Thanksgiving and Toledo

I have a lot to be thankful for in my life, and that’s one reason why I absolutely love Thanksgiving. It’s a day to deliberately acknowledge our blessings and a day to corporately thank the Lord for those graceful gifts. I also love Thanksgiving because it’s my favorite meal: turkey, dressing, gravy, sweet potatoes (prepared in 2 differently delicious ways), green beans, cranberry sauce, and—let’s not forget—the pecan and pumpkin pie! Since they don’t celebrate this tradition in Spain, some of my fellow Americans and I got together (along with a few Spaniards and a French dude) on Thursday night to have our own feast. Yadira and Ida hosted us at their great apartment, and Yadira cooked an entire turkey in her small oven. All the guests brought other items: mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, corn salad, tortilla española, bread, wine and cheese.

I was probably most excited about the turkey.

In addition to celebrating Thanksgiving, SK and I also raised our glasses to our own 2-month anniversary. Neither of us can believe how much we’ve done together in such a seemingly short amount of time, and we want to keep up our pace of exploring Spain & Madrid and add some adventures elsewhere in Europe too.

I certainly had a Thanksgiving like no other (I’ve never had to speak Spanish at a Thanksgiving meal). Leaving my Madrid family shortly after midnight, I made a mad dash back to my apartment (with a belly full of turkey, mind you) in order to Skype with almost the entire gang of my real family—parents, brother, grandparents, aunt, uncles, and cousins—who were all celebrating together in Georgia. Although I was a bit saddened that I couldn’t be with them for the occasion, it made me look that much more forward to going home for Christmas vacation.

Speaking of, it’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas here in Madrid! The city has put on a massive display of Christmas cheer by hanging tons of lights across the major paseos and the most beautiful streets. SK and I plan on going for a light-walk one night, and I’ll have to snap some photos for y’all! They are simply beautiful.

One thing I like about Spain is the endless possibilities for exploring the country. On Thanksgiving night, SK, Yadira, Ida, and I made plans to take a day excursion to a small town called Cuenca on Saturday. We missed our train and decided to go to Toledo for the day instead. (Btw, I’ve been trying to go to this town for the past month or so.) The high-speed AVE train took us from Madrid to Toledo in 30 minutes, not only transporting us to another town but to another time period. Toledo is one of Spain’s most important ancient cities, and the giant stone wall around the old part of the town still stands tall and strong centuries after its original construction. El Greco lived and painted here. After visiting, I can more fully understand his art, because those crazy clouds and the eerie color pallet that are often found in his work is exactly what Toledo looks like. During the 9.5 hours we were there, we experienced everything from blue sky to shadowy soft rain. And El Greco seemed to have understood how to capture the unpredictable weather patterns of Toledo.

We spent most of the day simply wandering through the tiny winding streets. Yadira and I paid a pretty penny to see the Cathedral (but it was worth it), and all of us toured the cloister of San Juan de los Reyes, which as built for Ferdinand and Isabel as their burial site (but they changed their minds and decided to be buried in Granada). There’s a reason for the saying “Holy Toledo!” and it comes from the fact that there is a highly dense concentration of churches, mosques, and synagogues in this tiny villa perched a hill that is surrounded on three sides by a gorge-gouging river. Toledo was the religious capital for the Moors, the Jews, and the Christians over the many centuries.

We got back to Madrid at 8:00, and the four of us spent the evening at SK’s. We made tortilla (SK’s getting pretty good at it), and we all snuggled together on the couch and watched “Love Actually,” the first official act of starting to get into the Christmas mood.

Today at church, Pastora Cathy talked about “The Statistics of Thanksgiving” and the importance of recognizing “the primacy of grace” so that we may truly be thankful. I throw up my prayers of thanksgiving and praise to the Lord for all that He’s given to me throughout my life and especially for the many blessings I've received here in Spain. From new friends, good work, and fun adventures, I will give thanks today and everyday to God for these things and many others.

