Mas. Mas Suisa. Vale.

The view from the deck of our second floor apartment. We were too low in the valley to see the peaks, but it was still very pretty. In the other direction we could watch the skiers swoosh down the slope. Joey skied one morning and Melissa and I sat in a church courtyard near the end of the chairlift eating plums and pastries. What a life!

Beer, ping-pong, Alps. Check, check, and check.
Joey took this awesome picture while Melissa and I battled below.

Our humble abode. Note the snow out the window, the L couch, and the battle ax in the corner. Somehow I neglected to get a picture of Joey and his ax.

Melissa tolerated our ping-pong enthusiasm very well. She's got great form. Joey taught me a new serve. Good times all around.

One of our days was spent en route to Neuschwanstein castle in Germany. In order to get there we needed to pass through Switzerland, Lichtenstein, Austria, and finally Germany. Melissa and I devoured a pretzel in celebration.

Melissa's pictures of Neuschwanstein turned out way better than mine. Good work Mo! The castle was built by crazy King Ludwig of Bavaria in the latter part of the 19th century. It's also thought to be the inspiration for Cinderella's (?) castle in Disneyland. My favorite part was Aphrodite's cave--complete with stalagtites and stalagmites.

We stopped in this tiny town after Neuschwanstein. I just hadn't gotten enough of Germany yet.



This is a graveyard in Austria. It was so clean and intricate.


On our last day in Switzerland, we stopped in Aug, where ancient roman remains can be viewed. We also spotted some not so ancient romans....



The remains don't really look real to me. I think it's the use of concrete. Romans were actually the first people (in the western world) to use concrete. It seems like such a modern building material.



Schuss, Alps. Ciao.

Rumblings and Ramblings

Words are powerful. Every moment of every day is filled with words and their intent. My days begin early and end late, filled to the brim with words. Moments are punctuated by a valiant effort to translate my thoughts into some semblance of Spanish. Every word I speak sends echoes inside me of my new respect for language acquisition. The music and gallantry of Spanish captivate and humble me. I feel so fortunate to be fluent in English, such pride in the beauty of metaphor and the melding of cultures in our strange tongue. My gratitude and humility follow me through the day, happily accompianied by music.

“Sing me a lullaby, sing me the alphabet, sing me a story I haven’t heard yet.”
–The Weakerthans

I often wake to the plaintive songs of Wilco, Jason Mraz, or the Mountain Goats. They coax me into the damp streets, and to their mournful or playful poetry I emerge, squinting, into the brightness of spring.

“Every moment points toward the aftermath.” –Mountain Goats

At the bus stop the words creak hesitantly from our mouths, arthritic and ornery. Teachers loitering like pigeons on the sidewalk of Gran Via, waiting for the giant caterpillar shaped bus to take us away and dissolve our words into a sleepy silence. The bus Caterpillar eats the teacher pigeons like a twisted fairy tale.

“I have seen your nine to fives wash away your dreams.” –Brandy Carlile

The children’s words flutter around me like a swarm of dusty moths, “Ms. Forslund, can I go to the bathroom?” “Ms. Forslund, what am I supposed to do when I’m finished?” “Ms. Forslund, is that a real story or did you make it up?” “Ms. Forslund, it’s an emergency!”

My words chase them, critical and pleading. “Jacob, do you really think you should choose to sit next to Alex during the lesson?” “Focus Lyndon. You were doing so well!” “I don’t think we have time for that now, you all were so noisy and distracted.” “Let’s surprise Mrs. Allen by walking into the classroom so quietly she doesn’t see us!” “Show me what you practiced this week.” “Happy spider! Thumb on middle C. No, that’s a D, but you were very close!” “Feet flat on the floor, head above hips, breathe deep, and relax.”

Students turn their heads from the piano with pleading looks: “is this right? Can we play something fun next?” Louis’ eyes get big when I reprimand him for not listening to directions, again. I guard my words all day, slipping them through the cracks of my teeth with deliberation and a mustering of confidence. Each word is tested and weighed for clarity, accuracy, and compassion. Each wince at a strong word cuts at me. Each beaming smile at praise lifts my head a little higher.

“Maybe is until the day my dreams will match up with my pay.” –Feist

My favorite part of each day is when we’re walking the children to the buses. Clementina and Michaela silently slip their hands into mine and look up at me with their wide brown eyes. I ask each of them how their day went and Clementina replies with an enthusiastic, “woof!”

“I believe fate smiled at destiny.” –Natalie Merchant

When my tired feet finally trudge toward the hill to the train station, my head is buzzing with words. I quiet the pleading voices of children, cranky cackles of veteran teachers, and the echoes of my clumsy Spanish with the spread of the city before me. If no one is around, I may shake my hips softly along to the songs in my head before I slip carefully down the hill between the apartment buildings.

“...over numbers unencumbered numbered words; hundreds of pages, pages, pages, of words…” –Jason Mraz

Liechtenstein--25 by 6

We visited Liechtenstein on my birthday. It's a tiny country: 25 km by 6 km. The entire country fits between the Rhine and the tips of the mountains next to the Rhine. Most of the time we were in Liechtenstein we were gazing fondly at Switzerland, ironically enough. Most of these pictures are of the Swiss Alps. We drove around to the little towns but stopped first in Vaduz, the capitol. Vaduz is a small hamlet filled with modern sculpture and architecture juxtaposed against traditional buildings and the quaint countryside. The towns were eerily quiet.



Silly grins everyone! It's Jamie's birthday!


Joe-ball relaxing in the sun.


Makin' friends with a tree.
The bench was a little remote. Good thing he has long legs!



What view? You don't need no view. We're pretty, look at us!


My favorite piece of modern sculpture yet. It's pure happiness. A thin, partially enclosed, steel doorway with a hidden arch of water. You can hear the water from far away. You think, "where the heck is all that water?" You walk into the doorway, and to your right you see a spigot shooting water in an arch above you. Your eyes follow the rainbow of the water up into the clear blue sky and back to earth with a satisfying splash. Melissa took this luscious shot.

The gray line snaking its way through the valley is actually the Rhine river.

The people are built differently in this part of Europe. This picture is not too far off. Forget about a Barbie-doll Swiss Miss and instead picture a hockey team.

African King sculpture. Joey suggested chapstick.

I found this stenciled on dog-poop bins throughout Switzerland and Liechtenstein. I thought it was grafitti at first. Seeing as I am collecting a series of strange signs, this was a goldmine.

It's difficult to look truly relaxed when you're made of bronze.

Zurich

I loved Zurich. I would live there in a hearbeat.

We drove from Basel to Zurich and spent our first night sleeping in the rental car outside a brothel. It was a long, uncomfortable night. Kudos to Joseph for being such a good sport. He wasn't sleeping at all and saw that I was sleeping fitfully and uncomfortably in the back seat and offered his reclining driver's side seat so that I would be more comfortable. What a guy! We woke up to a cold, sunny day with some of the best light I've seen in a long time. We walked around Zurich for several hours and left before 10 am. The city was very clean, very organized, and friendly. Even the dogs were clean (not so in Madrid) and I made friends with a little mutt outside the cathedral. I loved the over-sized clocks that adorned all the churches and public buildings. No wonder everything is on time in Switzerland!

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.