"Give thanks in all circumstances..."

I remember vivid details about this day two years ago. I remember the low lighting of the hole-in-the-wall restaurant where mom and I ate our menú del día. I remember sitting at the desk in the hotel, posting my blog post of all of the things I am thankful for (which, by the way, all still hold true... which is why I'm taking this post in a different direction). I remember feeling like I was in a dream; my worlds had collided and I couldn't imagine anything better. Until the day the much-anticipated Fulbright e-mail arrived in my Hope College inbox.

And so here I am again, typing on my computer in a world completely oblivious to the importance of this day. The Macy's Day parade, Mom's baked corn, first gifts of Christmas, and the first chords of Christmas songs are highlights of a day that most of my students can't wrap their heads around.

Nevertheless, I tried. I taught my 3°ESO students about TiVO for football games, electric knives, and digital meat thermometers. (Can you tell it was a technology class?) I taught my students in 1°ESO that Thanksgiving is a day for us to "remember all of the things we are thankful for." (Never mind that it is being overrun by Black Friday, which is the polar opposite: a day when many people from the U.S. go shopping at extreme hours to obtain the items that in a matter of hours became essential to their happiness.)

But what does it mean to remember? What does it mean to "be thankful" or "dar gracias"? Although I love Hope College's BE chapels (Be still and know that I am God... Psalm 46:10), I wonder sometimes what it means to "be". Are we supposed to just feel it or are we called to do something? Do we have to know it in our heads or hearts or both? And who do we give thanks (dar gracias) to?

In an effort to answer these questions that have filled my head in my outside perspective of Thanksgiving, I decided to consult Merrium-Webster.

 

1: The first definition doesn't help me much. Pretty much a repetition of the faulty description I already picked apart.

2: The second helps answer who I am giving gratitude to, which should have been obvious from the forefront. 

For by him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things were created by him and for him. - Colossians 1:16

God created the things in Hershey and in Holland. In Sevilla and in Madrid. Yes, I could thank the creators of Skype for giving me the opportunity to virtually join my family dinner later today, but let's be honest: they didn't create themselves nor their minds that generated this handy invention.

3: The last definition is what I aim to do with this blog post. Here is my public acknowledgement of the divine goodness that I am experiencing. Here is my attempt to "enter His gates with thanksgiving, and His courts with praise. Give thanks to Him; bless His name." (Psalm 100:4) Because to be honest, this is not the way I have been treating my experience so far. In the transition out of college and into the "real world", not everything has been rainbows and butterflies. Thus, in a constant effort to remind people that I am living life with the same daily routines that one might have in the U.S., I have forgotten to marvel at the blessings that have been showered upon me. I fell into the devil's trap that if it isn't easy, it isn't worth giving thanks for.

So yes, it's difficult for me to "give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus." (1 Thessalonians 5:18). Because sometimes the things I am most thankful for cease to exist because a new blessing has arrived. And yes, I know: it sounds stupid to complain about blessings. But life isn't always so cut and dry; blessings don't always take shape immediately.

I was excited beyond belief for the opportunity to move to Spain on a Fulbright scholarship. But now I am 6 time zones away from the family that I love so dearly. I am excited about the group of Spaniards I went to dinner with last night, but my communication with my best friend is limited to Skype and postcards. Cognitively, I'm thankful for every season, but that doesn't mean that it is easy for my heart to transition between them.

However, as a tribute to Thanksgiving, I would like to set a goal for myself. I intend to be more conscious and thankful, even when it is not easy. Instead of considering my runs through Retiro Park to be part of a normal 45 minute loop, I will take a moment to recognize that the place that I am calling home is a place that most people arrive at with the excitement of discovering a gem in a new city. Even on the days when I am homesick, wishing I could curl up in front of the fireplace or settle into the community table at LJs, I intend to take a moment to give thanks to the God who created this opportunity for me. After all, with so many adventures to be had, I can't let the inner trials of the day-to-day routine wear me out!

But let's be honest. I'm not doing this on my own. There are many people who have helped with this thanksgiving motivation. So here's a "thanks" to a few...

 

Mom. Yes, she sent me a B Sue Sews Christmas decoration :)

My students. They did a great job with our "Tree of Thanks".

Jackie. Who else would send me a homemade postcard? Love.

There are so many more, but these are the only pictures that I had. So much love and many thanks to all. Your support is the most motivating element of this grand adventure.

Well, that's it for now, folks. I'm off to have dinner with some friends and I think some Thanksgiving crafts will be involved. Then later this weekend I will be eating two Thanksgiving dinners so be jealous. While you are all eating leftovers, I will be eating the "real thing." (As real as it gets in a country that doesn't sell canned pumpkin in the grocery stores.) I promise to document it :)

In His grip,
Amber

P.S. With all of my pictures of food, you are probably wondering what I ate while you are all stuffing your faces with turkey, mashed potatoes, and pumpkin pie. Drum roll please...

 

Chili! Without the majority of chili spices... I had to get creative.

