On the Road to Find Out

Well, I left my happy home
to see what I could find out.
I left my folk and friends
with the aim to clear my mind out.

Well I hit the rowdy road
and many kinds I met there,
many stories told me
of the way to get there, ooh.

So on and on I go,
the seconds tick the time out,
there's so much left to know,
and I'm on the road to findout, ooh.

Well in the end I'll know,
but on the way I wonder
through descending snow,
and through the frost and thunder,

I listen to the wind come howl,
telling me I have to hurry.
I listen to the robin's song
saying not to worry, ooh.

So on and on I go,
the seconds tick the time out,
there's so much left to know,
and I'm on the road to findout, ooh.

Then I found myself alone,
hoping someone would miss me.
Thinking about my home,
and the last woman to kiss me, kiss me.

But some times you have to moan
when nothing seems to suit yer,
but nevertheless you know
you've locked towards the future, ooh.

So on and on you go,
the seconds tick the time out.
There's so much left to know,
and I'm on the road to findout, ooh.

Then I found my head one day
when I wasn't even trying,
and here I have to say,
'cause there is no use in lying, lying.

Yes the answer lies within,
so why not take a look now,
kick out the devil's sin,
pick up, pick up the good book now, ooh.

Yes the answer lies within,
so why not take a look now
kick out the devil's sin,
and pick up, pick up the good book now, ooh

~lyrics by Cat Stevens




http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rQ--odAAA1A

Been in Sevilla 2 weeks now.

This weekend marks my second week in Sevilla and I just started "teaching" this week so there is plenty to talk about, but alot has probably been forgotten too.

I arrived 2 weeks ago Saturday and for the first few days I stayed with a wonderful family that I got connected with through couchsurfing. Juán (Spanish) and Anna (Italian) live here in Sevilla and have two kids, León and Linnus. They are probably 6 and 4 but I am terrible with kids and ages.

I mostly recuperated from the previous week of traveling, so I didn't leave the apartment until Monday. Monday marked the start of my search for housing. I made a list of all the hostels in town and tried to hit as many as possible asking if they would give me free housing in exchange for a few hours of work a week. Most of them were really small and family run so they weren't really options. I had seen a flyer online that another hostel in town was doing it, but I had already been in contact with them and they wanted to do it legal, but I would have to go through a lot of hassle to get a work permit (even though I am working now the Auxiiliares de Conversación come on student visas for whatever reason) Even though the day was mostly fruitless I was able to wander most of the city and get acquainted.

Sevilla was talked up alot before I got here, however, after Granada the Euro-pueblo luster was already wearing off, so when I arrived I was kind of tired of that already (apparently my tolerance was really low, I only saw like one old church in Granada). So I am only now starting to appreciate the beauty of Sevilla.

Back to the day in pursuit of free housing. I really enjoyed it. I took my time and wandered aimlessly from here to there. I would take the occasional opportunity to practice my Spanish with some stranger on the streets. I talked to the pastel artist drawing the Giralda, while sitting next to a Flamenco guitar street musician . I tried to chat a bit with the guy who asked me if I was selling porros, joints (maybe I should get the bullcut and a shave as well if I am getting that stereotype.) Lastly, with the fishermen by the river, just the ole "Catch anything today? What is the name of this river? What kind of fish are in it? Do you have any porros?...not really that last one.

Well, Tuesday and Wednesday I pretended to be adult and actually looked at rooms that cost money. This required calling people and asking them if the room was still available...and I had never talked on the telephone in Spanish before, so that was a learning experience. It definitely confirmed that I understand hands and faces alot more than I do the actual Spanish.

Considering that Uni was starting Wednesday and it was the first of the month, all the good apartments were taken. I wasn't to enthusiastic about dragging out the searching process, especially since I was staying with a family, so I had a look at 3 apartments. My options were:

Apart. 1- It took me 1.5hr on bike to get there and find it, so you could call it "remote" if you'd like to beat around the bush. No oven (which is very common here in Spain). There were already dishes piled in the sink and it was kind of dumpy.

Apart. 2- Less than 1km from the family I was staying with, which is quite removed from the heart of town, and not exactly close to the train station. The room was bigger than the first. Definitely the cleanest of the bunch, and it had an oven. The habitants were 1 Peruvian guy, and a girl from Zaragosa (close to Madrid), both seemed very nice, happy, and excited at the chance to learn a little English from their potential roommate.

