Murcia: My last autonomous community and Spain's best kept secret

My last weekend in Spain was spent finishing up my goal of visiting all 17 autonomous communities of Spain. (Granted, the blog is still missing updates on both the Canary Islands and Navarra, but I promise I did visit them all!) Once life calms down a bit (if life calms down a bit?), I’ll update you on my experiences in Tenerife and in Pamplona. But for now, let me tell you about Spain’s hidden gem: MURCIA.

Two weeks ago I played jeopardy with my students for our last class together. The 500 point answer for “Amber in Spain” was, “the only autonomous community in Spain Amber has yet to visit” and the correspnding question was, “What is Murcia?” Few students got it right on the first try and one class of students failed to answer correctly at all, instead realizing they had forgotten that Murcia even existed. When I gave them the answer, they reacted with, “¡Ayyyyyyy! ¡Pero es que no hay ni puta alma en Murcia!” (This translates to: “Ahhhhh... but there isn’t even a f*cking soul in Murcia!” Excuse my French. I mean, Spanish… swear words have much less weight - if any weight at all - in Spanish culture.)

My friend Carmen told me not to go… it wouldn’t be worth it to miss out on my last weekend in Madrid and didn’t I want to leave something to come back to? No Spaniard (except for the ones form Murcia) said a single positive thing about the place until I told them I was going to the beach. Then they halfheartedly conceded, saying it couldn’t be too bad to go to the beach for a few days.

Boy, were they wrong. Perhaps it helped that my expectations were EXTREMELY low, but honestly, Cartagena blew me away. I’d like to promote Spain’s well-kept secret, hidden between the Costa del Sol of Andalusia and the the Costa Blanca of Valencia.

Our hotel alone was enough to want me to stay forever. I got into Cartagena earlier than Erica on Friday, giving me time to hang out in the city… or in the hotel room. The slightly overcast, windy weather kept me from wanting to sit on a terrace all afternoon; so, after lunch and a walk around the city, I headed back to the hotel, plugged in my laptop, and started blogging away in a big comfy chair situated right in front of the balcony.

The best fried eggplant I have ever had

A sculpture giving tribute to the victims of terrorism

School’s out for the summer!

I didn’t even have to leave my room to enjoy the smell of the sea and a view of the port!

Or turn around and check out the main plaza

On Saturday, Erica and I headed out to La Manga (The Sleeve), a peninsula about 30 minutes away from Cartagena where we could enjoy both the Mediterranean Sea and the Mar Menor (Minor Sea) by walking just 8 minutes across the peninsula.

Along the way we met a young woman from Arizona who had been living in Murcia for 4 years. Politely we managed to ask, “Uhhh… why?” and she fondly recounted her summers with a family friend who is from Murcia which lead from one thing to another and ended with her current state of being 5 months pregnant with her and her Murcian husband’s little boy.

She married into Murcia but she loves it like home, talking about how there is no need to go on vacation because they have paradise right around the corner. She also know the bus stops like home, which was helpful for us since not a single bus stop was labeled on the stops or on the map.

After we successfully got off the bus, we first checked out the Mediterranean Sea and enjoyed the free entertainment of watching a group of young Spaniards attempt to throw a football… the first people I have ever seen throw a football in public worse than me.

Walking along the beach

There’s nothing like beach hair!

After a few hours on beach, we left in search of food and were happy to find that southern prices were indeed as low as remembered them. €7.50 each for an entire menú!

Mmmmmmmmm

With our tummies full, we headed back to the beach for our siesta… but this time we walked 5 minutes West and settled down on the Mar Menor.

An older couple going for a stroll

Looking at mainland Murcia

Reading… typical.

We soaked up as many rays as we could until our thirst got to us and we headed out for a Coca-Cola at one of the restaurants right off the beach. Then, around 18:40, we headed to the bus stop to catch the 19:00 bus. The non-existent 19:00 bus. We waited and wondered and double checked our map and doubted whether or not the bus would stop at all of the stops or only the one at the end of the peninsula. Erica decided to check with a store clerk to see if we were at an acceptable stop and after confirming we were, we realized that there was a faded dot next to the 19:00 bus. “What does that mean?” I asked and then finally saw the legend that this little dot meant “Sólo domingos” (Only Sundays). Oops.

We had almost an hour to kill until the next bus so we sat down and had a granizado (a slushy that, in Spain, is consumed as much, if not more, by adults as by children) while I wrote out my last Spanish postcards.

Lemon slushy!

When we finally made it back into Cartagena, we showered, rejoiced in our lack of sunburns (Thank you, SPF 50!) and headed out in search of tapas. The restaurant recommended to us by our Arizonan friend was closed but by the number of people crowded around the bar down the street, we figured we couldn’t go wrong. And we didn’t. Tapas of ensaladilla rusa (Spain’s potato salad), solomillo al chimichurri (pork loin with tomato pepper sauce), berenjena rellena (stuffed eggplant), mini-hamburguesa (You can figure this one out), and pollo al curry (Hint: pollo = chicken) filled us up and allowed us to enjoy the delicious gastronomy of the South for the low dinner price of €15… total. Erica and I considered moving.

