Sunday Stroll to Retiro

One Sunday evening a few weeks back, Nicole and I decided to leave our apartment in Royal Madrid, stretch our legs and walk the 2 blocks to Gran Via and follow it to Retiro Park. We had seen the Puerta de Alcala at a glance but had never entered the park itself. It was late October, the sun was out, the leaves were changing, and so we knew the sights would be stunning. I'll let the pictures do the work...enjoy!

Part 2 of the Weekend: Murcia and Cartagena

After spending the 1st part of our weekend in Toledo, Nicole and I took Saturday night and Sunday morning to rest and repack for the 2nd part of our weekend: a trip to Murcia, where we would meet up with our friend, Caleb. Sunday afternoon, we went to the huge metro/bus station Mendez Alvaro to catch our 4:15 bus. We got to the platform at 4:15, waited around a few minutes, bags in hand, then realized -- our bus had already left. (Dang, Spain, why are you on time now?) So, we parked ourselves in the station cafeteria and waited for the next bus, the 7:15. I spent the hours reading my Spain travel guide book, researching the region and city of Murcia. I was pretty pumped for our trip by boarding time.

Later on the bus, as we left Madrid and crossed into the region of Castilla-La Mancha, it occurred to me this was the furthest I had been from the city. We were traveling 5 hours away from what we had just come to know. I smiled, plugged my headphones into my iPod, and looked out the window. In the growing dark, I could see gigantic windmills, red lights at their centers, glowing eerily across the plain like robot eyes. I thought, Don Quixote didn't challenge these windmills.

When we arrived at midnight, Caleb and some friends met us at the station and led us back to his apartment. Caleb, being the definition of a gentleman, gave us his room (where we quickly crashed), and he slept on the couch. We didn't wake up until almost noon Monday. The weather was supposed to be cool for the usually arid Murcia, with a chance of rain. We decided, therefore, to take a 45 minute bus ride to Cartagena and sight-see there, hoping to miss the bad weather. In Cartagena, we rambled through the sunny, date palm-lined streets, never forgetting to crane our necks and check out the magnificent skyline. We visited a few Roman ruins, including a theater, and then walked to a park along the battery. (I swore I would dunk a toe in the Mediterranean when I first saw it, but there was no where to do it! :( Reason #1 to visit again.) Later in the afternoon, we needed a snack, so we raided a local supermarket for fruit and wine, and returned to the park for a picnic. When the sun got low and the air turned cool, we walked back to the Cartagena bus station and caught a bus back to Murcia.

That night, we had a homemade, Spanish dinner with plenty of wine to go around, blanco or tinto. I got to know Caleb's roommates a little better (a girl from the U.S. and a girl from Portugal), so that was fun. Later, we decided to explore the club scene near the university, but nowhere really appealed to us.

I woke up the next morning to a warm, sunny day, but I felt off. Within minutes, I was covered in hives, and I realized it wasn't my lack of sleep but a severe allergic reaction to something that had me feeling this way (and I still have no idea what caused this!). Nicole, thank goodness, had some Zyrtec. Soon, the three of us were out the door and exploring Murcia city. While walking, I felt the medicine starting to kick in and the fresh air reviving my spirits. Then I hit a sudden low. My vision narrowed to a pinpoint, my ears started to ring, and I felt like someone was covering my head with a bag. I slumped onto some stairs until the feeling went away. My friends decided we should grab something to eat, hoping that would help me feel better. We walked a couple of more blocks to the city cathedral and found a restaurant with tables out on the cathedral plaza.

Honestly, I felt like a party-pooper, slowing the group down. It was our last day and our only day to see Murcia! While sipping my Coke, though, I began to cheer up as I talked with my friends and sat in the cathedral's grand shadow. My hives disappeared, and I started to feel more like myself. We ordered paella and chatted for over an hour, watching some children play in the square and some little birds flying from table to table, searching for stray crumbs.

When we finished our meal, Nicole and I only had an hour until our bus back to Madrid, so we meandered around the outside of the cathedral and then strolled to a river-side park before saying our goodbyes. I really enjoyed my time in Murcia, especially because I love any place that has plenty of sun, vegetation and a slower pace. Sometimes, the brightly-colored buildings and waterfront reminded me of my favorite southern city, Charleston. I was sad that I didn't get to spend more time in some places, like the inside of Murcia Cathedral, but hey, Reason #2 to visit again!

Toledo's Twists and Turns

Mid-Friday afternoon, October 8th, Nicole and I boarded a bus here in Madrid and took a 45-minute ride into the Castilla-La Mancha providence and to the Spanish city of 3 cultures: Toledo. Christian, Muslim and Jewish populations over the past 1,000 years have shaped this city into the historical gem that it is today.