Apart. 3- Cool neighborhood, closer to the center, closer to the train station, and the price showed it too. However, crap building with small kitchen, no oven. The room was the biggest and even had a small terrace. The roommates were an Italian girl and a British girl.

So I chose Apt. 2, it wasn't that hard of a decision, I want to become fluent so living with non-Spanairds wasn't an option.

So fastforward to this week. Not much important happened in between. Every class this week was the same which got a little boring. The teachers gave the students a worksheet to fill out with information about me-where I'm from, what I like to do, my favorite futbol team and all that. Some classes didn't finish the sheet, some did. The ones that did, offered the unique experience of making up their own questions that aren't on the work sheet. Here is where Spain starts to show its colors. Numerous classes would ask if I smoke and drink. I wasn't used to that frankness, at least not in the teacher/student setting. I would kind of look over at the teacher to get a go ahead and of course it was fine. That isn't to out of the norm, but several classes also asked "Do you smoke Marijuana?" Again, I looked to the teacher to read if this was uncommon, not so much that them asking is unusual, but the fact that you know that the ones who ask are also the ones who do those same things, they are essentially admitting that they do, and want to see if you have that in common. (also helps to add that I teach at Instituto level which is 12-16 year olds) Well, after answering those same kids they would tell me right there in class with the teacher as witness that they love smoking weed, and then the teacher doesn't bat an eye.

Here in Spain, from what I understand, not many laws are unforced very strongly. I think drugs are illegal, however, it is not uncommon to smell reefer from someone sitting next to you at an open bar on the patio, in fact there is hardly a place where you won't smell someone lighting up. And what I have heard from people here is that cops aren't going to bust you for smoking weed, ask you to put it out maybe, they do arrest for selling and buying, or in cases of large quantities, intent to sell. I think the same goes for most drugs except really hard ones, which apparently aren't that popular anyway.

On a similar note. The other night my roommate Augusto and I went to go see Christina Vicky Barcelona, an american movie set in Catalonia, a few provinces over. Anyways, driving back from the movie we get stopped at a random Police search checkpoint. They have us get out of the car and they notice I am not talking (because I don't understand anything they are saying), one officer asks me "¿Eres rumano?", "No, estadounidense." I reply, and suddenly he gets cool and tells us to go on our way. He had asked me if I was Romanian, one of the crazy gypsies.

There is a neighborhood called Tres mil viviendos, which is completely gypsy/Romanian. You hear the craziest stuff about them, and I believe it all. Everyone sternly tells you to stay the hell away from it. The boyfriend of the girl I share a flat with was telling me that if you go there, at knifepoint, they will steal the shoes off your feet, your pants, your shirt, they will even take the thoughts out of your head.

The latest warning I got was today, from a co-worker. I was told that if you are getting close, you know it right away. You can see the barrel fires at night and hear the singing and guitar playing (he also said they are predominantly Evangelical...because that meshed best with their love for singing and dancing).
Other things I have heard:

They have stripped all of the elevators out of Las Tres Mil because they sell metal for scrap.

Their donkeys are kept indoors, and you can see them through the windows if you drive by.

It is apart of their religion/folklore to always live in a tent, so they all have tents setup inside of their houses.

Also, apparently they have the truest Flamenco, and that is the only place were Flamenco is true.

Anyway, so when I wasn't Romanian the cops brushed us along. When we got in the car I explained to Augusto that I was really nervous that they would give us hell about the almost empty beer can in the cup holder in the car (we were in a hurry on the way to the theater so I just brought it with me, so what?). He laughed at me, "Of course the cops don't care about the open container, it's Spain."

Lastly, today I was having cañas in the Plaza Alameda de Hercules with the Bilingual director from my school and his wife around lunch (there isn't really a time when Spaniards don't drink beer). We got on the subject of theft, and how Sevilla is supposed to be the worst, most particularly when it comes to bikes. Then he said that I had to check out this TV show called Intermedio on every night. They set up a hidden camera on an unlocked bike in two Spanish cities and compete to see which gets stolen first. Well it just so happens that tonight I was telling my flatmate about it so she turned on the TV even, though I thought it was too late. Who were the cities of the night? None other than Malaga vs. my very own Sevilla, and where was their location of choice, but the Plaza Alameda de Hercules where I was dining that afternoon...well needless to say Sevilla won.

