The Three Kings

So for the most part, Santa Claus doesnt visit the homes of children in Spain. Instead it is the Reyes Magos (The Three Kings, or the Three Wise Men - depending on your translation from the Bible). Alongside everyones christmas tree is is not only a nativity scene but an entire reconstruction of the town of Belen (Bethlehem) with rivers and houses and trees and people. Each school also has elaborate Belens that are judged and prizes are awarded. The one at Juan de la Rosa was huge, had a pond, and the light magically shifted from daytime to nighttime, with little lights in the houses all lite up and the moon aglow in the background.

Now. The Three Kings. A friend asked me right after I finished the last blog if I wanted to be a Rey Mago this year, they were short on volunteers. I said "yes, of course!" and boy did I not know what I was getting myself into. But 9 am the next morning I arrived for costume and make-up at the city council building - in the extracurricular education office. Along with one of the teachers i work with, Antonio (his wife is the director of the department, so he was obliged to volunteer for the job) and another woman....we all piled on the costumes, royal robes, gloves, rings, wigs, beards, gaudy rings, and of course the crown. Meanwhile I was trying to fill in the complete blank slate that is my knowledge of the three kings. "What are the names of the kings?" "Which one am I?" "Did I bring frankincense, gold or myrhh?" "Do they say anything special - like how Santa says Ho Ho Ho?" I was the brown-haired one, Gaspar, who brought the frankincense. And they encouraged me that I would be even more convincing because with my accent it would seem as if I had really come from the Orient.
So trying not to trip over my robe that was about 8 inches too long, and seeing where I was going in the fine slit between the shaggy moptop of brown wig and the beard and mustache getup that was attached - I hopped into the city council van. I meet the director of education, the mayor and many more people along the way.

And then we arrived. Now, my vision before we got there was that we would walk around to the classrooms for a few minutes with a bag of candy and say Feliz Navidad. No no no. Silly me. There is the big production of the Nativity Play, and then every class sings a prepared christmas carol.. and then the Reyes Magos arrive. Grand entrance, very serious - with eyes of the entire school, students, teachers, parents and hundreds of cameras - all on you. So we walk slowly like a processional to the stage, where there are 3 thrones ready for each of us. We wave royally, befopre sitting. And at the first school they decided to do an interview with the three kings!! My heart jumped - what if i didnt understand? or i didnt know the answer, with my rough draft understanding of the biblical history of it all. But I sailed through the interview, and it was time for the kids: Every single child climbed right up onto the stage and SAT ON MY LAP - santa claus style. I follwed suit with what the others were doing and lifted them up onto my knee. I asked them: "Has sido bueno este ano?" "Have you been good this year?" "What do you want for christmas?" And some had a little present, so I would know their name when they approached me. That really frightened the little ones. And there were a few that I couldnt read, or it was the wrong present - so I had to make something up like "Why, my goodness, you have grown so much this past year I didnt even recognize you! Of course you are not Juan, you are Jose!" If I didnt know their name I would fill in with the common playful nicknames here such as Guapa, Senorita, etc. There was a hush in the crowd when I hoisted one kid onto my knee and somehow my crown went flying off with a clatter on the ground. Keeps you on your toes, to say the least. All the while, you are also trying to make sure the kid turns around so that the parents that are all elbowing each other in the back of the crowd can get a good picture of their little one on the Rey's lap.

Well, one school down. Two to go. . . . And 5 hours later I was a pro Gaspar. I could hold my head up regally without worrying that my crown would slip off, and could just sweep the kids off the ground and into my lap. I must have seen hundreds and hundreds of children that morning, mostly ages 3, 4 & 5. Every one had written a letter to one of the Kings, telling them what they wanted for christmas to which I responded "Thank you. I can't wait to read it." And most kids had a favorite king too. The last school was a very catholic school that is taught by nuns, but in true Spainish style - it is still public. I was eager to see what these nuns were all about. Conservative? In black? Strict? They turned out to be the hippest of them all, dressed in everyday clothes and invited us to drink a licorice liquor afterwards. Nuns drinking!

A quick change back to reality. We hung up the robes and wigs - until next year. And I walked home without any turning of heads or salutes to the Three Kings. I continued on, and almost to work I spotted one of the girls that had sat on my lap just a few hours before - walking home with her parents. I expected her to turn any second and wave or cheer. But she didnt. I was just another passerby on the street. And this was just another day in Ronda.

Its beginning to look a lot like Christmas...

Everywhere you turn...

All the streets in Ronda (and every other city in Spain) are lined with christmas lights of all shapes and colors and sizes. It makes for a very festive feel, as I get into the spirit of the season. As far as decorations go, they are big on tinsel here and fake christmas trees. Some have little santa clauses climbing up the balcony of their apartment and shopwindows are decked out in the season. Also, since I am in a catholic country they do not have the same conciousness of 'Happy Holidays" "Season's Greetings" or "Winter Break" that we are so PC about - in order to respect all cultures a tradition. Everyone celebrates Christmas, and everything is Christmas this, nativity scenes that, and of course the three kings.

Although Santa Claus (Papa Noel) is creeping onto the scene here, he doesnt visit the majority of homes here in Ronda. The big gift distributor is the Reyes Magos (the three Kings) who come on Jan 6th. And so christmas vacation is Dec 22 through Jan 8th allowing for that celebration. Some lucky children get visits from both: the reasoning being that then the kids get to play with their toys longer during vacation. And overall, the spirit of the season is not about gift giving, which is very refreshing for me. It is about spending time with family, with a traditional big dinner on Christmas Eve and a lunch on the 25th. The holiday celebration does not revolve around present by any means, which - if you ask me - is the way it ought to be. I have learned several spanish christmas carols, that involve clapping and are flamenco style. Very fun. And I have also decorated my apartment (on a budget) with christmas lights, poinsettias, stockings and tinsel.

Also, there is a Christmas Lottery - which is HUGE here. Everyone buys a lottery ticket., or multiple, and the winners are announced December 22nd. I thought I might get into the spirit and feel like a true spanish woman - until i found out that each lottery ticket is 23 euros!!! I was thinking - ya know - 1 euros. No, no. Can you just imagine!? And that some people buy one with each number ending - spending 300 euros or more! Every culture has its little quirks I suppose, but I diecided to sit this cultural experience out. Another addition to the christmas spirit was today they set up speakers on the main street that blast christmas music for the shoppers (who are our in full force). This is lovely for the shoppers, howver for those of us that live directly above these shoppers listening to christmas carols 18 hours a day may get a little tiring (even for me).

I have been delivering my full dose of christmas carols to the student the past couple weeks too. One day I sang for at least 8 hours - nonstop christmas carols! The repetoire includes "We wish you a Merry Christmas" and "Jingle Bells" (the 2 staples); "The 12 Days of Christmas" (good for practicing numbers) "Silent Night" (classic) "Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer" (with the echos) "White Christmas" and "Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire." There is also lots of drawing on the blackboard of christmas trees, presents, mistletoe, reindeer, etc. We sing so much in my classes that the students have learned to expect it right from the moment I walk in the room! :)

Other highlights from the past few weeks:

-the conference I went to with ActionAid International was a blast! 100% spanish and 100% passionate about issues of international development in Latin America. It felt good to be part of an engaged community, and also wiggle my feet in the sand at the beach that was about 30 yards from our hotel.

-Last Thursday I went on an 18 mile hike (30 kms) from Ronda to another white village through the country side with my hiking group. The company was great, and the scenery stupdenous. We are training for a 100 km (62 mile) extravaganza that is coming up in the spring.

-On Friday my Flamenco class had a little christmas celebrations (all 6 of us) with a bottle of christmas wine and some christmas pastries. We would drink a little, dance a little, drink a little dance a little. At 10:30 am we were all loosened up to dance flamenco. Oh spain!

Speaking of Spanish Christmas pasteries let me elaborate.The primary christmas sweet here is Mantecados. When I first tried one I devoured it in an instant . I reached for another, and another. They melt in your mouth. Delicious. 'And they aren't too chocolate-y,' I thought. One day I decided to read the label to find out what was in these magical goodies. Ready? In this order: Flour, Sugar, Lard, Chocolate. Let me repeat: Flour... Sugar.... LARD... Chocolate!! That is not even a 'I'll have some lard with my chocolate'. It is a 'I suppose I will have some chocolate with my LARD.' Well, needless to say, I have packed on some good spirited christmas pounds into my love handles. And although I paused for a good 5 minutes while I took in the immensity of calories I was consuming; I quickly resumed my eating and enjoying. There are also other flavors of Mantecados - lemon, almond, orange. I prefer the chocolate.

Another lovely moment in my Mantecado education: One day I was drinking my coffee and drenching my bread with olive oil, as usual during recess at school. This particular day there was a basket of individually wrapped mantecados on the table that people were eating. At this point I had already discovered the fact that mantecado=calorie bomb, so i politely declined. But people were munching away, no problem. Then at the end of the meal someone mentioned - "oh yeah, those are the leftover manetcados from last year." LAST YEAR?! I thought. And was eager to share that with my friends at the next school. Turns out it is not uncommon. They thought nothing of it! Well I'll be. These are sure the most fascinating pastery I've come across.

So this is the last week of school, as I imagine it is for many of you. Hope this finds you well, enjoying the festivities as you slave away at finals, work and last minute shopping. I hope you enjoy the holiday spirit, sing some christmas song, drink eggnog and eat some gingerbread cookies by the fire. I am looking forward to a caroling show and a play at the elementary school, along with some christmas arts and crafts, a visit from the three wise men, and my brother coming tovisit me at the ned of this week. Happy Holidays!

Travel, Thanks, Turkey - Time is a flyin'

Every day is becoming more full. more routine. and unfortunately, colder. We had our first rain since my grand entrance, and the nights get wickedly cold. Couple that with an empty gas 'bombona' and you are taking ice cold showers in ice cold weather. The result: numb toes, lots of tea and a down sleeping bag. But the days are warmer, and the sky feels tremendous when it has a thick cloud cover.

