Malgrat de Mar

Here are a few more pictures from Malgrat and the darling students of mine. They are quite well behaved with me but their older cousin said they are with me. Also they will speak Spanish or "Castillian" with me only when there is no one else around. It is their second language.
I will be living in the bottom floor apartment of the family house that I arrived to the first night. The family has been very welcoming and there's a good mix of independence and community. It's great when prayers are answered.

Benvingut a Catalunya, Passeu passeu, casa meva és casa vostra

Welcome to Catalunya! Come in, come in, My home is your home!
My tutor and the school director picked me up from the airport, after a few hour delay, first from the French air strike, pffh, and next from my luggage taking forever to come out. I waited a half an hour for my bag and then another full HOUR for my guitar because it had to come out of the "special baggage" terminal. I even had already gone to the lost luggage services and they just hadn't brought it up. Ay... Thankfully that was the only hiccup in the journey and I arrived and was chauffeured to a place I believe I will come to adore throughout the year, Malgrat de Mar. It may turn out rainy and humid, but it is a small "grandecillo" seaside town that booms on tourism during the summers. I will be an auxiliar in one of several primary schools that are here, and it only has just over 100 students, ages 6 to 12 and one class for each grade.
My first day, Paquita, a darling mother who lives above where I am staying and where may be "home" for the year, took me on a tour of Malgrat, really a 20 minute walk in a five block radius through downtown. I went to the townhall, the phone store and the bank. A tactile elderly gentleman changed my watch battery for about 5 USD and even put it on my wrist for me. I didn't fully understand his question because he was speaking in Catalan and grumbled Spanish. I don't encounter such friendly elderly folks in the USA.
Everything is in Catalan; the children who live upstairs, who are students at my school, shy away from English, but speak Catalan and not even Spanish in my presence; they are quite darling and I look forward to seeing the rest of the school on Monday. I will learn Catalan this year! The posters and everything on the street is in Catalan. At the supermarket, all of the price tags are in Catalan but because I went to a chain that is in all of Spain, the products are the same I know of from previous years and with the same mix of labels in Spanish and sometimes Portuguese or another latin language. It is good to read the labels and the price tags for a vocabulary lesson.
"Tinc calor" means I am hot and I am not too hot here but very comfortable just basking in the sun so far.

Yesterday afternoon I met the daughter of the director of the school, both named Blanca and went with Blanca, the daughter, to Barcelona to meet some of her friends. It was a festival of Barcelona and there were loads of booths of NGOs and volunteer organizations so I spoke to the RedCross as a backup for volunteering at the Consulate in Barcelona.
In Barcelona there are always street performers along the Ramblas, or I guess you could say place that people ramble or stroll. The first two photos are from Barcelona and the last three are Malgrat, the church, a street view (can you see the sea in the background?) and the sea. :)

Summer and home 2010

I had a lovely summer in Coeur d' Alene and the surroundings areas of my hometown in Idaho. It is a lovely place to call home. Here are a few pics from home, my nephew being the first of them. My darling friend Laura did pose for me outside of the Moscow Co-Op, one of my favorite places from my college town because it's so comfy and healthy. My employer Atsuko and the darling book-keeper Warren, from Candy O'Briens. The panorama is my home north of Coeur d' Alene. Many exciting things, including my sister expecting and my nephew learning to walk! The few months passed so quickly as I spent the summer working and playing and prepping for the next big adventure, which became Catalunya...
Although home and everyone there I do miss you already!

lovely May weather.

Jaunt by the flysch...


Zumaia beach


The saint of Zumaia, appearing very saintly.


Walking through the old part of town.


The flysch and Extitxu enlightening me about something regarding the geological importance, the rock samples taken out of the holes and other fun facts.

We had a full last weekend with gorgeous weather, I started Friday at the beach in Deba, a short train ride away from Eibar, a Saturday morning hike through Arantxazu hovering over Oñati, a bit of fiestas in Bergara and a relaxing Sunday in Zumaia, a beach town, with a jaunt near the "flysch". This is a site that mainly geologists are interested in, according to Ibon, Estitxu's man. Estitxu told me that they do not normally have such lovely weather in May and this was the first time she could remember swimming in the ocean in May. The pics here are thanks to Estitxu and Ibon as well because they lent me their camera! I finally do have a camera with a memory card that works! Thanks to my Dad and to the other American Paul. Thanks a bunch to all of my colleagues for hosting all the exciting excursions and for such a great year!

NIE

So, to live as a foreigner, there can be a lot of bureaucracy, if you think domestic taxes are bad in the US, well the paperwork and foreign fee payment systems can be quite a bother without patience. I did hear this week though that you have to apply for a visa just to visit the United States of America, so I think it is easier for us to come to other countries in many factors.