Panoramas

click on the photos to see the larger version

En Corto...

viernes 19 de septiembre-

I flew from Chicago on a Boeing 747 through Air India (they did have lamb curry as a dinner option, but I am wary of airplane food so I had they veggie option). I flew to Frankfurt where I caught and Airbus with Lufthansia...I think I flew with a plane full of the España Special Olypmics team. Seriously, I'm not being insensitive. They were all wearing their red and yellow track suits with "bejing 08" on them. When we arrived in Madrid there was a really big welcoming party with trumpets, drums, tubas, the whole 9 yards (which is about 8.22 meters over here, fyi) The flights weren't bad. I often get sick on flights but I had my patch on and dramimine in my system.

So after offboarding I hopped on the metro and went to my couchsurfing host's Mandy and Guy. I walked in the door and we instantly we sat and had a barillo of bread with some cheese. I took a nap shortly after. In the evening we went out for cañas (small beers) and saw some plazas, some fountains, and the palace.

sabado 20 de septiembre-

Mandy and Guy went on a hike into the local mountains
with a group from the couchsurfing community, I declined because I had already planned to see the Reina Sofía (Madrid's main contemporary art musuem) on Saturday, when my guide book said that it was free...it was however on free for three hours or so in the evening, luckily for students it is half price, €3 if I remember correctly.

No, I am not a student anymore. Luckily Mel gave me the idea to make sure I got a new John Brown ID card three weeks before graduating so that we would have really current IDs and could take advantage of students rates a while longer. Do I feel bad for abusing this? Hells nah. I am here on a student visa, even though I am teaching. Sometimes there are teacher rates too. I just go with whatever is cheaper.

So into the Reina Sofía I went. I have been wanting to visit for ages, although I didn't know it was the Reina Sofía that I wanted to visit. I have been in love with Picasso's Guernica for a while now and when I started a "things I want to before I die" list it was the first things I could think of. For those of you who aren't familiar with it it is a 27 foot long black and white cubist painting of his in response to a German bombing of a Basque (a region and ethnicity of Spain...they are separatists and don't consider themselves Spanish) town. The bombing was with the Spanish governments consent, because in WWII they were allied with the Axis.

Guernica possibly marks Picasso's first interest in art with a political agenda. It is a reflection of the carnage he saw as he saw what had been done. (a mother weeping over a dead infant, a dismembered arm holding a sword, a bird dieing in mid-flight, a horse naying in agony because of the shrapnel and debris impaling its side, and near the center is a woman holding a candle out the window)

It is far larger than I expected. Unfortunately, the museums do not allow photography so I couldn't get a snap of it. The room attached to the side was full of a hundred or so preporatory sketches and drawings as he was deciding how to handle the subject. In the room attached at the other in is more art and photopgraphy from the same time period that was in response to WWII in Spain. Very interesting stuff.

The temporary exhibit was called "Almas y Maquinas"-Souls and Machines, and had very cool installations, some to complicated to explain. Here is the best I can do for one one...imagine a wall comprised of paint chip samples from lowes on rotaters, somewhere in front of you is a sensor or a camera that picks up your shape or your likeness. It then computes what chips to rotate and where in order to make the wall mirror you. Astounding. Within the same series was a hanging sheet of light bulbs that would glow in your image...like a reverse silhouette, and a wall of trash that would flip and turn in your image or silhouette. I am not that hot on installations, so I probably would have ignored this whole show if it weren't for the adverts showing a picture of one of Theo Jansen's kinetic wind driven beach animals. The one in the musuem wasn't working, so there was only a video playing above it...but still cool to see none the less. Lastly, within the musuem I saw various Dalhi's, and a Rothko. There was obviously a lot more, but not by people of notable names. Some was good the rest (meh).

Well, it was only mid afternoon and I didn't know what else to do so I went ahead to the Prado museum, which I planned on seeing the next day. The prado wasn't quite as good of an experience but I am glad I went nonetheless. It is mostly old portraits of royaly and their dogs done by famous people, not the socially or culturally significant paintings by those same famous people. There was one Caravaggio, David claiming Goliaths head, one Albrect Durer, but I am a fan of his sketches not his paintings, some lots of Grecos, and that one really famous Velazquez (very tall). My main reason for going to the Prado was to see works of Goya, although every time I went into a room to see works it would be some happy portrait of some royal. I eventually found his Black paintings in the basement. They had Colossus, Saturn, and Witches Sabbath. But again, I like Goya best for his sketches, which they had none of.