The past two weekends I have traveled. Last weekend to Sevilla, for my first time, and I returned today from Jerez. Sevilla is the capital of the region, about 2,5 hours from Ronda and it is just majestic. It has wide avenues with new metro trams, right next to old cathedrals, and a beautiful Arabic fortress, the Alcazar in the middle of the city. I went with Saskia, and we stayed with a couple belgium girls that had come and visited us the weekend before. It was a whole different world from little Ronda, and a very beautiful city. After the complicit tourist sights, we hit the streets and literally shopped till we dropped. There was a moment that evening when we were frolicking in the narrow cobblestoned streets and we said, "Estamos en Espana!!" and I said, "Estamos en Eurpoa!" and being the only nonEU citizen, they said 'but we are always in europe." and two had enevr been outside of europe. a very different experience for me.. as someone who as traveld a good deal throughout europe.. and yes I can certainly distiguish and appreciate the diversity of culture between borders, but it was also eye opening, to realize how much of a different perspective I bring to Spain that someone who comes from another European country. And I felt very grateful to have had the opportunity to travel and be exposed to so many different environments. The weekend ended at a Sunday market on the edge of town. It was a wonderfull flea market feel, with many immigrants and an eclectic cultural mix that made me feel like for a moment I was in Latin America.. a continent that I think of often, and still miss during my time in spain. Nothing here has come close to the natural vibrancy of life in Latin America. And although a bit peculiar - there is nothing like directly facing and experiencing a social injustice like extreme poverty to rile me up and feel impassioned to make change. Although I love teaching.. there is something tremendously fulfilling about even writing a report on international development or microfinance.

That Thursday was Thanksgiving. Known as Dia de Accion de Gracias here. People knew impressively little about the holiday, and so it was enjoyable to share it with all of my students. It was a week FULL of drawing hand turkeys, learning beak, wing, feather, singing the Turkey Dinner Song (hand movements a must) and for the advanced groups writing Thanksgiving acostic poems about what we are thankful for. I explained what stuffing is, gravy, pumpkin pie, the Thanksgiving Classic, Macy´s Day Parade, Black Friday, homesick, the Pilgrims.. todo. I must have sung that Turkey Dinner Song at LEAST 78 times. Then it came time for my own Turkey Day celebration, and thanks to (no pun intended) technology I got to see my whole family via Skype. Jen and I had an unconventionally lovely Thanksgiving dinner at around 10:30 pm when we got off work. It included Chicken, french fries, spanish wine, Flamenco Dresses and candlelite. Hermosa.

The next day Jen I am were off to Jerez de la Frontera- a town of about 200,000 people, where we met up with 2 other girls from Georgia that were doing the same program. One of them works in Jerez, and so we all stayed with her (economical - ya know?). We arrived in the rain, a little biased that our city is the absolute best, but the city and weekend proved to be splendid. I found it to be authentic, typical piece of Spain in a way more polished tourist cities aren´t. Lots of churches, old narrow windy streets, grandiose fountains. But what Jerez is also known for is horses and Wineries. Jerez means Sherry. So after the most non-mexican food I have ever had (i´ve never considered myself a food snob, but SuperRica would have found it comical) - the next day we went to a winery. Although the tour was sold out, we took pictures and enjoyed the senery. We saw some horses, and then decided to go to a cafe and have our own Sherry taste test. So we ordered a sample of all the local sherries they had. The conclusion: We don't like Sherry. After chatting it up with a national mens basketball team the night before (in the grocery store buying gatorade), we headed off to a basketball game. Free tickets. Front row. Very different than a Lakers game in the states. For instance - no hot dogs or cheerleaders! This is more of a sunflower seed crowd. But I was up in the action.. "VAMOS CHICOS!" "DEFENSA!" "CORRE" "REBOTE" Rest assured, I compensated for the lack of cheerleaders at the game too.
After tapas, the highlight of the weekend for me was yet to come.

In Andalucia, and especially Jerez, the Christmas season involves a festivity called a Zambomba. It is a bonfire-like event, where you sing Flamenco Christmas carols and dance flamenco. Amazing right? This one was in a warehouse type place, with a bar. There was a circle of chairs for the "musicians" (mostly tambourine players) and everyone crowded around the outside clapping and chanting. It was spectacular. Feet stomping, clapping, instrument shakers, and belting out at the top of your lungs. A zambomba is also an instrument.. it is a bucket, with cloth over the top, with a stick going through it. So you move the stick up and down to hit against the bottom of the bucket. with the cloth it makes a boom sound. the zamboma and another drum keep the beat. It was especially rewarding to be familiar with the claps and rhythms from my flamenco class. I even busted out a couple little flamenco moves. And when we left, there were people all out in the street the place was so filled. And you could feel the energy bouncing off the walls. As my mom said.. now THAT is Spain.

The weekend was also nice, as a time to share with other people from my program in life back home. Only two months in.. I am already looking towards my next chapter, and planning, applying, writing, researching. And it was nice to share with the other girls in topics of graduate school, thesis talk, linguistics, family, and the world back home. I am busy with applications, getting recommendations, scholarships, fellowship, graduate school. It is a lot to think about. A lot to plan. and definitely a lot of work. But I also enjoy it, and I think the reason it is overwhelming is that there are so many options. I could do just about anything, come June. So we'll see where the wind blows me.

For now, we have school, lesson plans, school, flamenco, independent films, school, applications, decorating my apartment for christmas inexpensively, and today I am heading off to a conference for the weekend with ActionAid International - an international development organization. Looking forward to meeting some movers-and-shakers!

Fotos

Some photos if you have the ganas (interest) -

Ronda y Mas:
http://ucdavis.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2206645&l=5c121&id=3202326

and Sevilla this past weekend. Wonderful:

http://ucdavis.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2206652&l=2fdb2&id=3202326

Hope all is well!!!

Flamenco, Film clubs and Gratitude

I figured it was time for another update. Since I have begun my second teaching position, and gathered a few private students I must confess that time has been escaping me, in the best possible of ways. The past 6 weeks have flown by, and I foresee these 8 months ending before I am ready. I find myself with many more ideas for lesson plans and cultural projects there there is time in the day to do. So I am learning to prioritize and face reality in order to maximize time in the classroom.

But now for the present: I wake up every day knowing that I will learn something that day - whether it is a piece of Spanish grammar that I have been saying incorrectly for the past 8 years, or a new hot spot for local live music. And I look forward to coming home to my roommate, Jen, to compare notes on new vocabulary words, and share stories and our common love for Ronda. We share our dreams and fears, our ambitions and passions. And incorporate our lives into lofty metaphors of rolling stones, and polishing creators.

Since my last report, I have discovered beautiful niches tucked away in Ronda. In a town that is seemingly homogeneous, and with coworkers that are mostly twice my age, I was skeptical that this was the place for me. I am certainly not in college bubble any longer, and can now appreciate the ease with which I have found like-minded friends so far; however I have also found that each person has something special to offer. And there lies great danger in making quick assumptions. I have found myself invited to the home of a dance therapist who cooked a lovely lunch of typical northern spanish fare, and I met her au pair from Poland. I enjoyed a local live jazz concert that plays the first friday of every month, and hopefully will go to their next rehearsal to jam a little. I also went to a classic Spanish 16th century play, "La Vida es Sueno," which brought to life some of the material I had learned in a Spanish course last year. I've had conversations with many peers who are also mother about their children. I tutor a young woman who is an Industrial Engineer, one of two women in her class, and who is paying out of pocket to improve her English (which is very good) and go to MBA school parttime. Inspiring! I've found time to read on my balcony (a luxury that I unfortunately don't have as much time for nowadays); and I have become a regular at a local Independent Film Club.

The Independent Film group was a real find. It is a small group of people who meet every Tuesday night to watch quality spanish independent films. (As it goes in Ronda, I knew about half the group.) And the movie is followed by a lengthy discussion around a table with a bowl of olives, a bowl of peanuts and some beverages. It is exhilarating to be surrounded by people who are engaged in the arts, and have a somewhat pretentious conversation about film themes and camera angles in Spanish.

Last weekend: I went to Marbella, a costal town nearby, for the day on Friday. Along with the joy of laying on the beach in am bathing suit and the smell of salt water, I also got tremendous pleasure from stopping at and purchasing from EVERY bakery we came across, with my sweet-tooth-partner-in-crime, Jen. We had quite the feast on the busride home. That night we participated in a regular intercambio event at a local pub, and had the first night of all out DANCING. We went to a dance club early (2 am) and since there was no one there, we were able to bust out our moves. Dancing has been the main thing that I have missed since I arrived in Ronda. It is peculiar, but this just simply isn't a dancing community, and although there are spaces to dance, people are rather timid. But, have no fear, A.Tianna is here to teach Ronda how to boogie.
I also went on an excursion with the local Teacher's Association, on a hike through the countryside to a cave. Very beautiful at the time of year, with leaves changing colors, and we are fortunate to have unseasonably warm weather during the day. It gets bitingly cold at night, but the days are warm and sunny. At the end of the hike we went to a restaurant and had a HUGE typical Spanish meal, with olives, chorizo, salad, wine and a Rabbit Paella. Yes, it was my first time eating rabbit, and although I had to push thoughts of little Thumper out of my mind, it was mighty tasty. That night was another out until 6 am night, that begun with playing pool and darts and more dancing with born and raised Rondenos. The last song of the night was Imagine, by the Beatles; it was great to hear a whole pub full of Spaniards belting out the lyrics. I was also able to bust out some of my moves I had learned in my first couple weeks of Flamenco dance classes. I am loving the class, again of people all at least twice my age, and a feminine bunch. I feel professional as I practice in my living room, showing off to my audience - my roommates. I am confident that my feet stomping, arms flailing, and fingers twirling will soon take shape, and I will be stupendous! For now, I have a supportive audience. I've decided - all i need is the dress.

