______________ in translation

To use the same words is not a sufficient guarantee of understanding; one must use the same words for the same genus of inward experience; ultimately one must have one's experiences in common. 

- Friedrich Nietzsche

How true that is. Words are not always enough. Expectations, social norms, and connotation must be learned. And though I will be excited to spend 10 days at home in my own culture, speaking my own language, I have enjoyed the ups and downs (definitely more the ups though) of learning how to translate an idea using not only words but also actions. Here are a few stories of my experiences...

 (Initially) Insulted in translation

Last week I hung out with a Spaniard who did a Fulbright a couple of years ago in Washington D.C. After discussing an array of topics such as literature, paddle (a very popular sport here... similar to tennis/racquetball?), and my job, Juan described me as inquieta. Not knowing what that meant, I turned to wordreference.com, my favorite language dictionary because it includes cultural and idiomatic uses of words. Well, my friends, inqueita means: restless, lively, fidgety, worried, uneasy, and troubled. Awesome.

Juan could tell that these were not positive adjectives, and quickly tried to remedy the situation by saying that inquieta meant it was a person like me. Well, thank you, but I still don't know what impression you have of me after an hour of conversation. He continued to explain that inquieta is someone who asks a lot of questions and interested in learning new things.

"Okay, but that's not what wordreference says...." I recounted.
"Well, who do you trust: wordreference or me?"
"I've known wordreference for about 8 years now and it's never let me down. So I'm going to say wordreference; sorry."

I let it go after that, but still curious by the time I got home, I looked at wordreference on my computer. Then I realized that with the small size of a phone screen, you couldn't see all of the definitions. So in the end, inquieta does have another definition: curious, inquiring, on the go, enterprising, dynamic, ambitious.

Not so bad after all. (Yes, I apologized.)

Humor in translation

"The keys do not fit the lock. They cost 20 euros (shakes head)... and we are in crisis!" It would not be an exaggeration in the least to say that I hear la crisis at least once every day. The Spaniards discuss the current status of the country using a word that, in English, is rarely used seriously. I think I've only used the word "crisis" when talking about a mid-life crisis or recounting a dramatic series of events for attention.

Perhaps I'm not being respectful enough of the difficult position that Spain is currently in, but when my friend's roommate tells her, "¡Tienes que reciclar porque estamos en crisis!" (We have to recycle because we are in crisis!), you can't help but chuckle at the direct translation. 

Lost in translation

Some days my Spanish fails me. Such an instance occurred last week, when I worked with a group of 10 students alone. Now, most of my students have an impressively high level of English. But not all of my teenage students are motivated to practice a foreign language; some barely sneak by with their classes in Spanish. So when I was left alone with the ten students with the lowest level of English (and coinciding lowest level of motivation), things did not go well.

Unfortunately, when grouped by level (as I designed, hoping that since they were the only ones there it would force them to speak), the interactions are less than ideal. Mix a friend group of "cool" boys with a few girls who doubt their abilities so much that they revert to saying even the most simple phrases in Spanish and a splash of a student who lacks the ability to have normal social interactions and has turned mean as a result of all of the teasing she has experienced. Recipe for fun? Negative.

Anyway, while I was trying to lead a discussion about the use of social media in the classroom, I noticed some of the students whispering and smirking. I threw out my teacher look and continued on, not drawing attention to the disruptions. But as the whispering turned more into a general discussion, I realized that a few of the students were deliberately making fun of another student right in front of my face. Yet the whole thing went completely over my head because in my attempt to continue with the lesson, I ignored what the students were saying. However, I didn't unconsciously pick up on what the students said as I would have in English. Instead I was left staring at the students, at a loss for what had just been said but aware from the looks on a few students' faces that someone had taken it farther than they should have in front of a teacher.

Not that I could do anything. Because I had no idea what had just been said.

Mistaken in translation

Feeling a little anxious after the event mentioned above, I took the time to report the event in detail to the teacher whose class I was in, another teacher who works closely with the particular group of students, and my coordinator. Desiring to avoid liability for what seemed like a serious bullying issue, I left no one out.

