I always find those small, strange things that one sees and experiences abroad to be the fabric that makes traveling unique. It´s like freckles on a face or red hair with brown eyes-those unexpected elements that distinguish a person-and distinguish a country as well.
So here´s a strange thing I´ve encountered Spain:
-Garage Sale? Down the same street as the Prado, I noticed a bunch of people congregating. They weren´t the typical, well dressed and pressed Spanish citizens but rather a rag tail bunch with raggedy headscarves, eye patches (for reals) and scruffy beards. They looked like hobo pirates or a parade of sad, retired circus performers. And each one had spread out wares to sell. They weren´t gypsies who hawk paper flowers or carved knick knacks. And their wares caught my attention. Each person had very few objects for sale. One man had, literally, a bottle of shampoo, a cracked plastic mirror, a cell phone charger, and a toothbrush (opened...used?!). The hoboes moved from display to display, assessing the objects with the same seriousness of a man buying a car, questioning the seller about the various merits and even bringing up package deals. This was a couple streets or so up from some of Spain´s designer stores, where the exact same serious buying was occuring. Commerce, apparently, happens at every level of society.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Dia en Espana
Last night at 3:00 am Autumn announed that she could not fall asleep. "Count sheep" I told her... a couple minutes later she informed me that she had killed them. Which caused me (I don´t know why) to have varying visions of sheep in different sizes alternately shrinking and growing while I attempted to sleep again... Needless to say we are seriously jet lagged and as I type this blog I have a feeling that I won´t want to sleep anytime soon. Okay, well I´ll probably want to sleep tomorrow at 11:00 am when my warm hotel room seems infintely more inviting than any cold Madrid monument.
We had three goals today: breakfast, bus tour, and El Prado (The great art musuem!!). We managed breakfast, barely, so we took a brief (two hour) siesta before our tour of the city. Somehow lost in translation, was the fact that we needed to arrive forty-five minutes before our bus left instead of fifteen. Well, one taxi cab ride late landed us in the square where the bus was to leave, but no bus. Beautiful old buildings, yes. Statues, yes. Bus? NOWHERE TO BE SEEN. This piazza was beautiful I thought as I scanned the area for possible hints as to the location of our bus. If we have to stay here that could be good. But these internal possiblities didn´t stop me from walking around with great haste to be accosted, in Spanish, by someone sent looking for us. He grabbed the paper saying we were on the tour and with some gesticulating a little Spanish and English he led us away. This works too... and we safely boarded the bus.
The staute in honor of Cervantes was pointed out three times. I suppose when one has a great author one is bound to build statues in his honor and make sure that tourists know this is where the impossible dream was dreamed. I was duely impressed and felt that I should try and take a picture with Don Quixote and Sancho.
We were also shown two chapels in honor of the artist Goya. One of the chapels is a replica and is still currently in use. The original has Goya´s art on the ceiling and his body buried inside. That is, his body minus his head which somehow got lost. I spotted it later bronzed and on display as one of the many stautes in the city.
Our one stop was the Rocky Cola cafe where we were invited to have a free Coke (they must have figured that into the price of the tour). While there, we met three handsome Italian men. Unfortunately, I speak no Italian and they spoke little English... we communicated with smiles and I am under the perception that I told one of them I drove a bus (which I managed to correct) and that I am not a teacher. (He laughed at the thought). I think our cross culteral communication was a sucess however, because they seemed taken with us... and I don´t think it was just our brilliant conversation.
We passed the bull ring. (I took a picture) And drove up the street that in days of old the bull fighters paraded down, which made me think of Hemmingway... the partial English major coming out in me.
Finally, they dropped us off in the shopping district which we resolved we must visit the next day.
We did make it to the The Prado, which one could spend YEARS in. I found the historical art quite fascinating. There was one wall to wall painting of the liberal government executing some absolotionists (all the power to one person) on a beach. It was a warning. Don´t rebel against the Spainish government. Another picture depicted Mad Queen Joanna trying to make her husband rise from the dead, and another showed Isabel giving a kiss to her dead lover who she rejected before falling dead over his body. Dramatic, but interesting.
Our final destination for the day is churros and chocolate... I hope the caffine doesn´t effect Autumn. We need to sleep tonight and the sheep didn´t work last night. Adios.