Psalm 100:4  Enter His gates with thanksgiving, And His courts with praise. Give thanks to Him; bless His name.

Read more: http://www.whatchristianswanttoknow.com/thanksgiving-bible-verses-15-great-scripture-quotes/#ixzz2Cu3kQ8w8

Read more: http://www.whatchristianswanttoknow.com/thanksgiving-bible-verses-15-great-scripture-quotes/#ixzz2Cu3VhDf7

Hebrews 12:28-29 Therefore, since we receive a kingdom which cannot be shaken, let us show gratitude, by which we may offer to God an acceptable service with reverence and awe; for our God is a consuming fire.

Read more: http://www.whatchristianswanttoknow.com/thanksgiving-bible-verses-15-great-scripture-quotes/#ixzz2Cu3VhDf7

Hebrews 12:28-29 Therefore, since we receive a kingdom which cannot be shaken, let us show gratitude, by which we may offer to God an acceptable service with reverence and awe; for our God is a consuming fire.

Read more: http://www.whatchristianswanttoknow.com/thanksgiving-bible-verses-15-great-scripture-quotes/#ixzz2Cu3VhDf7

"What is the city but the people?"

Before I get into the meat of this blog post, here are a few life updates:

- I attended my first ¡Extran Hero! event! This particular event was described by its founder, Mike Young (former Fulbrighter), as a "a creative fundraising initiative to support the victims and families affected by Hurricane Sandy." You can read about the event (and see pictures!) here. I would also highly recommended checking out Mike's blog, ¡Extran Hero!. It's a very clever blog of comics that he uses to recount his adventures in Spain.

- Today was a Huelga General, which meant that "everyone" in the country was going on strike. After a big hype, I ended up still going to school for all but one of my classes (unfortunately, it wasn't the 8:20 class... fortunately, it was my last class), though my classes had shrunk from 30 students to 10 or fewer. In addition, conversation today with my teachers and roommate taught me a few things:

1.  Few think that shutting the city down for a day will help much. Many didn't participate in the strike.
2. What you see on TV only consists of the most dramatic events. (Yes, I should have known this earlier...). Though I was nervous to head out of my apartment for fear of cars/trash bins being lit on fire like I saw on TV when the Huelga General occurred during study abroad, life continued on as normal. I didn't even notice any businesses closed in my neighborhood. Apparently most businesses stay open and close only if the strikers come and chant outside. Once the strikers leave, however, they reopen. 
3. The fact that my phone wasn't working had nothing to do with the Huelga. This was discovered after six 14 year-old boys examined it for 10 minutes at the beginning of history class.
4. The Newsies makes a wonderful sound track to strike days. "And world will know!"
   

- This past weekend was my first truly relaxing, normal weekend. I graded papers (ohhhh, so many papers... and a lesson on plagiarism is definitely in order...) at a café, made a trip to Ikea (yes, again...) with Napala for a few odds and ends, baked pumpkin bread, drank tea and ate tea cookies, went to Bikhram (the Spanish was an interesting twist), and made up a dance class from the previous holiday weekend. Genial.

My attempt at fried cod. Quite scrumptious if I say so myself.

Pumpkin bread with walnuts and chips of left-over Swiss chocolate, topped with cream cheese frosting. Can you believe that this sat on my kitchen counter for 3 days (with a note saying it was to share) without a single roommate venturing into this deliciousness?

Napala's and my first adventure into the tea cookies from the pastelería between us.

Alright, now onto the main topic of this blog post.

Even in a city as big as Madrid (which, if... I mean when... you come visit me, you will realize is actually a quite manageable size), it is easy to feel at home. But why does grocery shopping feel like so welcoming? How does a visit to the bank remind me of a coffee date with an old friend? Easy... these places all have people. And they know me. So this afternoon, I would like to take some time to recognize the people whose smiles make me feel like I belong in Madrid.

Jorge. I went to update my bank account with my NIE number on Monday and I was greated by Jorge, the same banker who opened my account, went out of his way to help me get my ATM card a few days later, and helped me take out the money for my fianza and first month's rent. As I approached his desk, he promptly asked me how classes were going, remembering exactly what school I was teaching at. Since I had not seen Jorge in almost two months, I was quite impressed. Quality customer service, La Caixa.

Photocopy man. Always wanting to practice his English numbers and wish me a good day, he makes photocopies less of a chore. Also, I am beyond thankful that he has never complained that I bring in documents that I need photocopies for the next period.

Bread man. He knows that I'll come in on Monday evenings to buy cookies or some other baked good for my house church. He always greats me with a smile and even let me try the typical baked good of this time of year for free the other day. Wahoo!

Cheese girl. She is gradually learning that giving me half of what is left will not work. When I remind her that it is only for me, she is much more reasonable with the amount of cheese she expects me to ingest. Plus, this past week I even got some recipe suggestions for the pate that I bought. Parfait! (Perfect in French... I've got that one down.)