Kickin' it in Val

One week of work can fly by here in Madrid, which is great for me when I’m looking forward to my three-day weekends. As promised, I made reservations at a hostel for Edward and me and bought my bus ticket to Valladolid, an industrial, non-touristy city located in the heart of Castilla Y León region just a few hours north north-west of Madrid. I arrived at the Val bus station around 11 a.m. on Friday morning, and with my trusty pack comfortably situated on my back, I started walking towards the general direction of my hostel. Rather than looking like a tourist (because I’m sure my pack wouldn’t give me away), I opted not to pull out my Lonely Planet Spain guide book and just go on map memory and asking strangers from time to time how to get to Plaza de los Arces. I could see my breath in the chilly morning air, but the sun’s rays shone like crystal lasers of gentle warmth, making the crispy cold tolerable to this southerner.

Valldolid is already getting ready for Christmas. Large and beautiful strands of garland and lights hang across the pedestrian-friendly streets and ornamented garland connects the columns surrounding the Plaza Mayor. The city’s central zone is dominated by posh stores showcasing some of the finest brand names in fashion, unique bars attracting clientele with their delicious tapas, and traditional café-restaurants sitting in the midst of the glitz and glamour without caring to change. The architecture found in Valladolid’s center is a strange yet aesthetically pleasing mixture of Victorian-style (twirling, swirling reliefs) and art-deco techniques (ironwork framings and bright colors). Throw in some ancient buildings that have been sitting on the same street for hundreds and hundreds of years, and you might be able to get the general feel to this unique and interesting town.

I eventually found Hostal de los Arces, and I walked upstairs to the first floor (because in Spain, you have to walk up one flight of stairs to reach the first floor… street level doesn’t count apparently) and rang the buzzer outside the hostel doors. A short, slightly-balding man with large eyes, a five o’clock shadow and wearing a grey sweatshirt answered the door. This is Jos, the Brazilian man who owns, runs, and cleans this hostel in Valladolid. He validates my reservation, shows me to the two individual rooms I had reserved for Ed and me, and says I can pay later when mi compañero arrives. Well, I was hoping that my compañero had received the email I sent him on Wednesday night, which included the hostel name, location, number, and the plan to meet me there around noon. It was just past-noon. After getting situated for a bit, I decided it might be best to go out and wait on a bench in the plaza. Not two minutes after I had parked myself on a strategic bench that kept an eye on the hostel door, I spotted a chap wearing a Fedora hat and loaded with a pack on his back, a smaller backpack on his belly, and a pillow sandwiched between that and his belly. Edward had made it successfully to Valladolid and to our hostel, if only a little late.

Happily and thankfully united, we walked to the river and chowed down on some ham sandwiches I’d made at home. We spent the rest of the afternoon strolling through the streets of Valladolid, and of course, making a point to spend time in the gorgeous Campo Grande, a wooded oasis littered with golden brown leaves, creeping vines, peacocks and red squirrels that are not afraid to come up next to you (or climb your pant leg) to ask for food. And given the fact that Edward does have a culinary agenda here in Spain, we set out to find a restaurant that serves lentils from a particular region in Spain. It took a little while of scouring the menu displays outside a number of restaurants around town, and once spotting “lentejas con chorizo” on the chalkboard outside El Buen Tapeo de Bimi, we excitedly ducked under the stone door to order two bowls of the previously-elusive legumes. Lentils are a fairly common first-course dish in Spain, and our waitress couldn’t really understand why we didn’t want to order our second course after lingering over las lentejas. Yet, the owner behind the bar was gracious enough not to make us order another plate of food, and after an enjoyable culinary experience, we went out in search of a more cultured one.

As I said before, Valladolid is not known for its tourist’s attractions. Yet, the city take pride in its Museo de Escultura, home to Spain’s largest collection of sculpture made of polychrome wood. Perhaps it is for this reason that this museum has patrons, because I don’t know how it would fare in competition with another city’s (like Madrid’s) range of museums. I’ll be honest: the somewhat grotesque figures from the Middle Ages representing repeating religious themes was not exactly my cup of tea. But I will give those artists some credit in their ability to make these wood sculptures look as smooth and detailed as Michaelango’s best marble.

