Snow Day!

So I was supposed to go back to school today but instead I stayed home because it snowed in Madrid. Really, we only got a couple of inches, but it was enough for Madrid to shut things down- schools, the airport, train schedules... the place was a bit of a mess.

With my free day I've been catching up on things like this blog, emails, and grading papers. I'm also planning out my goals at school for the upcoming year.

After this trip to Morocco, my mindset has changed a bit. If anything, Morocco helped me to appreciate how nice Spain is and has also helped me to remember to take advantage of the time I have left here.

So I have 2 projects to work on until June. The first has been ongoing and it is a quest really to get the 5th and 6th grade children writing correctly in English. So far we have written about superheroes, holidays and other random silly things that will get the children interested in writing sentences. They really get stoked when we write about things that let them use their imagination. I guess that's the benefit of being the English teacher, I don't have to make them write about ancient civilizations or tectonic plates (not that those things aren't fascinating!).

My second project is a Science Fair for the 6th graders. They've never done one before and they haven't really done a lot of hands on experimentation in science so I am excited to see what they will come up with for this. Although now that I am in the beginning planning stages I have already realized that organizing this will be a lot more work than I originally thought!

New Year, new goals. I'm definitely looking forward to see how it all goes! Happy New Year everyone! Thanks for reading!

Titrit and Izza Do Morocco

After a flash flood, a parasite, and an attack by a henna painter with a syringe amidst a sea of Moroccan hustlers, Isabel and I couldn't help but feel a little like we were escaping while crossing the Strait of Gibraltar from Tangier back to Algeciras last Thursday. And that´s only the beginning...

We flew into Marrakesh on the 29th and were elated to have fresh Moroccan stamps in Arabic on our passports. After getting marginally ripped off by a taxi driver we arrived in the city proper and enjoyed some coffee while planning our next move. Snake charmers, fruit salesmen, henna painters and carpet sellers all had begun to fill the streets and set up shop by the mid-morning hour; it was quite enchanting. During the day we wandered the streets, checked out an old mosque (from the outside only, non-Muslims are not permitted inside), visited some ornate old tombs and did a bit of haggling of our own in the souks or markets in the old city. We ate couscous and drank mint tea and just enjoyed the smoggy metropolis of Marrakesh. In the evening we wandered around the main square and looked at all of the things for sale. Camel leather, jewelry, spices, roosters, goats, and carpets were up for the bidding- "Small shop, small price" was the sales pitch. At some point in the evening a henna artist tried to get me to purchase her craft. I humored her and looked at her pictures and then politely declined. Not accepting no for an answer, she whipped out a syringe full of henna and grabbed my hand. I tried to recoil but she held fast and plunged the syringe toward my hand, stopping just short of piercing the skin, and squeezed its contents onto my hand. I almost flipped out but held it together long enough to tell her to get the henna off my hand immediately! Fortunately she got the hint and she cleaned it off and left me be.

After Marrakesh, we took a beautiful bus trip over the Atlas Mountains to get to the desert where we would get to ride our lovely camels. On one of the bus breaks we met a Berber friend who excitedly announced to us that he was marrying an American girl on January 4. He was quite friendly and we ended up spending the evening with him in his town on the way out to the dunes in Merzouga. He even gave us the Berber names- I was Titrit (Star) and Isabel was Izza, and we met all of the young men in the town, most of whom were drunk and just wanted to meet the foreign girls. They were all non-threateningly friendly, however, so it wasn't a problem. Our friend, who spoke no less than 5 languages fluently and quite a few others conversationally, also told us that not only was his fiancé a Peace Corps Volunteer, but that they were getting married explicitly for his green card. Just going the extra mile for her country at the risk of jail time? Maybe she thought that passing out condoms and teaching English wasn´t enough of a contribution. We wanted to the wedding, but a trip to Casablanca just didn't fit into the itinerary.

Reaching the dunes in Merzouga turned out to be quite a feat. The first day we took a 7 hour bus to Ouzarzate and then another 3 hours to Boulame Dadas. From there we spent the night and then waited for a 7:30 am bus that we were worried we were going to miss because we were locked into our hostel in the morning and nobody woke up to let us out until we banged on the door for 20 minutes. Of course, the bus never came so we ended up befriending a French couple who were also waiting and taking a 2 1/2 hr taxi ride across the desert together that had us arrive to Merzouga around 1:00 pm. I was overjoyed when the taxi had to stop in the middle of the road because of camel crossing.