Sunday, I read up on Spanish history and current politics, to try and fill in the gap that is my horrific ignorance of Spanish history. The highlights of what I learned: They were under a dictatorship, Franco for 40 years. Up until 1975, when he died everything was very traditional, and there was much censorship and conservative standards of living. One of the good things Franco did do was increase tourism to the country, and boosted the economy. There is all sorts of complexities of policies when the power was lifted and transition was made; that included the legalization of birth control, but without any education to go along with it. Jump to present day Spanish politics and we have a king and an active president. The President/Prime Minister, Zapatero, is of the Socialist Workers Party. He made Spain the first country in the world to give equal marriage and adoption rights to gay couples in 2005. My studies proved incredibly rewarding when the next day at school the teachers were talking about a comment the King made to Hugo Chavez, and I had read the article!!

So, in between lesson plans and teaching, I am trying to make the most of this experience.
I try and take the time, often with my roommate, to go down to the Mirador that looks over the beautiful valley at sunset and realign my equilibrium and find peace in the world. I write in my journal and ponder life and what my plans may be at the end of these 8 months. There is something about living in a new and foreign place that makes us live such rich lives. But it doesn't need to be that way. It is not as if I am traveling. I am simply loving every little thing. The smell of fresh bread from the bakeries, the feeling of children running up and hugging my calf, 'hola!', teaching a pop song to students, or drenching my bread with olive oil. Going on hikes, reading books, taking pictures of sunsets. These are all things you could do anywhere. But there is something about the way we choose to look at the world, and the people we surround ourselves with, that can be especially inspiring, uplifting and beautiful. I have been doing an annual thanksgiving fast with my friend the past couple days, as a way of focusing on everything that I am grateful for, and boy.......there sure is a lot. I think I'm going to break fast tonight with leftover Rabbit Paella.

Teecha Ahteeana

I got a call when I was in the Alhambra parking lot from a woman named Donna. She spoke english clearly and slowly, and said that she had a job opportunity for me , and had gotten my name from friends at the Escuela de Idiomas (where I work). I would be the lectora (that is my title) at a second school, if i was interested. She said she quit after a week, and needed to find a replacement. 'Gosh, quit after a week? What is this all about?' I thought. I was intrigued and we met for coffee a couple days later. I met a delightful, jubilant 60 year old woman from the US who has been living in Ronda for 7 years. Since then I have been to her house in the country, grown accustomed to her calling everyone darling and sweetie, and heard about both husbands, her photography business, her career as a professional masseuse, life without electricity in rural northern spain where she was stranded in her house for months when the water came up too high, her opinion on british travelers, tea and history... I could go on and on. She is a delight, and very generous.

As for the position, it is at Juan de la Rosa, a semi private/semi public school (families dont pay) that includes infantile (preschool), primaria (primary) and secundaria (secondary) school. Ages 3 through 16. I heard stories about 'wild indians' from Donna and how she had caught a cold by the end of the first week. But I decided to give it a whirl. The position is designed to expose all the school to a native english speaker. So I go to every class for a half hour. I would teach there 8 hours a week, mondays and tuesday, and the small stipend salary is certainly welcome. And boy, I can say i have never appreciated the job Elementary school teachers as much as I do now! Wow.

Day #1: last Monday. So Monday was not so bad. I came at 10:30, taught the 9 year olds, and we had a coffee and toast break at 11. Not so bad right? Then it was time for the kindergardeners..... 5/6 year olds, very nice. Well behaved. We colored in pumpkins and ghosts. Next was time for youngest preeschoolers - the 3 year olds. ..... only, really - half the class is 2 years old. TWO! How do you teach English to a child that cant sit in his chair for more than 5 minutes before he wets his pants, and his trousers are down to his knees as he trots to the bathroom? If you know the secret, please fill me in. Otherwise it was a half hour of blue, blue, blue, green, green, green, yellow, yellow, yellow. And the teacher in between would scold the children harshly for not sitting in their chair properly. 'They're two years old. They shouldn't even be sitting in chairs; they should be waddling around the playground!' But they did learn Teecha Ahteeana. The teachers at the school are called seno - short for senora/senor. As the token English teacher I get the special name of Teacher A.Tianna. Just two more classes that day, 8 year olds and 10 year olds. A little precocious, but attentive, engaged, and fun.

Day #2: I started off with the preschoolers again. First 5 year olds, and I was ready: blue, blue blue, green green green.... What I was not prepared for the 4 year olds. Their teacher was preparing for the Fall Breakfast (A deceiving title. It should be renamed the Fall Cake Fest... there were more pies, cakes, cookies, flans, and sweets piled on table after table than I had ever seen! and it was certainly one of the most delicious events I have been to). Anyways. Class of 20 four year olds - and me. Teecha Ahteena. When I walked in they were quietly coloring in their coloring books, but for the next half hour it was mayhem! I had cut out orange construction paper pumpkins to draw faces on, and between comparing them with their friends, running up to me to show me their, pulling on my shirt.."look at mine look at mine!" - I was spinning. Then i turned around and there is one playing with the toys in the corner, and by the time i get him back in his seat there were two more are arguing over a pen, while everyone else is jumping up and down from their seat, shouting, with their hands flying trying to get my attention. My new song.. "siiiiilent, siiiiilent, siiiiiilent" wasn't working. And as soon as I finally got the pumpkins out of their hands and onto the wall - it was time for the Fall Breakfast (I cant imagine those children with more sweets in them!) I literally RAN to the next class in the other part of school, and show up out of breath as I try to introduce myself to 35 ten year olds. More coloring and drawing of Halloween characters. This time I am more than ready for the 11 am coffee and toast break. Another tricky part of running class to class is that there is no time to make photocopies of your materials. And with one photocopy machine, i feel a little conspicuous making 300 copies while other teachers are waiting and watching. Teachers that teach 30 students each. So I always hope that we will have enough. A couple teachers teach English part-time, (one in secondary school and two in primary,) although their English is not at a very high level, and I quickly understood the value of my position. There are nuances to the language that they are not familiar with. For example, one teacher walked into class, set her papers down on the desk and shouted SHUT UP! to the class. Not something that translates exactly, right? After I got ahold of myself and closed my widely gaping mouth, I tried to explain that 'Be Quiet' might be a more appropriate phrase for a classroom. The afternoon I had the drill down. Show up, introduce myself, talk about Halloween, maintain order, and grab my books and bag and RUN to the next class. Catch my breath, introduce myself, and do it again. And again. Until it is 2:30 and I am beat! Especially with those witty teenagers. Phew! Quick lunch at the comedor cafeteria before I walk quickly to the other school and pull out my prepared lesson plans there. I am all worked up, sweating, and the other teachers are rolling in calmly from a leisurely lunch. The students were polite and well behaved. I can now appreciate my Language School and the splendid students even more now.

Now this is not to say that I didn't enjoy the school. I had a very good time! It was fun. And I feel like every week I will get a better handle on it. It is exciting, certainly fast paced, and a satisfying experience. Feeling like you are an active participant in the formation of a young person, and trying to serve as a good role model is both challenging and rewarding. And like i said, I am very thankful all those remarkable Ms Sandells, Ms Careys, Ms Ennis, Mr Hugh, Ms Mackie, Mr Carreto, and of course Senora Calderons. Especially being a drifter teacher is difficult. And I am continuously looking back on the memories I have from my elementary school experience and attempting to emulate the role models I was fortunate to have at such a young age. Teaching animated, enthusiastic, kind students is really a treat, and I am glad that I have a language that I am able to share with them. Everything from jack-o-lantern, blue and yellow, to the difference between beautiful and handsome (I corrected several young girls when I showed them a photo of my brother, and they said -" he very beautiful." giggling). I look forward to sharing more, and constantly have ideas churning about how I can engage them next time. In the language school I was able to tell scary story and have them fill in the verbs -lights off for ambiance, of course. And we made scary stories ourselves, going around the circle.

Halloween was a success as well. We had our first party at our piso. I had decorated the entire Language School with tons of paper pumpkins, bats, ghosts, and of course the spider web stuff covering the hallway, and for the party I borrowed some. Our house was decked out. I had a sign on the door that said enter if you dare... and tealights in the fire place, on the table and in the tv center on one wall. There were signs for the snacks, like - olives were eyes, and little pickles were little pinkies, carrot sticks were zombie fingers, and corn nuts were finger nails. salami was bat tounges, and bewitched cookies, etc. It was fun to do all that in Spanish since i had been teaching about Halloween in English all week. We had a very nice turn out of mostly my colleagues and friends. And for almost everyone it was their first Halloween party! There were vampires, superman, a pirate, a santa claus type. And I was Madre Tierra (Mother Earth) with a homemade wreath crown of leaves.

So all in all, I am learning a tremendous amount everyday. And enjoying all the aspects of my life that seems to be building itself. I am currently reading (very slowly) La Sombra del Viento and still eating my salads on the balcony. More and more time is being dedicated to lesson plans, teaching and most recently tutor. I am gather private students quickly. And now I teach approx 500 students a week, 700 students in total. More people to say 'hola' to on the streets of Ronda!

Life in Little Ronda

Life in Little Ronda continues. Fall is upon us with brisk weather and class lessons on Halloween; weekends of tea parties and hikes.

A little background on the demographics of Ronda. I feel like here I am more in tune with the rhythm of life than I normally am upon moving to a new town. I know the routine of restaurants collecting their gas 'bombonas' on Monday mornings, the pastry shops that don't get fully stocked until around 11 am, when they simultaneously put out the chairs and tables. The peculiarity of how all the tapas bars seem to be closed on Tuesday. I know the best place to put my chair on the balcony to enjoy the afternoon sun. And the time of the sunset in the evening, so that I can run down to the edge of town and take pictures of the brilliant colored sky. My life as well has settled into a routine. I am getting accustomed to eating a big meal at around 2 pm and then a lighter fare at 8 or 9.