We had three goals today: breakfast, bus tour, and El Prado (The great art musuem!!). We managed breakfast, barely, so we took a brief (two hour) siesta before our tour of the city. Somehow lost in translation, was the fact that we needed to arrive forty-five minutes before our bus left instead of fifteen. Well, one taxi cab ride late landed us in the square where the bus was to leave, but no bus. Beautiful old buildings, yes. Statues, yes. Bus? NOWHERE TO BE SEEN. This piazza was beautiful I thought as I scanned the area for possible hints as to the location of our bus. If we have to stay here that could be good. But these internal possiblities didn´t stop me from walking around with great haste to be accosted, in Spanish, by someone sent looking for us. He grabbed the paper saying we were on the tour and with some gesticulating a little Spanish and English he led us away. This works too... and we safely boarded the bus.
The staute in honor of Cervantes was pointed out three times. I suppose when one has a great author one is bound to build statues in his honor and make sure that tourists know this is where the impossible dream was dreamed. I was duely impressed and felt that I should try and take a picture with Don Quixote and Sancho.
We were also shown two chapels in honor of the artist Goya. One of the chapels is a replica and is still currently in use. The original has Goya´s art on the ceiling and his body buried inside. That is, his body minus his head which somehow got lost. I spotted it later bronzed and on display as one of the many stautes in the city.
Our one stop was the Rocky Cola cafe where we were invited to have a free Coke (they must have figured that into the price of the tour). While there, we met three handsome Italian men. Unfortunately, I speak no Italian and they spoke little English... we communicated with smiles and I am under the perception that I told one of them I drove a bus (which I managed to correct) and that I am not a teacher. (He laughed at the thought). I think our cross culteral communication was a sucess however, because they seemed taken with us... and I don´t think it was just our brilliant conversation.
We passed the bull ring. (I took a picture) And drove up the street that in days of old the bull fighters paraded down, which made me think of Hemmingway... the partial English major coming out in me.
Finally, they dropped us off in the shopping district which we resolved we must visit the next day.
We did make it to the The Prado, which one could spend YEARS in. I found the historical art quite fascinating. There was one wall to wall painting of the liberal government executing some absolotionists (all the power to one person) on a beach. It was a warning. Don´t rebel against the Spainish government. Another picture depicted Mad Queen Joanna trying to make her husband rise from the dead, and another showed Isabel giving a kiss to her dead lover who she rejected before falling dead over his body. Dramatic, but interesting.
Our final destination for the day is churros and chocolate... I hope the caffine doesn´t effect Autumn. We need to sleep tonight and the sheep didn´t work last night. Adios.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
In Between Me and Spain....
On Thursday Lei and I are going to Spain! This is time for great joy, as I love traveling more than anything else. However, there is one thing looming between me and strolling the streets of Madrid: a twelve hour flight. I've gone on these flights (or, to name them more appropriately, in-transit hells) enough to know how they go:
you sleep, read, think, make idle chatter with your random seatmates (what's your name? where are you going? I KNOW, the Davinci Code is SO interesting, etc), watch a movie, sleep, read, REPEAT, REPEAT. I refuse to look at the time for what feels like five mini eternities (it's a psychological game-I tell myself if I don't keep track of time, it will just fly by) and finally do, thinking, there has GOT to be only one hour left to discover, DEAR GOD, I STILL HAVE NINE HOURS TO GO! Commence breakdown. I then check the time like a maniac. 12:05. Don't focus on the time! Don't look! Don't-WHY IS IT STILL ONLY 12:05?!!!
Of course, I could take a valuable lesson from this-something down the lines of patience is good for the soul, it's the journey that makes the destination worthwhile, etc. And maybe I will. Or maybe I will just try sleeping pills this time :)
And We're Off!!!
This Thursday my sister and I are boarding an airplane to London, going to Madrid, and then we go to Oxford.
Oxford, the university town that captivated my imagination, and made a little American girl grow up. When I left Oxford, after my year abroad, a hither to unknown emotion passed through my chest. And as the bus rolled up and over Headington hill I thought. "This is it. This is what heartbreak must be like."
Granted, real heartbreak is worse, but go to Oxford and maybe you too will feel the magic that is woven into the fabric of the city. It lingers in the universities where scholars dreamed dreams that wrote books and ran nations. It wafts across the Cherwell where students punt while enjoying a much earned rest. And it dips into side alleys where a scarfed bicyclist returns library books. And it resounds in the spires that keep steady watch over the comings and goings of many.
One of those was me. And now I get to go back...