Abandoning culture for cuisine, Edward and I made friends with Panta and Mari, a brother-sister duo who share ownership of their father’s specialty foods store, PANTA, aptly named after their father. Panta and Mari told us all about their wine selection, their meats, their cheeses, their fruits, their breads, and their experiences with all of the above in the Valladolid region. Customers walked in the store to make purchases, but instead of tending to them, Panta continued to let Edward in on the secret of duck liver. Both Panta and Mari insisted that we return to Valladolid and join them on an excursion to a bodega (a wine cellar/vineyard) and a duck farm. Perhaps we just might.

On Saturday morning, Edward and I set out on another mission of culinary and cultural interest. Recommended by word of mouth and duly noted in Lonely Planet, we hopped on a bus to Peñafiel, a small town about an hour east of Valladolid. Peñafiel attracts visitors for three reasons: la castilla, el vino, y el lechazo. We wandered uphill through the narrow streets towards the megalithic monument towering above… the castle. Perched on a high rocky outcropping, the castle—which was founded in 1018 and added onto in the 1200-1300s—keeps a vigilant eye on all the surrounding valleys of the Ribera del Duero. The Ribera del Duero wine region is famous for producing some fine Spanish wines, which Edward and I were able to appreciate during lunch at Meson El Corralillo. Seated underground in the stone-walled bodega, Edward and I ordered the most typical meal served at the restaurant: a bottle of the house wine, a tomato-lettuce salad, two huge chunks of bread, and the lechazo dish (one-fourth of a baby suckling-lamb). This meal was really the reason we traversed the countryside of Castilla y León. The lechazo was super succulent; it was so tender that at times, we couldn’t tell the difference between meat, skin, and bone, and the slightly gamey taste of the meat was balanced with the salty juices collecting at the bottom of the dish.

Our bellies satisfied and our temperaments merry, we walked through the town again, throwing Ed’s frisbee back and forth across the street. Eventually, we found an antique store that we’d heard also let’s visitors taste wine. We made friends with the owner of the shop and he told us all about the wines of the region, his life in Madrid as the princess’s head chef, and his thoughts on how to enjoy life and how to appreciate wine. Wrapped up in conversation, we missed the 6:40 bus we intended to catch back to Valladolid, and since the next and last bus didn’t come until 8:40, we had some time to kill. Fortunately, Peñafiel is home to Hotel Convento Las Claras, a convent converted luxury-hotel (http://www.hotelconventolasclaras.com/en/index.php), and I happily plopped myself down on a plush sofa in the warm courtyard and took a little nap. We caught our bus back to the big city and walked into Jos’s loving arms just before 10 pm. Unfortunately, I was assaulted by a splitting headache that prevented me from functioning, so we did not go out to try anymore pinchos that the restaurants of Val had to offer.

Edward and I packed up our few belongings on Sunday morning, grabbed some breakfast, stopped by to say one last hello to Panta and Mari, and walked through the Camp Grande (that lovely and precious park I’ve fallen in love with) to the bus station. Edward bought a ticket to León and I boarded my bus back to Madrid. We parted ways with the expectation of reuniting in San Sebastian twelve days later. Until then, only the Lord knows where Edward will go, who he will meet, what he will learn, and what he will eat… and as for me, I’ve got to go back to school!

Chewing the Fat with Edward Crouse

For those of you who do not know Edward Crouse, all I can say is that you are missing out on meeting one of the most vibrant, goofy, loveable personalities that I know. Edward Crouse is a 2007 Furman graduate and one of my dearest college friends… and he is in Spain! Since he arrived in Madrid on Tuesday the 11th, I have spent a hefty portion of my free time with Edward. Over the course of six days, we strolled through almost every street in the Sol-district, the contested center of Madrid and hence the center of Spain. We tasted croquettes de bacalao (cod fritters); we shared churros y porras y chocolate at San Gines; we climbed a magnolia tree in front of Palacio Real (the Royal Palace) after meeting and talking with Luis—a 70-something year old Spanish man who enjoys taking walks every night by the palace—on a park bench; we toured a museum exhibition of stunning paintings by Caravaggio, Monet, Casas, Dali, and Picasso… for free; we made tortilla española with SK in her apartment; we went to my church on Sunday and later fell into the flow of people at El Rastro. In between these little events, Edward and I have wandered all around other areas of town for hours on end, discussing major life issues such as the culinary culture of Spain and the United States.


