Estepona

I arrived in Estepona at 5:45 in the morning about 48 hours after leaving the States. It was completely dark and I passed the time reading some Isabel Allende (slowly, but in spanish--go me!) in a little cafe. Eventually I was too excited to sit still anymore and I began to haunt the boardwalk and the beach. It was lovely to wait out the sunrise by the sea.

It was amazing how many people were out enjoying the peace of the morning.

Espeto boat in the sunrise.

Our room at the hotel had a little kitchen and it was fun to cook our own food and eat it on our little terrace overlooking the vineyards, little town, and the sea. A little snack bar downstairs by the pool sold the most delicious roast chicken ever for about seven euros. Sigh.... We kept joking about how "expensive" this trip was. Who knew that vacationing doesn't have to break the bank?

It's hard to see, but there's a picture of a foot with spots all over it. Yeah. So if you have the spots, please don't swim in our pool.

A tight toe-race, though Susan is losing her cool.

The grueling walk to the beach through vineyards. We would count the number of times cars honked and hollered at us, "Oi, guapas!" Good grief. I think we got up to 10 or fifteen one trip.

Loveliness.

I love windmills.

A night on the.... terrace. We got dressed up and then walked a full fifty feet to the italian restaurant in the hotel.

This one is for Aunt Carol. It reminds me of camping and how she insists on having some Donettes for at least one breakfast. Who knew there was a gelato flavor?

They had these platforms set up on the beach with exercise instructors leading kickboxing related routines. It was hilarious to watch the children and parents stumble their way to health.

This little girl was particularly adorable. So determined!

I tried hiding in the shade a few times, but I still got more and more tan. I hadn't been this tan since childhood.

My new love: espetos. They're sardines roasted kebab style over coals that are kept in beached dory. Ridiculously tasty.

Alex is our fearless teacher.

I know a few street musicians who could use speaker pants like these.... This guy played the steel drum, saxophone, and guitar. He rocked out to some very annoying 80s tunes.

The crew on the beach. Tan guapa.

I could really use a chiringuito right now.... They're these little businesses right on the beach. They rent out deck chairs shaded by grass umbrellas and serve drinks and food. What a way to vacation: beer, wine, seafood, a novel, sunshine, floating in the sea, and friends. I highly recommend it.

Ocean, Lake, Ocean, River, Forest, Ocean, BLISS

These photos are the highlights from my eight weeks in the Pacific Northwest this summer. It was a lovely time, full of family, friends, and ocean visits. I cram-packed my days and still didn't have enough time to see everyone that I love.

I'm presenting these pictures out of chronological order. It's rather lazy of me, I know, but you'll just have to deal with it.

Pacific City, OR

Molly, Emily, Regan, and I conquered that sand dune.




My new best friend Regan (pronounced "Reegan"). This was taken after she bowled me over and got sand and slobber all over me. I love that dog! One hundred pounds of pure love.

Gabby checks out the anenomes.

Regan ate a lot of sand on the beach. I'm sure it's great for digestion.

On the road with my best friends, wiener dog in my lap. Lovely Tillamook, OR.

TILLA-mookmookmookmookmook!

Molly out on the cliff face.

Oregon coast hike with Molly, Emily, and Regan. Poor Gabby had to stay home.

Sunset at Smugglers. It was super fun to visit the Orcas Island Stolmeiers.

The ferry ride home from Orcas.

Moclips

My favorite ballerina, Greta.

My favorite Jedi, Becker.

My brothers always think up highly entertaining activities. Terry supplied us with all the toys when we went to Moclips. We knocked around volley balls, golf balls, and tennis balls with golf clubs. I also spent some time kicking the soccer ball around. Unfortunately Eric broke his toe while we were all goofing around playing soccer. That guy has bones of glass in his feet. Of course, I scraped all the skin of my toe trying to learn to juggle a soccer ball so I'm not one to talk.

Mmmm... warm sand!

Grandma Criss and Greta snuggling in the morning.

Jamie and Amy.

All American girl with a Japanese beer.

We are so related.

Ben and his Scoop.

My favorite place to be.

Sweet little Jack.

Guapos.

Lovely Nisqually.

