April 5

Writing from Madrid. The family is spending their Semana Santa (Easter, except here you get the whole week off work!) in Villarobledo, a small town where all of their family resides, in between Murcia and Madrid. So while we were already fairly close I thought I would come here for a couple days, it is the capital after all. Most of whom I have talked with have informed me that Madrid is not really that great, other than the very impressive museums (this seems to be especially the opinon of young people). So far I can mostly agree. I spent a few hours of my day in the Reina Sophia Museum, which was incredible and huge, and then the rest of my day wandering about and hanging out in a park. The museum is mostly fairly modern paintings and some sculpture. Upon entering an exhibit of surrealist art, I was frozen in place when I realized that the paintings before me were Dalís. A few years ago I made a list of one hundred things I wanted to do before I die, and seeing a Dalí was number forty something. The paintings that this museum contains are not particularly famous, but the just the presence of them sent shivers down my spine and made me feel feverish and dizzy. Number forty-something: check.
This evening as I was eating and reading by myself in a cafe, I got a phone call from Tomás, just checking in and making sure I was alright. What a radical transition it has been to be living with my new host family, from travelling across Spain totally on my own and wandering around strange towns with my back pack, looking for hostels or addresses of friends of friends. While I now have this whole new responsibilty of making sure nothing horrible happens to these three young Spanish children, I also have my own ¨mom and dad¨holding my hand. The other day when I went to the train station, and Tomás actually gave me a ride and then went in with me, bought my ticket, and led me to the exact platform I needed. After the last two months it feels like a band aid and a lolly pop. I have been trying to run and do yoga whenever I can, as I find that it helps me to maintain my energy with the kids if I get exercise. The only problem is that the parents don´t want me running alone, for fear of men bothering me. At the dinner party they were hosting we were dicussing this topic and in an attempt to shrug off their worries I tried to jokingly tell them that I would be okay because I have a knife that I could bring with me. Except that instead of ¨cuchillo¨, I told them that I have a ¨cucharillo¨ or a little spoon. So to all my family back home, don´t you be worrying about me! I can take care of myself! I´ve got my little spoon!
I have yet to convince them that I can handle running alone.
But overall I am still enjoying my job and currently my main focus is cramming my brain with Spanish. I spend a lot of time reading childrens´books and magazines, and everywhere I go I carry around a small notebook to record new words I hear. Hopefully I will be able to take a few classes in Murica, I think just one or two days a week of an upper intermediate level class would be extremely beneficial, at this point I mostly need specific grammar instruction.
I can´t believe I have already been with the Jimenez´s for two whole weeks. I am anticipating that these next two months are going to fly by. Hope everyone at home is well and had a nice Easter (if you celebrate Easter, if not, hope you had a nice Sunday.)
Un montón de abrazos.

March 24, Murcia

I am now in Murcia (about two hours south of Valencia) with the family for whom I will be an au pair for the next two months. They live about ten minutes outside the city in a big house, with a swimming pool and orange trees in the yard. The parents are great, Clara and Tomás, they have been nothing but welcoming and friendly. There are three kids, baby Manuel (five months), Araceli (4 years) and the younger Tomás (6 years). The main objective of my job is to speak English with the children and help out Clara in whatever way I can. In the mornings I watch after Manuel and help get Araceli and Tomásito ready for school. While they are at school I can do as I please, but sometimes run errands with Clara. Yesterday we went to the supermarket and bought vegetarian things and toothpaste. When the kids come home we play and I give them an English lesson. Last night they were very cranky while I tried to show them clips of Sesame Street and the Muppets show on YouTube, asking about what color each muppet was, and counting along with the Count. Araceli sort of through a fit and ran away, but eventually Tomás got into it and even laughed a little at the singing bats in the Count´s dungeon. I think they really miss Johnna, their previous au pair, who left only a few days ago. Tonight if I can get Araceli to stay and name a few colors and numbers I will be satisfied. After lessons we make dinner and get ready for bed.
Sometimes I go with Clara to pick up the children from school, so far this has been one of the most chaotic experiences of my life. The drivers in Spain are all absolutley insane. We park just about anywhere we like before exiting the car and dashing across multiple lanes of traffic to reach the school. Once inside the courtyard of the school, still breathing hard with the adrenaline of parking, we are instantly swarmed by many very small human beings with sticky fingers and running noses. They seemingly have no control of their flailing limbs as they hurdle themsleves in every direction, often colliding painfully with our knees. The first task is to pick out which sticky being belongs to us, and then somehow convince it to follow us to the car. Usually this takes about an hour. Clara and I have a disadvantage since we must collect two of them, and also carry with us Manuel. I suppose this is why I am around.
Mostly the parents speak in Spanish with me, and although I often can´t find the words to come up with more of a response than, ¨sí, está bien,¨ I understand almost all of what they say to me, and I think that my improvement over the next two months will be fairly drastic. My only real complaint thus far is that they don´t usually drink coffee and all that is available is Nes Café. My job is enjoyable and not too dificult, but it is exhausting, and I am really missing the real stuff.
Right now the kids are at school, Tomás is at work, and Clara is with Manuel, so I think I will go make some ¨coffee¨and then maybe set out for a little exploration of the neighborhood. Thus far I have not had time to leave the house on my own. ¡Hasta luego!