Good food is nothing without good conversation but we had that as well… with the Murcian couple who was standing next to us at the bar. We started off talking about the bar’s food and continued on to conversations about what we were doing in Spain, our thoughts about Murcia, and more conversation about Spain’s gastronomical experiences. It wasn’t the first, though it might be the last time (at least for a while) that a Spaniard told me, “Se comen muy bien allí” (They eat very well there). Through conversation with them I discovered I had somehow missed out (?) on trying sangre frita (fried blood), the woman’s favorite food as a child. I’ll consider adding it to the to-do list for my next visit.

On Sunday morning, Erica and I woke up and headed down for our second day of the breakfast buffet (complete with fresh ginger-carrot-pear juice, a yogurt bar with pumpkin seeds and papaya chunks, ensaimadas, jamón serrano and Manchego cheese) before checking out the sights in the city of Cartagena.

First, we headed over to the Roman Theater, one of the best preserved Roman theaters in the world.

From the top

Cheese it!

Then we walked to the Roman forum and an old Roman house, which the woman at the Roman theater talked us into visiting because of the €9 student deal for all three. It was totally worth it, since we happened upon an hour long tour through the Roman Forum with an engaging guide. The Roman house on the other hand (described as “preciosa” by the woman working at the Roman theater), was a short visit… within 5 minutes we had entered, looked at the foot tall brick walls showing us the layout of the house, appreciated the oldness of the bricks we were surrounded by, and left. It made us even more grateful for the guide at the forum.

Part of one of the walls that was reconstructed by the archeologists in the Forum

The pieces of their next puzzle

After we finished our sightseeing, we walked around the city and noticed the huge difference between the main streets and the run-down buildings just off the beaten path. There was a beauty in the mix of old and new, though the old woman who saw me taking a picture of one of the run-down buildings was not amused.

Pretty old wire balconies mixed with scaffolding

As I took the picture, she stood behind me and scolded me for taking a picture of “an edificio tan feo… ¡hay muchos otros que son más bonitos justo allí!” (“such an ugly building… there are many other buildings that are much prettier right there!).

We also saw quite a few mini alters and floats waiting to be put to use later in the afternoon.

I suppose it is too heavy and too obvious to run off with

Right off Calle Mayor

Then, just before we left, we enjoyed one more delicious meal amidst the smell of the sea.

Tomato, boquerones, cheese, olives and pepper salad

Stuffed mushrooms

Paella

As you may have guessed from the photos, Murcia passed my important test. Se comen muy bien allí.

Well Spain, it’s been great getting to know you. Even up to my last journeys, you haven’t disappointed me. I’m going to miss every last bit of you.

Much love,
Amber

Caminewbs de Santabingo... more commonly referred to as the Camino de Santiago

This past weekend, Lauren and I decided to participate in an (extremely) abridged version of the Camino de Santiago, a pilgrimage route through northern Spain. I had done a few (okay, TWO) days worth of el Camino with Mark and Annette one of my first weekends in Spain, but life got busy over the past two years and I never made it back. Until now.

Lauren and I were far from expert peregrinos (pilgrims). In fact, we decided we could have created a hashtag about our shortcomings, #caminewbs, and had a pretty decent twitter feed going. What we lacked in preparedness, however, we made up for in creativity. Early on, Lauren came up with a unique way of peregrino watching: making a bingo board to fill in with our sitings along the way.

Hence, our adventures as the Caminewbs de Santabingo.

Unfortunately, we never got bingo. But we did get: Danish flag, sheep, twins, guten tag, hiking in sandals, camping, PDA, and < 15. Not too shabby!

Now that we're on the same page, let me start from the beginning...

On Sunday morning, Lauren and I arrived to Santiago bright and early, thanks to our 6:30 AM Ryanair flight. (Oh, Ryanair... I will miss your prices, but not your flying experience.) Shortly after, Matt (another Fulbrighter) rolled in on his night bus and joined us for our day's adventures.

After a leisurely breakfast alongside peregrinos who had finished the previous day but were still accustomed to waking up at the crack of dawn, we headed to the plaza in front of the cathedral to do some people watching and to show off our Fulbright España gear. After all, Fulbright España just won the Príncipe de Asturias award (similar to the Nobel Prize for Spaniards) for its international cooperation. Represent!

 Cheese it! This hat got Lauren into a conversation about Fulbright with a stranger within the first 30 minutes!

The only baseball hat that I have ever gotten that almost fits me... it must be child sized.