Dancers. As I explained in one of my last study abroad blog posts, every dance class is an odd sort of family. You spend so much time seeing each others' successes and failures that you can't help but feel some sort of solidarity. I still only know a few names, but the smiles and nods of approval are enough to make me feel like I belong.

Pablo. Even in a big city, you run into your students outside of school. So was the instance with Pablo, one of my students who I turned into after buying my Airport supplement at the Metro machine. The whole time I was overwhelmed with the odd sensation that I was being stared at, which made me realize: change cities, change countries; it doesn't matter... the students are still astounded when they realize that you don't live at school.

House church. I believe Ephesians 2:19-22 says it all.

  

"Consequently, you are no longer foreigners and aliens, but fellow citizens with God's people and members of God's household, built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the chief cornerstone. In him the whole building is joined together and rises to become a holy temple in the Lord. And in him you too are being built together to become a dwelling in which God lives by his Spirit." (Emphasis mine.)

"What is the city but the people?" 

- William Shakeskpeare

Much love to all of the people in the other cities that feel like home,

Amber 

Puente: Geneva, Chamonix & Annecy

06:30, Wednesday, October 31st.

My alarm goes off in the pitch black, eery silence of my sleeping apartment. I awoke from a deep, cozy sleep and dug myself out of my cave of blankets. Tired from a late night blogging the night before, I quickly decided to allow myself the extra ten minutes before beginning the day. I hit rechazar and climbed back into what felt like a furnace compared to the cold marble floors. My mind began to generate a checklist (throw sheets and towels in the washer so they can wash while I'm at school, pack up my make-up and toothbrush after using them, devotions, check e-mails...) before succumbing to the warmth and rolling over with my body just one more time.

9:30, Wednesday, October 31st.

Wow did those ten minutes make a difference! I felt so rested and the alarm hadn't even buzzed yet! But when I noticed that the sunlight was even peeking through my cave-simulating shades, I knew something had gone terribly wrong. Rechazar means dismiss. It was three hours later and my second class of the day was already in session. Oops.

Yes, I ran to school. Yes, I surely looked like an idiot.

Luckily for me, the "no pasa nada" phrase was used by the two teachers in response to my groveling for forgiveness. And it seems all is forgotten. But I'm setting two alarms for school tomorrow FOR SURE.

This day, however, did not continue in a downward slope. Instead, I found it hard to even be bothered by morning's catastrophe. Why? Because that afternoon, Napala and I got on a plane to Geneva, Switzerland!

The travels went well: Our EasyJet flight had the typical frustrations (long lines, a bit of extra turbulence, limited hand luggage), but no notable problems. Then, when we arrived, we were excited to find out that there were free bus tickets at the airport! (We were also given free transportation passes both of our hostels... which we never actually used because the public transportation drivers never check for tickets. No wonder they are giving them out for free.) We got on the bus suggested by our hostel and stared at the stops on the monitor until it was time to get off.

We got off on the main shopping street and meandered around the center of the Old Town, which seemed like it should've been named Ghost Town. (We've gotten quite used to 9 PM being an early dinner time, not time to shut down every single store and stay in your house.) After a few wrong turns (our GoogleMaps on our phone wasn't working since we were out of Spain) and an inquiry at a small bar (LANGUAGE BARRIER: by the time we left I think he thought we were planning on sleeping in the park or in the church. Our hostel was in the plaza of the church, but of course I haven't learned how to explain that in French yet.), we finally found it.

We dropped our bags, and promptly went on a search for an ATM so that we could get Swiss francs. Let's be serious. We were hungry. And after a day of fasting (after discussing the rising confusion about zombies in the youth of our church, my small group decided to fast on Halloween), I was particularly ready for something delicious.

And delicious it was. I may be biased because of the growling stomach, but I feel pretty confident saying it was the best meal that I've eaten in Europe. The pictures don't do it justice so I'll leave you with this: there is definitely a difference between cooking with butter and cooking with olive oil. One is healthier, but we must remember: Paula Dean sure doesn't choose olive oil.

First meal in Switzerland!

Day 1: Geneva, Switzerland

In the morning of our first day, we took a walk around Lake Geneva. After, of course, enjoying some pastries on a bench.

Lac Léman (Lake Geneva)

Then, in the afternoon, we went to the United Nations for a tour. Since I'm preparing my students for a city-wide mock United Nations conference, this was super exciting for me.

The giant chair (missing part of one of its legs) outside of the UNOG building was placed there to raise awareness about the danger of land mines.

 Delegates in a meeting. The interpreters are in the top left corner. Each conference is translated into six languages: Arabic, Spanish, English, French, Russian, and Chinese (Mandarin).

 Ceiling in another conference room. The painting is a section of the mural depicting the development of mankind; this section shows the men uniting, in constrast to another section which shows the same four men fighting over a sword.

 These doors are two of the four that were built so that the U.S. and the Soviet Union delegates could enter from opposite sides at the exact same time during the Cold War.

After the UNOG tour, Napala and I headed back to our hostel with some groceries to eat and plan out the rest of our weekend.