Also, demographics -wise - this town is comprised of families. There is of course the tremendous presence of tourists wandering the streets, but most just come for the day, and do not participate in the nightlife or true infrastructure of the town. They are more or less segregated, and stay within the confines of the tourist route, herded by tour guides speaking all languages. Otherwise, this is a town where people move to raise there family. Since Ronda is so safe and a healthy size, the children are surrounded my a supportive community, good school system, and plenty of activities to do. However, once it is time for university the teenagers leave, at around 18 years old, to go to university in larger towns. And since there is not much opportunity for young professionals in this relatively small town, they dont return even after graduation. Due to this fact, the demographic chart is top and bottom heavy, with almost a gap between 18 and 28. Once people have children they move to Ronda, beginning to cycle again. This coupled with the fact that I am working either with teenagers or adults has heightened my awareness. And Ronda is becoming the new Andalucia haven as people move up from the coast (saying they have had enough) to settle down in a pleasant mountain community.

Along the same line, Ronda is a homogeneous community, as are most places. But even my mother noticed the lack of counterculture here in Ronda. Spain is known for its flair for the funky every now and again... flowy skirts or those pants with the crotch that droops to your knees, perhaps dreadlocks or a radical mullet here or there. Ronda is more about dressing children in big hair bows and matching socks. It is what I would call cosmopolitan preppy.
The arts are strong. Since there are many transplants from other cities here it is a cultured bunch, which draws a more cosmopolitan crowd and keeps the stifling aspects of rural life at bay (for the most part). But for a place that feels big at times, it has a very clear small town feel.

I cross path with several students anytime i walk anywhere in town. Whether it is seeing a play at the municipal theatre, walking home from a botellon (where the youth from the town all gather in the central park with grocery bags of beverages, plastic cups and ice to drink before going to the bars), or on the quick trip around the corner to the grocery store. One evening walking home from work, a car turned in front of me and there was a girl in her school uniform plastered against the window waving furiously at me. There are no secrets in Ronda, and I feel like I ought to be walking down the street with a smile on my face.

The coincidences could go on and on... from going to a lunch at a friends house and coincidentally I knew the other 5 guests already. And their daughter knew my roommate. And one of them had lived in my very apartment before me! And less than a week later I met the ex husband of one, who's current wife is the german teacher at my school, and he coincidentally works with my roommate. The world has 6 degrees of separation, right? Santa Barbara may have 3. Davis may have 3. . . Ronda has 1. I cant imagine what it will feel like in 7 months!

Visita de la Madre

The past week has been a whirlwind of tapas, photos, laughter and most of all rental car adventures. My mom arrived last Thursday, and I was a little nervous about whether she would appreciate my humble abode as much as I do. I made sure to tidy up and even washed the windows. She did. The view from our apartment and the location were a hit. Of course, as mothers do, she also had some suggestions for how to move the furniture, and left me stocked with extra lightbulbs, bleach, towels and candles (purchases I would have put off myself).

We scoped out the happenin' tapas joints in town, and found our favorite: Maestro's. Where the soccer game blasts in the corner, and the owner with the slicked-back gray hair and white chefs coat is flying back and forth behind the bar getting peoples orders. Our selection: Meatballs and fried ham and cheese croquettes. Delicious. We went back that same day for more. And the next day. We also tried the highly recommended Lechugita, "little lettuce" where the specialty is a quarter of a head of lettuce doused in a vinegarette that you eat with you fingers. mmm. Our mornings were leisurely as well.. sleeping in until unfathomable hours and strolling down to the bakery on the corner for coffee and a pastry. We sat next to the same local Spanish man two days in a row.

This was all after my mom arrived late Thursday night, and Jen and I had appointments for our visas in Malaga the next day. We planned to leave at 9:30 so that we would get there with time to spare. All goes accordingly. When my mom and I get out to the car, we discover we had left the lights on. Rental Car Adventure #1: Dead battery. So without missing a beat we started asking every person and car driving by how we can get some jumper cables and where the mechanic is. We walk a couple blocks to the mechanic, and explain the dilemma excitedly, asking if we can borrow the jumper cables. "You know how to use them, mujer?" he asks. Oh yes, and mom whips out her drivers license to show we will return it. He laughs as we pile into his minivan and drive over to the car. Fixed. Presto. We are off and running. Until I realize 20 minutes into the drive that I forgot my passport. Oops. Turn around; so much for leaving ourselves plenty of time. Once we started approaching the city of Malaga (about 2 hours away by a windy barely-two-lane road) we realize we dont really know where we are going once we get to the city. Rental Car Adventure # 2: We need to find out where the place was. The street was not on the map, and we had one landmark to go by. Stopping at every red light and every corner to ask someone else for directions. Jen shouting out the window to truck drivers. Mom whirling around roundabout after roundabout. We asked at least 25 people for directions. Mom's motto is "measure twice, cut once." In other words keep asking so we don't have to backtrack. Jen shared with us her mom's lesson: speak louder. And with teamwork we found the street. Just in the knick of time. We get close and have driven by twice without seeing it but our appointment time is upon us, so Jen and i hop out of the car and are running down the street to the police station. Barrel down the hall and discover that there is another office of extranjeros a couple blocks away! we are running again, and assert ourselves past the security guard, and get a number (even though we had an appointment) and are in a room filled with hundreds of people, and 10 times more bureaucratic and more chaotic than the DMV. Another run around the corner to the liquor store to make photocopies of every page of our passports. Even the blank ones. Una locura! I am so anxious, as the shopowner copies each page in between selling a liter of beer to this man, a chunk of unrefridgerated cheese to the next woman, and bubblegum to the children. We were the very last people to be seen! Phew! The rest of the afternoon was leisurely sightseeing in the monstrosity of high rises and fog that compiles Malaga. The highlight was a Rodan exhibit that we stumbled upon. We were very bias in our view of Malaga. A large seaside city, we felt very grateful at the end of the day to return to our quaint mountain top community.

After a day back in Ronda, we decided we needed to escape to play city mouse for a day or two, so Mom and I hopped in the car and headed to Granada. Compared with the more preppy and homogeneous matching socks and large colorful ribbons in the hair that populate the pueblo of Ronda, Granada is sprinkled with dreadlocks, flowing skirts and stripped hippie shirts. The fancy bright bakeries of Ronda with exquisite fruit tarts, are replaced by arabic tea shops in Granada with hookahs and cozy cushioned benches with low wooden tables. After following signs to the center of the city we came upon Rental Car Adventure #3: Finding Parking. After discovering our prime parking spot was actually a designated handicapped space we were sent on the run-around through the narrowest one way cobblestoned streets of all time. We paused for a second before entering what seemed to be clearly a pedestrian street. Jam packed with tourists, we had nowhere else to go, and justr barreled our way through, causing pedestrians to lean up as close as possible to the sides of the street to let us past. And there was a line of car following suite behind us. Up and around again, we found a spot. We had time to peruse through the streets by foot, and see the sights, find a hotel with a view of the plaza, and eat delicious tapas. We even managed to make room for ice cream too. After moving the car once more, we became pros at maneuvering in the streets, and did not hesitate going up over the curb through an alley, squeezing into a parking spot next to a construction site, and learned how to navigate past the moving pole that rises from the ground in front of certain stop lights. Perhaps we became a little too zealous about going up narrow streets, as we turned up what we thought was a through street, but turned out to be a sidewalk with stairs in the middle! (Rental Car Adventure #4) And of course there was out bank getaway, Rental Car Adventure #5: the time that I tried to hop out at a red light and get out money from a bank on the corner. But I can't see the word on the ATM because of the glare, and don't get the money in time. The light turns green, and the police man starts whistling at mom at the front of the line. I am trying to press the buttons as fast as I can, while I keep glancing back, and there is mom - going around and around the roundabout - waiting for me. The card finally spits out. I dash across the street and mom creeps towards me as I squeeze through the people waiting at the crosswalk, open the door to the backseat, and jump in the car. We are off. Phew. Another close one. We were roaring laughing about the show we put on for the onlookers.

The highlight of Granada, and certainly one of the most magnificent things I have seen, was The Alhambra. Since reservations need to be made several days in advance, we woke up early and were in line for tickets at 7:15 am to The Alhambra, an Arabic fortress/palace from the 14th century gets 8,000 visitors a day! And it is entirely understandable why. The intricate artwork and architecture is magnificent, as well as the brilliant colors and elaborate incorporation of water, and garden space. It was also so interesting to see how people were living not very long ago, and put into context the history and reality of the people in this region. It definitely whet my appetite to learn more about this era and region, which is just rich with religious, environmental and political complexities. And really, we could learn so much from the actions and philosophy of these past communities. A very worthwhile trip.

We returned expediently (after one last trip to the ice cream stand) so that I would have time to work on lesson plans. Mom tagged along to my English classes, and immediately understood why I am enjoying my experience here so much. She saw the charm of the students, the kindness of the teachers, and the wonderful atmosphere that I am in. It was very reaffirming to see that she also appreciates the classes, teachers, my friends, my flat, and of course my town, Ronda. And it was wonderful to have a familiar face in town, to whom I could show off my city, and of course share in wild adventures.

Fotos de Ronda

Here we are ... the first 3 weeks of photos. Just a peek.