I tried to do some drawing in my sketchbook when I was there but all I have is a staff, some nibs, and a bottle of ink...they guards didn't like it when I was sitting on the bench dipping my pen into an ink container that could easily spill so couldn't draw there. I went to the botanical gardens next door to try and find scultptures that I could sketch. However, the lighting in the museum was messing with my eyes alot (I couldn't read the bulletin in my hand unless it was an arms length away form my face...I thought I needed glasses all of a sudden, but I could read closer the next day.) So, when I was trying to sketch I couldn't switch from focusing on the statue to my sketchbook.

Well, that was the 20th.

domingo 21 de septiembre-

Not much this day. We went to the markets for Guy to find a cheap iron. When we got back we all took really long naps. Which then really threw me off and I could sleep until 4am because of time change.

lunes 22 de septiembre-

I planned on hopping a bus in the morning but they were sold out until about 3:30 so I didn't get to Granada (pomegranite in Spanish) until dark (it is about a 5.5 hour ride). We stopped in a small town so that people could use restrooms and eat. Before we loaded again I overheard a group of a couple of girls speaking English, but I didn't want to flock to them because we shared the same language. When we arrived it was nightime and I didn't know where I was going to stay the night because no one answered my requests on couchsurfing. I asked the girls where they were going and they said that they would be going to Oasis Backpackers Hostel, which was my second favorite option from the travel guide book. I followed them to the bus, where they boarded, and I seeing the sign that said €1,10, got cheap and headstrong and just decided, "eh, the bus is headed that way, I'll just walk in that direction." But the girls were already on the bus and I didn't have time to tell them so off the bus went and they had no clue what happened to me.

Off down the road I started walking. I had walked 1 blocks where I am walking by this white wall that says "CAMPING SWIMMING RESTAURANT" etc. Well it turns out that my first pick for places to stay wasn't way outside of town and out of the way like I thought but rather right there in front of me 1 block from the bus station. So that was my destination of choice for the next four nights.

martes 23 de septiembre-

In the morning the receptionist pointed me towards the Cathedral which was kind of in the middle of all the sights. Well I walked down the way he said, but Europe isn't as nicely grided as the homeland so there were lots of forks and turns and roundabouts so I went to wrong way eventually, but I didn't mind, because I was finding cool stuff on my own. Well, I was walking up a street towards some nice looking buildings and a girl asks me if I know where something is (in spanish), but I'm pretty sure she isn't Spanish. I find out she is German and I tell her where I think I saw the thing she is looking for. As I am looking at her I think she looks familiar so I ask her name. "Katharina" she says. "Is you last name ******?" I ask. At which she is very amazed and perhaps a little wary that some stranger on the street knows her name, and rightfully so. Well she was one of the couchsurfing people who I requesting to stay with, but she never responded because she just moved there a few days earlier and she was couchsurfing herself. I think we were both a little amazed at what had happened. We swapped contact info and planned to meet up later that night since we didn't really know other people around.

I continued my stroll through Granada after Katharina pointed me in the right direction. I found the Cathedral and started walking a certain district that has lots of other notable buildings and such. At this point I was a really annoying tourist who was taking pictures of anything and everything because it was all so unfamiliar. Every where I found a quaint little cobble stone street and alley I had to take a snap of it (that is all there is in that area of town, so I was taking a lot of pictures). There is one thing that I wanted to take pictures of that I would actually look around to see if any one was watching because I would be embarrassed if people saw me taking pictures of them. The manhole covers were my guilty obsession. I thought it was obscenely touristy to take pictures of them so I had to hide it. BUT I have legitimate reason to document them! They all have interesting marks, logos, patterns, and textures, and I appreciated them from a design standpoint. So far I haven't gotten to many that I like, it is hard to shoot wet iron when it is right below you. The wet gives it s sheen that reflects the sky right above you, so they are often blown out with too much light and you can't even see the logo. (I want to make sure that I get back to Madrid so that I can get theirs, the Ayuntomiento de Madrid logo is a Bear pawing at a Strawberry tree)
(click here to see the rest of my tourist photos of Grananda)

My stroll took me to the top of the city to a good vantage point. On the way down I found the COOLEST stairs of my life, they were covered in all kinds of neat graffiti.