After some quality people watching (and some terrible street performer observing), we decided to check out the inside of the cathedral. And since it was Sunday, we did so by attending mass. It was difficult for me to engage since mass has a quite a few calls and responses that I don't know in English, let alone in Spanish. However, it was clear from the priest's approach to his message that he is used to visitors from different countries and different walks of faith and I appreciated the chance to hear him speak.

After mass, we headed out for lunch and I finally tried pulpo a la gallega (polbo á feira in Gallego) in the region of Spain it comes from! It was an achievement, though in the end I wasn't overly impressed. Perhaps it's just not my favorite way of eating octupus.

I do really like the plate though...

In the late afternoon Lauren and I said goodbye to Matt and headed for the bus station, where we took a 40 minute bus ride to the beginning of our camino journey, the small town of Arzúa.

Reality check: We then spent 11 hours over the course of two days walking back to Santiago de Compostela. #Caminewbs, YES.

When we arrived in Arzúa, we went to an albergue (hostel, but with more beds per room) that I had called earlier in the day. The price per bed was €10 so we figured it was a great option. We didn't realize that €10 meant it didn't have sheets (#caminewbs)... which we would soon discover were necessary for nights in northern Spain. Live and learn.

After showing us our beds, the hostel worker didn't take our money, instead encouraging us to shower immediately and pay later. Neither Lauren nor I had the guts to tell her that we hadn't walked that day... or at last not for more than a half an hour at a time when we were leisurely exploring Santiago. So we sheepishly went to our rooms, put our backpacks away, and awkwardly returned 10 minutes later with the money and our almost empty pilgrimage accreditation book to get it stamped. (Looking back on things, maybe we looked dirty?)

I say almost empty because I did in fact have a few stamps from my walk from Logroño to Santo Domingo. And Lauren also had a stamp because when she bought her accreditation in Santiago de Compostela (the END of the camino, #caminewbs), the worker asked her if she wanted the stamp. Still drowsy from our early morning flight, Lauren said yes. Thankfully, the hostel worker didn't bother to ask us about our lack of stamps or why Lauren's only stamp showed that she had arrived to the last city.

After paying for the hostel, we sat down to an early dinner so that we could go to bed shortly after. It was during dinner that we realized that with restaurants serving menú for lunch AND dinner, we definitely wouldn't be going hungry.

Pueblo prices: 2 plates, a drink, bread, coffee AND dessert for €9.90?!

When Lauren and I went to bed right after 10:00 (The time for lights out in albergues!), we tried not to draw too much attention to the fact that we were huddling under our still-unused towels and wearing our jackets... or in my case, a cardigan sweater (#caminewbs). We set our alarms for 6:45 and went to bed excited about being well rested for our first (and second-to-last) day of walking.

Well, little did we realize that 6:45 was way too late. The Frenchman who snored next to me all night was up and gone by 5:30 and many others were also gone by the time I finally got out of bed at 6:15. I checked on Lauren and we decided that there was no use in trying to attempt another half hour of sleep. When we were both out of our beds, one of the older peregrinos walked over and turned on the lights. Yep, apparently we were the LAST people still in our beds at 6:15... #caminewbs.

We had the bathroom to ourselves as we brushed our teeth and put our jackets back on to face the chilly morning weather. We managed to make it out of the hostel before a few of the peregrinos and contentedly set off, starting off our day with a beautiful sunrise.

 It's been a while since I've seen a sunrise!

Land really is the best art.

- Andy Warhol

As we walked, I paid attention to my surroundings in a way that I rarely do in Madrid. I noticed the spots on the inside of flowers and the shadows that create their own beautiful image on the sidewalk. I smelled "green" and remembered that such pristine nature is a wonderful gift that needs to be appreciated and protected (by Lauren, who picked up peregrinos' trash whenever she saw it). The two days were a wonderful way to disconnect from city life and relax amid the emotionally-draining experience of moving away from Madrid.

These were novel the first hour... then I realized after seeing them EVERYWHERE that they must be one of Galicía's more common flowers.

After about 20 kilometers of walking and a few snack breaks, we arrived to Pedrouzo, our day's destination. On our way into the pueblo we found this nice sign...

Take what you need: To be heard, luck, inspiration, play, happiness, peace, beauty, silence, a break, breath, passion, optimisim.

It was a very nice motivator, but at the moment we arrived, what Lauren and I really needed were sheets. We had to shower that evening and didn't think our wet towels would keep us warm very well.

So, we decided that it was probably worth upgrading. We went big and rented a room in a pensión (similar to a B&B), where we had our own room (aka NO snoring) and a private bathroom with the best shower that either of us had experienced in the entire country. To us it was definitely worth the €22.50 per person, though some might call us pijas.