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2196188&id=3202326&ref=mf


Always love hearing from you.
ascozzaro@gmail.com

and if you get the urge:

A.Tianna Scozzaro
Pasaje Joaquin Peinado 1-4-B
29400 Ronda (Malaga)
MALAGA
ESPANA

(34) 660406293

A hiker, teacher and dreamer

There are many ways of describing a person. And when you move to a new place the adjectives build upon one another. Starting with the basics. Brunette, short, Californian. Maybe add singer, talkative. While I was in Bolivia I tried on the adjective of Vegetarian, and Backpacker. And here they have been piling up as well, to build the A.Tianna of Spain. Of course most of the adjectives are the same, but with each new experience we emphasize one or share another. Maybe we grow out of adjectives or a new environment allows you to add a new one. And after graduating college, these is the crisis when you lose the adjective student. These past two weeks I have tried on a few new adjectives, and I feel like they are fitting very nicely. A hiker, teacher and dreamer.

I have hiked nearly everyday this past week. It has become second nature to toss a sandwich, apple and snacks into my fannypack, along with some sunscreen, hat, book and waterbottle... and away we frolick into the countryside. I have visited (by foot) a couple of the smaller neighboring pueblos. Whitewashed buildings, tile roofs. Nothing terribly new, but beautiful nonetheless. Most of the hikes have been simple walks along dirt roads in the general direction of a town in the distance with a little tresspassing now and again through an olive orchard. Tiptoeing past a man sunbathing by his pool in his backyard. And stopping to eat our lunch and read a while, before contuing on. They average about 4 hours. Up and down through valleys. Yesterday I went with a hiking group that goes every weekend on different hikes around Ronda: Pasos Largos. It was a bit of fantasy fulfillment. One of my little visions of post college/young professional life included being a member of a weekend hiking group as a way of meeting people outside of work, and getting out into nature on the weekend as a refuge from office life. And here I was with an eclectic group of hikers, acting out my vision! Of course, my vision had always taken place in DC and the countryside of Maryland, but Spain was certainly great too. We hiked about 10 kms, a group of about 20 people, all ages and all spanish. As it goes in Ronda, one of the leaders knew of me from one of the teachers at the language school and said he was hoping I would come out to one of the hikes, since he heard I was interested in the environment.´You are the American that arrived in the rain, arent you?´ Ah, small town! There have been many encounters with the same people already around town. Whether you run into a coworker while sipping tea at a cafe, or see the same woman you asked directions from the first day several times since, or that guy who hit on you at a pub one night you run into again at a pizza parlour with your roommate, and he turns out to be your roommates cousin! I cant imagine what this will be like 8 months from now. But back to the hike: It was great. At one point we all ran through the trees and hugged a tree for a photo op for the website! Good spirited people. And then when time started getting tight to make train back to town we walked a little faster, until we realized that our trial run at taking a different route was too long. So what did we do? We scaled the mountainside of course, tearing through thickets of bramble and alongside wild pigs. We made it to the train just in time. And I have a feeling I will become a regular of this weekend hiking group. Now that I am a hiker.

The school has been absolutely wonderful. All the teachers are so kind and energetic and love being there. Since it is an afterschool language school the students pay to come as a kind of extracurricular and are committed to being there. And it is just a great cheerful atmostphere. It is also small. There are 6 english teachers, 2 german teachers, 2 french teachers and 3 administrative people. I am the only native english speaker. Which makes me a very hot commodity! And essentially my job for the next 8 months is to talk. I am being paid to talk, as one teacher put it. I am going to each english class and just talking with the students, so that they can hear my accent and so that they can practice speaking themselves. This past week we just talked about Santa Barbara, my family, the differences between spain and california, arnold schwartzeneger, food, music, sports, weather, and whatever else they came up with. My job will also include planning cultural lesson plans like for halloween, and christmas carols in english. The students range in age from 14 to 60 and there are many teachers in the classes themselves hoping to improve their english. My job is actually being funded by the spanish government as part of their new scheme to increase english in all the schools. Many of the teachers are learning english as part of this billingual project too, so that they can teach their subject in both languages as well. Needless to say, having so many teachers as my pupils is very humbling as I am as new to this post as can be. Although I feel very comfortable standing in front of a class talking for an hour and a half straight. Its like performing.. I have a shoe in. I am very much enjoying my new role as a teacher, and look forward to taking on this responsibility with zeal and creativity.


Even while having these new experiences I still have much time on my hands. Working three evenings a week and all doesnt exaclty fill up my days. So I have found much time to read and process life, my next steps professionally, little snippets of self improvement. I have found myself writing mantras of improving patience, generosity, as well as the more tangible goals of saving money and applying to graduate school. A family friend had given me a bracelet for graduation with the beatles quote.. you may say i am a dreamer, but i am not the only... and yes, I am a self proclaimed dreamer. Sometimes I take a moment to reflect on the fact that I am in Spain, teaching english. A path I never would have imagined for myself, and just smile softly to myself. Being here has broken boudraries of my daydreams to other fantasies. I mist admit I was looking up paid opportunities to teach english to buddist monks in nepal in a monastary today as a possible post spain plan. While I feel at time like I am flailing in my search of different and perhaps more concrete adjectives, jumping from idea to idea, in hopes of forming an adult identity... I prefer to define it as a young womans quest and exploring. Along my path of exploration I hope to add the adjectives of flamenco dancer, writer, traveler, entreprenuer, maybe even photographer, guitar player, seamstress. And eventually something along the lines of Oral Health Educator, or even Environmental Advocate and Politician. But for the time being my life as Hiker, Teacher and Dreamer, perhaps with an occasional afternoon as a Pastery Connoisseur is suiting me just fine.

The Arrival

After a long and unhelpful orientation I got on a train to my new home, Ronda. I befriened a good handful of people, unfortunately none of them were in my town, so leaving the orientation meant leaving my small support network of peers that I had built in the first day and a half. Coincidentally, one of the other teachers in someone I was in Chile with! Small world. During those two days of orientation everyone is asking one another which city they were placed in and we each say a name of a place that the other hasnt heard of, in hopes that we will find someone from our same town. To no avail.

Then I got on the train to Ronda, and in my same car came two girls that were speaking spanish, but clearly in my same program. It was the first two people I had heard speaking spanish from the program this entire time. We had all been speaking english. As it turns out they were also placed in Ronda. I nearly jumped out of my seat, so excited to have finally found comrades. And we have been speaking Spanish together since. One was from New York, but studied in Georgia, Jen. The other from Germany, Saskia. My jumpiness continued for the next 2 and a half hours, as I was swimming in nervous anticipation. To add to the antsyness: as we chugged along the countryside tracks the clouds were thickening. The sky was darkening. Up above us grew the darkest, most overbearingly, densest cloud cover I had ever seen. I keep trying to push from my mind any possibility that this was in any way ominous.

We step off the train at 9 pm, and are heading to the same hotel. Saskia leading the way, we walk bags in tow towards the hostal, and Ronda, knowing we were coming decided to have a proper welcome ceremony for us. It began to rain. Harder, and harder, and harder. Umbrellaless, all we could do was keep walking up the unshelter cobblestone streets. Until we are drenched. Our bags are drenched. And to top off our grand welcoming there was lightening and thunder right above us. After unpleasantly unpacking our damp suitcases in the hotel I was antsy. I had just arrived to a room in a foriegn city - my new home, and was not in a very pleasant mood as I was soaked to the bone, my life hanging out to dry in every corner of our hostal room. However, I decided that a little bit of rain wasnt going to damper my sense of adventure and stop me from exploring my new city. So i went for a walk in a half foot of rain gushing through the gutters throughout the entirely closed city, checking out the buildings. Very lovely. Next day the headline of the national newspaper was: Torrential rainstorm kills two woman in Sevilla. Turns out the rain did a lot of damage, as it was the first one of the season, throughout the region. There hasnt been a dark cloud in the sky since.

Every day since has been nothing but absolutely beautiful. I am talking jaw droppingly stunning. Surrounded by hills, mountains, greenery and the biggest sky you have ever seen, Ronda is the definition of breathtaking. And the city itself is what I imagine as quienessential Andalucian. Beautiful whitewashed buildings lining clean cobblestone streets. Classic rot-iron balconies and elaborate tilework. 'This is our home,' Jen Saskia and I keep repeating, as we stop on a bridge to take it all in, or sit on the edge of the city, overlooking the ladscape. Ánd I cannot seem to stop smiling everytime I walk over the famous ancient bridge that connects the old and new districts of the city. Buzzing with camera flashing tourists, I proudly trot across the bridge as a local. I live here. This afternoon we entered the naturaleza and went for a 4 hour afternoon hike through the valley. Equipped with my fanny pack and our water bottles we meandered through the olive groves, and passed persimmon trees, fig trees, walnut trees and small family vegetable gardens. We made it to a peak that looked up towards the city and down over the valley and ate our picnic lunch of olives, cheese sandwiches, fresh fruit and peanut butter. Truly beautiful soul.

This was of course, after a very tiring several days of piso hunting. Apartment hunting. Waking up early, calling phone number after phone number to find out information about housing opportunities. Some of the places I went and visited were straight out of a saturday night live skit, they were so outrageous. With yelping 6 inch tall dogs nipping at your ankles as you walk in the door, or a woman with a cigarette dangling from her lips explaining that it will be 75 dollars more for the shower, or dusty old doilies with nicknacks piled high on the mantel. I was ready to settle for anything that seemed reasonable just to be able to unpack. And then things all fell into place. I had called a number off a sign that said someone named Jesus wanted to share an apartment. We had been playing phone tag when serendipitously he called me once, and was literally walking towards me while I was trying to explain that I was outside a chocolateshop. Bingo. Along with my friend Jen we went straight to look at our first apartment and we fell in love. It is on the main pedestrian street of the city, very close to downtown, and the tallest builing in the area. So being on the top (4th) floor we have the most stunning view of all of rondas red tile roofs, the street below, and the striking mountain range that surrounds the city. Our three bedroom, two bath has two balconies, and gets so much light we never have to use a lamp. I awoke this morning to the sound of church bells this Saturday morning, and got up early on to walk the streets, explore, and watch the city come alive. I live a block away from a grocery store, several tempting bakeries and a fresh fruit stand. My first housewarming gift to myself was plants. The kind you see on balconies and window sills. Yes, now I live in one of those house with the plants on the balcony. And yes, it is the same balcony where there past two mornings I have sat, eating my fresh salad, reading my novel, sunbathing, enjoying the beautiful scenery and people-watching the bustling shoppers below. I feel at peace, and very grateful for this opportunity to live in such a breathtaking city. One where you never have to take a bus or a taxi and to get to my school on the edge of town, it is a 15 minute walk.