(click here to see the rest of my graffiti images)

Eventually I made it back down to the main center of the city, and was going to consider looking for Alhambra tickets, however, I saw one of the english speaing girls from the night before, Meltem, an Aussie of Turkish descent. We crossed the street to meet the other two girls Marie, German, and Bianca, Aussie of Austrian parents. Well I explained the night before and all was well. Marie split to go meet her boyfriend who was coming to town, so Mel, Bianca and I wondered together for the rest of the day, stopping for Baghdad coffee at an arabic tea hut, or a beer in a plaza, etc. Also, Bianca is working in Sevilla for Oasis Backpackers Hostel just like I wanted to do but couldn't because of Visa issues (although I still haven't given up yet). I arranged to meet Mel and Bianca early in the morning at their hostel to get tickets early for the Alhambra and that was that day.

miércoles 24 de septiembre-

The morning came and I way-overslept my meeting for the Alhambra tickets (I only have my analog watch, so I couldn't set an alarm. I finally made it up the the Alhambra at 10:30 and the morning had sold out so I bought an afternoon pass and went back to a plaza to drink café con leche. Well who do I see strolling by but Bianca and Mel on their way down from the Alhambra (Granada isn't the smallest of towns, but the old part who the tourists go isn't that big so you tend to run into people a lot.) We shared some coffee and said our goodbyes because they were on their way to Sevilla that afternoon, I will doubtlessly see Bianca again in Sevilla when I move there, but Meltem was on her way to Morocco for a grand trip.

To kill time I went to the little arab shops and shamelessly bought some cool bracelets and those trashy euro-palistinean scarfs. Afterwards, up to the Alhambra. It is a beautiful old palace from the Moor (an old islamic tribe) invasion centuries ago. Lots of stuff around the south of Spain was built by the Moors and then Christianified when the Christians took back over. Although I think it is easier for a Muslim to reclaim a church that it is for the Christians to reclaim a mosque. The reasoning for that is because mosques have Qu'ranic arabic sculpted into every wall. It is very impressive. The arabs were magnificant mathameticians, and through that were masters of geometry, which is their art. Since they feel that it is prohibited to make paintings and likenesses their art is geometry. (However, the Qu'ran doesn't say anything about that and for the first couple hundred years Muslims not only painted many of the stories, like the Christians have always done, but they also painted Muhammed)
(click here to see the rest of the photos from the Alhambra)

I got back to my camp grounds and found out when then bus was going to Córdoba the next day like my loose itinerary said. I stopped myself from buying the ticket on a whim and decided to go back to the camp grounds and consult my guide book about the possibility of getting into the mountains that surround Granada, Los Sierra Nevadas, the real ones, not those fake ones in the states. :) You see great views of the mountains in all the post cards, but I hadn't really been able to see them to well form inside the city.

Reading enlightened me to the fact that Mulhacén, Spain and Western Europe's tallest peak, was just out of sight. A 45 min bus ride would take me to a good starting point. I talked to the maintenance guy about the possibility of doing it. He left me quite optimistic, but I didn't want to do it alone, that made me nervous. Well I bought a one way ticket anyway, not knowing if I wanted to stay overnight up there in a refugio, high altitude shelters. I found a guy with a ponytail and beard because he looked like the type, and asked him what his and his troupes plans for the following day were and if they would consider changing them. He turned out to be German with workable but poor English. Well, he climbed up there two days earlier, drats, but well stereotyped eh? However, he said some people had just arrived an asked him the same thing(maybe he should shave and get a bull cut if he gets tired of people asked him to climb mountains with them). I found the crew he spoke of, 6 Czechs, 3 couples. We had a meeting and settled it, I would screw my ticket and get a ride with them up the mountain in their two rental cars (Fords, dammit, I wanted to cruise around in cool little Euro cars like Peugeot or Megane).

jueves 25 de septiembre-

I woke up earlish around 7am to start the day right by getting my bag packed appropriately, buying food for the trip (bread, cheese, and way-to-dark chocolate...it was 85% cocao, I like dark but this was bitterer than all hell). Also, the Czechs kind of pressured me into going with them so in case they decided to back out I wanted to catch my bus up there. Well 10:30 rolls around and we finally leave.We arrived at our trailhead after a gut-wrenching twisty mountian drive (in the states we call it "Scenic", but it isn't so pleasant for the curvey road intolerant like me). In actuality the drive wasn't that bad, I never really felt quiesy, but nervious that I would....maybe I am growing out of it!