Wrong move, Amber. There are not liability issues in Spain like there are in the states. Instead I ended up offending the teacher whose class I was in because I did not address him individually first. Although I did what I consider to be "right," the cultural norms did not align. After three different conversations on the issue, I now know the procedure for dealing with classroom issues at my school is much simpler than what I was taught.

Saved in translation

On Monday, my Spanish didn't fail me. Handy, because I was literally trapped in a bathroom stall in a park. It wasn't even locked, the wood was just so tight that even though I was thrusting my body against it, it wouldn't budge. I've never been so happy to say a phrase in Spanish as I was to say "la puerta no abre" (the door doesn't open) as the only other woman in the bathroom was walking out the door.

Offended in translation

Some days (for some, most days), we get to work and are ready to just get to work. That is exactly my goal when I arrive early to school on Thursday mornings. I spend Wednesday night preparing all of the PDFs to print, reminding myself of all the copies I need to make, and setting an alarm clock that will allow me to get all of the work done before the coffee break so that I can chat with the other assistants and later leave immediately (but fully prepared) after my last class of the week.

So, Thursday mornings, my biggest hurdle is finding a computer that is open, hooked up to a printer (which must then have toner and paper), and connected to the internet. (This is way more difficult than some of you may imagine.) Once this goal is accomplished, it's smooth sailing. After a few pointers from some other teachers, I realized that my highest probability of success lies in going to the teachers' room in the Bachillerato building.

I can normally tell before I even walk into the room if the computer is free because although the door is a cloudy glass, it's transparent enough that I can make out a figure in the chair. If I don't see anyone at the computer, I make a beeline for it before any of the teachers sitting at the table decide that it is the opportune moment to check their e-mail or re-format an exam.

But a few weeks ago, as I was happily printing off my lesson plans and worksheets, I overheard the teachers at the table talking (in Spanish) about an assistant. Unwilling to get involved, I ignored the conversation. However, shortly after, the printer ran out of paper and I had to interrupt them to find out where I could get another ream. (By the way, I couldn't get an entire ream of paper for the printer at once... estamos en crisis.) One of the teachers at the table (who had attended my after school English class for teachers for a few weeks at the beginning of the year) offered to help me and lead me out of the room.

Once we entered the stairwell, said professor asked me "Did you hear what she was saying in there about you?" About me? I never even began to imagine that they were talking about me when I was right there. Turns out, I had offended the one teacher by not greeting them when I walked in the door. Focused on my checklist, I overlooked the social greetings that are critical to good manners. Let's just say that I make a more conscious effort nowadays to make sure that I say "Buenos días" loud and proud when I walk in a room, whether I think someone's listening or not.

Touched in translation

Thank you, Amber, for your nice words!!!!! I am learning a lot from you, I like to grow, to get richness, to learn... Above all I enjoy being the witness of your energy and pleasure when you are teaching, it is contagious. So we both are blessed because we have still several months to walk along together this path...

My best (honestly),
Fabiola 

It doesn't take perfect grammar to make someone feel on top of the world. I am blessed beyond belief with the placement I received this year. 

Uncomfortable in translation

My dedicated followers may remember the difficulty I have had becoming accustomed to seeing poverty on a daily basis. Although I had come up with a solution that I thought satisfied my duties as a fellow human being and a Christian, I couldn't shake the thought that I walk by the same three women begging on a daily basis. I think about them as I set out from my apartment; I think about them as I greet them good morning; I think about them almost every time I see someone sitting on the sidewalk with an out-stretched hand. Yet I struggled for a way to share that with them.

After a few conversations with a friend from house church, I decided that there was not a huge sense of dependency that would be developed from offering them a little bit of food once a week. Some juice, bread and tuna do not make a large dent in my grocery bill, but it could feed a few people. And more importantly, they would know someone is thinking about them.