Our hostel!

A 90° turn to the left of the previous pictures gives you this. Not bad!

 Day 2: Chamonix, France

During our discussion the previous day, Napala and I discovered that a trip to the top of the Alps in a cable car was only a bus ride away. So, of course, we hopped on a bus.

Looking out the window... a rainbow!

Because of the high winds (initially completely unnoticeable to us but later recognized by the clouds that passed across the mountains in a matter of minutes), we didn't get to go to the very top to see Mont Blac. But the following pictures are not a bad consolation prize :)

View after going up the first cable car

We then rode a gondola up the opposite side of the mountain, where we fully enjoyed tramping around in the snow.

It was the best packing snow I've ever felt!

These mountains were incredible. As I was surrounded by all of this natural beauty, I couldn't help but ponder the magnificence of the God who created it.

He replied, "Because you have so little faith. I tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there' and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you." - Mattthew 17:20 

What a challenge. Jesus makes it sound so easy, but do I really believe that I could move the Alps?

Shout to the Lord // All the Earth, let us sing // Power and majesty // Praise to the King // Mountains bow down // And the seas will roar // At the sound of Your name 

 “I tell you,” he replied, “if they keep quiet, the stones will cry out.” - Luke 19:40 

Being just a mere gondola ride up these massive mountains, I felt quite small. I began to imagine the mountains bowing and the piles of stones crying out; then I realized that's the future we're looking at. A world where everything is worshiping our creator. One day nobody will be skirting around religion for political correctness and niceties.

Alright though, let's be honest. I didn't just sit and ponder life. I took a break to eat cheese.

 Fondue. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

After lunch, we took a train up yet another mountain to see the second largest glacier in the Alps. It's 12 km long and contains about 4000 cubic meters of frozen water.

 Mer de Glace

What an amazing, unforgettable day. When we arrived back in Geneva, Napala and I went to the grocery store for fruit for dinner (after all, we ate bread and pounds of cheese for lunch) and then took the (free!) water taxi across Lake Geneva to take a walk around the city at night.

 

The water taxi was empty... good thing because we took up a bit more space after eating all of that cheese.

Day 3: Annecy, France

For our last day, we took a bus to Annecy, the hometown of my French teacher!  The city was beyond cute, which led to Napala and I banning the word "cute" from our vocabulary for the rest of the day. Luckily we found synonyms: adorable, quaint, precious, perfect, picturesque...

Facing the walkway into the main part of the city

Ya know, just eating tarte aux myrtilles by the river.

If you are friends with me on facebook, you have probably seen my 42 pictures of food that I took over the course of this three day adventure. Everything I ate was absolutely delicious (except for the nouget), especially this little pie. However, the following food pictures have the best story associated with them.

Napala and I walked around for about an hour earlier in the day examining menus, seating rooms, and the number of people eating at the establishments. We finally decided on a quaint restaurant where we got seated right next to the raclette station. However, having braved the fondue the day before, we decided we shouldn't eat another meal that was comprised entirely of cheese.

Raclette station

So we ordered a salad to accompany our tartiflette.

 Ham, tomatoes, goat cheese crustini, creamy balsamic... what more could you want?

However, as Napala was finishing off her portion of the salad, she held up her fork to see a tiny spider crawling out of the greens. Surprised, we got the attention of the raclette server, who spoke no English. But he did take the spider away and bring us someone who offered another salad as consolation. However, having already eaten our fair share of salad and knowing what we still had coming, we tried to get them to just give us the salad free. No can do. Instead they insisted on bringing us another, bigger salad.

And yes, we ate it. We weren't actually phased by the spider... as Napala said, "My mom would be so happy! That means the farmer who sold them the greens doesn't use pesticides!" Plus, after the incident the raclette kept offering us free cheese to put on our cheese and potato tartiflette. Cheese on cheese. No complaints here. Maybe I should start carrying around spiders...

 Tartiflette with raclette!

It took a rather long walk around the lake to work off the cheese baby, but we recovered. And as I'm writing this, I'm finishing off some bread and cheese. So obviously I didn't get sick of it.

 Taking a walk around Lac d'Annecy

All in all, it was the perfect weekend away from the city. We saw fall leaves, snow, mountains, and lakes. We ate our way through three different towns in two different countries. I am beyond blessed to be experiencing all of this as my transition into the "real world."

Now, however, it's off to grading piles of essays. The stacks of paper are what happens when you are so focused on your upcoming trip that you don't realize you assigned writing assignments to 12 of the 16 different classes you teach. Oops.

Much love,

Amber

To live is to be marked.

Listen. To live is to be marked. To live is to change, to acquire the words of a story, and that is the only celebration we mortals really know.
- Orellana Price, The Poisonwood Bible

When I read this quote in The Poisonwood Bible a few weeks ago, I couldn't help but look up and around at the people on the metro, longing for someone to share it with. I am being marked by everything experience I have. I am being changed. I am acquiring the words of a story. But a story isn't stagnant; there are definite ups and downs, as well as periods of uncertainty about which direction is up.