I talked to a local guy about climbing it, he said that Mulhacén was 12 hours there and back and the Veleta was 6. He also kept saying "peligroso", dangerous, but he was talking about it probably snowing over the weekend, and visability dropping. At this point I wasn't sure if I wanted to climb Veleta and risk staying in a refugio overnight, climbing Mulhacén the next day and trekking back. (I did find some other people who were planning on staying and doing the same so if I had wanted to, I wouldn't have been alone.)
The seven of us set out but only 4 returned...
because three of them couldn't hardly make the first 500m -(they're all smokers)-.
The view was incredible. But photos speak louder than words.
(click here to see picture of Veleta and Mulhacén)

viernes 26 de septiembre-

I woke up early to break down camp and clean my tent up a bit before I packed it away again. I went to the laundry room at the campgrounds I had been staying at. There was a Scotish girl doing her wash and we started talking. Her and her friend did part of the Camino de Santiago (Road of St. James) in northern Spain, the greener Spain. I think they said that they walked 2 weeks of it. My guide book says that you should give yourself 1 week if car is your choice mode of transport, 2 weeks by bike, and 4 weeks by foot...I think it sounds really fun. I have given thought to going to Morocco on a long weekend instead of Christmas break so that I can do el Camino de Santiago then instead...however, I have only 2 weeks so I would have to bike it, and I got winded riding my bike in Siloam...also, it will be frigid cold, so maybe when I finish teaching in June instead.

Once I was packed I hopped the bus to Córdoba, about 3 hours. Most of this novel was written during that ride, the rest I am finishing as I am on the bus to Sevilla, my future home. I spent the rest of the trip to Córdoba talking to the woman next to me. She was in her 50s, a local Córdobanite. I have started a bad habit of nodding that I understand even when I don't, but if you get them to just keep on talking then you can get the jist. So I think we talked about her family, (she has 10 brothers and sisters and three children...I think she wants me to meet her 24 year old daughter who is in grad school, sounds good to me :) we talked about her health issues (she said something about my posture and a good spine which I had to inform her that it was very curved, then she oned me up by pulling a bag of pills out of her purse the size of my head...so far thats Boone-0 Señortia-2 for those of you keeping score) We talked about small towns vs big towns because I don't know if I want to live in Sevilla (900,000and commute or Lebrija (25,000). She could never live in a place like Madrid but said that Sevilla is very nice. By the time we arrived she had invited me to her house next time I visited Córdoba, the thing is I don't know her name and have forgotten the directions (I remember that I need to take Bus 3 to a plaza, but plazas are a dime a dozen, then something 11 maybe, apartment 7 I think. I mgiht just go sit in whatever plaza the bus takes me to and sit there until she walks by.

I stayed with a fellow Kansan that I found through couchsurfing in Córdoba, Shelby. Her friend from Uni was visiting, Michael, and we went out in the evening for drinks. At first we went to O'Donahughs, which had a Beatles cover band....there we were, three Americans, in Spain, at an Irish bar, listening to British music, and I couldn't help thinking globalization isn't too bad...We we went to several other bars and looked around, the coolest of which was called Soul, they had samurai screen printed on the walls and mostly play soul music obviously, my kind of place. On our wobbly walk home some guy started yelling at us from a bar door, Shelby went over to talk to them and what went down I think MADE Córdoba for me. He was the guitar player for the band that was playing inside, they were done for the evening. He spoke good English and we talked to him for awhile about Kansas and such, then the singer arrives, he was probably in his 40's, and he spoke good English too. Well we finally asked what they play and come to find out they are a Tom Waits cover band called Bone Machine, after one of his albums. Of course I get really excited because I like some Tom Waits, and me and the old singer get to talking about American Blues music and bonding for our love for Mississippi John Hurt and the likes. Well it is not long before the bassist and the drummer show up, I am getting free drinks, the guitarist (who looks like the spitting image of Adam Goldberg)is giving his brother, the drummer, hell for being the better looking one, and then all is concluded with singing and playing your air instrument of choice or mouth trumpet. It was 4 am before we got home. I had heard of a late a prominent nightlife but this is the first I had experienced it. When I heard that lunch isn't till 3 pm, dinner until 9-10 pm, and the you go out at 2 am, I thought it sounded bizarre, but it seems to work just fine and suits the pace (it takes longer to do things, so naturally, things are pushed back until later)