My problem now is that one of the women has begun to approach me on a daily basis, speaking with a thick accent and obviously asking for money for something. Unwilling to give her cash and unable to truly understand her, I find myself reduced once again to a simple "Buenos días", a nod, and a smile. I'm uncomfortable, but I'm trying to follow through with my convictions and I'm praying that God will use my meager offering as communication enough.

Inspired in translation 

Okay, I'll admit I was wrong about 12 year olds. They can be pretty great. When I was student teaching they were awkward, fidgety, and unmotivated. Then again, how excited can you really be about learning reflexive pronouns and how to spell 273 in Spanish?

Here, however, my 1°ESO students don't cease to impress me. They often understand my jokes better than 3°ESO or 1 Bachillerato. They even got this week's somewhat challenging Christmas joke: Why does Santa have 3 gardens? So he can hoe, hoe, hoe! Who knew 12 year olds know the word for a gardening tool in their second language? One student last week even impressed me with a joke of his own: Why does an elephant use his trunk as a bookmark? So he always nose where he is! Dang impressive!

Anyway, one of the last assignments we did in our poetry unit was sensory poetry. I couldn't believe the sensitivity and imagination these kids these kids were able to express in a language that is not their native tongue. Perhaps you will be as impressed as I was...

*Poems published with students' permission

Optimism

Love

Sadness

Love feels like hugging a puppy? Sadness smells like cold, wet fish? Who comes up with this? I questioned the one student about his statement, "Optimism smells like a hen house", only to be blown away by his response about how he loves the smell of his grandfather's hen house and he thinks there are a lot of possibilities with all of the eggs inside. Speechless.

So there you have it: the good and the bad. There's definitely a learning curve, but I am an eager student. I look forward to a greater mastery of communication as time continues, though I am certainly not rushing it (time, that is)!

Especially not the upcoming 10 days that I will spend with the people that I love the most! I will see many of you soooooooooooo soon!

Much love and Merry Christmas!
Amber

“The word 'translation' comes, etymologically, from the Latin for 'bearing across'. Having been borne across the world, we are translated men. It is normally supposed that something always gets lost in translation; I cling, obstinately to the notion that something can also be gained.”

- Salman Rushdie, Imaginary Homelands: Essays and Criticism 1981-1991

Trapping light in Valencia

As I was walking to church on Sunday morning, I realized that in less than just two short weeks, I will be in the United States. Two weeks from that moment, I will be curled up in my bed in my house. As I excitedly recounted this to Liz and Rodolfo (a friend from church and her friend), Rodolfo looked at me and asked me how long I'd been here. His tone inferred that he thought it had been a long time since I'd been home. When I told him I arrived in September he looked at me a little confused, wondering why I was so excited to go home already.

Well, my friends, I love Spain. But here are a few things I'm looking forward to enjoying quite soon: Family and friends. Fires in the fireplace. White chicken chili. Heat 24 hours a day. Stromboli. Family and friends. 104 The Rose Christmas station. Christmas movies on TV. The smell of an 11 foot Frasier in the living room. Brunch at the hotel. Family and friends. Family and friends. Family and friends.

Traveling is amazing (I'll recount my trip to Valencia shortly), but there is something about being with family at the holidays that reminds you that the true value of adventure comes in reliving it through stories with those you love.

So here I go, reliving my adventure in blog form...

"Remember, trap as much light as you can, and also a bit of salt from the breeze of the Mediterranean sea." - María José, in an e-mail offering a restaurant suggestion

I did trap quite a bit of light, in pictures. But the only salt I brought back consists of the grains of sand that are stuck in the crevices of my boots and the table salt that my body is still digesting from my culinary experiences. Nonetheless, the breeze of the sea and the vitamin D of the sun made this weekend a marvelous weekend away from the currently chilly city of Madrid.

 

Sidewalk in Valencia 

Valencia is known for it's "City of Arts and Sciences", which has a science museum, an aquarium, and a theater inside some pretty amazing buildings.