Thankfully, the celebration is continual, coming from the deeper sense of joy that I experience as a child of God, participating in His greater story. Here are a few recent chapters that are being recorded in my edition.

The audience.

I can't even begin to explain how wonderful it feels to be dancing again. Outside of the Hope College Dance department, my spirit returns to the late night jazz classes at One Broadway when I was a freshman and just beginning to come into my own. For a brief time I threw my body around, not quite sure what I was doing but feeling quite pleased with the results. I danced without thinking of my turn-out or whether or not I was as good as those around me... I had been so surprised to have landed in the advanced jazz class that I just gave all of myself to every movement, never knowing what would come of it.

My jazz class here is a return to abandoned movement. I perform for a forgiving audience, an audience that is inside. The audience applauds me when I do well, but also slaps me on the back in encouragement when I fall out of a turn. They do not care if I have perfect first position; they only care that I stretch my muscles to their limit and smile at the end of class. I like this audience. They are oblivious to the Spanish chatter about concentrating on a plie and are quite out of the loop on the professional dance world.

So when last week my jazz teacher moved another girl out of the front row so I could have a spot, I did not suffer from stage fright. I swooped and turned and stretched with the same energy and fluidity that I did when I was surrounded on all sides in the corner of a room that is so narrow you are practically in both corners at once. After all, my audience has a front row view at all times and they are content with any day's work as long as I enjoyed it.

The apology.

Darn thirteen year olds. I spend hours a week preparing lessons, hoping to prepare them for the city-wide Model UN conference in February. And do they do their homework? No. Do they listen to their peers in class? No. As they say in Spain, "Están en la edad del pavo." This, literally translated, means "They are in the age of the turkey." Aka they are at the age when instead of being focused on the lesson, they are focused on the modern art they are drawing on their desks or the cute girl/boy sitting a row ahead.

Last week, after a particularly difficult class with 3°ESO (the darn 13 year olds), my 1°ESO English class experienced a particularly chatty class. My patience wore thin as I taught them a new phrase, "chatty Kathys", and asked them repeatedly to be quiet. But by the next day, all was forgotten. A good night of sleep and new groups of students can do wonders.

But today when I entered the 1° ESO class, I was taken aback by the two sweet girls who came up to me before class to apologize. Confused, I thought maybe they had forgotten their homework. But after a moment, their explanation and concerned faces made me realize that they were genuinely upset that the class had been rowdy the week before. I never thought I would love 7th graders as much as I did today.

¿Qué tal?

How many times in a day do we ask "How are you?" How many times have we not answered, "Good" or "Fine"? After a challenging sermon, I have fallen into a group of people who take "How are you?"seriously. Really seriously.

They are the kind of people to whom you can say "Good" but then they ask again because they don't believe you. It was almost annoying on Sunday morning after church when I got asked "How are you?" two times in a row just because someone didn't like my brush off answer. I had no real desire to tell anyone that I was feeling homesick because of the mother and daughter I saw laughing and hugging in the metro station.

But I was pushed to share anyway, share something that I didn't really want to admit for fear of seeming weak or not adapting well. Right there, in amidst of the mingling, I was tearing up about my nephew who I haven't met, my family who was about to be in the middle of Frankenstorm, and my MI parents who took on the role of family and are now as missed as the rest.

As Natalie Dache told me once, "I think the whole world-getting-smaller phenomenon is both a blessing and a curse. It's so cool to be able to see different places, experience different cultures, meet different places. But it's hard to decide when and where to settle, who to live with, how often to visit, how long to let your heart bleed before you open it up to yet another new person for just one more round of small talk...."

Because if you are really living honest relationships, small talk doesn't stay small talk. Small talk turns into lengthy conversations, heated discussions, and heart-to-hearts. Then those people get added to the list. The list of people who change your life because they checked in on you, they took the time to listen, they asked "How are you?" and meant it.

The sheep and the goats

³¹ “When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, he will sit on his glorious throne. ³² All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate the people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. ³³ He will put the sheep on his right and the goats on his left. 

³⁴ “Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. ³⁵ For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, ³⁶ I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’

³⁷ “Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? ³⁸ When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? ³⁹ When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’

⁴⁰ “The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’

⁴¹ “Then he will say to those on his left, ‘Depart from me, you who are cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. ⁴² For I was hungry and you gave me nothing to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, ⁴³ I was a stranger and you did not invite me in, I needed clothes and you did not clothe me, I was sick and in prison and you did not look after me.’

⁴⁴ “They also will answer, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison, and did not help you?’

⁴⁵ “He will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.’

⁴⁶ “Then they will go away to eternal punishment, but the righteous to eternal life.”

You want to think that you will be a sheep. But when I walk past the woman sitting outside the church on her blanket with a small cup for money every day, am I telling Jesus that my muffin and coffee at school are more important than Him? When the old man in the navy vest opens the door for me outside the grocery store, am I a goat ignoring the needy? The poor have always been kept at an arms length from me. But now, when I look them in the eye on a daily basis and choose to ignore their needs, the reality of my selfishness hits hard.