The owner of the pensión, surveying his advertisement methods, asked us how we had found his place. From his expression, it seemed he had never heard, "Well, we were walking past and it looked like it would have sheets." We then had to explain that we didn't have sheets the previous night and had used our towels. We blamed our unpreparedness on the fact that it was our first official day of vacation and we were a bit disorganized.

Owner: Wait, this is your first day of vacation?
Amber and Lauren: Yep!
Owner: But how then did you...
Amber and Lauren: Oh yeah, the 31 day camino that we are supposedly on the 30th day of... nope, we started today.
Owner: Today?
Amber and Lauren: Yeah...
Owner: So you only walked today? Okay...

I don't think he was judging us too much.

Enjoying our luxury lodging

Our adventures in Pedrouzo weren't too much to write home about... we ate lunch out in our grungy clothes (the camino is the only time that is socially acceptable), napped, read, and watched the Germany vs. Portugal World Cup game (Ronaldo: "I would like to be 110% fit but I am 100% fit and that should be enough to help the national team"... Guess not!). 

Then, since we weren't blown away by our lunch, we went grocery shopping for dinner. After smelling pizzas in the bar where we watched the game, we decided a frozen pizza would be easy and would hit the spot. However, we hadn't taken a good look at the kitchen facilities. Though it was fully equipped, it was Galician equipped and the oven looked like this...

Yep, a wood oven.

We quickly decided it wasn't worth warming up the entire house in mid-June just to make a frozen pizza, so we got creative and made our pizza in a frying pan.

#CAMINUBES.

It was terrible. We got distracted chatting and eating with the other guests, Germans, who were kind enough to share their bread, cheese, and cherries with us. While we attempted to eat the pizza, the Germans chuckled at our pathetic dinner, a Dutch guest came down to ask what the terrible smell was, and we accepted that we were going to have to take full advantage of the older German peregrinos' generosity with their leftovers. After all, our pizza was black more than halfway through the crust. I don't think they believed me when I said that normally I'm a pretty good cook.

That event opened the conversation up and after about 30 minutes, they were roaring in laughter at our one day camino experience. One of the peregrinos showed us pictures of his different albergue stays (One with 130 people in an old chapel... imagine the acoustics of that snoring!) and we admitted to all of the failures that we had been keeping under wraps.

Then around 10 PM, one of the workers came out and told us that we had to keep it down... our group was being a bit too rambunctious. So we said goodbye and expressed our hope that we would run into them the next day. But they told us they were the "relaxed Germans" and weren't planning on starting until 9 AM the next day. They didn't seem to believe us when we said we would be walking by 6:45-7:00 AM. "We'll see..." they said. To which Lauren responded, "Or you won't! Because we'll be gone!"

And gone we were, following the little yellow arrows, stopping for orange juice and people watching, and chatting away as we enjoyed walking another 20 kilometers through Galicia.

We don't know where life will lead us post Fulbright life, but for now we'll just keep following these little yellow arrows we keep finding!

A sculpture on our way into Santiago

Back in the city!

 

Post-camino we checked into a hostel with paper sheets (we couldn't decide if that counts as sheets or not... probably not...), showered, and went back to the plaza to watch the peregrinos arrive. Unfortunately, we never ran into the Germans again, but we did meet up with María, the girl who had the farm in Galicia that I WWOOFed at earlier this year. It was a wonderful surprise to meet up once again and say goodbye. Or hasta luego.

In the main plaza of Santiago de Compostela

Well, once again I caught the camino bug. It was an incredible two days spent in a unique culture and community of people that I would love to invest more in at some point in life. Hopefully in one of my visits to Spain (because I AM visiting in the future!) I will get the chance to do a much longer part of the camino or even the whole thing... with sheets.

Much love from Spain,

Amber

Going to the chapel and we're gonna get married...

Okay, to clarify for all of my fans who don't actually know me (in case you exist), I am not part of the we in the title of this post. But the Dixie Cups song was running through my head so many times during Ali's "Wedding Week" that I couldn't resist using it as the title!

Obviously, wedding week was busy with last minute preparations and celebrations. Between my arrival Sunday evening and my departure Saturday afternoon, I helped with writing name tags, designing quite a few signs, decorating the church, setting up the reception hall, throwing the bachelorette party, rehearsing for the wedding, attending the rehearsal dinner, experiencing all that the wedding day entails, and tearing down my mom's and sister's 9 months of hard work afterwards! Post-wedding, I also managed to sneak in 2 games of Dominion with mom and the big brothers :)

It was far from vacation (which is how all of my Spanish co-workers described it), but it was definitely a week that I will happily remember for the rest of my life. After all, who wouldn't be excited about welcoming a man THIS excited about Newsies into the family?

Waiting outside the Newsies theater in NYC, May 2012

Mike had already become part of our family, playing countless strategy games with my brothers over the holidays, making my niece blush, schmoozing with my mom, and showing love and kindness to my sister throughout life's twists and turns. But it was time to make it official.

