Ocho Meses Son Pocos

After 8 months in a city, it's possible to still see and do new things. Maybe that's why I've chosen to live abroad twice instead of just visiting. I wanted to really get to know the cities I'm living in. This is the San Isidoro Basilica and from now on, every Saturday they will be doing a light show like this one on the facade of the building.

This section of the video shows the construction of some of the old towers in Leon and then it shows two lions walking in from either side. The light show gave the history of the city of Leon in just a short 15 minutes. I'm going to study up more on what all the different scenes mean and every Saturday from here on out, you can find me in this plaza.

We've been talking about going to the MUSAC (Museum of Contemporary Art in Leon) for lunch for months, but never got there. We had heard from various sources that they had great food. Finally, here we are. Behind Sarah you can see the famous colored windows that cover the outside of the building. It was a great little spot and we were excited to try the food.

We had originally gone upstairs and realized we were in the restaurant and not the cafe. The prices and food selection were not appealing at all. I turned to the man and said something like "We heard there were lots of salads and things like that, I think we meant to be downstairs." He definitely laughed at us, but seemed to understand. I think he was confused about why we were heading to the classy tablecloth restaurant anyways. Here we are, much more at home, but still classy enough to drink water out of wine glasses. Between cheese salads and monster-sized burgers, we left happy.

This is another new spot for me in my city. I went into this free museum called the Museo de Leon which I walk by at least 4 times a week but had never gone into. There were old coins, tools, pottery, paintings, tombstones, clothes, etc. And then at the very top on the last floor there was this little view of some of the most important places in the city. From here you can see rooftops and just the topmost towers of the Cathedral. Looks pretty magestic even when you can only see half of it.

Here is the Palacio de los Guzmanes right next to the Gaudi Casa de Botines. From ground level you never get to see their two towers next to each other.

And...my last new spot for the week. We were walking to a Cuban food restaurant (banana chips are heavenly), and I'd never gone far enough past the old city walls to see them from this spot. The lighting was perfect and it makes that building look phenomenal, though I couldn't tell you what it actually is. I suppose that means I still have some more exploring to do and I surely still have some more food to eat.

El Amor No Envejece

My lovely teacher Amor, who I work with at the high school, invited me and my roomates to her birthday party. How could we say no?

Samantha and I tend to accidently coordinate outfits, and I think it means we've been living together too long, Or perhaps for just the right amount of time. In case you can't tell, my shirt and her dress are the same print- different color. This is us on the Leon city bus for the very first time since we have lived here. That's 8 months with no bus which leads to the exictement shown by Julie in this next photo:

That kind of excitement can't be faked. Also, we were going to MonteLeon which is like a little mountain on the outskirts of the city. There was an awesome view from the bus that I didn't manage to get a picture of. We were the very last ones to get off so we didn't even get to push the STOP buttons, which indeed say STOP even though we are in Leon, Spain and most people don't speak English. However, Sam was standing in preparation to get off and with one turn she swung around the pole and nearly fell, accidently pushing the STOP button. So we did get to use it after all.

One of the things we were most excited for was to hear our other teacher, Antonio, sing some love songs for Amor's birthday. He beautifully prefaced every song with some very poetic thoughts. For example, before this one he said "There are very few things that are fundamental to our lives, things that really count. And I don’t know if we always realize that they count." He practiced his English pronunciation to prepare this song, which I loved. Excuse the fact that the video is sideways- I tried for 20 minutes to turn it and then decided to make better use of my time.

The party started out with some 80s Spanish music and finally turned into some more recognizable tunes. This in particular was a slow song, and I haven't danced like this since Junior year in high school, I think, so we were a bit awkward.

The Spaniards could always win in any dancing, drinking, staying up late competition. Here we are sitting around the dance floor taking a break because 2 in the morning is really early in Spain and it is definitely not time for them to stop dancing.

Here we have the birthday girl all in black looking younger than ever. They were working a Conga line during one of the last songs. We had been planning to catch the bus home so we went to kiss everyone at 1 to get the last bus leaving the town. They insisted "No- we are all leaving right now to go down into the city, so don't bother with the bus." We responded skeptically "You're leaving now?" And in the midst of dancing and changing the music they turned to us "Yes yes, right now." An hour and a half later we cleaned up the dance room and headed home.

Cayendo Chuzos de Punta: Literalmente

My youngest students at the high school are also the ones Sam and I got to go on a 13 hour fieldtrip with. We spent our day off with these little ones going to see the cave paintings in Altamira, an adorable village with buildings and streets alike made from small bricks and stones, and finally the remains of an ancient Roman city.