Considerations of taking them out to lunch or dropping off a bag of groceries are appealing, but I resist, fearing they will become dependent on me. I don't want them to just get by; I want them to get out of the rut of poverty. And then I rationalize doing nothing, claiming that as a newbie to this city I can offer no resources that will change their situation.

So for this month, I am going to keep track of every hungry, needy person that I see. I will acknowledge each of them by keeping a running tally. And then, at the end of the month, I will donate 50 centímos to an organization (tbd), that provides for the poor in la comunidad de Madrid. I may not be giving directly into the palms of those whose hands are outstretched to me, but I want to provide for those who have found themselves without a job in this country that has an unemployment rate of 25.1%. I want to honor them as people and eventually be greeted with the words, "Come, you who are blessed by my father..."

Let me be clear though. I am not writing this because I think it is the perfect thing to do. But after a month of wrestling, this is the only approach that has brought my heart peace. And so I write this as a request for accountability. Accountability to maintain the conviction that the well being of others is worth a dent in my budget.

To live is to be marked. I can't just brush off these lessons like they were written in dust.
  
Much love,
Amber

"...we must regularly stop whatever it is we are doing and devote our attention to eating."

My most exciting experiences this past week revolved around food, so I decided to relive them with you here :)

Napala and I made our own calamares! Of course there is room for improvement, but it was a pretty good first attempt!

The next morning, Napala and I decided to go hardcore U.S.A breakfast with these cinnamon roll pancakes. Yeah, they were pretty awesome, though I didn't take any photographic evidence. It's probably better that way though since they didn't look exactly like this.

Then Wednesday afternoon, I was invited to lunch at one of my co-teacher's houses. She wasn't sure what I would like so she made un montón de comida deliciosa, with which I happily stuffed myself to the brim. I had seriously considered taking my camera along but then I figured that would be on the fine line of creepy that I shouldn't cross when I'm first invited to someone's house for la comida. But I spent some time googling the foods and finding appropriate pictures so you can imagine it! So here we go...

Aperetivo: Huevos rellenos de atún

These hard boiled eggs are stuffed with a tuna mixture that is wonderfully delicious!

La comida: Ensalada rusa

 

Ana told me that every recipe for ensalada rusa is different, but it's very typical in Madrid. It is a potato salad, but it is extremely flavorful because of the strength of flavor in the ingredients. Ana's recipe included: potatoes, red peppers (that she roasts herself), anchovies, olives, a bit of mayonese, and peas. Loved it.

La comida: Bonito con tomate y cebolla

 

 Next, we ate bonito (a fish... they love fish here) cooked with a tomato and onion sauce. We ate it at room temperature, and it was great. Bonito is a very white fish and is pretty dense. I think it is vaguely related to tuna, but don't tell that to Spaniards or they will shake their heads repeatedly at your ignorance. (This last statement also applies to calling setas mushrooms. We're still arguing that one with Juan!)

After finishing the food, I had a Nespresso for the first time! I had seen these things advertised repeatedly when I was in Sevilla and even gone into a store, but it isn't exactly what you would get in a local café. Check out this George Clooney commerical:

The coffee was great but what was even more exciting was the chance to read about all of the pearly, colorful capsules organized in a dark black shiny box. This fancy coffee accompanied by Lindt dark chocolate with orange and almond slivers was the perfect end to a delicious meal, which I gladly told Ana! She had been a little nervous because earlier that day in our 7th grade class I had explained that the word "dessert" in U.S. English refers to something quite different than the fruit you are offered at the end of a meal here. (We were practicing homonyms/homophones: The soldier decided to desert his dessert in the desert.) I recounted a few comical stories about receiving an orange instead of cake or cookies when I was first studying abroad, but ended with my reflection that it was much healthier and I quite enjoyed the fruit at the end of the meal now! All's well that ends well... I hope I get invited back soon! Next week? Same time same place? ;)

Tomorrow Napala and I will be baking again; this time for Juan's birthday! He requested a chocolate cake so we must go on a hunt for the proper ingredients. We'll have to pay close attention since when we made the pancakes we bought brown sugar (as in sugar that is brown, unrefined sugar), rather than the brown sugar that we are used to in the U.S. Wish us luck and if you have any simple but stellar recipes, send them our way!

One of the very nicest things about life is the way we must regularly stop whatever it is we are doing and devote our attention to eating. -Luciano Pavarotti 

Much love,
Amber

A break from the routine

As I've settled in, it has become increasingly more difficult to think of interesting blog topics. This week, however, was a break from the routine and I have quite a few exciting events to recount...

I made pisto from scratch! Okay, excitement over. I've definitely had better. I think I need to try another recipe. Also, I had a bit of a mix-up with translating ingredients and buying produce at the grocery store... I ended up buying 2 kilograms of cucumber instead of zucchini. After some research, I found out that you can in fact cook cucumber like zucchini so I just switched out the ingredients. Not bad, but I will be eager to try it again with a different recipe and the correct ingredients. That is, when I ever finish eating this batch. I've eaten it 3 times, given some to Napala, and I still have two containers frozen in the freezer...