sábado 27 de septiembre-

This morning I went to the Mezquita, another Mosque turned Cathedral. I have wanted to see this since I have seen it in Art history books and always is one of the settings of my favorite movie, The Fountain. Sadly, it wasn't the thrill I had hoped for. Maybe being a rainy day has effected it too, but the lighting was really poor and didn't illuminate the beautiful architecture very well, and the was lots of people walking around, displays cases full of artifacts (doesn't sound to bad but I would prefer that stuff was outside of the building somewhere, and that they would just let the building itself be the sole attraction, and not muck it up).

I walked home and bumped into the guitarist and singer again, then b-lined it to the apartment, packed like mad, hoped the bus to the station and made it to my bus to Sevilla about 3 min before it was going to leave. That was been the scenario for most of my bus station experiences, very nearly missing them all.

That brings us up to date. Here I am driving to my home for the next 9 months. Sometimes I forget that I am going to be working, and not playing all the time, which stresses me because I am nervious about teaching. But Shelby said that she actually got frustrated by how little they had her doing. I am obscenely task oriented so I will no doubt be swamped, I will be looking for people to give private english lessons for money on the side, I will be looking for a Graphic Design job for when my teaching is over, plus looking for freelance work as a Designer or Illustrator here or back home, and if Sevilla has a good library then knocking down the book list too. Also on the potential agenda is to find someone to trade English lessons for Arabic lessons.

Last nights dream contents...

Maybe I should just have a seperate blog for dreams, although it is really rare that I am remembering them. Maybe someone else more consistant should log their dreams...

Anyway, I don't have a whole story, but I remember that William Andrew Stevenson died (sorry man), and I had the coolest vision of a weird creature. Imagine a snake that had 3 in quills like a hedgehog or a porcupine all around, and the quills keep the belly off the ground and it was slithering across a hard wood floor, so it made a clicking and tapping sound as it crawled.

Anyways, I am flying out of O'Hare tonight on my way to Madrid. Fun stuff, I should have more to talk about as soon as I am there, and pictures too.

Lastly, I just remembered walking down Michigan Ave in Chicago yesterday morning. I was just lumbering down the street and all of a sudden (what a great phrase to get someones interest and then postpone the climax with parentheses)...all of a sudden a little yellow finch falls from the sky and hits the pavement with a hard thud (maybe more like a hard pat, afterall it was only a sparrow, if it had been one of those African Swallows...) Only me and a bum saw it and shared a good laugh at it's expense.

This dream was just way to nerdy not to post.

This is the dream that occurred in between my first and third alarm this morning. I am surprised that I can remember it as well as I do.

So it all starts in J Alvin. It is one of those lame music events. Except there is a twist. It is kind of a blend of JBU and Hogwarts. And perhaps the Weird Sisters are the band. That isn't important. So I, Harry Potter, am obviously not going to stick around. The main character always slips away to find mischief. There is always something way more exciting going on on the sidelines. So I, still Harry, have gone to the back door, where Neil Ward is a chaparone in his standard Hogwarts looking robes.

He is on edge because he tells me that he was just seen a wolf out back. I run to the door with curiousity. Sure enough, where the boiler plant should be is a forrest, and I catch glimpses of something pacing back and forth between the trees. Then it comes into plain sight. It is an iridescent black, and moving closer to us, stalking us. Once I realize this I freak, and run. Knowing that he is no longer unseen, the wolf starts coming at us going all out.

It gets a little fuzzy here, but I think Hermoine gets eaten at this point and the crowd freaks.

Okay, back to outside. The wolf is at the tree. I think it is the womping tree or whatever that one that thrashes about is called. I now somehow can fly or at least jump really far. So I am about to open a Harry "fuckin" Potter can of whoop-ass on it. I lunge through the air, from a very long distance away, and grab hold of one of the tree branches. I have come at it with such speed that I start spinning around the tree, wrapping its branches on itself. As I circle by the wolf is jumping trying to snap me out of my tether-ball style attack move. But I am gaining speed as the radius becomes less.