Mike is one of the most supportive, godly young men I have met. I'm glad he will always be there for my sister to lean on!

A mandatory element of wedding preparations was the bachelorette party and for the sake of not embarrassing Ali, I won't reveal too many details of what that entailed. But I can tell you that we did lots of blindfolding (which in turn made Ali a bit carsick... oops!), made fake confirmation calls to a stripper, bowled, ate, painted our nails, and enjoyed some quality girl talk. It was a great girls' night and it was wonderful to see my sister hanging out with some of her best friends from all over the United States.

The whole gang at Houlihan's

Doing our nails in the log cabin 

Then, of course, there were the wedding morning festivities... 

 

Josh and B finishing breakfast while the girls started getting dressed. Look at that smile!

The SUPER excited flower girl getting her hair done!

The bridesmaids all done up and hanging out before putting our dresses on. (No, contrary to one of my co-teacher's beliefs, these were not our dresses!)

Once we got dressed, we started the lengthy photography process... 

All of the bridesmaids watching as they took pictures of the beautiful bride

The adorable flower girl

The bride with all her bridesmaids, acting "natural"

But it was totally worth it, because it led to beautiful photos like these ones:

The newlyweds trekking through the weeds

Credit: HannahBeth Photography

 

Stunning.

Credit: HannahBeth Photogoraphy

  

Like I said before, I will definitely remember Ali's wedding week for the rest of my life. It was wonderful to be able to celebrate alongside Ali and Mike after watching them grow up together over the past four years. They are an inspiring young couple who is seeking after God first and above all. Although there are so many unknowns in their lives, they are open to adventure and to God's unexpected and unimaginable plans. I'm so proud that I have such wonderful people as my siblings.

Though I must admit I struggled with twinges of loss throughout the wedding process (Of course I'm not only referring to the fact that Ali moved all of her clothes out of her closet in Hershey this week! ;)), I was also able to use the past few months to reassess where I was putting my hope and how I was planning my future.

I realized that in the back of my mind, I had still hoped that the dream that Ali and I had once imagined would come true: We would live together and work together in her first years after college, teaching in the same district and sharing clothes, late night chats, and meals. I had hoped we could, as adults, relive those morning drives from home to HHS, singing along to Justin Timberlake's "What Goes Around Comes Around". When I made the decision 6 years ago to go to college 10 and a half hours away from home, I hadn't anticipated how much I would miss life with my mom and sister. Time spent living life together during the past few summers has become incredibly precious and I had looked forward to the possibility of a future where we could reclaim our day-in and day-out relationship.

Our one and only "World's Largest" find during our summer road trip to Texas, 2010

At the Trevi Fountain in Rome during our summer vacation through Europe, 2013

But in that plan that I had, I hadn't accounted for the twists and turns and unexpected surprises that life would sent us.

Ali changing her major away from Elementary Education.
Me packing up and heading to Spain to teach.
Ali and Mike getting married.
Me applying for a job in China.

Of course, there are million details and experiences that come with and among and between those events. And though they have lead us to places we perhaps didn't imagine, we would never want to change them. Ali and I have lived, we've learned, and we've become people who are eager to see what God has for us next.

What God has for us.
Not what my plan says.
What God's plan is.

And when I realized that I had once again made the foolish mistake of believing that my plan was better than God's plan, I realized also how wrong I was in thinking that Ali and I were moving in opposite directions. Yes, we will be living on different continents and no, we will not be able to share clothes, but we will be living together in God's truth and we will be sharing God's love with one another. We can move forward, not by moving in together, but by simultaneously jumping feet first into our respective next chapters of life. We can exchange stories of life in a new city, with new roommates (hers more permanent than mine) and trade new recipes (hoping that we can each find the necessary ingredients in our respective countries). Ali and I won't go for many runs together in the next two years, but daily we will both "run with endurance the race God has set before us" (Hebrews 12:1).

Ali, "Every time I think of you, I give thanks to my God.  I always pray for you, and I make my requests with a heart full of joy... and I am sure that God, who began the good work within you, will continue his work until it is finally finished on that day when Christ Jesus comes back again. It is right that I should feel as I do about all of you, for you have a very special place in my heart. We have shared together the blessings of God... God knows how much I love you and long for you with the tender compassion of Christ Jesus. I pray that your [and Mike's] love for each other will overflow more and more, and that you will keep on growing in your knowledge and understanding. For I want you to understand what really matters, so that you may live pure and blameless lives until Christ returns. May you always be filled with the fruit of your salvation -- those good things that are produced in your life by Jesus Christ -- for this will bring much glory and praise to God" (Philippians 1:3-11).