Pisto for dinner on Sunday night

Monday was Napala's birthday! So I got my arts and crafts game on and made her card a little more interesting. Even more interesting was watching the waiter at the restaurant stare at her as she put together a puzzle.

Juan was convinced this was the coolest thing he had ever seen.

I GOT A PACKAGE! Yes, my mother is AWESOME.  She sent my down comforter, which has made the nights infinitely more cozy. I've stopped sleeping in my robe (I'm good in my short sleeve shirt) and using my Ikea blanket. Now I have something to build up to when winter comes.

Thank goodness for space bags. And yes, York Peppermint Patties made it in the box.

My mother would sew a heart into my comforter. Love you Mom!

Tuesday night was the Spain vs. France soccer game, which I had the joy of watching with my French roommate and her Spanish boyfriend. We took guesses on the score and chatted about the use of words such as "corner" and "penalty" in Spanish. As the game continued, my other roommates made it home and joined in on the gathering. After being here for two and a half weeks and seeing everyone in passing, it was wonderful to spend some time hanging out with them. When the game finished we chatted about languages, foods (Elody was explaining corn dogs to Luis... I'm so proud of our American culinary inventions), and whether or not being a fan of the Barcelona team was the same as supporting the Catalan movement to secede from Spain. (Carol is a Barcelona fan instead of Real Madrid, which Luis does not approve of. Apparently most of the girls in Spain like the Barcelona because the players are attractive, but all of the guys are die-hard supporters of Real Madrid. The conversation ended with Carol threatening to hang a Catalan flag in the living room and Luis planning to build a wall separating her room from the rest of the apartment. LOVE IT.)

I took the opportunity of us all being together to introduce my roommates to Hershey's chocolate as well. For those of you who know me, it is a pretty big deal that I shared my limited supply of York Peppermint patties (freshly arrived from Hershey!) with anyone. But I did, and they loved it! I guess I know what I'm bringing back after Christmas...

Wednesday night, Spanish class became real life in a whole new way. For anyone who has gone through a high school Spanish class, you know who Juanes is. He's a favorite for teachers from schools all over. His songs are perfect for those "fill in the blank" listening activities because they are catchy but quite varied in verb tense and grammatical structure. Okay, enough about the pedagogy of using songs as listening activities. The important thing is: I saw Juanes live in concert!

When Napala and I got there, we were surprised, however, to find that many of the people who were at the concert were older than us (or other U.S. students). Then we realized that it was about 7-8 years ago that we were listening to Juanes for the first time. Wow.  Nevertheless, it was super fun and we enjoyed the group of 30 year old women in front of us having the equivalent of Bieber Fever over every song that they played.

Fulfilling every Spanish student's dream...

Below is a link to one of my favorite Juanes songs, though of course they are all wonderful. I have a whole new appreciation for the songs after seeing the number of people that are in the band! Besides Juanes himself, there were 2 back-up singers, 3 guitarists, 3 drum players, a piano player, a trumpet player, a trombone player, and a saxophone player. Quite the group!

The work week (for me) finished off with a trip to see a fellow Fulbrighter play at an open mic night at an Irish pub. Everyone there spoke English. Napala and I lasted about an hour before we jetted out, wondering how many of the study abroad students spend way too much time there. 

But it was all good because we had made it into an event by going to El Cisne Azul, a restaurant that specializes in setas (mushrooms), beforehand. Though we obviously didn't fit in at this bity local joint, Napala and I squeezed our way up against the bar (the woman gave us quite the glare when we tried to sit down at a table that was opening up) and we ate the best mushrooms and greatest chorizo I've ever had. Thank you to Napala's professor's chef friend (this is pretty much the way I connect with people now) for the suggestion!

Now before I go (and before you all think Spain is paradise), I must recount my trip to the Oficina de los Extranjeros (Foreigner's office) yesterday.

After gathering all of the documents for my NIE and taking an hour long metro ride, I headed off to the office that had no address. Awesome. I found another Fulbrighter and began the walk in the direction of the massive Carrefour, feeling hopeful that we would also find the office. Five minutes into the walk, we weren't so confident and decided to ask the next people we saw. Shortly after, two young people started walking toward us. Then, as we began to ask them, the guy said "Oh hey!" and we realized they were also Fulbrighters. Go figure. He had talked to his friends and found out it was the opposite direction; it was a big yellow and blue circus-like building that could be seen in the distance.

We arrived at the office, went through security, and got in a winding line of people for our "appointments." Yes, they give you an appointment to go wait in line (which was being monitored by police) for 2 hours. So fun. And when I finally arrived at the first desk (there is then a series of desks that you have to wait in line for to get your fingerprints taken, etc.), I was told that my number was messed up and my appointment was not yesterday. Whaaaaaaaaat?