Once in Merzouga, we got ourselves signed up for a New Year's Eve camel tour in the dunes with an overnight stay in the desert in Berber tents and waited to see what the night would bring. We departed at 4ish pm and had a gaggle of Spaniards on our tour who turned out to be a lot of fun. They even brought champagne and the traditional 12 grapes per person that they eat at midnight in Spain (one for every stroke of the clock) and they were happy to share with us. My camel happened to be particularly gassy on the way out, but fortunately I was the leader of the camel train during my camel's musical presentation so I didn't have to smell him. This was by far my favorite part of our trip and I even got to go sandboarding in the dunes in the evening before our bonfire that was complete with African drums and Berber singing. Plus we got to wake up New Year's Day to the serene sounds of camels farting and munching on grass!

We left Merzouga the following evening on a freezing-cold overnight bus for Fez. We arrived at 4:30 in the morning and waited it out in the train station until it was light enough to meander the streets. The old city was straight out of a scene from Aladdin with markets and winding streets full of men making carpets, tanning leather and selling camel paraphernalia of every kind. We got lost in the labyrinth of over 4,900 dirt and cobblestone streets and had to ask directions a couple of times to find our way out. We also visited a sweet arms museum that had old canons, crazy medieval weapons of death and haunting yet lovely, bejeweled and ivory-paneled rifles and knifes. In Fez we met up with Adam, a friend of mine from the program Spain, and were quite happy to have his company in the patriarchy that is Morocco. I'm pretty sure Fez is where I picked up my other friend too, a parasite that made the rest of the trip a lot more interesting.

From Fez, we went to Meknes to see some ruins of the Roman Empire called Volubulis. That was especially interesting and beautiful until it started to rain. And rain it did. We sought refuge in our hostel until the rain ceased long enough to get some dinner and return to the hostel. The following day we decided to take a bus up to the coast to a town just south of Tangier called Assilah. But the rains came down and the floods came up causing the bus trip to be much more of an adventure than intended. For starters the bus was packed full, leaving Isabel, Adam and I in all different parts of the bus. Once we hit the flood plains we thought for sure that as the bus pressed forward through the foot or so of water on the ground that our bags that were stored under the bus would be inundated with the muddy slosh. Locals were running around barefoot and in shorts and we passed a small, shoeless family standing on the side of the road smiling and waving at the bus. Amazingly, after a relatively short delay, we continued on and made it to Assilah a bit later than anticipated, but with dry baggage and feet. There was even a rainbow to greet us.

In Assilah I spent a lot of time in the hostel trying to recover but I ventured out long enough to enjoy the beautiful little city and the ocean (which was actually quite filthy). The weather was crisp so there was no sun-bathing or swimming but it was nice to relax after being in the busy cities of Fez and Meknes.

That was the end of our stay in Morocco with the exception of the time it took to taxi to Tangier and ferry out of there! The ferry from Tangier to Algeciras was fast and uneventful- much to my merriment the sea was calm enough and the barge was large enough for me to make it across without having to hang my head over the side of the ship.

From Algeciras we visited Gibraltar before heading back to Madrid, which was fantastic. A monkey even jumped on my head! We got to tour the inside of the rock and see more canons and hear tales about the battles seen there. The monkeys were really nuts, eating out of peoples' hands and jumping on cars. As it is a British possession, we dined on fish and chips for lunch- quite the treat after weeks of couscous and vegetables. It was a delightful way to end our journey.

Christmas at Colegio Clara Campoamor

On our last day of school before Christmas, we had a little party. The kids sang Christmas carols in both English and Spanish, they did a Nativity play and they ate lots of sweets. After the combined program the kids broke into their individual classrooms for the real party. Highlights included a 4th grade sing and dance off (the winner being "Thriller"), 6th grade coat-mime story time, and a large assortment of Lindt chocolates, yum.

Pictures:
1- five year olds Sheila and Arantxa in Mrs. Claus outfits.
2- sixth graders in their Santa hats that I had them make.

The Adventures of Clio the Wonder Car!