March 18, Granada

Wandering through the labrynth of narrow alleys and one way streets that make of the Albacin district of Granada, the sun heats my back and hair, and the uneven cobblestones massage my feet through thin and worn out canvas sneakers. This place is magical; and after the frigid cold of Holland, the sun feels like a long lost friend. Already I am about three shades darker (okay, maybe pinker is more like it.) I am staying in a fantastic hostel, fully equipped with hammocks and a well stocked communal kitchen, in the old neighborhood, which is perched on the steep hillside on the northern side of the city. The streets are impossibly difficult to navigate, only the slope of the hill keeps me oriented and I keep track of where I have been by reading the scrawls of graffiti as my constellations. Most of the ground has been paved over in cement and stone, but here and there a thick cluster of cactus has managed to push it´s way through the cracks, and many palms and orange trees have been planted in the plazas and courtyards.
This area of Spain, Andalucia, is about a thousand times cheaper than Barcelona, and here they have the real tapas, the ones that come free with your drinks. Order a beer and you get a sandwhich along with it. Two beers (each costing about two euro) and you´ve had a full meal. It´s freaking awesome. Food in general is just much cheaper, and I have been frequenting a little produce stand near by about twice a day. The first day I went there they were throwing out a large bag of mushrooms that were just a tad too old to sell, so I have been feasting on them for the last couple days, fried with olive oil and garlic.
I have also made a few friends at my hostel, we´ve been going to for tapas, and exploring the caves behind our neighborhood where the gypsies and the hippies live. Yesterday I visited the Alhambra with a British guy who I´ve made good pals with.
There is only one computer available at the hostel, and I am itching to get outside into the sun, so I must end my writing here. Probably I won´t blog again until I arrive in Murcia for my job as an Au Pair. Muchos abrazos, amigos and familia, y hasta luego.

March 6: Amsterdam

Today is my fourth day in Amsterdam, I arrived very late on Tuesday night. Max had given me detailed instructions on how to get from the airport to his apartment via public transport, but of course the buses had all stopped running by the time I got in at one o clock in the morning. Wandering around the bus station looking for my bus and the times, a man kindly informed me that the buses had all shut down for the night, but that I was welcome to come sleep with him that night. Yeah no thanks. Also my Spanish cell phone was not happy to be in The Netherlands and wouldn't let me call Max, but I had his address so I shelled out the cash for a cab and after a bit more wandering around after exiting the cab, finally found his apartment and was joyfully greeted by a big Max hug. Then we went to sleep.
The next day we went to Max's favorite flea market to look for something orange for him to wear to the USA/Netherlands football match that night. We decided to try to fit both of us onto his bike, me sitting on the rack and him pedaling, we had one spill but made it alright. Once we got to the market I actually ended up buying a bicycle; a red and rusty piece of crap for 30 euro. I asked the vender if I could sell it back to him when I was leaving and he said yes, if I wanted to, but that it might be less troublesome to just throw it into one of the canals, that's how shitty it is. But having a bike is definitely a must here. Max and I have speculated that there are probably more bikes than people. There are absolutely no hills, and most everyone rides pretty slowly, but when riding through the busy areas near Central Station it can get kind of crazy. At times the bike lanes are absolutely packed and maneuvering through the intersections can be very stressful, especially when you throw tourists who don't understand the rules of yielding into the equation. Max explains that basically it's all about "flow", just keep a constant speed and pay attention and the flow will continue. Maybe biking in Amsterdam should be an Olympic sport.
This city is amazing in many other ways as well. I am completely in love with all the canals and houseboats. My only complaint is how freaking cold it is all the time.
Max has been kind of busy with school work, but hopefully we'll be out exploring more in the next few days. He actually needs to use the computer right now to work on his paper so I've got to go, but I'll post more soon. Hugs and high fives are sailing across the Atlantic towards everyone at home!