This happened to about 10 Fulbrighters, so Victoria came rushing over and made sure the woman got my phone number so she could call me about when my appointment actually was. (No, there was never any hope of just moving my appointment so the 4 hour excursion was worth it.) The woman (unwillingly) took my phone number and repeatedly told Victoria that she wasn't going to call me. 

So I have no idea when my appointment is, but Victoria told me to go back in 10 days if they didn't call me. I will probably have to have Fulbright call over and verify that before I waste another 4 hours standing outside a building that looks like a bizarre mix of a jail and a circus.

Moral of the story? Don't complain about waiting in lines or scheduling for appointments in the U.S.A. It is, in fact, quite efficient.

But for now, I'm forgetting about it. I'm enjoying my cozy sweater, slippers, and new Cinnamon and Mandarin candle. Now onto a few e-mails before rejoining life outside my bedroom!

Much love,

Amber

El Puente

Puente = long weekend = all of the Spaniards get super excited and travel around the country. But since every weekend is a long weekend for me, I hung around Madrid. With absolutely no plans and an excessive head start on my lesson plans for the next week, I had no idea what I was going to do with my weekend. Luckily, I didn't need plans because once it got rolling, one thing lead to another and I entertained myself quite well.

Friday morning I went to the Columbus Day parade with my French roommate and her boyfriend. It was quite scaled down because of the crisis but it was pretty interesting to see all of the different branches of the military all dressed up.

The branch that hangs out in the mountains, with their skis and all!

During lunch later that day (after a wonderful nap), I found out that all of the museums were free for the day. So I met up with Napala and Eugene (a Russian who was visiting her... long story, but the result is us dragging him along for 2 days) and we went to El Prado (classic art) and La Reina Sofia (modern art). Everyone I've talked to is baffled that I went to both in one day since they are ginormous. I then have to explain that we were in each for less than two hours because we went at the end of the day.

After the museums, we met up with Dan and Juanaco to see a basketball game between Real Madrid and Panathinaikos Athens.

Yes, we were in the nose bleed section. But it was only 8€...

Saturday morning I met up with Carol and Clara for breakfast at VIPS. It was wonderful to see them both and I got to check out the Spanish attempt at an American breakfast. I decided to go big and order the desayuno americano: eggs, home fries, and two pancakes. The eggs and home fries were good, but lets just say I'm better off making my own pancakes from scratch.

Then Napala, Eugene, Dan, Juan (different from Juanaco), and I went hiking in Manzanares el Real, located about 35 minutes outside of the city. Great fun!

A wonderful day away from the city

 Eugene, taking a picture of the mountain goat...

 

The whole gang

 

  

Coming back down. You might've guessed that we didn't follow the paths. We just went straight up the mountain.

 Checking out the exterior of the castle in the city.

The rest of the weekend consisted of watching Juan make the tortilla española (he's a pro... I still haven't attempted it myself), going grocery shopping (by the way, a very nice madrileño opened the metro door for me when my arms were loaded down with my purchases), running in Retiro with Napala, and eating gelato (pear and lemon: DELICOUS). I couldn't have planned a better puente if I had actually made plans.

Now, before I leave, I must make a comment on using subtleties in another language. They do not work. Apparently yesterday my roommate and her boyfriend were talking about how someone was using her olive oil while I was standing in the kitchen right next to them. And by right next to them I mean we were probably touching because there's hardly room for two people in our kitchen, let alone three. They were trying to figure out who it was and assumed that since I didn't say anything, it wasn't me. False. It was me. The olive oil is kept among all the spices, which we do share. However, the olive oil is apparently only kept there because it doesn't fit in the cupboard. So for the past two weeks I've been stealing from my roommate without knowing it. Lo siento...

I know its stupid to feel bad about it (the liter of oil probably costs 2€), but I do. Its embarrassing that if I'm not tuned in, I completely miss what someone is saying. I nod and smile when I don't know what people are saying because I'm too embarrassed to keep asking for them to repeat themselves. There's a constant struggle of wanting to seem competent and being humble enough to ask the questions required to actually become competent. 

My experiences at home are teaching me the grace that I need to show to the teachers at my school. They studied English just like I studied Spanish and they often misunderstand my plans or my questions. I am learning that is most helpful to be direct with them and explain my perspective thoroughly when situations get confusing. Down with subtleties! There's no reason to be overly polite when there's a language barrier. As John Mayer says in a song that I highly dislike but can't help thinking of right now:

Take out of your wasted honor  

Every little past frustration  

Take all your so called problems  

Better put them in quotations  

Say what you need to say  

(This phrase is then repeated an excessive number of times. You get the point.)

I hope that I can stick to this. I honestly believe languages are meant to teach humility and grace. In a part of life so critical to understanding one another, we must be patient with one another. We owe it to the people around us to say what we are thinking instead of letting our untold thoughts dictate our relationships. Yes, this is going beyond stealing olive oil. But it's some food for thought. Or better yet, discussion.

Much love,

Amber