Imagine...

A warm house with soft lighting and comfortably worn-in chairs.  Hot, delicious home-cooked soup and cold, fresh vegetables.   A low murmur of conversation and bubbly laughter of friends and toddlers, forgetting the cares of everyday life in the simple pleasure of being together.  The truest image of a picturesque moment, the kind you relish and wish to live in forever.  If only I’d had a camera…

Sometimes they come as I sit and watch a young couple play with their young child or a young man offers his seat to an elderly woman.  Sometimes the time-resistant picturesque moments come as I walk to campus and ponder on the wonderful blessings I’ve been given.  Sometimes they come as I sit in my office and talk about linguistics, teaching, Spanish, or any combination thereof with my colleagues.  Sometimes they come as I teach and bask in the delight I see in my students’ eyes when they finally understand and can’t help but blurt out, “I love Spanish!”  Sometimes they come as I sit in the temple praying, at my desk reading the scriptures, or singing hymns with fellow Christians.  Sometimes they come when I’m with my friends and stop paying attention to what’s going on to admire their beauty and goodness.  And sometimes they come when I’m with my parents, siblings, and cousins reminiscing on the past, celebrating special occasions, or simply spending time with them.  More and more lately, I feel pressure to hurry to finish, to make plans, to get my future plans in order.  But almost just as much, I suddenly feel the pure joy of being in the right place and marveling at God’s goodness.  Regardless of when they come, I love those moments and can’t help but smile and think, “How can life get any better than this?!” 

I was talking to a friend about such moments tonight, and he mentioned the ending of a movie where the hero encourages a comedian to tell some jokes on a train to brighten the passengers’ lives before they die, and the filming slows as it pans the individuals laughing, being united in the simple, pure joy of being together in their last moments.  The way he described it, I could picture it and it evoked memories of Christmases and birthdays filled with joy.  Or even that last scene in The Giver when Jonas sees a family celebrating Christmas and singing carols together.  I realized that it’s not the complexity or cost of the activities themselves that make time seem to slow, but the simplicity thereof and the joy brought thereby into the lives of those participating.  In those moments, heaven seems closer and rather than distorting time and momentarily forgotten moments of “real” life, priorities regarding what’s of most worth come into view and sharpen.  Life is filled with little moments. If we miss those, we miss the essence of living!  Life isn’t about accomplishing great feats—it’s about acknowledging the grandeur of ourselves and each other as God’s creations, creating and strengthening great relationships with those wonderful people placed in our lives, and striving to become more Christlike and godly.  How?  Worry less about the future and make the most of each day, each time-stopping moment granted us by God.  And maybe, just maybe, you should keep a camera on hand.  Who knows but when a picturesque moment will present itself?

Words of Encouragement and Advice

So, I recently got a new phone and I finally went through my old saved texts yesterday--you know, ones I liked and never looked at but could never part with.  Well, the timing was perfect, because Heavenly Father knew I needed to read them once and for all to remind me just how much love I received, even in something as simple as a text.  Among all the little, "You're sweet" and "You're the best!" from friends and family I found some sweet,  moving words of comfort and encouragement from one of the wisest people I knew who was acting on promptings as she kept her daughter in her prayers.  I thought I'd share--you know, just in case you need a bit of encouragement like I often do.

• I love you! 
• God bless you! 
• You are a helper in our Heavenly Fathers kingdom and will be a great mother in Zion.  I KNOW THIS TO BE TRUE!
• You’re the best! 
• Heavenly Father knows what he is doing.  As for me he is being kind because I am not yet ready to let you go.  This is mom by the way.  I lost my phone.  I LOVE YOU VERY MUCH! YOUR PRAYERS WILL BE ANSWERED AT THE RIGHT TIME.  PATIENCE IS A GODLY ATTRIBUTE HE DESIRES US TO ACQUIRE.  IT IS PAINFUL AT TIMES BUT WILL BE WORTH IT.  YOU ARE OF GREAT WORTH!
• Just remember many men have loved you.  You are waiting for the one that your heart will recognize and say “THERE YOU ARE!”  You will be blessed :)  Your ancestor-Your future posterity and your family here on earth are all praying for your success in finding that special companion. 
• I love you!  YOU are a blessing to all that come in contact with you.  
• We love you very much and will be praying for you.  
• You are never stuck we are ever moving forward.  Our bodies are always under going change.  Two years ago I could not lift a glass yesterday I had strength enough to mow the front lawn.  Last year I was on chemo now I am not. 
• Get some rest it helps with coping and dealing with individual challenges.  We love you very much. 
• We are all a work in progress.  A marvelous work and a wonder :)
• Three simple things we all need to remember:) to love God- to love yourself- to properly love others :-) 

And if that isn't enough, well, think of the forget-me-nots.  

Un dia triste para mi...