The culinary scene is actually why Edward is here. After graduating from Furman, he worked in the famous, Michelin-starred kitchen of Bouchon, which is located at The Venetian in Las Vegas. His mission in Spain is to get an up-close and personal look at the cuisine and food culture of this crazy country, and maybe gather up some ideas and tactics to bring back to the motherland. And so, he left Madrid on Tuesday to visit Segovia and Salamanca. His train ticket takes him to Valladolid on Friday, and I am going to meet him there… somehow (he has no cell phone).

In addition to chilling with Edward, I was also able to spend some QT with Furman Spanish professor Dr. Ron Friis, who is here with the Furman kids in Spain and who is also really fun, super-cool, and so genuine. I never had a class with him, which I am now regretting, because he, Edward, and I have had many interesting and enriching conversations. Dr. Friis guided us to this great restaurant called Casa Mingo (Est. 1888) that serves baked whole chicken and the best chorizo sausage I’ve ever had (it’s marinated in cider… the specialty of the house).

Being in Spain in the fall has its drawbacks in comparison with a U.S. fall. The foliage at this time of year isn’t as marvelous as that found in the western Carolinas. Pumpkin-flavored foods do not make their seasonal debut…ever. And football tailgating is simply unheard of. However, I had an experience that was vaguely reminiscent of the great American sport this past Sunday. As I climbed to the highest stands in the Vicente Calderón Stadium, I almost thought that I was back in the U.S. Yet, once I cleared the top of the stairs and looked at the perfectly manicured green field, book-ended with soccer goals, I settled with the fact that I would not be seeing pig skin spiral through the air. Instead, I got a great show of Spanish passion for their beloved fútbol players. The fans of Club Atléticos are such a boisterious, bawdy, and colorful crew, and I enjoyed watching them almost as much as watching some of the best soccer players in the world handle the ball with incredible skill and control. Real Madrid may be ranked a little higher than Atléticos, but Real Madrid’s fan base is definitely not as die-hard or as entertaining as the Atléticos fans.

Edward and I both fly back to the states on December 22--a funny coincidence. After this weekend in Valladolid, I plan on meeting him in San Sebastian and Barcelona within the next few weeks. With only four more weeks of school and these weekend travels, I have a feeling time is going to fly by and Christmas will be here before I can blink…and since my semi-chronic eye-twitch has returned to pester me constantly, I can trust that it’ll be here shortly!

Eat, Tour, and Shop... in Salamanca

In her New York Times #1 Best Seller Eat, Love, Pray, Elizabeth Gilbert escapes to Italy for four months in order to properly recuperate from a harrowing divorce and a deep depression. In Italy, Gilbert devotes her time to two things: learning, speaking, and cherishing the Italian language and discovering, enjoying, and treasuring the Italian cuisine. (She also goes to India to devote herself to prayer and continues onto Indonesia to find the balance between the pleasure she found in Italy and the peace she found in India… but I haven’t finished the book yet, so I can’t tell you how that went for Miss Gilbert.)

Although I’m not going through serious depression over here in Spain, I have had my moments of worry, pressure, and dare I say it… stress. In fact, I was quite overwhelmed last week with juggling all my private classes and my duties at school, and I was actually having trouble sleeping through the night. Blessedly, the remedy to quiet my boggled-brain came in the form of a short excursion out of Madrid to the beautifully charming town of Salamanca.

On Friday morning, SK and I met at the Southern Bus Station at 8:30, bought our tickets, and boarded our bus just before 9:00 a.m. The lack of sleep eventually silenced the tumultuous swirl of thoughts in my head, and I drifted off to sleep as our bus traversed a small sierra and entered the moorish-looking planes of Castilla. We arrived in Salamanca just before noon, and the profile of the city loomed above a small river. SK and I didn’t have any difficulties finding out hostel, Hostal Misol, which was only a 10 or 15 minute walk from the bus station. We checked in, threw our stuff in our room with 2 single beds (and a sink), and headed towards the central and old section of Salamanca.