L'Hemisfèric: Oh, ya know, just an iMAX theater, planitarium, and laserium (for those of you who don't know, that's a laser light show). The reflection of the building in the water makes it look like an eye, leading to it's other name: "The Eye of Knowledge."

L'Oceanogràfic: An aquarium! All of the buildings inside the complex were really neat as well.

AND I saw a dolphin show for the first time since I was about 6.

Valencia is also known for its paella. And since I obviously don't go anywhere without considering what I will eat, I wrote an e-mail to María José (one of the teachers at my school) asking for her to remind me of the restaurant she had suggested the day before at school. It was well worth the 30 second e-mail I sent off, because here is what awaited Napala and I at Casa Roberto, the restaurant that won first prize in an international contest of paellas. I have never loved rice so much.

Perhaps you think this is a lot of food. It is.

Perhaps you thought we wouldn't finish it. We did.

Then, as we walked off our "rice babies", we enjoyed the Christmas lights of the city.

 One of the main streets in the city.

But we're resilient and the paella did not stop us from eating again on our trip. Here's a peek of some of our other indulgences:

Our first pintxos experience since Santander. You pick what you want from the bar (all are some sort of bread with cheese/vegetable/meat topping) and at the end to pay they count the number of toothpicks you have.

 

We enjoyed a coffee at a very pinterest-like cafe on the beach.

Of course the coffee was necessary after all of the pastries we ate on the beach. This one was my favorite, a chocolate filled chocolate magdalena. Deliciously chocolate but surprisingly not too sweet...

Spread of seafood that Napala and I shared: mussels, tuna, shrimp, prawns, and another unknown fillet of fish.

So yes, a lot of salt that I brought back was from the food that I ate. But I also breathed in the breeze from the sea during a nice long walk on the beach.

The weather was a perfect fall day, not too hot nor too cold.

And of course, we explored the city a bit more. After spending so much time in Madrid, it was fun to be in a city where you felt like you knew it after just one day. So Napala and I enjoyed meandering our way through the streets.

Part of a porch outside the ceramic museum.

Enjoying the architecture and design of the ceramic museum. I think I paid more attention to the building it was housed in than the actual ceramics.

So all in all, Valencia was wonderful. It wasn't a winter wonderland, but I certainly can not complain about walking along the beach in December. I fully enjoyed my last adventure in Europe in 2012 and will be bringing a few pieces of it home at Christmas time. Get excited family!

Now, since I haven't blogged in quite some time (almost two weeks!), here are a few other updates about my life.

El Juramento. I went to see the opera at Teatro de Zarzuela with my French roommate and her boyfriend on Wednesday! (It was 2,50€... how could I not?) At first I had a hard time following, but after a while I realized it was because they were using old language, which included different vocabulary and the use of vos as tú. Luckily I had learned about some of that in my Spanish linguistics class so I caught on after a while. Here's a short clip of El Juramento.

P.S. Don't worry, I couldn't understand them either. There were captions on a screen above the stage.

Advent. "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it... The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth." John 1:1-5, 14

Every year since I was in 7th grade, I have had the opportunity to dance in an advent service of some kind. When I was in high school, I was often dressed as an angel, dancing in Hershey Free Christmas services. (Bonus fact: One year I even had to wear Christmas lights under a massive white dress so that I lit up.) When I was in college I danced with Sacred, contributing to Pillar church or Hope chapel services. And this year, 6 time zones away, in a foreign country, I was given the opprotunity to blend dance with the scripture in Spanish. In our modest Sunday gathering of about 65 people, I moved to Juan 1:1-14, sharing my form of worship with a whole new group of people.

The response was overwhelmingly postitive, reminding me that although I often hold back to blend in, my individuality in this form is something that can contribute positively do a body of believers. Just because I don't get to dance around the Dow with wonderful friends from Sacred every Saturday morning does not mean I can forget the mission of a club that was so influential in my college life. Sacred Dance Ministry: to live and spread God's word through movement.