Yes, I admit it. I shed tears on Ali's wedding day. Tears of joy for her new life with Mike and tears of loss for the moments that I didn't fully appreciate having such a wonderful friend across the hall from me. This definitely isn't where I expected either of us to be in June of 2014, but it's better than I could have ever imagined. So let's keep living life, expecting God to show up without putting limits on him with our meager expectations. Congratulations to the bride and groom; Mike, if I have to share my little sister with someone, I'm glad it's you!  

Love from Spain,
Amber 

"If ever there is tomorrow when we're not together... 
there is something you must always remember. 
You are braver than you believe, 
stronger than you seem, 
and smarter than you think. 
But the most important thing is, even if we're apart, I'll always be with you."   

- Winnie the Pooh
 

Global Classroom International: MUN Fun!

As I mentioned in my last post, I was blessed to have been selected by the Fulbright program and the GCI conference committee to participate in GCI 2014 in New York City from May 13-17. However, having only started MUN (Model United Nations) 20 months ago, I was also worried about it; I expected to be be completely out of my league. I knew I would be staffing the conference with individuals who had been MUN delegates for anywhere from 3 to 8 years and were probably much more prepared than I was. Nevertheless, I was welcomed with open arms by MUNers from all over the globe, all of whom seemed to be genuinely good people. After all, they spend their free time researching global issues from the perspective of lesser-known countries, thinking critically to find creative solutions to both age-old and new problems, and then helping middle school and high school kids do the same. You're not likely to get many weeds in that bunch.

 GCI 2014 Staff in the UN

Here are a few anecdotes about the weekend to help you get a picture of my experience...

Opening ceremonies

We snaked students around the UN building and throughout the hallways while we waited for three hours to begin the opening ceremonies. During those three hours, we caught glimpses of indigenous people tramping through the UN headquarters in their traditional garb, ready to represent their people and inspire the delegates to maintain the rights of the people who lived on the land before colonization and megacities. I admit the wait was long, but knowing that real UN delegates were in session discussing important issues made the sarcastic questions from advisers ("Is this the opening ceremonies or the closing ceremonies? We've been here so long I don't even know anymore.") seem somewhat unwarranted and thus easier to bear.

When we finally made it in, the staffers sitting in the back began the blackmail, documenting and publically shaming (on our FB group) anyone who decided to take a snooze.

One of many snoozers. Was this one on #teamnosleep?

Taking it easy

A few months ago, I took a rather lengthy survey that would determine my roommates for the conference. It became clear on the first day that we had all stated our desire to not be part of #teamnosleep on the survey, so I figured my chances of sleep deprivation during the conference were significantly reduced. Our schedules were packed with early (like 6 AM early) morning meetings, late night staff socials, and training and committee sessions all day long. However, my roommates (energetic and social college kids who didn't have to worry about how sleep deprivation would influence their ability to enjoy a week of wedding preparations for their sister's wedding), were quickly drawn in by the thrill of the nightlife in NYC. This led to the following conversation on Thursday night...

Roommate #1: I think I'm going to go out tonight.
Roommate #2: I'm definitely going out tonight.
Roommate #1: Yeah, we took it easy last night, so we should go out.
Amber: Took it easy? I was the first one asleep last night and went to bed at 12:30. I got the most sleep, but I had to wake up at 5:00 to shower and get breakfast before our 6:30 meeting. That's FOUR AND A HALF hours of sleep. That is taking it EASY?
Roommate #1: Well we didn't go out, so yeah...

This was the beginning of many conversations between me and my roommates that basically consisted of:

Roommate: Noticing that Amber has brushed her teeth and is reading in bed in her pajamas... Wait, Amber... aren't you coming out...?
Amber: Thinking of how poorly she was representing Spanish nightlife but at the same time, really not caring... NO WAY, José.

Teacher Amber

The other members of my dais started to chuckle at me after a few days, talking about how they could see my personality and mannerisms switch into teacher mode whenever I saw the students. Then, after a few days they said to me, "Amber, you're such a teacher! It comes to you so naturally. So naturally that now we're starting to doubt which is your default. We thought that you switched out of social mode to go into teacher mode for the kids... but maybe that is your default mode and you have to switch into a special mode to be able to talk to us..."

The kids

Amber: Talking to Ankit as he gets out of the elevator... Ankit, have you seen the kids?
Ankit: No, not yet, have you?
Amber: As the doors are closing... Yep! I just saw two of them!
Doors close on Amber in the elevator with a young female GCI staffer.
GCI staffer: So, uh, you brought kids to the conference?
Amber: Yep, we have ten here with us.
GCI staffer: Ten?!
Amber: Yep, they just got in this afternoon from Madrid with their teachers.
GCI staffer: Ohhhhhhhh, they are students?
Elevator arrives to Amber's floor and the doors begin to open.
Amber: Exiting, Yep! I was in charge of the GC program in Madrid this school year.
GCI staffer: Oh, gosh. Phew! I thought you were a Mom!
Dumbfounded and with her mouth hanging wide open, Amber turns and watches the doors close on the young staffer. A mom?!