February 28

I have just returned from a crazy scramble up a cliff face into an old cave that overlooks Logroño, I am dusty and sweaty. Now I am back in Anna and Cere´s apartment; some friends I met when Anna was a student teacher at my high school a few years ago. I am here visiting them for a couple days before I fly out of Bilbao to Amsterdam to visit a good friend who is studying abroad there. It´s been absolutely amazing to be with a couple real friends. Even though I really don´t know them that well they have been so kind and Anna and I have been having lots of fun biking around in ridiculous windy weather and talking about MLC. Also I have gotten the chance to use their washing machine and take a shower which is freaking wonderful! I think I might take another shower today! Before here I was in Lakabe, a super small cooperative village in the Basque mountainous region. The Basque country is unbelievably beautiful, with lots of mountains (not big ones like back home in the Cascades, but beautiful nonetheless) and rolling hills all dappled with little red rooved villages. Lakabe is nestled just out of sight above a minor highway in sort of a valley with lakes in the basin and chaotic montains all around. I say chaotic because compared to the neat rows of huge peaks that I am used to at home, the seemingly random juts upward of earth and rock feel that way to me. There are forty people who live in the village, sharing use of the gardens and animals (sheep, cows, horses, chickens, and a pig) and working on various building projects together. In the mornings we would begin work around 9:30, after having toast and coffee. There were usually a couple different projects going on that I could work on. Often I went up the mountain to work in the timber camp, basically getting really muddy and pushing around big logs. For two days I helped to plaster the walls of a house they were constructing. And sometimes I would just stay in the warm kitchen and help to cook lunch for everyone, each day we had lunch all together but breakfast and dinner were eaten separately with the people in your house.
When I first arrived, the bus from Pamplona pulled over along the side of the highway in seemingly the middle of nowhere and I was told that this was Lakabe. Apprehensively I stepped out of the bus and looked around at what was breathtakingly beautiful scenery, but definitely not a village, praying to myself that this was the right place. As the bus pulled away I saw that on the other side of the road was another small road winding up a hill, with a sign reading Lacabe, the C crossed out and replaced with a red spraypainted K (later I discovered that the C is the Spanish spelling, and the K the Basque.) Next to the sign was an old gray horse, nonchalantly munching on the dry grass. Like I said before, the village is completely hidden from the highway, so I had no idea where this road would lead me, but I clumsily slung on my gigantic back pack and trudged upwards. Soon I came upon the oh-so-quaint-and-european red tile rooves and stone walls of Lakabe. No people were anywhere in sight but hawks circled high above and a few cows grazed near by. I slowly wandered down what seemed to me like the main path through the cluster of houses, feeling sort of like I was trespassing on something much to foreign and picaresque for my American eyes, and not quite sure what to expect or where to go. As I passed one house a man with wild sandy hair peered out the window and motioned me to the door. His name was Staci and he welcomed me in and gave me some food before showing me to a room where I would sleep. There are about six houses in the village, each one containing around six people. I stayed in the common house, called Xuxcal, where all the visitors plus a few residents slept, and where communal meals were eaten. The people living there are all learning, if not already speaking, the Basque language, so everything in the house had little labels in Euskarra. I really wished that everything was labeled in Spanish. There were a couple people who spoke English there but they all spoke to eachother in Spanish and by the time I left I could understand about twice as much as I could when I arrived. I still feel like an idiot when I try to speak, but atleast I can usually keep up on the general topic of conversation when I am with others who are speaking with each other.
Being in Lakabe made me wish that I were going to be spending more time on farms while I was here, in order to take the job as an Au Pair in Murcia, I had to give up my plans to WWOOF. But I suppose that I can WWOOF anywhere, maybe in Oregon this summer.
I think I will have plenty of computer access in the next few weeks with Max so I will make sure to write a blog while I am in Amsterdam. Sending my love to everyone in the States, or where ever, I miss you all a lot. Abrazos.