Once we had hopped off the bus, Nicole and I decided to walk from the station to our hostel since it was a pleasant day and an hour until sunset. During our leisurely walk, following the river around the city and to the Alcantara Bridge, we took many pictures of the city glowing in the perfect lighting. After crossing the picturesque bridge, we found our hostel...an 11th century castle! We went inside, paid less than 15 euros for a 2-person private room/bath for the night, regrouped, then headed out to find dinner.

We got lost almost immediately. *Understand* Spain is already against big, clear road signs. Here in Madrid, you may find a decorative tile square sporting the name of the street along with the picture of a queen or saint, but in Toledo...you are lucky to find a sign at all. The people who constructed Toledo also didn't believe in a grid system. The narrow, cobblestone streets twist and turn like spaghetti noodles thrown onto a map. If this maze of alleys hadn't been so enchantingly European-looking, we would've gotten discouraged and headed back to the hostel, I'm sure. We were rewarded, eventually, with a restaurant near the Plaza de Zocodover that boasted a fairly-traditional and fair-priced Menu of the Day. I had some delicious gazpacho, baked chicken with a salad, a little pre-packaged ice cream cup, bread and olive oil, and a drink for less than 12 euros. Nicole opted for the paella over the gazpacho (see pictures).

After dinner, Nicole and I wandered through the streets again, peeping into bars here and there, seeing what looked good. At one point, we found a supposed "cider" bar (I was VERY excited), but the bartender informed me they hadn't served cider in over 5 years. Well, drat. Eventually, my partner and I ended up at a popular bar called "Picaro" and had some good conversation over mojitos and daiquiris. We also had a good laugh at being the only single people there. "Dear Spain, why must there be face-sucking couples everywhere we turn? Sincerely, Devon and Nicole." Our walk back to the hostel was gorgeous, especially when we crossed the bridge and looked back at the city against the nighttime sky.

We woke up Saturday morning to cold and drizzle. Rain jacket, umbrella and guidebook in hand, I headed out with Nicole to explore the city like a real tourist. We had a quick pastry for breakfast in the Plaza de Zocodover then visited the Museum of Santa Cruz, full of ancient tapestries and tile exhibits. Then we headed toward Toledo Cathedral...at least we thought we were. After about an hour, we finally found it (it's the tallest building in the city, how could we not find it?!) and spent a few hours inside. I split from Nicole and did a rewarding audio tour, which pointed out works by famous artists like Caravaggio and El Greco. I may or may not have squawked with joy. After several hours of complete bliss (I'm finding that I'm addicted to visiting cathedrals), we left and visited an old synagogue/museum. By this point, it was later in the afternoon, pouring and our feet were hurting, so we didn't linger. We also had a bus to catch back to Madrid. When we did, we were two exhausted, drenched but happy gals.

New Laptop = New Posts!

Hal-le-lu-yer. I finally got my laptop today (after several hours of dealing with postal service red tape), so expect many catch-up posts soon! I promise stories about Toledo, Murica, Sevilla and Granada (and Madrid, of course). Also, once I figure out how to load my camera's software and can edit all of my pictures, I'll start posting a select few. For now, I'm off to bed after a loooong day!

Thanks for your patience, dear reader!

All my love,
Dev

My Metro Song

A Design, An Alignment, A Cry

This is the 1st and title track of my favorite album by Mumford and Sons. The entire CD is great, but the last stanza is what I connect with the most. Call it my creed.



Sigh No More

Serve God love me and men
This is not the end
Live unbruised we are friends
And I'm sorry
I'm sorry

Sigh no more, no more
One foot in sea, one on shore
My heart was never pure
you know me
you know me

Man is a giddy thing (4x)

Love will not betray you,
dismay or enslave you,
It will set you free
Be more like the man
you were made to be.
There is a design,
An alignment, a cry,
Of my heart to see
The beauty of love
as it was made to be (x4)

Reflections on Sunday

A had a dream last night about leading praise and worship at my home church in Benson, NC. This type of dream has become more common within the past year, occurring several times a month now. I'm always on stage, behind a keyboard and microphone, looking out over a crowd. Most of the faces are familiar -- my church family. Some of the people are singing. Some are raising their hands. Others sit silently, and others simply watch me.

At times, the dream is stressful. Maybe this time I don't have the song list, so I'm winging it. Sometimes I'm the only one in the band who doesn't know the song. Usually, though, the dream is peaceful because I feel like I'm where I'm supposed to be. I don't mean in front of people. I mean worshipping. So when I woke up this morning after leading praise and worship in my dream, and I realized it's Sunday morning, and I'm across the ocean from my church, I got a slight case of the blues. Then I remembered.

The church is everywhere. It's me, my family, and my new roommate and friend. And, funny enough, the church is the man who comes to collect my rent. When I first met Jose, a sixty-something year old man, I thought he must have a lot of patience to listen to four girls speak in English for thirty minutes, trying to figure out who pays what. Finally, I told him in Spanish, "Please take a seat." He smiled and told us not to worry. Little did I know how serious he was.