Cup point

Throughout the GCI conference, the staff was grouped into different bodies of the UN who were all competing against each other for the infamous 'cup points'. At the end of the conference, the team with the most cup points won the chance to drink out of a special trophy (in the shape of a cup) which seemed to have a huge significance for many other MUNers but to this day is something that I don't understand.

I was, however, a recipient of a cup point... that was awarded on behalf of an adviser. When one of the delegates hailing from Mexico started to feel dizzy during committee, I sat in the hall with her while we contacted all of the necessary supervisors and got permission for the student to be able to go back to her room to lie down. While we waited, we sat and chatted about the six week solo trip around Europe that her parents let her take when she was 17 years old. (Slightly shocked, I had NO problem coming up with more questions to ask her about the trip.)

I fully enjoyed the conversation, AND it gave me a chance to sit down after hours of walking around the room, passing notes between Germany and France and Swaziland and South Africa. Nevertheless, I wasn't about to deny the cup point since our team (which was one of the smaller teams) wasn't doing so well. But my roommate called me out on it when I got back to our room and joked with me, "Amber, you would get a cup point for that! It's not really fair... you're such a mom!"

(Are we noticing a trend? The other staffers thought I was old!)

 HRC (Human Rights Council) Dais - the best dais ever - selfie! HRC is of the three daises that is part of the Functional and Subsidiary Bodies team.

Selfies

I had no idea that selfies were such a big deal. At our USG group dinner, someone tried to take a selfie of us and wasn't able to fit us all in. One of the staffers from the other table took the picture for us, but instructed the guy to stick his arm out so that it looked like he was taking a selfie. Everyone considered this to be #protip (so much #ing and so many pro tips during the week...) worthy and I seemed to be the only person who had missed the memos that selfies had become a desirable look for a photo. Who knew?!

 GC Madrid selfie! Gone are the days when we would ask the teacher standing right next to us to take the picture for us...


Senior Secretariat selfie! And Amber? Somehow the newbie (me) ended up riding back to the hotel in a fancy SUV after the staff social with the people who ran the conference.

The missing passport

On the last morning in New York City, I got a bit of surprise teacher training.

For the first time throughout the whole conference, I was finally going to get the chance to hang out with the students who had come from Madrid. I had passed them a few times coming in and out of the elevators, but we spent all day in different committee sessions and they were out touring New York City with their teachers by the time that I got out of debriefing meetings at the end of the day.

So, on Sunday morning, we all met in the lobby at 9 to leave our bags with the concierge and grab some breakfast before heading out to Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty. Since the Grand Hyatt is attached to Grand Central Station, we decided to go to Junior's in the food court for some bagels and breakfast sandwiches.

After breakfast, we headed back to the hotel lobby to pick up the stragglers who had overslept and forgotten to pack. Once we met up with them, we did a quick count, only to find that we were missing a student. Seconds later though, Iván showed up. I began to herd everyone out the door, despite the commotion and chatter that seemed to be stalling the movement of our group.

As we approached the exit, one of the teachers came up to me and revealed the reason for the chatter: "Iván lost his passport."

Oh, gosh. Surely it wasn't lost... it had just been momentarily displaced. In packing up to leave he had probably just left in the safe or put it in a different pocket in his bag or threw it in his suitcase or something....

"I had it in my backpack and I left the backpack under the table at breakfast. I just went back to the food court and it's gone."

SHOOT.

Not knowing what lie ahead of us, I sent Ankit, Lucía, and the rest of the students off to Ellis Island, not wanting all of the students to miss out on the big trip of the day. Meanwhile, María Jesús (Yes, Mary Jesus... I know more than one of these here in Spain), Iván, and I began the search.

Upon re-entering Grand Central Station, I asked: the patrolling officers, the people who were sitting at the table where we had been, the workers at the food stands, and, finally, one of the maintenance managers. The maintenance manager explained to me that if he or any of his guys had found a backpack, they would have called the police officers, who would have brought the bomb sniffing dogs over to investigate before touching the bag. Figuring that only 10 minutes had passed and nobody had seen that happened, I didn't expect to get much information from the police. But, after checking with the station manager and searching through the bathrooms and trash cans, we figured it was the next stop.

When I walked in, all I could see was the bald shiny spots on the top of the policemen's heads, since the desk was an awkwardly high height. I stood up on my tip toes to get their attention and then explained the situation. My student's backpack had been lost, his passport was in the backpack, and he was supposed to be leaving for Spain that evening.

The policeman gave us an apologetic shake of his head and told us that they hadn't been called to check out a backpack and customer service was closed, so there was no lost and found to check. Anything that someone else had found would be dropped into the blue box in the corner of the room, which was locked for security purposes and could only be opened by an employee from customer service Monday-Friday, between 8 and 5. But, he had been sitting in the room for the past hour and nobody had dropped off a backpack.