Papa and Gannon watch the ducks at Point Defiance Park.

Gannon frolicking in the grass.

The truck fairy strikes again.

Mark's monster is slightly Egyptian.

My little studio.

My little studio was quite romantic at night.

Our very own deer family that napped in our backyard every afternoon.

A beautiful day to fly out of Washington. I could see Mt. Rainier (the big one), Mt. St. Helens, Mt. Hood, Mt. Adams, and I pretended to see the tip of Mt. Baker. A climactic ending to a perfect trip.

Someone tell me it's worth it.

Everyone is antsy, no one is content. Nearly everyone I meet is looking for something better, something easier. People talk about people they know or cultures they've visited, or times past when problems were simpler. I've met very few people who are content with where they are, who they are, and the people around them. Everyone is looking for the answer rather than appreciating the equation. Including myself, of course. Why are we on this journey? Why are we so hell-bent on perfection?

My life is golden: I am young, smart, talented (not to mention humble), and have amazing friends and family. I come from a beautiful region rich in culture and nature. I have had many amazing opportunities and experiences. I am from a middle class family which means I work hard for my success but my years of being "poor" are easier than most. Yet I still feel this disappointment when I think about my life. I blame it on not painting enough, loneliness, and simply being young and displaced but as valid as those causes are, it doesn't quite explain it.

Now, after living away from all the most important people in my life for nearly a year, I've returned. Looking around, I see a lot of the same problems I left behind. Fair enough; I don't expect them to disappear. However, it makes me reexamine my life and my expectations. On top of my own expectations I've been wondering about the romanticized expectations of all people--love, success, family, wealth.

A wise cousin of mine once gave me some good advice concerning men. She said, "No man is perfect, Jamie. You have to know their faults and decide what you can and cannot live with." I suppose that same philosophy applies to life: change the parts that are unlivable and deal with the rest the best you can.

So I moved to Spain to change the parts of my life that I could change for the better. Now I'm faced with an old problem: being single. All around me people are either getting married, dealing with the challenges of marriage, or looking for someone. I've worked hard to be content with myself, my life, and my future. Whatever comes, comes. I am strong. But there is this little voice inside of me that keeps screaming for someone to love me. That voice gets more and more urgent with every friend that says their vows, with every friend that is dumped by a sleazy guy from a bar, with every stupid romantic comedy I watch. It seems that voice is propelling me towards my own little discontentment.

I've been in love before, but when it ended it left me feeling suspicious, cynical, and critical. I do my best to feel at ease with my life, to enjoy the beautiful moments that come by, but I can't quiet the voice that tells me I deserve more. That everyone deserves more. Why live with a sorrowful romance for thirty or forty years? Why hide from your spouse through manipulation? Why date sleazy guys just to feel pretty and desirable? Why wait around for someone who can't tell you how they feel?

But what was it I was arguing before? Let's be content! Let's appreciate the beautiful moments we have! Be compassionate about the faults of others! What life is telling me is that it doesn't matter what we deserve. We are lucky to get those few moments of beauty and we'll just have to learn to be content with what we have.

So. Someone tell me it's worth it.

Book Reviews

This year, my favorite day of the week was Monday. After recess, my students would visit the library to hear a story and pick out books for the week. Our library isn't organized in the most kid-friendly way, so while the librarian read to my students I would wander around looking for good books to recommend. By the time the story is over and Ms. M. gave the cue, "Check, Check!" my arms were full of interesting titles and colorful covers. Here are my favorite titles from this year:

The End of the Beginning by Avi

Edward the energetic ant and Avon the innocent snail are two unusual friends on an adventure. I read this book aloud to my students and it took them a while to get the jokes. A lot of my students speak English as their second language therefore the many puns and turns of phrase were difficult to understand. However, the chapter with the epic snail battle had them literally rolling on the floor laughing and from then on they were hooked.


The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman

This book won the John Newberry Medal this year for young adult fiction. A boy's parents are murdered in cold blood but he escapes to a graveyard. The neighborhood ghosts raise the boy, teaching him about all the tricks and history that hundreds of years of experience awards the dead. The story sounds macabre but is actually quite funny and heartwarming. Gaiman introduces his readers to different parts of history with old graveyard ghosts and stresses the importance of family and loyalty. And for those who love a little suspence, the bad guys are positively creepy.