Although it was rainy and cold Friday afternoon, the chilly dampness had little effect on my mood. We strolled through the ancient streets, between buildings made from sand-colored blocks of stone, and we repeatedly passed by almost all the major landmarks of Salamanca: Plaza Mayor, La Casa de las Conchas, La Catedral Nueva y La Catedral Vieja, La Universidad de Salamanca, La Casa de Unamuno, Huerto de Calixto y Melibea, El Convento de San Esteban, El Puente Romano, and McDonald’s. To compliment the light rain showers and low-hanging clouds, a light and low rumble in our tummies signaled a need for some sustenance, and we stopped dead in our tracks when a tantalizing window display of colorful and delicious looking tapas called our attention at Restaurante Don Quixote. Although we didn’t know it at the time, with that first food pit-stop we began a Quixotic quest of our own throughout the remainder of our stay in Salamanca. Unbeknownst to me, Salamanca has the best and the cheapest tapas that I have yet to experience in Spain (which I realize is rather limited). SK and I discovered that many bars and restaurants have one heck of a tapas deal: for around 2 Euro, you get a drink (coffee, wine, beer, water, or “pop” as SK calls it) and your choice of a pincho, a little portion of some Spanish delicacy. This may seem insignificant, but when you live in Madrid, a glass of wine usually cost more than 2 Euro and does not come with food. Imagine our sheer delight when we were given the option to choose from a variety of pinchos that ranged from tortilla española to toast covered with cheeses or veggies to rations of chorizo sausage.

On Friday night, we started in Plaza Mayor, which is proclaimed to be the most beautiful Plaza Mayor in all of Spain, and we climbed the staircase to Meson Cervantes, a restaurant that a local shopkeeper told us had excellent tapas. Our kind friend did not lead us astray, and in fact, she set the standard for the rest of our night. Jammed packed with locals, built with wooden ceilings and floors, covered with trinkets like old lanterns that hung from the rafters and off the walls, and displaying a spread of delectable dishes, Meson Cervantes embodied the ideal ambiance of what I pictured a true Spanish tapas bar should feel, smell, and look like. SK and I were enjoying ourselves so much, and we could have easily stayed there all night long, going pincho by pincho. However, after sharing calamari, croquettes de jamón, and the most delicious tortilla española I have ever put in my mouth (it was covered in raspberry jam, a giant slice of goat cheese, and topped with a kiwi), and drinking a glass of vino tinto, we decided to move on. Over the course of the entire night, we went to four bars where we would each order a drink and pick a pincho to split, and we made our fifth stop at café for some chocolate cake. Between our mini-meals, we would stroll through the streets and observe the city’s famous monuments and landmarks (such as the beautiful Cathedral). All in all, it was a glorious evening, and we returned to our hostel with satisfied bellies and satisfied wallets.

You’re probably thinking that all we did in Salamanca was eat… and you actually wouldn’t be too far from the truth. However, we did make a point to see a few sights, which I would like to mention briefly.

1. The Cathedrals of Salamanca: We paid to take the museum tour of the cathedrals, and it was totally worth the 3,45 Euro. La Catedral Nueva (The New Cathedral) was built literally next to—as in they share one wall—La Catedral Vieja (The Old Cathedral) when the Vieja seemed to be too outdated and not big enough to adequately attest to the glory of God. From an upper balcony room, we witnessed a wedding ceremony going on in the Vieja (oh, you should’ve seen the high-fashioned outfits of the guests when they loitered in the streets after the service!). We exited onto the roof of the Vieja and got a bird’s eye view of Salamanca. And we could pass through the sections of the two unified buildings, which allowed us to compare and contrast the architectural styles, etc. Oh, and the sun was out while we were on the roof, which was a nice touch to our merriment still lingering in our bellies from the night before.