The crew at Altamira was really unorganized and they had us waiting around for nearly an hour with nothing to do because one of their guides had been injured by a student during hunting the previous day. Apparently 24 hours is not enough for them to find a replacement or come up with a different schedule, so they forced our group of 12 year olds to learn a bit of patience. The injured guide finally showed up and is showing the boys here how to launch that long arrow and hit the deer out on the field. It was rather entertaining to watch. Until...they started shouting "Leigh, Leigh- your turn!" I couldn't say no. Let it be known that of all of the girls in my group I was the only one who killed us some dinner- they even cheered for me. Now all I need is a prehistoric mate who can make fire and I'll be good to go.

When we came over here, I thought we were going to learn to make fire and I was SO excited. Until the man said "My wrist is hurt so I won't be teaching you fire today" and he showed us some tools instead. I think I might have been more disappointed than the kids. Especially since I'd proven myself in hunting, I was feeling fairly confident and wanted to show off my other paleolithic talents.

Here is Esther, the geography and history teacher I work with. We are in Santillana del Mar and are nearly running behind her to try and find the place that sells the best "Sobaos" in the city. Unfortunately, it was closed when we found it, but we did buy others. They are small spongey yellow cakes that taste buttery and are popular throughout Spain, but this is where they are famous. We also bought some jelly to put on top, though when we told our students about this they said "Um...no. Jelly is for toast", only in Spanish, and with more attitude. Little do they know how delicious sobao+jelly really is.

If I lived in Santillana del Mar, this would be my house. You can't have such a beautiful, ancient stone house without hanging obnoxious amounts of flowers off of your balcony.

The cathedral with its tiny bell tower. This plaza was beautiful because, like most of the rest of the town, the cobblestone streets seemed endless as they effortlessly climbed vertically creating a surrounding of buildings made of the same materials.

At our last stop, Juliobriga. The countryside was incredible for most of the bus ride. So many people travel to Ireland thinking that is the place where you can find views, well, like this. For those of you who have never considered a trip to Northern Spain: this is what it looks like. Rolling green hills flow into small rivers and lakes. Small orange-roofed houses dot the countryside as do horses and cows wearing bells.  

Looking like a Kansas farmgirl out in the Spanish countryside. We were sitting here waiting for our kids who had each been prepared with 2 sandwhiches to get them through their long day. So about this time they all pulled out number 2. Wrapped in foil, on fresh baguette bread, with chicken, chorizo, and ham. There was not a pb&j in sight.

This leg was a little hard because we were so tired. Then we were made to watch a little movie, and listen to a very long tour about what life was like in ancient Roman cities. The guide was very knowledgable but she definitely loved to chat, even when she realized she had lost more than half of the group (including me). The students began coming up to me. "Leigh, it's just that she talks SO much." They started to fade and many leaned against walls, finally sitting down on the floor during her talk but I didn't even stop them. I would have done the same.

Our students were truly lovely. The bus rides were less than fun, but other than that I can't complain about them. They spoke a lot of English (though they did get to hear me in Spanish a bit), were well behaved during our tours, and showed up on time at every meeting point. We met some students from England doing a similar trip and the English kids kept shouting at mine in terrible Spanish. "No hable ingles!" one said. I turned to him and said "Well you don't speak Spanish either, because that makes no sense." That's when he used an expletive and said "Oh --- they speak English!"

For some reason, I was so very annoyed by the bratty English children who spoke loudly in English about my kids and then yelled at mine in terrible Spanish. Even the English teachers were saying rude things in front of us because they thought we couldn't understand. Just as that would happen, I'd turn and address my group in English. I hope that scared them enough to keep them from being terribly rude.  

So a bit of advice for our English speaking friends. It is really unsafe to assume that no one around you can understand your derogatory comments. It is even more ignorant to then go up to the register and speak English, assuming that the people you need help from are the only ones that understand you. Ah. Needless to say, they made me love and appreciate my little Spanish loves who were excited to hear English and just wanted to go make friends with them.

Recuerdos Dorados

I posted out of order! Bear with me, but I have to backtrack to the end of my Semana Santa trip with the parents. I am pretty sure there is now way to insert this in an earlier spot on my blog, but if there are any Bloggers out there who know a way, I'd love to hear.

Our last days in Rome proved to be pretty filled with seeing monuments, eating well, and of course, gladiators on cell phones.

For as incredible as the Colosseum is, it has become my least favorite spot in all of Rome. It put me immediately in a bad mood. You can't enjoy the massiveness of the architecture for 20 seconds without getting asked if you want a tour, getting followed around by people selling things, etc. I was literally furious. "I just pretend I don't speak English and I don't see them talking to me." I told my dad. He responded "I try to be polite." I, however, am so far past the polite stage. We took a break and sat up here at this cafe. It was perfect for a view of the forum without all the tourist-trap atmosphere.

We got to do this new "Underground the Colosseum" tour and here we are in the basement. This is where the makeshift elevators are, through which the slaves would lift up wild beasts and props through trap doors and onto the stage. A little overgrown, but very cool. This is where all the work behind the scenes went on for every show.