My rigorous work schedule begins this week and will have me working a 'tiring' 12 hours a week (as my friend put it, the amount that many americans work in a day!) on tuesday, wednesday and thursday evenings, giving me a 4 day weekend. Although I have been enjoying the leisurely life of hiking, picnics, tea time, siesta and reading, this next week I will be seeking other activities to fill my time. My brainstorming has included pilates classes, an internship, tutoring; maybe even applying to grad school, starting a community garden, or learning flamenco. And of course TRAVELING. We´ll see what I come up with. For now, I have to get to work on my first lesson plan!

A different kind of Culture Shock

Again, the whirlwind tour had tired me. A long tour of visiting, packing, errand-running, and high level emotions left me drained on the plane to Spain. Without energy to even be excited. Just to sleep. But after lugging my 80 pounds of luggage from train to metro to airport. Plane to airport to metro to tram to train to taxi to hotel, I must tell you that I was indeed happy to have arrived and be able to put my feet up in a 4 star hotel.

The train ride from Madrid to Granada was beautiful. Or at the least the parts I saw groggily between naps. I felt at home in the arid countryside of dry rolling hills and acre upon acre of olive orchards, sprinkled lightly with whitewashed houses with red roofs. And this was the real deal, not just the local planning ordinance of Santa Barbara Country rebuilding after a fire. These whitewashed buildings and red roof appear to have been here much longer. I also felt at home in the wide street with not a piece of trash in the gutter, surrounded by western clothing and regulated bus systems. However, there was also a part of me that was baffled. Where are the indigenous people? Where are the babies on the back of the people? What do you mean there is hot water and clean sheets? The trains run on time? We are in a Spanish speaking country aren't we? Then where are the smoggy buses that nearly run you over?

My first meal in this fascinating country was yet another moment of the LACK of culture shock. Instinctively I scanned the menu, skipping anything with vegetables or that looked 'sketchy' but on second thought I looked again. And I order the largest, freshest salad on the menu and a glass of tap water. Now thats living! But in a foriegn country? I felt almost guilty, like I was escaping from the real essence of traveling. Felt I was being shortchanged on any cultural experience.

But then I slept on it. Slept a beautiful 12 hours. And when I woke up, very well rested, and took a look the next day at the city I felt as if I was seeing it through different eyes. Yes, a big piece of me misses Latin America, but the other part sees the joyful bright clothing, the edgy haircuts and the eclectic taste of old Gothic cathedrals meeting the contemporary art deco street lamps as such a unique transcendence of culture. The city of Granada felt alive with the many mopeds, energy efficient buses, the gray-haired men in fedoras lining park benches, teenage lovers crowding up against a tree on the grass, and of course the blessed weather. Sunny and warm, with a light breeze and fresh air. There was a little voice within yelping with excitement that I could get used to this. Very used to this. It is a country that does this well. From siestas and tapas, to bohemian clothing and energy efficient vehicles: This is my kind of place!

I have meet engaged and competent people from the program. Friendly and knowledgeable about the world. All of us here on this adventure as a way of exploring our desires, passions, career goals, and futures while getting paid to live in Spain and work 12 hours a week. After a long orientation tomorrow we set off to our respective cities/pueblos to dig in! Lets cross our fingers and send out our positive energy vibes that Ronda is my kind of place too!!

Revving Up Again

So, after a three week whirlwind tour of Charlottesville, Santa Barbara, Berkeley, back to Santa Barbara, and now again back to Charlottesville, I have seen many people, flown on many planes, and have repacked my suitcase (with a few extra shirts) to head over the great Atlantic: to Espana. I have been able to enjoy the sunshine and have eaten my way through classic california cuisine. Lots of tri tip, smoothies, and trader joes yogurt. I have also adjusted back to the US lifestyle, put on the Bolivian pearls and have yet to take them off, and again feel at home driving down State Street in my volvo station wagon, bumping the tunes and talking loudly on my cellphone.

But now. Looking forward. To Saturday. I just heard from the school I will be teaching at for the first time today. So it exists, and is looking forward to having me. I will be teaching english in Ronda, Spain for the next 8 months. From what I gather, Ronda is a town comprised of 30,000 people and whitewashed buildings. It has the oldest bullfighting ring in Spain, and perched on a hill 2 hours north of the southern coast, it is a scenic and popular stop for tourists. As for the school: it is a language school for students older than 14 years old that teaches english, german and french. That is about all I know. So we will certainly find out in a short 5 days what I am getting myself in for. The first project once I arrive is to find a place to live; since it is such a small town, it will be mostly by word of mouth. Hopefully I will find a place to live without too much trouble. Guest are certainly welcome to my not yet existent abode. I look forward to getting a handle on the city and the region to become an excellent travel guide of the region. I feel confident that this will be a good experience and am eager to get underway with this next step in my cobble stoned journey!

CULTURE SHOCK

I am still processing. And the ache is growing, as reality sets in that my time in Bolivia is over. I arrived back in the states yesterday, to a healthy dose of culture shock that is continually increasing.

In the airport bathroom I looked arourunnd for the basket to put toilet paper, not realizing that here you can flush it. In the food court, I thought twice when there was ice in my cup, before realizing that here you can drink the water. An occasional gracias has slipped when a cashier hands me my change, and when i saw people running for exercise i was confused. That is something I hadnt seen, since in La Paz you dont run due to the alititude. When I took the bus today i wasnt elbow to elbow with bolivians who are breast feeding or shaving, and I had to wait until a designated stop to hop off.

So the adventure did not end yesterday. I hailed a cab to the airport at 4 am straight from salsa night at our local disco. Sleep is SO overrated. Checked in and forked over the 25 $ exit fee. get in line for customs, and i get beckoned off to the side. hmm. Turns out that when i came into the country my little stamp in my passport had scribbled on it 30. 30 what you ask? since it doesn't specify! 30 days it turn out. my visa was a 30 gosh darn day visa! how absurd, no ve? and nadie me aviso! como deberia sabe?! The customs man and I didnt get along so well. And i had to fork over 200 BOLIVIANOS in fines. 10 bs for every day over 30. And as if I wasnt paying enough, the customs man had the audacity to try and give me 150 bs for a $20 bill. i didnt have any of that. that is not the exchange rate. he mumbled about how the dollar is really going down, blah blah. and so i took the $20 and got it exchanged outside. i got 157 bs. darn right. who's ever heard of a 30 day tourist visa. Lesson: keep your eyes peeled for what people scribble on your passport stamps.

I got all settled in, in Cville VA. and it slowly sank in that the experience is really over. During actually airplane time, it is hard to process, because others around you are in transit as well. But once you are are in a place where people are settled, going about their business, their routine, and you are not as settled in that place, observations are acute and comparison is frequent.
So, now i am surrounded by college kids in pearls and expensive collared shirts who talk loudly on their cellphone. and i am conscious that i feel SO superior in some way because i have showered in a couple days and i was just in boliiiivia. i am just sooooo worldy. i am have such a gloooobal perception. However, i know that i am just like them, and soon will convert to being a clean cellphone talker too. i may even bust out my bolivian pearls. but right now, the ideas seems stifling.

I miss Joss Stone, and the sunny terrace. I miss crowded minibuses and cholitas elbowing you. I miss reggaeton and late nights at Traffic. I miss pan in the afternoons and checking the donation box for toothbrushes at the office. I miss having the altitude as an excuse for not running, and having to hand wash clothes as an excuse for wearing dirty ones. But most of all I miss the company. I was so fortunate to make amazing friends, and grateful that I will get to keep in touch with them. And I am am confident that a piece of my heart belongs to Latin America, and I will be returning many times to come.

Although I may be back in the states, the adventure continues. I am in VERY good company, and have a lot to accomplish. The plan for the week ahead includes potlucks, a UVA football game, which I hear people wear sundresses to, and continuing much of the work on an independent nonprofit I started in Bolivia. Meanwhile I am looking ahead to Spain. In just 3 short weeks I will be teaching English in Ronda, Spain.. for the next 8 months.
Let the Spanish speaking continue, and the good fortune of positive experiences and amazing memories reign.

Salud: asi es la vida.

La Paz - mi nueva hogar

So I am situated. I have friends. I have quite the happenin social life. I am happy. And I am leaving in a week. Asi es la vida.

Meanwhile. As I am conciously creating memories, knowing that the end is coming far too soon, I am still having new experience after new experience. The past week I have been part of a trio. I, my roomie Alex and this remarkable woman, Romina, have been practiacally inseperable. The time includes much sun bathing and writing on the roofterrace of Rominas apartment, blasting Joss Stone or Bob Marley, having sleepovers. Waking up before work to get the BBC World news. Making creative lunches out of the scraps in our refrigerator. Talking about life, love and international development with other friends at a cuban resturant. Drinking tea until all hours of the night. Looking forward to the 4 pm 'bread and tea' snack break at work. Constantly churning over ideas for a new nonprofit. Dancing until 5 am before going to work at 9 am. Tea Parties with fancy pasteries and fresh flowers. Rehashing the night before with friends over a fresh glass of juice at the bolivian equivalent of starbucks: Alexanders. Overall, with a rhythm and support system, a good handle on the city and the language, I feel at home. I feel like a Pacena. (La Paz local)

So, my birthday was Thursday. And I didnt have very high expectations for festivities, since I had only been here little over a month. However, boy does this office enjoying celebrating birthdays! There is a list of the month's birthdays in the kitcen ,and everyone knows and anticipate, with: so your birthday is this thurdsday, no? And then on the day of.. there was a suprise Saltena party (delicious empanadas) with Happy Birthday in both spanish and english. and later we had a mini ice cream party with the two bosses. I took the opportunity (since i had been trying to have meeting with the two of them all week about a partnership plan) to steer the conversation, not so subtley to: "So, since I have you both in the same room"... and proceeded to pitch my NGO ideas. They were well recieve - a birthday gift in and of itself. I got ballons and my first day working on my birthday was not half bad. After work Alex, Romina and I got dressed up and went to the most amazing steak place you can imagine. Defintely in the top three best steaks I have had in my 22 years of life. And the night had just begun, as we danced until 5:30 am. I had my faced stuffed in a birthday cake (apparently a cultural experience) and still had dulce de leche in my hair the next day at work. With 2 bottles of champagne, great company, and awesome music we danced the night away.