2. El Museo Casa Lis—the Art Nouveau and Art Deco Museum of Salamanca: Just check out the website, because it’s visual art and would take more written description that you care to read about at the moment (http://www.museocasalis.org/), but know that it is also totally worth the museum ticket.

3. La Universidad de Salamanca: Salamanca has the oldest university in all of Spain, which was founded by Alfonso IX of León in 1218. The ancient building is still in tact and is now a museum, but the university is still up and running, with a campus made of newer building that takes over one entire zone of the city. A lot of famous people from years of old have studied here… just Google it!

We spent our Saturday moseying through Salamanca at a leisurely pace. Between museum visits and tapas-breaks, SK and I did some Christmas shopping… but I will say no more about that. Our bus back to Madrid was scheduled to leave at 6:00 p.m. Before we left, we made certain to buy samples from a pastry shop that had been taunting me since I first saw it on Friday afternoon, and we bought a small loaf of freshly baked bread, you know...to give us the strength and energy to properly nap on the trek back to the big city. As our bus passed by the Tormes River once more, the impressive and lofty profile of the cathedrals seemed to say, “Nos vemos pronto, Laura” (“We will see each other again soon, Laura.”). I sure hope it was right.

Although I haven’t gone through anything as traumatizing as a detrimental depression or a tragic divorce, I think I got just as much out of my trip to Salamanca as Elizabeth Gilbert did from her trip to Italy. Life in Madrid was starting to make me a little frazzled and frayed, and I could not make my mind stop churning continuously or running in a thousand different directions. It was time for a break, and Salamanca is where I found rejuvenation and restitution. Salamanca is a charming, quiet town, where the people are friendly and care to converse with foreigners, where the tapas are delicious and cheap, and where you can enjoy life at a slower pace.

How to Make Friends in Madrid

3 ways and 3 anecdotes of how I have discovered to make friends in Madrid:

1. When invited, go!
Back when I was still a Furman student, Professor Mary Grant had put me in contact with her cousin who lives in Spain. After numerous email correspondences, I finally met Thomas Dalury last week. Thomas is the co-founder of Fundación Red Deporte, an NGO “promotes sports and physical education… as a social integration tool both in developing countries, the United States and in Spain.” [For more info: http://www.redeporte.org/index.html], and he invited me to a fundraiser-party for Red Deporte. So, I went.

Arriving alone and feeling only slightly nervous, I crossed the threshold of Bar Piú and immediately wondered what to do next. The bar was decorated for the following day’s Halloween celebrations, but since it was only 10 P.M. the stringy cobwebs and empty darkness matched the slim and quiet crowd of people lining the bar. I tapped an important-looking man on the shoulder, and asked, “Dondé está Thomas?” He took me to another man down the bar, who was animatedly talking with a party guest, and introduced us. I was happy that Thomas “recognized” me, and we exchanged greetings before he had to get back to his conversation with the other guest. I floundered around for a couple of minutes before spotting a girl who seemed available to chat, and after deciding not to continue looking like a lost-puppy, I walked up to her and said “Hola, my llamo Laura.” Although I don’t remember her name anymore, we had a lovely conversation until Thomas came by to introduce me to an American volunteer, Steve, a name that I hadn’t yet heard in Spain. Steve told me more about the organization, its goals, and its projects, and I really can’t believe my luck at having connections with a group that incorporates international education and sports.

My luck continued to surprise me later that night when Thomas introduced me to another volunteer, Victor. Victor is from Spain, but he studied for four years at—of all places in the world—Southern Mississippi. He speaks fluent English, and he even has a slight southern accent. It was incredible to meet someone in Spain who has spent a significant amount of time in the Dirty South, but what was even more incredible is the fact that Victor plays volleyball and beach volleyball. And, at Southern Miss, Victor actually learned to play from Ricci Luyties, professional volleyball extraordinaire whose illustrious career includes winning Olympic Gold in 1988 in Seoul. Needless to say, I was elated to find another fellow volleyball lover, especially since volleyball players consist of approximately 1.2184% of Madrid’s population.