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Autumn's First Blog Post
Welcome to my life for one year.
The State of My Life Now:
-I currently spend most of my time in a gray Corolla Toyota (his name is the Toymaster) as I make my way from Point A to Point B. Though I don't love my car like some people do, I've learned his little idiosyncrasies, those things that can only be learned from sitting, for miles upon miles, in the driver seat. It's much like getting to know a person-just not as rewarding. But I know the Toymaster pulls to the left, even when I'm holding the wheel straight (tire alignment off?!). I know the Toymaster's exact dimensions and can zip through traffic with military tight precision. I've slept in the Toymaster and cried in the Toymaster (after getting a ticket, due to the Tomaster's inclination for speed). It's funny how an object can be so familiar and feel so comfortable.
-I just completed an internship at the Orange County Register where I wrote features and news stories. It was my first true foray in the the journalistic world-and I loved it. I couldn't believe I was getting paid to write-and I couldn't believe people were reading what I was writing.
-I just moved out of Biola University for a semester. So yeah. It's all explained in this article. Copy the link:
article link: http://www.ocregister.com/articles/school-224941-year-life.html
My stuff is still in the backseat of the Toymaster. Whenever I drive anywhere, I look like I'm living out of my car. Which I am. See above note.
-I am working at a bridal salon, La Soie Bridal. I've worked there for three years as a wedding gown consultant, servicing engaged, excited women. Its' basically a female only zone. Grooms who come in usually stand awkwardly, bemoaning the drops in their testosterone levels as they survey racks full of lace, taffeta, and silk. It's tremendously fun (when I'm selling stuff). It's tremendously stressful when I am not. The gowns are gorgeous (I've tried on countless numbers of them)- not that David's Bridal polyester stuff. There is one gown that I adore. It has a ball gown skirt with a peplum, a fresh, new take on the silhouette. Lace trickles all over it. It has an edgy, broken tea party, Alice in Wonderland aesthetic to it. I've had bride after bride fall in love with its uniqueness. But none have been gutsy enough to wear it. I'm waiting for that special bride who will. I'll let you know if she comes in the year!!
The State of My Life Now:
-I currently spend most of my time in a gray Corolla Toyota (his name is the Toymaster) as I make my way from Point A to Point B. Though I don't love my car like some people do, I've learned his little idiosyncrasies, those things that can only be learned from sitting, for miles upon miles, in the driver seat. It's much like getting to know a person-just not as rewarding. But I know the Toymaster pulls to the left, even when I'm holding the wheel straight (tire alignment off?!). I know the Toymaster's exact dimensions and can zip through traffic with military tight precision. I've slept in the Toymaster and cried in the Toymaster (after getting a ticket, due to the Tomaster's inclination for speed). It's funny how an object can be so familiar and feel so comfortable.
-I just completed an internship at the Orange County Register where I wrote features and news stories. It was my first true foray in the the journalistic world-and I loved it. I couldn't believe I was getting paid to write-and I couldn't believe people were reading what I was writing.
-I just moved out of Biola University for a semester. So yeah. It's all explained in this article. Copy the link:
article link: http://www.ocregister.com/articles/school-224941-year-life.html
My stuff is still in the backseat of the Toymaster. Whenever I drive anywhere, I look like I'm living out of my car. Which I am. See above note.
-I am working at a bridal salon, La Soie Bridal. I've worked there for three years as a wedding gown consultant, servicing engaged, excited women. Its' basically a female only zone. Grooms who come in usually stand awkwardly, bemoaning the drops in their testosterone levels as they survey racks full of lace, taffeta, and silk. It's tremendously fun (when I'm selling stuff). It's tremendously stressful when I am not. The gowns are gorgeous (I've tried on countless numbers of them)- not that David's Bridal polyester stuff. There is one gown that I adore. It has a ball gown skirt with a peplum, a fresh, new take on the silhouette. Lace trickles all over it. It has an edgy, broken tea party, Alice in Wonderland aesthetic to it. I've had bride after bride fall in love with its uniqueness. But none have been gutsy enough to wear it. I'm waiting for that special bride who will. I'll let you know if she comes in the year!!
Leilani's first post
First Post (a peek at the beginning)
"Let's call it we know everything..." said my sister.
"What?" I replied. Everything? That was an extensive claim.
"Ummmm.....
"We could put a question mark at the end of it," she suggested. Words like humility and meekness processed through my mind.