Here's the parents overlooking the stage. Apparently for Easter the Pope comes here so we were trying to find his spot in the stands.

We also met this lovely young couple in Rome for their honeymoon. The girl pulled me aside to say "It's been a great trip, but the other night we were lost and tired and we had our honeymoon fight. I hope that's normal!" It was precious, and I reassured her that it's nearly impossible to do tourist-style traveling without having at least one argument. Ask my parents. They'll tell you I argue a lot.

We got stopped by a group of 6 young girls from Syracuse, NY who asked if we would take their picture. They were very sweet, and all dressed almost identically. Turns out, they were all studying in Spain and said "Oh wow- you're teaching there?! How cool? Can you tell us about it, do you just love it?" It made me feel really old. I remember being just the same way when I found out that I could come BACK after studying abroad. Who would've thought? I think my parents are still a bit surprised that I voluntarily left home for so long. But honestly, I can't imagine having spent this year anywhere else.

Here on Palatine Hill over-looking the Colosseum. Since we had to pay to get inside here there are no people trying to force us into tours or plastic sunglasses or pictures of the Pope with a photo-shopped dove on his shoulder.

Dad and I on one of the bridges heading across to Trastevere. The best place to eat in Rome (according to us). I had my favorite gelato here one night and was convinced I'd find it again the next night. Mom didn't believe me. She thought I was leading us to the retaurant since I had my map out and was navigating. Little did she know, I was leading us right to my gelato shop. They even put mini cones on top of the ice cream which is kind of perfect for a spoon. Dad and I had been enviously eyeing icecream-eaters all over Rome with their mini cones and felt very accomplished to have finally found our own.

Nope, not in Spain. But we are, indeed, at the Spanish steps. I love this picture of my parents. On this trip they were full of energy, wanted to see and do everything. I was the one ready for bed every night. I feel lucky to be one of six kids and to have gotten my parents to myself for an entire week in Italy. Never would have pictured this happening. As with all great things, we don't take as much advantage of them at the time. Mom and Dad had to keep feeding me gelato to keep me in a good mood. I guess I get tired walking around all day, posing for pictures, trying to choose restaurants and speak to people who have terrible English. Luckily, as time goes by, we forget the sore feet, the long days, the bad moods, and remember all the awesome things we saw and the people we saw them with. We remember sitting on a ledge overlooking the city. We remember that one restaurant where we ate for three hours. We remember that we were in Italy together, and it was awesome.

De Día Hablamos Inglés, De Noche: Español

So I work at this Spanish High School with Julie and Sam who also happen to be my roomates. We got an invite to have a Spanish-style dinner with our English department in this little pueblo of one of the teachers. Needless to say, we were looking forward to it, and since it was being spent with Spaniards, we blocked off the entire rest of our night for dinner.

The three of us girls decided to coordinate our outfits and each wear a floral skirt, but Julie backed out last minute and thus was not invited to partake in this photo.

Here, our teacher, Javier is making Queimada for us to try. It is from the northwest of Spain in Galicia and literally means "burnt". It's hard to see the flame here but it had enough of a fire going to warm all of us as we stood around it. He mixed a liquor called Orujo (which is really common for after dinner or in coffee), apples, sugar (don't quote me on that), and coffee beans. If you're curious about how that mixture tastes, especially after being heated under a flame...continue on.

Julie and Alberto are doing a faked pose on the left side. Their baby cups are actually empty seeing as how the drink is still very  much on fire and was not yet ready to be served.

This was round number two, and Greg took over. It looks a bit like a potion he's mixing, which is funny considering you're supposed to say an encantation over it while it burns. Which is exactly what the lovely gentleman in the following photo did...

Antonio has the voice of a poet and he was elected (perhaps self-elected) to say the encantation in Gallego. It sounded pretty convincing, though I understood only about 1/3 of it. Something about a useless belly caught my attention. Couldn't tell you how that phrase ended.

Since I have an incurable fascination with mini-things, here I am with my mini-queimada cup before tasting.

And here is the answer to the previously posed question about the actual taste of the drink. Who says facial expressions don't cross cultures and borders? Everyone at the table knew exactly how I felt about it. It's kind of like my love/hate relationship with sidra in Asturias. And if you know me and we've ever talked about sidra you know my exact stance on it: it tastes like olives, and I don't believe they make it with apples.

Here we all are! I spend lots of coffee and tortilla eating time with my friends Antonio and Amor on the left. I also teach with Amor. I also teach with Javier who is on the far right and who worked hard with his wife to make us a wonderful meal. They asked if we preferred meat or seafood and when we said meat, they ran with it. We had bacon, lamb, chicken, chorizo, and ribs. Plus on the side we had cecina which is a cured thinly sliced meat served as an appetizer. Add to that some salad, roasted red peppers, bread, olives, and fabulous desserts from a nearby town in Astorga. To finish off we had the queimada, tea and coffee.

