Faunia

This last week I went on a field trip with my students to Faunia. Faunia is much like a zoo, though they have exhibits unlike any of the zoos I've been to. I loved walking through the jungle exhibit, where you're actually in the closed off area with the monkeys, parrots, huge birds, etc. It was pretty magical. I've also never been to a zoo with so many different kinds of animals, sea life, Amazon fish, insects, reptiles, etc. Like Pt. Defiance zoo only bigger, and in Spain. Haha.

Fossilized Dino Balls. I thought they'd be bigger.
(Actually it's part of a femur bone that was named such because of it's resemblance to... you know.)

The Dino exhibit was pretty cool, though educational in a cultural rather than scientific way. They had little kisoks complete with models of pop culture dinosaurs with explanations about the movie or comic they originated from. Some large reconstructions of dinosaur bones were in the center. The entire exhibit was more about the fascination with Dinos rather than dinosaurs themselves.

Because no dinosaur exhibit is complete without Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.

EMU!!!!

Penguins are funny. Also, they're dirty.

Manatee right above me in this awesome tube. (I'm in the tube, not the manatee.)

Mr. Lemur, sunning himself. There were probably about 15 or 20 lemurs just hanging out in the sun.



Louis takes a break with his friend, the duck. I only had to watch two kids the entire day. Giangualberto and Louis were so much fun! I would have these moments when my heart would well up in my chest and I would think, "I have the best job in the entire world." The entire day they were saying, "We're on an adventure!" and we'd scare ourselves silly in the dark exhibits. Their favorite was the Indiana Jones themed underground exhibit. Thanks guys for making my day so great!

More Ada in Spain

Sometimes I forget to take pictures with people in them. Joey, Melissa, Ada, and I had a wonderful picnic in Campo del Moro, a beautiful park right below the palace. We ate cheese, apple, and avacado sandwiches under the beautiful flowering cherry trees in the rose garden. Green parrots kept flying overhead and perching amongst the pink. Pretty!

Melissa, Ada, and I took the train to Toledo. It was a fun day roaming the city again. I particularly liked seeing the artist below in action. I bought a necklace from this shop for Mom. It's a complicated process and the pieces can be very expensive. The gold and silver is inlaid into steel and then fired to turn the steel plates black. You can buy less expensive machine made versions but they just aren't the same.

Fresh Meat

I just got back from a double bachelorette party. We had some games and tapas at someone's apartment and then went out to a few bars. Ughhh... Nothing like a bunch of drunk American women going out to bars to attract attention.

Living in Spain as a young woman can be annoying. Today I was walking to the grocery store and some guy was hissing at me, trying to get my attention. The men who run the Locutorio two doors down from my building look me over every time I pass (though they've given up on trying to get me to talk to them). Some idiots even suggested that Coulter and I come back to their house with them on our way home tonight. At the bars we had to move several times to avoid creepy guys. I even had to take some lessons from Melissa when a guy was too drunk to understand my rude rejections. He didn't really get it until I waved good-bye to him.

The men here can be very demeaning. Yes, there are cultural differences, but there are also universal laws of respect and I feel like they take advantage of our language barrior and pick on us more often than Spanish women. No matter where or when I walk the streets of Madrid there are always eyes following my every move. Which isn't always bad. I've had some very friendly and appropriate smiles. And I have to admit that it sometimes boosts my self esteem. But if it's a hungry glare instead of a kind glance, I become frustrated and a little sad. Is that all they can think about?

However, I need to be careful not to color all of the men here with the same brush. A few disrespectful and ridiculous people can truly ruin the reputations of a culture. Spain is country still reeling from its days of economic disparity, facism, and civil war. It's easy to forget that Spain is evolving amidst the lush landscape of universal health care, fashionable clothes, and partying. Some of the misplaced machismo comes from the reaction to years of oppressive rule and religious dogma. The freedom to wear outlandish and revealing clothing, the abundance of meat, and the ever-flowing river of wine.... I don't want to pretend to know what makes the culture breed people to be so disrespectful, but I see similarities to the current trends in Madrid and the trends of the US in the 50s and 60s.