"No," I vetoed, "How about something poetic?" She laughed, before nixing my "dramatic" suggesting.
"What about a year of our lives?" She queried. A year? A year in the lives of two sisters. Yes. That could work. It was broad enough to cover both of our personalities and narrow enough to limit our project with a specific goal. It was a name we could agree on.
State of My life (Or Leilani as of January Twenty-ten)
Currently, my life is made up of many small activities which for the most part I enjoy. I teach four high school classes: Two literature, one history, and one logic class. I also have four Korean fifth graders who I tutor/teach. they try my patience (they like writing stories insulting each other, correcting each others grammar, and doing math problems on their desks) and yet somehow they manage to make me exceptionally fond of them. I also am a leader for the junior high group at my church. If you have never seen a junior high girl try and dance, let me tell you, it is adorable. They dance with all their little might, but they haven't quite learned rhythm yet. And the best part is they don't care what they look like. They just dance.
Once I start reflecting on the little bits that make my life, an overflow of small sorrows, joys, and pleasures wants to tumble out. But suffice it to say, I am blessed, abundantly so, and if you chose to read on... well I am sure between my sister and I, we will find plenty to say.
My life in a Year (So that at the end of this, we can compare notes)
What would I like to be doing one year from now? It is only lately that my vision has turned again to that question, because so much of my life now has been learning to live presently- it has not been a dreaming time like my college years, and yet it doesn't lack dreams. The difference is the dreams have matured and have become mixed with the reality of adult life. It is a unique time. And somehow, I think it is also a brief time...
But to look at the mature dream: What do I want to be doing one year from now? The outline is there. It is the lines of dogma, the desire to be a woman of creed. Openly living the words, "I believe in God the Father, I believe in God the Son, and I believe in the transforming work of the Holy Spirit." Yet, the colors have yet to be filled in, the details, the how. So my dream is to color. A year from now I want to know what work I should be doing and how my talents can best be used to serve God.
As for the work of this blog, my dream is simple: Write, to the glory of God, for the joy of doing something with Autumn, for the pleasure of telling stories, and because I like words.
"Let's call it we know everything..." said my sister.
"What?" I replied. Everything? That was an extensive claim.
"Ummmm.....
"We could put a question mark at the end of it," she suggested. Words like humility and meekness processed through my mind.
"No," I vetoed, "How about something poetic?" She laughed, before nixing my "dramatic" suggesting.
"What about a year of our lives?" She queried. A year? A year in the lives of two sisters. Yes. That could work. It was broad enough to cover both of our personalities and narrow enough to limit our project with a specific goal. It was a name we could agree on.
State of My life (Or Leilani as of January Twenty-ten)
Currently, my life is made up of many small activities which for the most part I enjoy. I teach four high school classes: Two literature, one history, and one logic class. I also have four Korean fifth graders who I tutor/teach. they try my patience (they like writing stories insulting each other, correcting each others grammar, and doing math problems on their desks) and yet somehow they manage to make me exceptionally fond of them. I also am a leader for the junior high group at my church. If you have never seen a junior high girl try and dance, let me tell you, it is adorable. They dance with all their little might, but they haven't quite learned rhythm yet. And the best part is they don't care what they look like. They just dance.
Once I start reflecting on the little bits that make my life, an overflow of small sorrows, joys, and pleasures wants to tumble out. But suffice it to say, I am blessed, abundantly so, and if you chose to read on... well I am sure between my sister and I, we will find plenty to say.
My life in a Year (So that at the end of this, we can compare notes)
What would I like to be doing one year from now? It is only lately that my vision has turned again to that question, because so much of my life now has been learning to live presently- it has not been a dreaming time like my college years, and yet it doesn't lack dreams. The difference is the dreams have matured and have become mixed with the reality of adult life. It is a unique time. And somehow, I think it is also a brief time...
But to look at the mature dream: What do I want to be doing one year from now? The outline is there. It is the lines of dogma, the desire to be a woman of creed. Openly living the words, "I believe in God the Father, I believe in God the Son, and I believe in the transforming work of the Holy Spirit." Yet, the colors have yet to be filled in, the details, the how. So my dream is to color. A year from now I want to know what work I should be doing and how my talents can best be used to serve God.
As for the work of this blog, my dream is simple: Write, to the glory of God, for the joy of doing something with Autumn, for the pleasure of telling stories, and because I like words.
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