And then proceed to roll out of bed 2 hours later to get to work on friday... not the most productive work day. Continuing to make the most of my time here, and now not wanting to leave the city, we went to a work party (my guacamole was a hit) where everyone sang Karaoke. And then went out and sang more Kareoke the next night. This country likes its Karaoke. But it is a sit in your chair, and the microphone comes to you type of Karaoke. Must admit, I do enjoy the audience aspect of US karaoke a little better. (shocking, I know).

Life is filled with little pleasures. Like getting my favorite Bolivian chocolate: Sublime. (pronounced suubleemaay). Having your dirty underwear countered out on the table at the laundry service. Dashing across the street, scared for your life. Thinking someone is honking at you, but really, they are just honking to warn they are coming to an intersection and not slowing down. Bargaining for everything. And on the street you can buy the most amazing delicacy: Salchipapas. French fries. Sliced Hot Dogs. Mayonesa. Salsa. mmmmmmm.

Asi es la vida... en Bolivia.

MORE PHOTOS

Here is a link to more photos.

http://ucdavis.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2177652&l=d3265&id=3202326

Enjoy.

Field Work 2

Ah. were to begin/continue. My mind is still spinning from this past week with thoughts about international aid, micro finance, organic farming, rural living, vegetarianism, fair trade, comparative advantage, economics, health, education, gender roles, family values, entrenreuers, windy roads, flor and fauna, modern commodities, and more. I could go on and on. To see our work in action, and participate in the lives of these communities was more than eye opening, in the respect that there is complexity in even the smallest piece of life. And I cant even begin to tell you how much I learned. I dont think I can even comprehend how much I learned There are some species of bees, for example, that have two wings, others that have four. Who knew? Helping purchase one blender for a woman to prepare papaya juice outside her home can change so much, and yet so little. Buying an oven for someone can begin the first bakery in town. Yet the new refrigerator for the meat vendor may still be unused. Complex issues.

The towns that we visited varied from 300 people up to 3000. No one has a phone. So the two phone booths in the town, in the evening has a line down the block waiting to call the cousin in La Paz, or who knows. Also, they have implemented the most ingenious system. Since the town is small enough there is a loud speaker on top of a building, and for 12 cents you can make an annoucement over the loud speaker to the entire town. Such as, "Mr. Fernando, come home for dinner right now" or "my bike has been stolen, my bike has been stolen!" very clever.

Also, since there is no phone and no map of the area, in order to do the interviews you just drive to the town that you know the beneficiary lives near, and roll down your window and ask someone where Mr Lopez the black bean famer lives. "around the third bend in the road on your right." so there you go... and sure enough around the third bend there are some steps up to a wooden house with a tin roof that has bricks on top to hold it down. so I hike up the hill in my fashin shade and hiking boots to the interview. outside, the wife is cooking lunch in a pot sitting directly on a couple logs that make a fire. They quickly accomodate you, wipe off the bench and popping open a two liter bottle of coca-cola (i drank SO much coca cola). And as i talk with the husband, the wife swings the child around that was in a sack on her back, and begins breastfeeding.

Also, along the way I ate papaya, bananas, oranges, cacoa and coconut that I picked myself. I saw green eggs, a turkey, birds building nests, cotton growing on the plant, tried wine from grapefruit (a variation on the coca cola hospitality.) and we saw a dead porcipine by the side of the road that the people i was traveling with proceeded to pluck the pines because apparently they are a good remedy for something...

All in all, I was enamored by the pace, generosity and lifestyle of the region. And it churned within me emotions of passion for natureand love of simplicity. I felt an ache confronted with poverty, toyed with the dream of living on a farm myself, and was stuffed with frsh fruit and coca-cola. I began reflecting on the work i have choosen to do. And had 5 very intense days of evaluating the life we choose to lead. Most of all it made me grateful to have a choice.

Field Work: 1

So, since i began work I have been aggresive about mentioning to anyone that would listen that I would like to go into the field. It paid off. The past week I have spent in the northern part of Bolivia, in a remote, tropical region experiecing the most enriching, exhuasting and fulfilling 5 days ever. As ACDI/VOCA we help implement small mico business plans that people propose, such as a juice stand, a bakery, etc, by helping purchase a new oven, a blender, to help them get started and expand the buiness. My role was to interview beneficiaries of the project, to see how it all worked out. To felt like I was contributing in some small way was both exhilerating and rewarding, and to see the success of these programs was humbling to be a part of.

The week started at 6 am, at the office, where I piled into a car with Martin, a programs coordinator, and Vlady, the driver. Certainly the most luxurious roadtrip I have taken since I got here: I had the whole backseat of the car to myself. And after ten hours of driving along dangerous dirt road (that means 10 hours of conversation in Spanish) we were right outside of town, about 5 km, when we saw a family killing and slicing a cow, that was hanging from a tree right next to the road. We stopped because we KNEW them. It is one of the people i will be INTERVIEWING because we gave them a new table, a refrigerator, and a display case for their meat mercado! the veins of the thighs were still pulsing and flies were swarming as the family patiently peeled the skin, seperated the four stomachs, and with a regular carpenters saw cut right down the spine of the cow. they usually slaughter two cows on Mondays, I learned, but this was a big one, so they were just doing one that day. quite an experience.

We continued on to the hotel, with a veeery old dueno (owner) who did not remember our reservation, nor did he remember which rooms were occupied. We would come in at night and he would be in front of the television full blast, with eyes shut and mouth wide open, his snoring competing with the commercials. I got settled into my room, amd went to wash my hands. Turned on the faucet, and i felt like i was in a movie where someone was playing tricks on me. the water pressure would surge and then stop, trickle and then stream. drip and then slash. it had a mind of its own. later that night i got home to bursh my teeth... there was no water. no water at all. not to flush the toilet, brush my teeth. that makes the shower decion pretty easy, i thought! then i was laying in bed and WOOSH, i guess i had not closed the faucet and the water was back on.. full blast! I jumped out of bed, toothbrush in hand, and by the time I got to the faucet it was already at a drip, drip drip.

Palos Blancos. a very very humid little town, in the Alto Beni region, was our home base. I keep imagining it would be exactly like hawaii before it was developed. dirt roads lined with banana, papaya and coconut trees. wild orchids, and houses made with palm fran roofs. really beautiful, but very dusty too, because this is the dry season, so the red dirt from the roads kicks up a lot. and i drenched myself in insect repellent to avoid mosquitos, polvillinos (little dust bugs that pínch), and the mutitpldue of other insects. There is an ACDI/VOCA field office in Palos, with internet and electricity that work occasionally. And when the internet doesnt work, that means the entire towns internet isnt working because there is only one server in the town. There are very few glass windows. Most are just a green screen to let air pass through. The front door is a screen door. People work late into the night because it is cooler then, and so after checking into the hotel we went straight to work until 11 pm. This town is DEFINITELY not in the lonely plant. but it is just a normal town, with normal rhythm and normal people, trying to make ends meet. ah, traveling sure opens your eyes huh?

The next morning I woke up at 5:45 sharp to an entire flock of roosters outside my window. and could not go back to sleep. Late nights. Early mornings. Very full days.

MORE SOON:

Work, Harry Potter & Weekend Treks

Work is great. I am truly enjoying everyday of grownup life. I stroll in, latin american time, at 9 am, take a goood hour lunch, and head out at 6. The workday includes a lot of translating, summarizing and attempting to articulate succinctly that we have done good work. I have had meeting with an ostrich expert & black bean expert discussing how locals could improve their farms. I could tell you a host of information about ostrich egg incubation, and how to prevent weasels from entering your bean crops now. Interesting no? And I have excellent company with the two other interns from the States. One of them is living with me in my palace, that we have dubbed the House of Doors.

