint.  Unrecognizable from the street, the only clue that it was what it was was a small plaque on the door with the name.  From outside it just looked like someone's living room, but mmmmm the food tasted like it was a great restaurant. Nothing fancy, but very hearty, we filled up on huge portions at our red-tulip adorned picnic table.  For our last night in Copenhagen, we spent it relaxing and reading magazines in the large lobby/living area the hostel had.  And for our last day, we only had a couple of hours and spent them wisely.  A 7-11 breakfast of coffee and chocolate croissant and more second-hand shopping, we were definitley tired for the plane ride home, which went off without a hitch and Joseba's brother and sister-in-law were waiting with smiles for us when we arrived home.  The most unbelievable was that after so many days in freezing temperatures, a south wind blew into Basque Country and when we deboarded we were shocked by 70º heat!  When we took off our coats and layers of fleeces and gloves, we realized our trip had come to an end, but what an amazing trip it was.

We loved both places so much, but are leaning more towards Stockholm to visit again in the summer.  I mean, its gorgeous with snow, but we also want to see it without a white blanket!  So, maybe in the future you will read another Swedish adventure :)

Besos!
Amanda