There is never a lack of food at a Spanish meal, nor is there a lack of conversation. In fact, after meal chats are SO important (and long) that they have a word for them "sobremesa" which literally means "over the table". There are so many times when I hunt for a word in Spanish that doesn't exist and then they surprise me with gems like that one.

Matando Judíos

In case you speak enough Spanish to know that this blog title sounds incredibly racist and somewhat Hitler-esque, I'll explain myself. In Leon, during Holy Week (Semana Santa), it's really common to hear the phrase "Salimos a matar judios?" It doesn't mean the literal "Let's go out to kill jews?" In fact, all it means is going out to have some drinks: this limonada/lemonade that's famous here. Somehow the term stuck and they think nothing of it. I thought it sounded awful, and it does, but it reflects history and culture and I find

it interesting enough to appreciate.

Easter in Leon wasn't exactly what I had imagined. I was ready to see these huge processions and have brunch with all my favorite Northern Spain dwellers. Cancelled processions, rain, sickness, forgotten keys, late arrivals. Our brunch party dwindled down to 5. It was surprisingly perfect besides the fact that we were missing a few faces.

Bacon, cinnamon rolls with icing, deviled eggs, scrambled eggs with veggies, peanut butter balls, and banana coffee cake. Delish.

David and I went for a walk to find this "other river" which I'd heard my friends talk about. I just discovered about 3 weeks ago that Leon has more than one river. I even found a mini bridge.

My lovely visitor: David. He taught me lots of things on this walk that I surely won't remember, and lots more that I hopefully will.

This is the closest I got to seeing a procession. Not only was it not religious, it was political. Leon wanting to break away and be its own little country.

And finally- the menu at the crepe place. I had never noticed that each one had a name that's either an idiomatic phrase, or at least very Spanish. I'm working on learning what each one means. I've only got about 5 down so far, because I need a little native to sit by me and explain where they came from. Number 45 is my favorite because every time I see David's smiling face he says "Que te cuentas?" And he is the one and only Spaniard I know that says it, but apparently it's cool enough to be on the menu.

Si No Me Mareara, Volvería Ya

Since I'd already been to Florence, Tuscany and Rome the last time I was in Italy, I decided I wanted to see something new. My wonderful mom picked out the coast. 3 hours in a car with my parents and four other randoms on winding, twisting, never-ending roads and cliffs. I had a mega headache every time I even looked at the van, but somehow we ended up right here.

We got to spend time down in two small cities tucked away in coves between the cliffs: Amalfi and Positano. Both had beautiful tiny beaches with a spectacular view. I still don't know how all those people living on the  cliff get home from the beach. I swear there are just stairs wrapping all the way up. The sun was hot, it was a beautiful day and I wanted to stay here for the rest of the week.

We had lunch right on the beach in Positano. They look like they are having a heated discussion but surely it was just "Is Leigh our favorite because she's so smart or because she's so pretty?" They can never decide.

The wisteria vines were incredible, and as the daughter of a garden center man, I tend to appreciate the plants a tad more than your average girl. This strip was filled with little vendors and covered by vines. Dad and I were trying to make sure we got to the van on time so as not to miss our ride while mom stopped and almost.every.vendor. Dad goes "We gotta get her to start passing some of these". I also saw a little 4 year old girl using an old CD as a frisbee. It worked pretty well. She even hit my mom with it.

Our last stop on this day was Pompeii. My only disappointment was that they do not sell any good postcards here. I was even willing to pay over my 45 cent maximum but all they had were pictures of art, nothing of the architecture. So. Friends. None of you will get a postcard from my trip here, but I promise I went. There was so much preserved because of the volcanic ash that had covered it. The more our guide explained to us the more inferior I felt to these ancient Roman people who thought they should mix tiny white pieces of stone and marble into the streets and sidewalks to work as reflectors when the moon came out at night. 

We had an interesting mid 40s-50 year old Italian guide. With fitted jeans, a big belt, spiky short hair, and dark FBI-looking sunglasses. He was super pushy saying things like "Stop looking at your book- I'll tell you everything important you ever needed to know." "Maybe you would have heard me exaplaining earlier if you hadn't been looking in your book." "Moving a little show, huh? If you don't keep up you'll end up like the people of Pompeii."

Turns out, he was incredible. He knew everything. He was super passionate about the city, the history, the culture. He also "casually" threw out that he was recommended by Rick Steves in one of his books. We obviously had to check up on this information only to find out that we did indeed get the most recommended guide for Pompeii. The man went once when he was 4 with his grandfather and had loved it ever since then. I'd never have pegged him for a man with real interest, but there we are. You just never know.