Not only did I meet Thomas, who offered me his assistance in finding a place to live in Madrid, and not only did I learn about Red Deporte, a really cool non-profit organization that I may want to check out more in the coming months, but I also found people who play volleyball! And all of this originated with accepting an invitation.

2. Don’t be afraid to meet a new crowd.
Halloween night turned out to be one full of surprises. Alejandra had invited me to go out with her and her friends from her master’s program, and she came up with the ideas for our costumes. We wrapped ourselves in shiny white cloth to create our make-shift togas, we wove together plastic greenery and flowers into coronitas, and we covered ourselves in gold glitter (which is still all over our apartment). I invited SK to join us for the night, and around 11 p.m., the three of us made our way (picture this: in costume via Metro) to an apartment where the group was gathering for food, drink, and fun.

Although it took SK and I a good 30 minutes to feel comfortable amongst 20 grad students from all over the world (Portugal, Italy, England, Belgium, Spain), the group was so amiable and jovial, especially as the night carried on, that conversations began to flow with ease. Around 2 a.m., our boisterous cast of characters—which included a small coven of witches, Cleopatra, Scarecrow (as portrayed in Dark Knight by Heath Ledger), two Greek goddesses, and assortment of other personajes—marched out into the streets and hailed taxis to take us to one of Madrid largest and most famous nightclubs: Kapital.

Shortly after arriving at Kapital, Alejandra got lost in the throng of people (who were not dressed in costume, by the way) and ended up taking a cab home on her own accord. However, SK and I stayed out with her friends dancing until our feet hurt until the club closed at 6:00 a.m. Although I enjoyed dancing to American pop and Spanish salsa (this place is so huge that each floor plays music from a variety of genres), what I cherish most about la noche de fiesta was this fun-loving, easy-going group into which I was adopted. I was blown away by the fact that a group of about 15 people all made sure to stick together the entire night. When it was time to switch things up and try a different dance floor, the Adams Family would have been proud of the way our motley crew made our way through the discoteca. At the end of the night—or should I say at the start of the morning—we all waited in a cluster on the street outside the front doors until our party was reassembled and we could proceed to the nearest Metro, bus, or taxi stop. Even with Alejandra long gone, I felt welcomed in this mini-community… and I am so glad that I did Halloween Spanish-style.

3. Be the new kid on the block and then lead the way.
I was invited to have lunch and hang out with some fellow Americans after church on Sunday, and of course, I accepted the invitation. Although I was tagging along with an already-established group, I really enjoyed spending time with people my age in Christian fellowship. I enjoyed it so much (in addition to attending church) that I am going to try to work something out with Pastora Cathy to create more young adult gatherings and activities within The Community Church of Madrid. I may be new to this church, but I am ready to get involved and take some initiative.


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Living in a giant city is pretty much the complete opposite of living on a college campus like Furman’s. What I loved most about Furman was the awesome community of friends that I built over four years. Now, here I am in Madrid and I am working on forming a new network of friends that will hopefully transform into a multi-cultural community that can offer me support while living oceans away from my dearest friends and family.

Say "Cheese"... or "Whiskey"

In Spain, just before taking a picture, people say “Whiskey,” which ends up sounding more like “we-skiiiiiii!”

Whether it was with cheese or with whiskey (I won't say which one), I was finally able to capture the beautiful, sometimes snot-covered, faces of most of my students here in Spain.



This is my 3rd grade class with Pilar:

Pedro, Andrés, Iván, Toño, Irene, Jorge, Alba, Jorge, Mario, Lucia, Sandra, Santiago, Diego, Maria, Paula, Jara, Lara, Sebastián, Erika, and Pilar




And this is my 2nd grade class with Cristina:

Rodrigo, Irene, Valentina, Elba, Elena, Jorge, Robert, Alex, Wen Xin, Irene, Laura, Laura, Sergio, Cristina, Julia, Raquel, Javier, Cristina (the teacher)… and not visible in this photo = Mario, Fernanda, Pedro, Ricardo, and Celia







Let me introduce Marcos and Aitor, the 3 year old twins that I teach/play with two times a week.




And this little sprite is Paloma, my newest pupil who is almost three.