Funny Story: So, one day after work I was talking about Harry Potter with my roomie. She had already read it in english before she came. I am about half way through the photocopy spanish version i bought on the street - before the real spanish version came out. it was about 600 pages, not 800.. I thought, maybe you say things more succinctly in spanish? I was talking about how it is kinda a lull,´ he is playing Quidditch right now` i said. (if you are not a harry potter fan, bear with me). Quidditch??, she said. He doesnt play quidditch in the book..... And it all began unfolding. Now for you harry potter lovers, let me tell you that although my version of the book turns out to be COMPLETELY different... it makes sense, and i was enjoying it. Now i havent read the other book, but here is what my plot included..... if you have read the 7th, apparently this is pretty entertaining: Harry gets picked up at the beginning by one person and he goes to their house, before the weasley wedding... where nothing exciting happens. he goes back to Hogwarts, like normal, on the train, with ron and hermione. things are often akward with ginny. McGonagal takes Dumbledores place and does a good job, and lets harry, ron and hermione run free.. as they search for the peices of Voldemorts soul.. in voldemorts old house, in harry´s old house. They start up Dumbledores army again, but rename it Harrys Army. there is no snape, and so far no one has died. ..... i am enjoying it, and debating whether or not to continue reading the WRONG version. People teased me too.. saying, what if you are reading a different version and you didnt know. hahaha. :( (hint: i wouldnt mind if someone sent me the english version) well, very disgruntled. although entertaining nonetheless. does that mean someone somehow wrote an entirely new story just to sell on the street? ponder that....

so ambitiously us three ´pasantias´(interns) decided to take off after work on friday to Cochabamba on a night bus. we bought seats for a bus cama (bed). we show up, and the misleading title ¨bus cama¨was a mentira. it was a regular bus with a little extra leg room... which made our 8 hour bus ride a little less comfortable than expected. We rolled in at 6 am for the longest day of tourism in all of Bolivian history. We saw and tasted everything and walked more than any Bolivian has ever walked before. From old churches, artisan fairs, museums, to 3 glasses of fresh orange juice off the street.. it was only noon. we climbed a mountain (1254 steps) in the afternoon to a 33 meter tall christ statue that overlooked the city. (a meter for every year of his life, plus some) and by the end of the day felt like true ¨cochabambinos¨because we knew the city inside and out. It is a lovely, flat suburban feeling city. Very managable and comfortable. A vespa type of city, but a little dirtier. If I lived there I would implement bike lanes... and get some of these people out of their cars. A very nice, full, yet relaxing weekend. And it was so wonderful to have such kind, likeminded company. We took a late afternoon bus back on sunday.. prepared for the leg room situation, where we watched the Simpsons Movie dubbed.. and you could see a head in the bottom corner of the screen. Classic pirateing.

Got back midnight sunday. And monday moring (5:30 am) i left to do fieldwork in the northern region of Bolvia. An adventure like absolutely none other en mi vida.

PHOTOS

here is a link to some pcitures from the past few weeks.

http://ucdavis.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2167774&l=307e7&id=3202326

Cafeterias, Waterfalls and Independence Day

So this Monday was a day off... Independence Day. And after a very exhausting week I decided to take advantage of the long weekend to get a change of scenery. I selected Coroico as my destination, which had a description of being a relaxing hammock and pool town with a lovely plaza. I have declared it the Sister City of Sorata, where I went last weekend. But there are some very important differences that altered my weekend experience. Coroico is also known as the weekend getaway for Bolivian families. And of course this was the weekend of Bolivian family getaways. Put them together and you have a little sleepy hillside town swamped with La Paz -ian travelers. The buses were full even getting there and you had to elbow your way up to the front of the storefront to put your name down on the list for the next bus. And once I got there, in the late afternoon I trekked from edge to edge of town, trying to find a room. All full. Most had signs posted on the doors saying No Hay Habitaciones, so that you wouldnt even ask. I even stopped at a couple little markets and asked the Senora owner if she had a bed in her house that I could pay her to sleep on. I was ready to sleep in the plaza. I had a pillow, and a towel I coud use as a blanket... I was already thinking (Bari style). And then I found a hotel that had cleared out its cafeteria. And I was given an air matress on the floor, of the cafteria, with three young Bolivian couples. With the cafeteria tables put on their sides for 'privacy,' and a 'ducha fria' (cold shower) upstairs I was set. One of the couples took me under their wing for the weekend and invited me to dinner at the local Comedor with them. For 75 cents I had a full 3 course meal. That night, the boy of the couple I went to dinner with snored like I have never heard anyone snore in my life; as if he was enhaling a semitruck, and in an empty cafteria, that echo just topped it off. I woke up early the next morning, ate breakfast (0f toast, butter, jam and eggs, fresh juice and coffee) before I ran into the couple again. They invited me to breakfast at the local Comedor. I had a second breakfast of a heaping plate of rice, several very fried eggs, and a huge steak that fell over the edge, with a tomato. Along with coffee and bread, it was another 75 cent meal. I enjoyed the waterfall right outside of the city that afternoon, but at the end of the day was ready to return to my own warm, big, real, (bedbugless) bed. I woke up early, took a long hot shower before hitting the streets to enjoy the Independence Day Parade, and some folkloric dancing. (Pictures coming soon..)

There is a new girl who is staying in the guesthouse with me. Very nice, and it is also nice to have some company in your House of Doors, as we have named it. Week two is turning out to be just as pleasant as week one of the internship.I have also had lots of time to process, reflect and examine the world from a different light. I am so grateful for health and safety, and learning about how scary and awful the world can really be. There is so much injustice in the world, from unconscionable violence, to people living without clean drinking water. It is our job to instill a sense of security and support, do our bit of good in the world, think positively, and everyday be grateful for the loved ones we have around us.

First Day at Work

THE HISTORY: So I had lined up work with an organization for post-graduation about 6 months ago. I had 2 phone interviews, spoke with them regularly before leaving, coordinated travel and health details with the logisitics director. I was very much looking forward to it, and got an excellent vibe from the organization. Sure enough, literally 3 days before I was supposed to leave, there was turmoil within the organization. The executive director wanted to come back, and had a falling out with the national director. The national director, and the entire staff she hired, quit. And so the organization fell apart the day before i left. But i was still planning on going, meeting up with a friend, and figured i would see what happened. So I got here, traveled as planned, and after talking it out with my dear friend night after night, looked for another opportunity online. I found one that fit me to a tea, sent my cover letter, CV and writing sample. Called the next day. Had an interview the day after and here I am starting the next Monday!

THE ORGANIZATION: My first day was yesterday with an organization called ACDI/VOCA. My head was swimming in acronyms by the end of the days, especially since everything is in Spanish and English, and so the acronym for the same thing may be entirely different because it is in another language! ACDI/VOCA stands for - Agricultural Cooperative Development International (ACDI) ... which merged with .. Volunteers in Overseas Cooperative Assistance (VOCA). Turns out it is in 38 countries worldwide. Who knew? And it is grounded in "expanding opportunities worldwide" through enabling microenterpries and greater economic opportunity to improve health, decrease poverty, and all that good stuff. It is pronounced Akdeevoca.. fast.

Now, in this particular case- ACDI/VOCA-Bolivia is almost entirely a framework of USAID projects. It has $42 million to implement a project in the jungle/forest of Bolivia called Integrated Community Development over the next 5 years with the goal of stopping or decreasing the illegal production of coca in the region. So pretty much.. USAID (US Agency of International Development) provides the money and mission statement, and ACDI/VOCA implements the projects. And everything is 'branded and marked' with the USAID label.. from the letterhead to the microwave. It is peculiar working for an organization that is so absorbed by and dependent on another institution. For example, a couple months ago there was a 30% cut in funding because of political reasons between US and Bolivia.. so people were laid off in the office. (which means I get my own desk!) The primary projects they implement are building new bathrooms, potable water systems, new schools, give new desks to schools, improving delapidated fields or classrooms. Lots of school building. Very PC. There are also volunteer experts that come in to teach them how to efficiently grow tea (rather than coca) etc. Leave it to me the first day to ask.. now do you think that actually works? 'it is part of a process, providing alternatives' was my answer.
It is productive, efficient, rich organization that has 40 staff in this office, 20 staff across the street that are the architects and engineers for the projects, and two local offices in the jungle.

ZONA SUR: So, La Paz is in a crater. And there is el Centro, which is the hub, where I had been staying... always busy with people, minibuses, at all times of day. Different beighborhoods ballon from there. The poorer neighborhood, El Alto, is up at the top of the crater, and is practically its own city. It is the way of getting into and out of the city as well, so if very congested. About a week ago it snowed for the first time in recent history in La Paz, and El Alto got 20 c of snow! Similarly, Zona Sur is the rich neighborhood, with the embassies, etc, and it is know for having more pleasant temperature year round. It is tucked into the valle, out of the way unless it is your destination. It is also practically its own city. And boy... is it another world. You know how i said that the streets are lined with minivans and taxis.. that noone ones their own car? well, here everyone has their very own fancy car to pick their well dress kids up from school. In Sorata I felt out of place in my Western clothes.... here, the women with the traditional colorful fabric bolsa on her bag is the one out of place. the overall complexion of residents is lighter.

THE GUESTHOUSE: is great. The upstairs floors are used during the day by architects andengieers of ACDI/VOCA, but the downstairs HUGE bedroom, with two double beds (i will be sharing with another girl in a week), the bathroom.. equipped with towels, soap, shampoo and even conditioner, a television with cable, a refrigerador and several closets... is ALL mine. The kitchen is upstair and equipped with everything but pots. So my first day I was on a mission: do we have any pots? people thought I was crazy... you are going to cook? but i was successful and finagled myself 3 pots. One is soaking lentils as we speak. There is also a maid, who cleans my room and makes my bed, and a guard 24 hours a day. The streets here are lined with gated houses and offices with guards out front. It is very safe.

MY FIRST DAY: I arrived (in my airplane outfit, mom) with my backpack to move into the guest house at 9:00 am sharp. I got set to work reading up on the organization I realized I knew little about, and read and read. Before lunch I moved into the guesthouse, only a block away. And after lunch I was set to work writing policy papers on microfinance. Substantive work! And since I am only going to be here a month, they will put me to work writing, in both spanish and english, evaluations, project reports, and policy statements on the various projects. There is another friendly intern who also recently graduated, and she is working on revamping the website, etc. I feel very comfortable in the office, with everyone saying 'buen dia, buen dia' to every single person every morning as you walk up the stairs. I even went to the grocery store yesterday. My big splurge was peanut butter.. it nearly double my purchases... 4 dollars! Last night I lead a life of luxury, as I ate pizza in bed and watched Grease (vasolina. en espanol). Not bad for a first day, id say.

Letting life take the lead.. and coming down to Bolivia for an internship turned out to not be half bad. The most serendipitous, I thought, is that they offered me the guesthouse as a place to stay, but their lease there ends at the end of August.. right when I was planning on coming home. Funny how things work out sometimes isnt it?