At this point it gets really abstract. You might imagine that me wrapping around the tree might take a couple seconds and ruin suspense. What my mind did was really bizarre to aid the climax of action. An image of a text-box, like in InDesign, is overlaid upon the scene, and the words of the narator are inside. They are highlighted black, so the text is reversed out white. As I am spinning around the tree, and coming closer to the center, the text-box is correlating in its width...so the text box getting narrower. So the text-box reaches the point where is can only contain one word per line, this is when I have wrapped the branches around the tree as much as they can. Then they tree unravels at a great velocity, the text-box closing in was like loading a spring, so now it snaps and the naration goes flying. I swing around the tree, closing in tree kick that wolf asshole in the face, but it didn't phase him. Then before he eats me the third alarm goes off. (Phfew)

Later I tried to think what lead all of these things together.

Well, the other day I was talking about Gael Garcia Bernal movies with someone at a coffee shop. He is in Y Tu Mamá También, which was directed by Alfonso Cuarón. Prisoner of Azkaban was mentioned because Cuarón also directed that. P o A is the one with the great black dog.

Then Wardo comes in because I have been thinking about pestering him with some help on HTML code.

The text-box could be that I played an ilovetypography game alot yesterday.

And the wolf images come from the tale of St. Francis taming the Wolf of Gubbio, which I read earlier this summer but, that was a long time ago.

Dreams are fascinating and often nerdy when retold.

Are you smiling today?

Today I started off on the right foot. It is only 8:40 am and I have been awake 5 hours, not by choice of course. I spent most of Sunday with a whopping fever of 104, and spent the majority of Monday sleeping and watching movies, so the ole body decided that it didn't need any more rest.

What sparked my desire to post this morning was an interesting conversation that I started with myself and decided to delay because I wanted to do it all in one go so that I don't forget anything.

(Yes, a conversation with myself. No, I cannot excuse it by pointing fingers at a fever or an abnormally early rise today. It is my way of thinking. As an only child who never had anyone to bounce ideas off of it seems like talking to yourself is the only route to go. The way it works is I make up a hypothetical scenario in my mind based on something that pops into my head. I then have a 2nd party ask me about it and argue against me while I try to rationalize and defend my position...I don't have the conversations out loud, but in my mind...because that would just be weird...and I don't instigate them either, they just happen.)

Anyways, this morning I was reflecting on how happy I was the two weeks or so after graduation, that I was very joyful. I attributed it to the freedom from the burdens of school, the book I had just started and the prospect of reading many more, and the time I got to spend gardening for my job. The book was Serve God, Save the Planet. It helped me process and analyze to own trends and actions in a way the was more in depth that I had previously. Earlier, my opinions on simplicity and consumption were honed in on only a few areas of my life. After reading the book I have been trying to uncover all of the areas that I had previously told myself were already as streamline as they could be, and re-examine them.

The beginning of this morning's conversation started with the 2nd party asking "Are you happy?" "Not as happy as I was a few weeks ago," I thought. "But I am not unhappy. I am contented and peaceful. I am enjoying what I am doing, but I don't always have a smile on my face to show it. Should I always be trying to be happy?" (That is as far as I went this morning but will now continue outside of quotes) Or is that what leads us down roads of hallow pursuits and self-indulgences? When I think of people I have known who constantly have a smile on their face, I remember that it is harder to take them seriously. They might seem less genuine, or even mentally vacant. It is obviously natural to go through high and lows. But if we can avoid lows without shirking responsibilities, should we constantly be striving for 100%-all the time- bliss and joy. Is being happy also draining emotionally, so we settle back into a medium to rest? I think about heaven and think will it be all joy, all the time. And if so, then we should strive for the same here? It is clear that Jesus wasn't all smiles 24/7. So perhaps my answer is there. Perhaps, the question was stupid to begin with, but it would be a shame if you didn't exercise our intellect ever now and again. It would be even more shameful if we assumed that some things were too mundane to pay heed to and didn't challenge our basic everyday assumptions.

I now must go to the doctor to get diagnosed for what is almost certainly strep throat.