I just got back from the Canary Islands. Feel free to be a little jealous. We had a long weekend due to some particularly notable Saints and so two friends, Monica and Laura, and I left rainy Madrid on Friday morning after sleeping on the chilly, uncarpeted airport floor. Our flight was at 6:15 a.m. and the metro doesn't re-open until 6 a.m. each morning so as an alternative to paying for a taxi in the middle of the night, we decided to hop the last metro at 1:30 and wait it out in the airport. That turned out to be quite an unoriginal idea, as the check-in terminal was already chock full of half-sleeping, penny-pinching travelers wrapped in overcoats and sweatshirts to keep warm. So full, in fact, that there weren't even any good wall spots left; we ended up having to find a nice support beam to wrap ourselves around!

Once in the Canarys, all thoughts of peacoats and scarves ceased to exist as we changed into flip-flops and short sleeves. We rented a car, a Renault Clio, and as I was the only one who knew how to drive a manual shift, I got to drive all weekend long! That actually turned out to be quite a feat, given the steep declivity of some of the roads I had to maneuver us up. For reference the island where we stayed, Tenerife, goes from sea level to over 12,000 feet (at the volcano Teide, the highest altitude in Spain) in only 794 square miles of surface area. Needless to say, I may have burned rubber on more than one occasion.

On our first day we drove northeast from the South airport along the brim of the island, stopping off in various beach towns to see the sights, walk along the volcanic sand beaches, stick our feet in the ocean and eat some local food. We made it to our accomodations in the north near La Orotova around 4 or 5 p.m. Our hostel offered spectacular views of the ocean and the Teide along with the smells of horse manure and the sounds of a rooster's crows. We laughed at the fact that our beds were actually above horse stables (with live horses in them) and remembered the disclaimer on the website that actually read, "Abstain persons that dont like the animals and the nature." Our host Manolo, quite the lively fellow, was great at offering us all kinds of information that was usually about 70% correct. We spent about an hour wandering around looking for a restaurant he recommended that night when we finally gave up and ate at a basement joint offering a little of everything. He was kind and his intentions were good so we called it even after I destroyed him at pool.

On day 2 we went up to see the Teide, where the weather was sunny and hot while it was cloudy that day in the low lands. We were well above the clouds and from the top it just looked like there was a white cloud floor. I don't know the last time that the Teide erupted, but there were black volcanic rocks everywhere we looked. This island boasts all kinds of ecosystems- in the south, the air was dry and the landscape desert. In the north everything was green and lush with lots of flowers. As we climbed in elevation there were pine trees and then at the top we reached the lunar-like landscape of volcano land. On our way down from Teide we stopped off at a restaurant and had a great meal of fresh fish, patatas arrugadas or wrinkly potatoes, and salad. The wrinkly potatoes are a Canary classic and are soaked in water with sea salt, which gives them their wrinkly look, and then eventually boiled.

Day 3 was spent mainly at the beach. We went one of the few beaches on the island without volcanic sand, Las Teresitas. The reason for its absence, however, is not because volcanic eruptions somehow magically missed this little aclove, but because the sand was imported from Africa! So for a short time this weekend I was on the sands of Africa- HA! On the way to the beach we drove through the northeasternmost point of the island which gave us amazing views of the ocean in all directions. It was just splendid.

Sadly, yesterday, we had to return our beloved little Clio and head back to Madrid. The flight was uneventful (thankfully) and we made it home in time for lunch. Back to school tomorrow for a two-day workweek and then three-day weekend again. ¡Olé!

Thanksgiving-mania!

Thanksgiving this year was a lot delicious and a little ridiculous or over-the-top, one might even say. True to American custom there was way more food than needed. And as we only had about 27 (!) or so people there to eat, it was shocking that there were any left-overs. Appetizers (to the left) included salmon/goat cheese sandwiches on baguettes, deviled eggs, cornbread and chocolate-covered strawberries. For the main course (to the right) there was roast turkey, chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans, two sweet potato dishes, homemade mac and cheese, stuffing, green-bean casserole, cheesecake, pumpkin pie (they sell canned pumpkin at The American Store for about 5 euro a can, but it was worth it!) pumpkin cheesecake, and probably a few other things that I am forgetting.

We definitely tore the kitchen apart the day of, my friend Mike in charge of the turkey, chicken and gravy and me in charge of potatoes, beans, deviled eggs and desserts. How happy he was when some more friends arrived later in the evening so he could get a second opinion on the turkey and the gravy as I am STILL (yes, grandpa) a vegetarian. The verdict was good and the rest of the dishes arrived at the house later in the evening along with the guests. The night went quite smoothly and everyone seemed to have a good time. Éxito.