february eleventh

Only two full days left in Barcelona. My how the time does fly. I am taking a train to Pamplona on Sunday morning, staying for one night, and then catching a bus to Lakabe the next day. Apparently it is snowing over there in Basque country and I am a little apprehensive about heading out with my sneakers and rain coat, but I guess I´ll just figure it out as I go. Already I am digging through my backpack and tossing out things that I´m not sure why I brought in the first place. Before I left, Travis tried to tell me that I should pack really, really light. I only sort of listened to him and this is my most recently learned lesson: always listen to Travis. (Babe, I hope you´re reading this because I am never going to say it out loud.)
Anyways, so Lakabe is a town that a Spanish friend recommended to me, but all I really know is that it is some sort of commune type deal, one of those "live off the land and eat vegetarian meals together in a big community kitchen" places. A while back I emailed a woman named Mabel (in broken Spanish) about visiting, and she told me to come February 15 through the 25 and bring my sleeping bag, so that´s what I´m doing. At the very least it will be an adventure.
Currently I am sleeping on a couch in a flat belonging to some friends of friends. There´s no hot water and they all speak only a little English, but they are very kind and I am happy to be here. Everynight we eat dinner together and I get a long Spanish lesson. Two of the guys are in a punk band and tomorrow I am going to their show in a near by ocupada, and then on Saturday we are going to Sitges (small town a quick train ride away) for Carnival. Apparently Carnival in Spain is sort of a mix of Mardi Gras and Halloween; basically every one dresses up in costumes and gets very drunk and there´s some sort of parade. Should be a rich cultural experience.
Tomorrow is also my last day of Spanish classes. I have been studying a lot on my own, trying to teach myself past perfect and imperfect. What is hardest for me is listening to others speak. Reading and writing is fairly easy and even speaking I can manage but I can never understand what others are saying to me. And from what I hear, in the south the accents are unbelievably thick so I had better figure it out now while I can.
Okay my fingers are way too cold to type anymore, today was absolutely frigid. I´m going to go boil some water for a bath. Hasta el proximo blog.

February 5th

I feel like I have now settled into a comfortable rhythm. For the past week I have been attending Spanish classes every morning, and I have been at the same hostel for a while now. My days are repeating patterns of going out to explore with my little green backpack and coming back to the nest to read or nibble on bread and avocado. It´s been very nice, although tomorrow I am leaving this hostel for a free couch belonging to a friend of a friend, and in nine days I am leaving Barcelona.
As I am already half way through my Spanish courses, I am beginning to panic over still not being able to hold anything close to a real conversation. It´s remarkable the way that a foreign language can take over your brain. It´s like a little Spanish speaking parrot is lurking in the back of my mind. I think to myself, "Hm, I need to go to the post office today," and the parrot chimes in, "Hm, necesito ir al correos hoy." Every thought is repeated in Spanish, or a mental note is taken that I need to learn how to say whatever it is that I was thinking. It is exhausting. And even though in class I feel like I can communicate most of what I want to say, and understand my teacher´s response, once I am out in the real world of Barcelona people tend to speak a lot faster than my teacher.
Anyways, on a totally different subject, last night I was planning to write a blog entry but the power at my hostel kept going out. I had a headlamp in my pack so I got it out and went to assist the manger and his wife in attempting to fix the problem. The manager is this tiny old Indian man who putters around the place all hunched over, anytime I walk past he looks at me and says, (more to himself than to me) "La señorita de Oregon," then follows that by naming off all the states of the U.S. that begin with an O, "Oklahoma, Ohio..." and then complains to me, "¡Hace frio!" So after the power finally seemed to decide to remain permanently on, I was too tired to write, and went to sleep. "¡Vale! Me acuesto ahora,"
Today I walked all the way down the beach to a neighborhood called Poble Nou which I hadn´t been to before, but it is definitely my new favorite area of Barcelona. It´s lovely and old, but much more open than the Barrio Gotico, where I am staying, and have spent most of my time. The narrow winding streets of the Barrio Gotico are intriquing and also beautiful, but they are dark and cold and dirty, which gets old. When I come back to Barcelona before I leave in the summer, it is my first goal that I find a place to stay in Poble Nou.
I have been offered a position as an Au Pair in Murcia for the months of April and May, and though nothing is yet final, I plan to take it. I´ll save a lot of money this way and I am hoping to stay a few weeks longer than orginally planned. Plus the family sounds rad.
Alas, I am all out of words, but I will be sure to write again before I leave Barcelona.
Saludos y abrazos.