Disheartened, we waited as he wrote down the information for the Spanish consulate and went back to the hotel, where we could make a few calls and begin to get ourselves organized. First we called the consulate, where I ignored their claim that a lost passport is not an emergency, and encouraged Iván to play up the "I'm a 14-year old who is about to get left in New York with no money" card to see what help we could get on a Sunday morning. I called up the Fulbright Program Officer and the head of the bilingual program in the Consejería de Educación to see who would pay for the change in flights (or new flights) and an extra night at the hotel if that became necessary. Iván called his parents and shed his first tears when his mom responded with pure silence, the kind of silence that fills any kid with dread. Then we began a long series of back and forth conversations with the consulate as they tried figure out a way to get the paperwork done on a weekend.

Finally, they called us with the good news that historically, when this has happened to a minor traveling with a group, he or she has been able to fly with the rest of the group with the police report stating the theft and a photocopy of his passport. There were no promises, but there was hope.

As I reported this back to Iván, I saw his face fall at the mention of the photocopy. He put his head in his hands and his chest began to expand with the deep breaths that could not be read as a good sign.

Quietly, I asked Iván, "Iván, is something wrong?"
He slowly looked up at me and said, "The photocopy was in the backpack..."

Thankfully, everything is digitized nowadays and he had a PDF of the photocopy in his e-mail. At least one crisis was averted. The three of us were feeling a little more positive and we headed back to the police station to get the police report for Iván to take to the airport with him.

When we walked into the police station, I glimpsed the shiny bald head and began chattering away, "We're back... apparently if we take the police report he still may be able to board. So we just need to get that report and hope for the best."

Confused, the officer on the other side of the desk stood up and said,"I'm sorry, you're going to have to catch me up. I wasn't here earlier." So, I began to explain the story yet again and when I got to the part about his blue backpack, the police officer asked me, "Did it have school supplies in it?" Surprised by his question, I nodded slowly and felt myself gasp for breath when he said, "The backpack is in that lost and found box."

WHAT?!?!
WAHOOOOOOOOOOO!!!
WE'VE FOUND IT!
OH WAIT.
CRAP.
THAT BOX IS LOCKED.
UNTIL TOMORROW MORNING.

While I tried to explain to the policeman the importance of finding someone to open that box up for me, I became more and more excited about having "found" the backpack. The policeman starts listing off people for me to go talk to when he finally says, "Unless you want to see if you can reach it...."

I ran over to the box, which is very similar in size to a USPS mailbox, but functions like a drop box in that it seals completely when you open it up the whole way. I began to fight to get at the right angle to reach it and when Iván looked in and could see it was his, I decided nothing was stopping me. I tried to get the policeman to get me a hanger, which I planned on using to pull the backpack up to the top with. When he didn't have one (Me: "You don't have a hanger?! Don't you hang up your uniform?!"), I decided to stand on a chair to be able to reach in deeper.

Meanwhile, I apologized again and again to the policeman, hoping he wouldn't get in trouble for my lack of inhibitions. But he stood there calmly and told me, "Don't worry, you're on camera." Not knowing where the camera was, I gave a monologue to the exit sign explaining my actions as we proceeded to tip the box (Policeman: "I've never seen one that isn't bolted to the ground before...") and lie on the floor, reaching into it until the teacher could grab the backpack and pull it out.

As soon as Iván got a hold of his backpack, he opened it up and joyfully pulled out the notebook from the MoMA that he had bought for his sister. (Me: "The passport, Iván, the passport!") María excitedly asked Iván to find the award that he had won the previous day and they happily admired it. (Me: "The passport, Iván, the passport!") Finally, I got him to find his passport that was tucked under everything.

Insert: MASSIVE SIGH OF RELIEF.

Iván and I with the passport in the police station

Needless to say, we were on top of the world. And the policeman was hands down my favorite person of the day.

What a trip! These are some of the more humorous anecdotes, but when I think back on the trip, I also have countless positive memories from committee sessions. I witnessed impressive students from all over the world (Egypt, Germany, U.S.A., Mexico...) use diplomatic language to talk in an educated manner about Unmanned Aerial Vehicles. I observed the U.S.A. delegation maintain their cool in committee when the guest speaker from Amnesty International gave other delegations loads of ammunition (poor metaphor choice?) against their policies. I encouraged as delegations who had been excluded from the major blocs wrote their own resolution in the second to last session (which then ended up being the only resolution be passed by the committee). And most importantly, I met amazing people age 14-25 who inspired me to take MUN with me long after Fulbright ends.

Thank you all for a wonderful experience.
It's been MUNderful.

Un abrazo fuerte a todos,

Amber