A view out of the bus window in the AM. Paul said, "It's just fog. It'll burn off".

Today I took an early AM bus to Donosti, about 45 minutes and a 6 euro bus ride away, to go to the Subdelegación del Gobierno. My friend Paul also had to renew his NIE (Número de Identidad de Extranjero or permission to live here) for the next year, so we went together, he more photocopy-prepared than I and with a little more hudspa, my Dad's word, but I am unsure of the spelling.

After not having enough paperwork despite carrying all that the Catalunya autonomous Community had told me would be necessary, I went across the street to the photocopier/newstand, came back and asked for another number and got in.

After our "trámites" were submitted a supervisor told our attendants that we would have to go to the separate communities to apply for our NIEs. But alas, and thankfully he was too late, so we don't have to travel to Barcelona and Madrid which would be quite a hassle.

So they give foreigners in our situation an official letter to re-enter the country and then we can come back when our US summers end, if they end abroad that is.

After submitting the first application in all this process we had to walk down the street to the bank, that only accepted the fees/taxes for these applications from 9 o'clock to 10 o'clock am. We had to ring a bell to have the door opened to the bank and then the young gentleman who helped us told me I could pay with credit card. A few moments later when I pulled out my credit card, he told me that I would have to pay in cash. So Paul offered me a momentary loan. The banker was speaking on the phone to his sweetie in a flirty voice all the while helping us. He told the other end of the line that he was hoping they were having a good day and other silly things. All the while Paul is sitting in the chair next to me telling me about seeking out latin and Spanish places in Philly after his travels through Latin America and about how he feels like this is less surreal and more just real life and that he is supposed to be here. He also had found out the name of his attendant at the government office and told me he wanted to get him a gift because he was so nice. So Paul is smiling about life and in a little nostalgia but completely enjoying the present moment, all the while our bank cashier is somewhat intimately speaking to his sweetie or interest on the phone and behind us a group of several bank cashiers, and one or two customers are trying to solve some other issue. It was funny. As a foreigner I thought it was bizarre that the gentleman in front of us was just chatting up a storm on the phone while he did some sort of double count of our change and made change twice and then condensed it into one lump sum, making himself busy I think. But at the same time there were foreigners across the table from him who could have understood perfectly. A sort of surreal moment for me, part of the latent culture shock maybe, when things about the foreign land I am living in still leave me with a bit of inquisitiveness.




Birgit met up with us and we had a picnic at the beach. We found a spot and then a large machine came through and the police told us to move to the other side of the beach. It was funny. Sadly the "fog" hadn't fully burnt off, but we did get some sun. And enjoy a torta vasca. So I think all is mostly done with my NIE, I just have to visit again in June and hopefully all is good. papers and bureaucracy are international, but thankfully due to the technology of our highly specialized society we can travel more easily than when things were "simpler".



I have just taught my second-to-last-week of classes and still at moments feel like this is all surreal.

Eibar pics

A few pics of life in Eibar, there was an international food fair and the next weekend an internet fair and a Galician fest. On the swings, or columpios, is the lovely Birgit, my colleague from the language school, the Austrian lector for the Deustch classes.


On my birthday my students very sweetly organized a lunch with a funny card and a beautiful Eskulan brooch that they gifted me with the huge bouquet of bright flowers.


My colleagues and friends had also pampered me with some thoughtful and funny gifts. I am feeling like I am finally starting to feel more at home here, my last full month. I am not seeming to have enough time to see all of the things that are waiting at last minute to be seen and experienced...

Basque Sports

A Basque/Spanish word that I have recently learned is "morrosco", which is the definition of a hardy Basque mountain man or woman. The video/photos describes exactly that. Please note, the Basque women can be as or more morroscas as the Basque men can be.
I had ventured out in the rain to catch some live Basque Sports presentations, and quizzically looked on at a few hours of chopping and throwing and diverse weight-lifting activities.
A very common Basque sport is Pelota, or hand-ball, and other more recognized sports in the US that are shared here as well are Rugby, Basketball, and of course, soccer, or fútbol. Here in the Basque country however sports include an asundry variety of activities, such as tree trunk splitting with an ax in minimal chops, chain saw carving/crafting with efficiency, lifting and hitting metal things and hay-stack tossing. I gained that the aim in most of these was strength, efficiency/speed and precision, with strength being a dominant factor. The videos were taken a short walk away from my apartment, in Plaza Urkizu, where the Galician festivities continued on into the weekend.
This young grasshopper is the archetype of morrosco, from a strapping young age of 10 years.