The Willoughbys by Lois Lowery

I have always loved Lois Lowery for her relate-able characters and interesting story lines. However, this story is quite unique. In the vein of A Series of Unfortunate Events, this is the tale of some thoroughly old-fashioned children in trouble. Instead of just hinting at literary references or pandering to a particular genre, Lowery pokes fun at the literary world by spoofing her way through all the famous literature she can think of. Included in the back of the book is a hysterical glossary of terms so that the kids (who are too young to have read Bronte or Swift) can be in on the jokes too. So much fun!

For those days when you just can't handle another Ken Follet or Toni Morrison, pick up a young adult or middle reader. Chances are you'll find a rare piece of literary genius that makes you think, makes you laugh, and best of all, you can share with just about anyone.

Happy summer reading!

Sundress, Sandals, and Streetlights

Last night I wove my way home from Lavapies in the ambient light of a Madrileno evening. I picked a stem of lavender to enjoy, the blossoms just opening. The air was thick with the smells and sounds of Madrid--urine, beer, ripe fruit, sweat, and laughter. Arabic, Spanish, French, English tangled through heat.

Past the revered remains of the bombed church, past the young men playing cricket in the street with their broken bat, past the elaborate graphitti, the groups of men spilling out from the sticky closeness of the bars. Though the hour was late, strollers rattled and little legs pattered on the cobbles. Fathers with daughters perched on shoulders, a fat baby playing with an empty cigarette carton. Barking dogs, trash in the streets, joyful singing, and the clop, clop, clop of my sandals on the cobbles.

Fever and Fractions

I have been in Spain for a total of ten months. I've been telling people it's been eight months for a while but time has caught up with me at last. Who am I, where am I going?

I am teaching fractions to my second graders this week. It's interesting to find fractions in myself: one half Swedish, nine tenths satisfied, one quarter lonely, five sixths of a year. I am one half excited about the next steps of my life and one half sad to see this chapter end. My little second graders are once again saying good-bye to their classmates that are moving from Madrid and I am saying good-bye to them. One of the mothers admitted the other day that I see more of her son than she does. In some ways, it's like saying good-bye to my family back in the States.

I feel strangely restless lately. Not dissatisfied, not irratible, but self-critical and antsy. My dreams are about the Pacific Northwest, wet and green. In my dreams all my friends and family talk at the same time and the air is wet and cool. Sometimes I dream about my faults. I dream that when I am painting my fingernails the paint dries too fast and doesn't slip easily over my nails. In my dreams I cannot understand any Spanish at all and no one can understand me. Mostly, my dreams leave me feeling exhausted and empty.

The way I am feeling is highly ironic. My life is filled with wonderful things. I've been seeing a wonderful guy, my job is satisfying and challenging, I am moving forward professionally, and I have many exciting things filling my calendar. Despite the feeling that I am not learning fast enough, I do know much more Spanish than I admit. In just two weeks I will be traveling back to the States to see my friends and family and relax with two months off work. Demasiadas cosas buenas.

Could that be it? Too many good things? My world here is tangled and twisted. Much of my life is spent with a tight family of teachers with strong personalities. Spain is a country known for its party attitude and I'm exhausted by the social "obligations". When I come back to Washington for the summer it will be much of the same. I enjoy celebrating life and friendships, but I think I am tired of the people here.

Last weekend I was invited to a birthday party of someone I barely know. It was so refreshing to spend time amongst strangers. I didn't mind that I was on the fringe, that every conversation was in stilted Spanish or that some of the people paid little attention to me. It was wonderful not to know the gossip about anyone. I loved speaking Spanish and didn't mind my grammar mistakes as much that night. The few people I knew at the party were warm and funny and animated. It was brilliant.

Tonight I will go to yet another party. A party full of people I work with (yet again), people who have annoyed me, who have warmed my heart, and who I have diappointed. There will be gossip, there will be drinking, but most importantly there will be dancing. Thank heavans for dancing. So long as I am dancing, I can shake off the feeling that I'm tethered to the expectations of others.