And I saved the best for last... Fernando and Belén are my pride and joy. I love working with these two kids, because son muy majos, which is Madrileño for “they are adorable, super-sweet, truly loveable, and absolutely great!”

One Job Just Isn't Enough

Believe it or not, I am actually working here in Spain. In fact, I have more than one job! In addition to being an Auxiliare de Conversación (aka a teaching assistant) at the primary/elementary school Ciudad de Roma, I also have private classes in the evenings.

Fernando and Belén are perhaps the cutest kids ever. Belén is an adorable little girl in the 4th grade who attends my school, and Fernando is her 12 year old brother. On Tuesdays and Thursdays from 7:30-8:30, I sit with them in their small study room in their apartment, and we work on their English. We’ve established pen-pal relationships with my dear friends Quinton White and Anna Beth Bonney. We read stories, we played word games, and we’ve written and illustrated our own Halloween story-books. I really love working with these two kids because they speak English really well and we can do so many different kinds of activities and they can just tell me about their day or their weekend. Every time I leave our class, I feel fulfilled and happy, even after the roughest and longests days of working with children.

Another class that I’m enjoying is also on Tuesdays and Thursdays. From 5:30-6:30, I work with 3 year old twin boys, Marcos and Aitor. Yes, I said three year old twin boys. I can’t really call it an English class, because it’s more like glorified babysitting in their second language. Their parents, Marisa and Javier, have lived in the states for a few years and they want the boys to start getting accustomed to hearing English. Since these two rambunctious boys don’t want to speak in English with Mommy and Daddy, I’m spending time with them in the afternoons to help facilitate their English-learning. The first few days were a little rough. Aitor was attached at the hip to Mom and would start crying if she moved, but Marcos was (and still is) a fireball of energy that can’t be contained. As I have now visited the twins for the past three weeks, they are used to me, and sometimes they listen while I read them a story and sometimes we just play with their action figures or toy airplanes. Either Marisa or Javier is at the house at the same time, and by the end of my one-hour session, I’m normally just talking with Marisa. She’s darling too… they’re a baller family and seeing them a couple of times a week is such a pleasure.

My latest addition to my work schedule is working with more small children—three girls, Ana (almost 2), her sister Lucia (almost 4), and another child, Paloma (almost 3). I’ve only just started working with these two families, and it’s a little crazy. Ana is a little disaster. She will stumble in the room, grab all the crayons and throw them all over the floor or she’ll break the puzzle pieces or she’ll try to crawl onto the bed and just cause a raucous for her older sister Lucia. One of the parents will hear Lucia and Ana fussing and come in shoo Ana away, and I’m left with either just Lucia or Lucia and Paloma. All Paloma wants to do is “pintar” (or color). She didn’t really have much interest in my Halloween book that I brought one day. Likewise, Lucia would have nothing to do with me yesterday, and she sulked and cried when her mom told her to stay and play with me. I’m still working out my schedule with these two families, and as of right now I’m going three times a week, but we might up the ante in a month or so. Again, I wouldn’t dare call this a tutoring job but rather a crazy babysitting job like I’ve never experienced. I have to admit that right now, I prefer playing with the twin boys and with their race cars or farm toys… but maybe I need time to get adjusted to these little girls!

In addition to my private classes, I’ve been given a couple of additional classes at school that keep me there longer. Not that I’m complaining to have more classes with my 2nd graders, but it just make the days a little longer. Even though my program mandates that we work no more than 16 hours per week in our schools, we are still at school pretty much the whole day. Personally, I’d much rather be in a class all day long, working with the kids and the teachers, than having random gaps of time to burn. But here in Spain, that’s the way it goes!

In my first month of work, I feel like I have learned SO much. I am still trying to figure out my role in my school and how to best conduct my private classes. My schedule is still open to change (I’m working on having a couple more classes), and I’m still figuring out the best way to go about my daily routine here. I’m learning how to curve the need to have everything planned out perfectly, and I’m adapting to the flow of life here in Spain, where time is more fluid and life moseys along without much concern for whether it’s on time or not.