As soon as we had everything figured out, he made another comment like "Don't worry. Why should we worry when God's got things under control?" At this, one of my roommates left, not knowing how to respond. Roommate #2 soon did the same. I stayed put, though, because something in my spirit was saying, "Oooh, this is gonna be good! Get ready for what this man has to say!"

By this time, he was standing, as if to leave, but he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. He was beaming and so wound up, he looked like he was about to burst. And he soon did, after realizing that me and roommate #3 were Christians with open ears and hearts.

He talked, and he talked, and he talked. He gave his testimony, talked about his encounters with other people, shared his innermost thoughts, and praised and thanked God for His blessings and for us coming into his life. He talked so much that I could only respond with an occasional "Si!" or nod of my head. He talked for at least an hour, never slowing down or forgetting to say, "Thank you, Father! Oh, how He loves me!" A few, rare times, I would affirm his musings or give my point of view, but I mostly listened (and hard). Remember: He's speaking in Spanish this whole time. Amazingly, though, I understood 95% of what he said! This is truly miraculous since my Spanish is firmly intermediate. Love, I realized while watching his open, clear eyes and glowing face, is a universal language.

When he finally realized the time (way after midnight), he made for the door. A few times down the hall, he thought of a something, and he launched into another story of God's faithfulness. I didn't mind. When he was truly done, I hugged him close and kissed him on the cheek. I told him, in Spanish, "Thank you, my brother. You are beautiful vessel of God's love." I feel cheesy even when typing that, but you had to have been there. This man could have levitated, and I wouldn't have been surprised. He was that...light! He said he was glad to have met two young women who already understood God's love and grace. I told him how much I loved his visit because he reminded me of times with my family and our typical conversations. After the door closed behind him, I felt filled to the brim, like I do on a Sunday morning after going to church.


Newsboys - He Reigns
Cargado por wanzea. - Explorar otros videos musicales.

He Reigns

It’s the song of the redeemed
Rising from the African plain
It’s the song of the forgiven
Drowning out the Amazon rain
The song of Asian believers
Filled with God’s holy fire
It’s every tribe, every tongue, every nation
A love song born of a grateful choir

It’s all God’s children singing
Glory, glory, hallelujah
He reigns, He reigns
It’s all God’s children singing
Glory, glory, hallelujah
He reigns, He reigns

Let it rise about the four winds
Caught up in the heavenly sound
Let praises echo from the towers of cathedrals
To the faithful gathered underground
Of all the songs sung from the dawn of creation
Some were meant to persist
Of all the bells rung from a thousand steeples
None rings truer than this

And all the powers of darkness
Tremble at what they’ve just heard
‘Cause all the powers of darkness
Can’t drown out a single word

"Machu Picchu"

Most of the people I talked to this week met the following criteria:
- Spoke little English
- Had wide, brown, smiling eyes
- Owned a rolling book bag (decorated with Hello Kitty, the Jonas Brothers or Spiderman)
- Came up to about my waist

I'm obviously describing the students at my two assigned primary schools, General Izquierdo and Ramon Gomez de la Serna. These children truly brighten my day. When I walk into school, the students who recognize me say, "Hello, Debon," and those who don't simply wave. When I walk down the halls, groups of children hug me until some grumpy lunch lady in a hairnet scolds them and shoos them into the cafeteria. In the classroom, they listen in complete silence as I read aloud and laugh when I swear to them that "I don't understand ANY Spanish." Yeah, right. They're smarter than that.

I realize I'm in a unique position because I'm getting teaching experience without the trials of a normal teacher. I don't have to scream for silence, give students The Face (duh duh duuuh) or send a child to the headmaster's office. I don't grade papers in the break room and take the unfinished ones home. I'm not "the teacher". I'm that cool chick from the United States.

When I talk with a student, I am supposed to go through a simple routine to get the student accustomed to conversational English. It usually goes something like this:

"Hello! My name is Devon. What is your name?"
(shyly) "My name is Paula/Javier."
(nodding) "Very good Paula/Javier. Nice to meet you!"
"Machu Picchu, too."

The first time this happened, I almost lost it. Machu Picchu? That place I visited in the fall? Adorable. Another trick they've been taught is to always say, "I'm doing fine, thank you, and you?" They often say this phrase, though, after I've already told them how I'm doing. Their responses can be awkward, too. ("How are you today, Javier?" Stony-faced: "Fantastic." Yeah, okay, Javier.) Hopefully, they'll have enough conversations with me during the next year that they'll fall into a more natural conversational pattern.