There are moments of overwhelming rudeness, but like anywhere, there are also moments of simple kindness or luck. Last night we were walking to Reina Bruja to go dancing and saw what a long line they had. A man approached us and offered to take us to Sala Heinekin, take us past the line, and get us in for free. Though wary, we took him up on the offer. We passed a line (arms linked into a flying V formation, which made me laugh) that would have taken at least a half hour to get through. Once inside the building it took just a few moments to give the woman the cards Victor had given us and we were inside. All for being young, American, cute, and loud.

At one point, Victor was talking to one of the many bouncers and we were squeezed onto the sidewalk and in the way of passers by. One of the bouncers needed to get past and he had to move me aside (probably because I was gawking at something or other). The way he took my arm and gently guided me away from the ropes, then squeezed my hand just slightly in thanks, communicated so much respect and consideration. It was just a moment's interaction but so unexpected. That little gesture was the opposite of all the other interactions with strangers that night. Without saying a word, he acknowledged me as a human being as well as a woman.

As an American from the Pacific Northwest, personal space is clearly outlined and maintained. I am very aware of any physical touch. It didn't take me long to get used to "dos besos" (two kisses) every time you meet a friend or stranger, but there continue to be moments of touch that confuse me or take me by surprise. However, friendly touch is something I respect. Communication is hard enough to perfect, why not add another element? Non-verbal communication through touch has added a welcome level of depth to my interactions with Spaniards because they use touch to communicate warmth and kindness. A hand on your arm for a moment in sympathy or welcome, a quick but strong hug, a squeeze of your hand and a conspiritorial smile. These brief moments of warmth and understanding shine through the haze of past-perfect-infinitive-conjugated-subjunctive-lisping-Castillano.

Ada in Spain!

Welcome to Spain, Ada!

Iberia, land of rivers.

The Royal Cathedral.

Ada gets friendly with my favorite cow.

Puerte.

Sunset in the city.



Segovia

The best accident I've had in a long time. You can see the aquaduct and my face if you look close enough.

Nice, Ada Mae. Nice.

Guapa primas.

Kingdom of heaven portrayed by gothic spires.

Is this what it looked like 500 years ago when Isabella de Catolica was here patiently awaiting her thrown?

Mallorca... un otro vez.

The first two days Kellerman and I spent in Palma. We met up with our good friend for dinner and had a great time visiting the Catedral and other lovely sites. Was it Kellerman that noticed that our hostal was rated as a "One star"? Well, my students were talking about their vacations and how they prefer 5 stars over 3 stars... and I told them I stayed at a one star and it was just fine. They were really curious what that meant. ;)

Kellerman and I climbed over the rocks to get this pic (and a similar one of her). I was in a skirt and dress shoes. She was in hiking shoes and jeans. I left her in the dust, but I probably also flashed the fishermen down the way. Crazy Americans.

Here, kitty kitty kitty....

Charlie was a real flirt.



El Catedral

Walkin'

Lately I've become obsessed with blue, green, turquoise, and... turquoise-blue.

Placa Mayor.

Pretty little alley.

The Castle on the Hill

The steps up to the castle were numerous indeed. Kellerman counted. McBride and I gave up after about 200 steps, Kellerman claims there are over 500. We took it like champs.

One of the world's only round castles.

It's rounder looking inside.

The castles houses a decent collection of statues. Some of them are indecent. ;)

The roof had a great view of the city. The city had a crummy view of us.



On Vacation

This is our party car, a Ford Fiesta. How appropriate.


While in Palma we had breakfast at Capuccino. I had typical tostada in the style of Andalucia, cafe con leche, and fresh squeezed orange juice. So happy. Do you see the bottle of olive oil on the table? That was the first thing our waitress would deliver each morning.