Check out 15 year-old Amber rocking the angel get-up. I remember one year I walked through a snowstorm in this outfit because our power went out and I we couldn't get our car out of the garage. Oddly enough, nobody stopped to pick up the girl wearing an angel outfit and UGG boots.

The turkey carcass. It has been transformed! Luckily I did so before Luis cleaned out the freezer and found a rather large carcass taking up a quarter of our very small freezer.

Making turkey stock is about a 5 hour affair. Good thing I don't work on Fridays.

But the end result, a vegetable lentil soup, was awesome!

Madrid es más navidad. So say the signs all around the city. This past week they finally lit up the lights that have been taunting me since just after Halloween. And they are quite beautiful! 

Inside the huge tree in Sol.

One of the many lights that are hung almost saucer-like over one of the main streets. 

Continued love from friends and family. As I said before, the most exciting part of coming home this year is the opportunity to see my friends and family. Nonetheless, I am continuously encouraged by letters (and the occasional package!) from home. When I came home from Valencia to my apartment on Sunday, the card and Trader Joe's treats reminded me of the hug that I would walk into on many other occasions. So thanks, guys. I love you and I appreciate your constant support!

 

Don't mind if I do!

Much love,

Amber 

Three Thanksgivings and 10 cents change.

Well, my friends, I ate three versions of Thanksgiving dinner since we last spoke. Here's a brief recount...

Thanksgiving #1

Chef(s) (this is possibly the most important question): Juan
Guests: Napala, Dan, Juanaco, and I
Location: Juan/Dan/Juanaco's apartment
Date: Thanksgiving Thursday
Foooooooooooooood: Spanish.

Manchego (from Juanaco's town) and picos

Clams in some sort of AMAZING butter garlic sauce

Dorado... "goldfish"!

Favorite moments: "¡Amber! Tienes que crecer! (Amber! You have to grow!)," says Juan as he piles extra fish and potatoes on my plate. Normally I would disagree, but a food baby is almost a requirement of a Thanksgiving meal.

Although I didn't have turkey on Thanksgiving, it was awesome to know that the Spaniards wanted us to enjoy our day regardless. I even got an e-mail from one of the teachers I work with wishing me a happy thanksgiving and hopes that I wouldn't miss my family too much. Also, it was wonderful to hang with friends before going home and catching up with my family on skype. Last, but not least, since Juan is such a great cook, I didn't have to feel too bad about missing out on the food at home, which Ali so "graciously" sent me pictures of.

Thanksgiving #2

Chef(s): Everyone in house church (potluck)
Guests: House church members, each one with a plus one... or two or three...
Location: "Local" (that's what we call the church)

All dolled up pinterest style

Date: Saturday
Foooooooooooooood: Traditional U.S.A.

Turkey, mashed potatoes, salad, broccoli, stuffing, sweet potatoes, carrots, cornbread, corn

The only thing missing was enough space on the plate. Yes, I still went back for seconds.

Desserts: pumpkin pie, pumpkin bread, pumpkin cookies, carrot cake...

Favorite moments: The rather quiet guest across from me, who spoke only English, brought along a date who spoke only Spanish. This made conversation a challenge since every time someone said something, someone didn't understand. Such an international festivity!

David, an auxiliar from England, and his English friend thought that pumpkin pie was a savory dish. They were quite confused when we told them it was a dessert. (David had never heard of banana bread or cream cheese frosting either.) Then later, he excitedly told everyone about how much he loves Cola Cao, the Spanish version of Nesquik. The poor boy has never had Hershey's chocolate syrup.

Thanksgiving #3

Chef(s): Napala and I... Dan helped with the turkey

  The carving required a bit of teamwork...

Guests: Kiwani campers (Dan's unadvertised wilderness camp in Maine draws a lot of campers from Madrid for some odd reason)

 

Diving into the grub

Location: Juan/Dan/Juanaco's apartment
Date: Sunday
Foooooooooooooood:Traditional U.S.A.

Due to our carving skills (or lack there of) the turkey came out a little more shredded then normal. But that just meant less cutting for individuals... which was good since we were short on knives.