So far, I'm really enjoying my time at school. Some of my first memories are learning the alphabet and the joy of putting the scribbles together to form words with meaning. S-T-O-P. Stop. That chain of connections which makes communication possible is a magical thing to me, just as much today as it was when I was in preschool. Therefore, I absolutely love the moment when a first grader realizes the label that says "table" is the word for the object. What's really cool is seeing them have this realization a second time, in English. Sometimes they get into a session of pointing and asking, "What is this in English? And this?" The excitement I feel in passing this knowledge on is making me wonder if I'm going to end up teaching...

Sometimes, though, I get so excited, the kids look at me funny. I usually meet with pairs at the back of the classroom to go over recent vocabulary. While talking, I gesticulate, make funny faces and change the tone of my voice to help them learn. They usually understand me better this way, but that doesn't stop them from laughing at me. On Thursday, two third grader boys kept giggling while we were discussing the different types of vertebrates. They finally said, together, "You're a crazy woman." I grinned and thanked them. Of course, they laughed even harder. When I left the classroom at the end of the session, they waved extra hard from their desks and shouted, "Viviparous!" At least I did something right.

I wish I had pictures to post of me with the kids, but since I'm not using my own laptop, that will have to wait. Now, I'm off to look up train tickets for Murcia. After a extra-rough first week at school (sigh), I have a five-day weekend. I visited Toledo yesterday, and now I'm off again! I'll write about these adventures soon!

Spain, in List Form

Since I'm sick, thinking about 1 billion things at once, and borrowing my friend's laptop (muchas gracias!), I will make this post short 'n sweet. Perhaps a list or two will help me organize my initial thoughts on Spain and will give you, dear reader, a glimpse of my life in Madrid so far. I promise more details later! As for now...

10 Cosas Buenas
1. A new group of friends, most of them fellow teaching assistants
2. A dependable, clean, and fairly simple Metro system
3. An apartment with sunshine-yellow walls, space to unroll my yoga mat and a room with a view
4. Walks around the barrio
5. Cereal on the kitchen shelf and fresh fruit and veggies from the corner mart in the fridge
6. TV in Spanish
7. A hot mug of green tea with mint for when I start to cough
8. Skyping with my family
9. Menus del dia (The Day's Special) that includes 2 courses, drink (wine, beer, soda) and dessert/coffee for just a few euros
10. Autumn's 1st cool, rainy day

10 Cosas Malas
1. Having the worst cold of your life for a week...and that week including your 1st day of school and moving in
2. A landlord who gets confused and expects too much money the day you move in
3. Teeny washer machines
4. Graffiti everywhere
5. No customer service, especially in restaurants
6. TV only in Spanish when all you want is some easy-to-understand, trashy, American shows
7. Couples on every corner, park bench and against every wall, doing things that make you disgusted/curious
8. Very little green to be seen
9. The dollar against the euro
10. A rainy day

Do not be fooled. There are certainly more positives than negatives in my life right now for I have been truly blessed. I could have gone on and on with my "good" list, and list things like how I always have wifi in my apartment, how I have too many clothes with me and how my family can afford to buy me a new laptop and ship it to me the moment my old one dies. I could count my blessings all day and into the night! I'm so very thankful for this opportunity. My friends and I frequently jump and squeal while walking around Madrid and shout, "We're in SPAIN!" A new friend of mine, Matt, recently spent all day grinning from ear-to-ear and announcing, "I'm so excited!" That's how I feel each and everyday, cold or no cold. Rain or shine.

Dusty Paths and Turning Leaves

This time next week, as Savannah so kindly reminded me while squeezing the life out of me, I will be spending my 1st night in Spain.

That seems impossible since, today, I marveled at the quality of the late afternoon sunlight in dust clouds left behind my car as I traveled the long path home. Today, I shopped in American stores, talked to my server in English, and went 70 miles per hour on I-40. I smiled at autumn's alchemy practice on the leaves next to forever green pines. In the den tonight, my family sat around me and fussed about our crappy hometown high school. I was comfortably in NC.

There's more out there, I know. I want to see and experience it, but then thoughts like "you don't speak the language" or "you're a farm girl" creep into my skull. Music, though, drowns out this static. I find myself more and more sneaking into the study to play some Beethoven piece to clear out the clutter in my head.

As I did in Peru, I'm blogging with a song in mind. It's hard not to when most of my day is filled with music. This song has been on repeat lately -- in my car, on my iHome and iPod, and even on the barn boom box while I clean stalls. I like a song that makes me not just tap my toes but stomp my feet. (Hard. Like bent over, knee-raising stomps.) I like music that causes me to sing so hard in my car, the driver in their car bubble next to me stares. Music that makes me do a spin dance with our kitten in the grass.

I totally understand why this band's bluegrass/rock combination has gotten them a lot of attention lately. They're each talented and on multiple instruments. Personally, I always enjoy a banjo, driving bass and the chill bumps caused by a group of men belting out harmonies. This song just might be my airplane take-off song come the 20th.