The beach in Palma. Sadly, this was the only time my feet frolicked in the water.



Trek Number 1

Our first hike had no trail head. The guide we'd purchased lead us to an overlook where we parked and then scratched our heads for a bit. Then we saw some hikers emerging from a valley and we decided to bushwack a bit. Little piles of rocks were our trail markers and eventually led us to the latter part of the trial we were looking for. Nice work, ladies.

Kellerman is being swallowed by couch grass!

For some reason we thought the couch grass was funny. Perhaps because it was called "couch grass."

In the ravine on our first hike. Couch grass decorates the background. Couch grass! Our hike began at a scenic overlook and ended at a very secluded cove. Very beautiful. We saw some sort of mountain animal along the way but it was too far off to tell what it was. I like to think of it as my mountain goaty bretheren.

At the bottom.
I really wanted to jump into the water. This cove was prime skinny-dipping real estate. Check out the colors. Sigh....

The Queen (Kellerman) and Ravine Girl majestically pose at the end of the hike.

At the top; post-hike.

On the road. At sunset.



Trek Number 2

By the train tracks in Santa Maria del Cami.

We parked in Santa Maria de Cami and walked several miles into the country along roads between orange orchards. The orange trees were full of fruit, the almond trees full of blossoms, and the olive trees a sagey green. Lovely! A farmer even stopped his tractor to confirm we were headed in the right direction.


Aquaduct goodness.

McBride bravely forges the stream. At one several moments during our trip I noticed that I am much more agile on the rocks than Kellerman and McBride. Apparently living in the NW has prepared me a for a life as a mountain goat.

Kellerman, our intrepid guide. At this point we realized that instead of following the trail (which was not marked at all) we had scaled up into the terraced orchards of someone's farm. They were home but ignored us.

This grotto was big. I was small.

Un arbol mucho viejo.

Kellerman and I had a great time imagining ourselves as the senoras of the old abandoned houses along the road.

I've been eating salads at home almost every day. Unfortunately, it's nearly impossible to find a good salad in Madrid. This salad was incredible, however. The goat cheese (queso de cabra, in this case the rulo variety) is covered in nuts and probably fried, though it could have been baked. The baby onions are simmered/pickled in balsamic vinegar and there are three kinds of lettuce and a ripe tomato. The meal rounded off with fresh bread and aoli, a carafe of wine, and some yummy deserts. Sigh.... After a long hike, nothing could be more satisfying.



Our Bed and Breakfast

The view from our door.


Lily the cat welcomes us home to our little green suite. One of the caretakers is good with animals and the six or seven cats swarm around him like a school of fish. He claims that he is good with animals, plants, and not so good with the mujeres. Haha. That's for sure. He named the two black cats "Obama."

He was also the one to show us our room when we arrived. He asked us our names and when I said mine he replied, "Jeeemmee? Joder. Te llamo es Maria. Maria la madre del Dios." The next day he introduced us to his friend the gardener from Ghana. The gardener is looking for "una rubia." A blonde. He gave us a very sweet speech about how he's been saving up for his rubia and how she'd never have to work. He's hoping to travel to the US to find a rubia autentica--dye jobs need not apply. She could work in the house, you know, especially if she were barefoot and pregnant, but she'd never have to have a career. And he'd do all the shopping and errands out of the house because even Corte Ingles (Spain's Macys) is too dangerous. I suppose that may be true in Ghana, but still, sometimes I feel so blessed to be brunette.

Cat orgy. Obama is getting some action, a little menage a tois action. One of the cats I nicknamed "Double-wide" because she was so pregnant; Obama 2 still wouldn't leave her alone!

Por Mes Hermanos

Ahoy Matey! We found the pirate bar of our dreams! It even had thai food! Nothing could be finer. We all toasted Mark and his pirate tatoo on this, our last night on Mallorca.
McBride and I take the wheel.