In hindsight, I still can't figure out why I decided it would be a good idea to throw a Thanksgiving bonanza for more than 2 dozen people, but in the end it all turned out well and good. My poor roommates put up with my week-long mood swings generated from feelings of stress for cooking for so many people and feelings of loss for my mother- her birthday falling on or near Thanksgiving every year making it an especially difficult yet memorable holiday for me as Thanksgiving and her life are two things that are completely intertwined in my neural fibers. At least they got to take advantage of some left-overs for their patience.

Since every day can be used as a learning experience, what I take from this Thanksgiving is simple. Next year, go to Grandma's.

a little inspiration.

A big, fat cloud of negative had amassed over my head arrested nearly two weeks of my optimism earlier this month when I found some inspiration in two rather small packages that helped me turn myself around.

I went to a reception celebrating 50 years of Fulbright scholarships between Spain and the United States. It was in a rather fancy building, in the fancier part of town in a high-ceilinged conference room with fancy chandeliers and waiters with fancy black ties passing around wine, champagne and caviar. As my 6th graders would say in their British-influenced English, "How cheeky!"

The reception was attended by former and current Fulbrighters (both Spanish and American), folks from the American Embassy, the US Ambassador to Spain and a random assortment of other interesting people related to the Fulbright program. There were multiple ex-Fulbrighters who spoke on their experiences, a former ambassador from the US turned Vice President of SUNY Buffalo who spoke on his time as an ambassador, and there was even a brief recorded salute sent to us from Hillary Clinton where she commended the program on 50 years of cultural interchange.

The speakers were good, but they didn't hold a candle to the moment where the host introduced the guests of honor: three of the first Fulbrighters from Spain to the US in 1958. She called on them to stand and slowly each of the wrinkled, white-haired becarios came to their feet. They were two men and one woman and one of the men was seated with the woman. They didn't speak, they just smiled while the audience applauded and then they returned to their seats.

Later on during the reception my friend Mike and I sought out the old man and woman who had been seated together for some conversation about their year abroad. Turns out they met on the boat from Spain to New York; back then the Fulbright program relied on boats for their inter-continental transportation, picking up first Fulbrighters in Greece, then Italy and finally Spain. In NY, they both attended Columbia, she at the Teacher's College and he for an MBA, and shortly after their arrival home to Spain they were married and are now great-grandparents.

They gave us accounts of life in the United States of 1958 during their year as students and also of some of their adventures afterward. In true 'we've been married for almost 50 years' fashion, they often completed each others' stories and interrupted each other to add pertinent details of the tale that the other had left out. At the end of their year the husband told us how he hitch-hiked across the US, first from New York to South Carolina, where he was stopped at dusk by a trooper- only to spend the night in a private jail cell, have the trooper make him breakfast in the morning, and then drive him up to Tennessee and drop him off, as hitch-hiking in SC was illegal. He continued along, stopping off in Mexico before heading all the way out to California. His wife, shaking her finger, cut in with, " Pero yo, no. Me fui a Puerto Rico- a la playa." ("But not me, I went to Puerto Rico- to the beach.") She did do a little Carribean island-hopping though, because they met up in Cuba for Christmas 1958, just days, they reminded us, before Bautista fled and the Communists took power.

We listened like two eager grandchildren asking for one more story before bedtime until finally after more than fifteen minutes of their anecdotes they, being two of the three Honored Guests at the reception, politely told us that while they had enjoyed chatting with us, they needed to move on. We thanked them for speaking with us and said goodbye with two kisses and off they went to socialize with some of the other guests. Mike and I smiled and decided we had fantastic luck to have been able to catch them at a moment where no one else had hold of their attention.

As one of the black-tied waiters walked by with more wine, I reached for a glass reflecting on all that was said, forgetting about all my earlier frustrations and hoping that one day, when I have white hair and I've shrunk to only 5'5, I'll be able to dazzle young people with the yarns of my life and the adventures I undertook, as these two golden-agers had just done.

The Tamara Life

This is an interpretation from one of my 5th grade students about a presentation I gave about myself in class earlier in October. Some of the facts are a little off and my work is cut out for me with teaching grammar, but it was my favorite one nonetheless...