 Napala's great stuffing!

Favorite moments: When Napala and I requested milk for the (boxed) mashed potatoes, Dan began this long dramatic story about how he went to buy milk but then didn't because... wait for it... it was on the shelf! Yes Dan, we've been here for 3 months and you live with two Spaniards. You didn't realize they use box milk off the shelf?

All of the Kiwani boys sang a camp song prayer to bless the meal. Fifteen high school/college/young professional boys (men?) singing around our turkey was quite precious.

When we followed Dan's family tradition of saying what we were thankful for, a few of the Spaniards said they were thankful to Napala and I for allowing them to experience what might be their only Thanksgiving ever. (These comments were followed by Río's thanks to us for making his 23rd Thanksgiving a success.) It was so bizarre to really realize that some people never celebrate thanksgiving! And even crazier to think that I was such a key part in putting that much food on the table! Clearly I learned from the best. Thanks Mom!

And of course, Juan's magic tricks make the list. As he says, "The cards talk to me..."

 He's so tricky!

The metro rides throughout the weekend are worth mentioning as well. Transporting (sometimes hot out of the oven!) Thanksgiving food across the city is no small task! By the time I had left my third Thanksgiving, I had gotten used to it though and even hoped that someone would try and pick pocket me... they would've been sorely disappointed by the turkey carcass I was carrying.

Now, from reading this blog, some people might start to think that all I ever do is eat. That's slightly true and I'm mostly okay with that. Nonetheless, there are a few other events to take note of from the past few days...

Arte-an Dantzaz Konpainia. For Napala's birthday, I bought tickets to go see a show that was part of Madrid en Danza 2012, a city-wide dance festival. We wanted to see the national company, but after confusion with the tickets, we ended up getting tickets to see a smaller Basque (a region in Spain) company. But it was AWESOME. The lines, partnering, and costuming were magnificent. Plus, their presentation of "Earth Apples" had the best use of potatoes that I've ever seen in my life. (Definitely better than the boxed mashed potatoes I ate the next day.) Check out the video below to get a glimpse of the spectacular show that we came out of our food coma to enjoy.

Las monedas. On Monday night, I went to the pandería, as usual, to buy some sweets for house church. I ordered an assortment of polvorones (typical Christmas treats... maybe I'll bring you some!), and clumsily rooted through my two different wallets to get out the proper amount of money. Then, as I was leaving, the owner pulled out a bombón (truffle-ish chocolate) to give me. A little overwhelmed by the small kindness, I mustered up a "gracias" and quickly walked out the door to organize myself.  But with so many wallets open and my hands full of my purchases and chocolate, I ended up tipping over my coin purse and sending all my monedas (coins... which are in fact worth something here since there are 1 and 2 euro coins) in every which direction. 

This would still not normally be that big of a deal, but since I had bought a 3€ cercanía (local train) ticket at a machine with a 20€ bill on Saturday night, my collection was more valuable than normal. (The machines only give you change in coins.) But after a minute or two (and with the help of a passerby), I managed to pick everything up (or at least recover the amount I knew I had in "big" coins) and I headed off to house church.

Today, I stopped again at the pandería to buy some bread to accompany the last of my chili. As I was leaving though, the owner stopped me, talking about how I had dropped all of my coins outside his door the day before. Embarrassed, I laughed off my clumsiness and told him that I had picked everything up though, so all was well. Right then, he finished fumbling in the register and told me that I had not, in fact, gotten all of my coins. Handing me a coin from the register, he recounted how he had found it when he was opening up the store that morning. 

I am in a city of over three million people, and someone took the time to give me the 10 cent coin that I had dropped the day before.

I walked out, baffled, holding back tears at the reminder of the good of humanity. Although my 9th graders maintain their squirrely chatter, disrespecting what I think is a fascinating lesson on parenthetical citation, I can't get frustrated with the human spirit. Because in the smallest gestures of kindness, I am reminded of how human beings are wired to care about each other. What a difference 10 cents makes.

Much love,

Amber

"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