So, last Saturday, I was going about my own business, innocently shopping for food to subsist upon for the start of the school year.  My first mistake was thinking about what a good driver I am and how simple my life has been lately.  The second mistake was to trust the oncoming car's right blinker that was supposed to turn into where I was so I could take a left onto the busy road.  Not so.  And the oncoming driver, ignorant of his blinking light and why I was pulling out, supposed I would move out of the way in time.  My car was too slow.  He braked at the last moment and swerved what he could, probably saving my life.  Thankfully, the damage done was only emotionally to me and the physical blow was suffered by my dear '97 Geo and the other guy's '11 Toyota. I'm guessing his car'll be taken care of.  Mine will, too, but I'm not sure exactly how just yet.  According to Maaco, mine's totaled.  :(

It's still surreal that the accident happened.  That it happened to me.  That I may be carless, just after having updated the tabs, replaced the brakes, fixed  the CV axle, and gotten a new paint job and transmission just a year ago.  That I almost avoided it.  That I almost died.  

I saw the other guy on campus today, and I'm pretty sure he recognized me; he looked down as we walked past each other.

All I can say is that I don't know what the future holds for me and my car, but I do know thatI am blessed with wonderful family members to comfort me and calm me and hug me, and that Heavenly Father must really want me to be here--he's saved me from two car accidents, preserved my life in Europe, and protected me against many other, unknown dangers!

Tengan cuidado mientras manejan!

"A Little Fall of Rain"

And thus it has ended, at least for this year.  As of today, I have begun my training workshop so I can begin teaching Spanish this upcoming school year, and next week I begin my own classes as well.  All in all, it promises to be a busy but rewarding school year.  Ha, I even have a few former students scrambling to figure out how they can be together and in my class yet again!  That warms my heart.

However, I am not here to write about my dear former students or my new schedule this Fall.  Rather, I am here because I realized it's been awhile and it just so happens that I've thought a lot about life this summer.  Perhaps one particular catalyst for this post is one of my new colleagues, whom I met this morning.  I don't know much about him--only enough to relate with him when he told me he hadn't even planned to do an MA a year ago, because I was in much the same position just before I graduated with my BS.  Had you asked me just over a year before graduating if I expected to be a flourishing grad student in Hispanic Linguistics, I would have told you I was too scared.  Shoot, sometimes it still scares me!  And if you'd asked me when I was a graduating senior in high school what I planned to study, Spanish was a mere hobby, not even on my list of potential foci for a BS/BA.  Not to mention that I would've looked at you with a gaze of sheer shock, eyes bugging out of my head in unbelief had you told me then where I'd be today.  Some of the shock has worn off (both for me, my colleagues, and my professors, to be sure!), but there are still times, I think to myself, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!  HOW DID YOU GET HERE?!"  But believe me that those are moments of awe and wonder, marveling in the wisdom of God's timing and his ways.  Why?  Because despite so many odds, I am where I am and I am here for a reason.

In elementary, my teachers thought that advancing me would make me "average."  Boy, were they wrong.  Besides, as a friend pointed out most of the population is technically "average," so how is that so bad?

In high school, I dared follow my siblings' steps by participating in Running Start, aka concurrent enrollment, allowing me to complete high school requirements by working on my AAS.

In my undergrad, my dad and best friend in particular encouraged me to continue studying Spanish and my mom supported me in my desires to study Home and Family Living and prepare to marry and raise a family of my own one day.  In the process, I followed divine guidance by living in the Foreign Language Residence rather than participate in studies or internships abroad.  By the end, another friend's nudge helped propel me towards ultimately deciding to go for an MA.

Thanks to the good faith of the Spanish linguistic professors here, I was accepted into the program.  Once again following divine guidance, I sought out counsel as to how to fund a trip to Europe.  Enter the FLAS program and all the plans and spontaneities that came to fruition this summer.

I may not be a returned missionary (RM) who served Spanish-speaking, I may not be the most mature or the most experienced, I may not have the best, most fluid Spanish, and I certainly don't have the most concrete plans for the future, but as I said before, I am where I am for a reason.  And as unique as I am, I am not by far the only one whose life heavenly Father has a hand in.  We all make plans, begin to follow them, and accomplish some, totally own others, and are dumbfounded by yet others.  But there always is a way, despite all the turns.  For me, those were not getting married in my 5-year plan, becoming the most inexperienced grad student in Spanish, and learning French in Paris.  And as frustrating as it is for plans to go cattywampus, who's to say they are blessings in disguise?  For me, the extra time being single allowed me to wander Europe freely, the Spanish MA gave me a job and credentials to receive the FLAS grant and have spending money, and Paris gave me the chance to explore Europe.  Oh, I know that not everything is as colossal as it has somehow turned out to be for me; in the case of a former student a car accident and subsequent surgery turned out to be blessings in disguise because the leftover settlement funds are now paying her tuition.  In Les Misérables, the tragedy of Eponine's death turned out to free Marius to marry Cosette, his love.  For others, the hidden blessing comes from married while going to school, realizing that money is tight, but still being generous and suddenly receiving food and gas as thanks in return; getting a hard, last-minute one-semester teaching job that earns you enough money to continue on with your own education; taking extra time and falling "behind" because your big project isn't coming along like the others', only to realize that at least by delaying graduation you are still eligible for insurance; not being able to have children, but actively participating in the community, thereby being able to work closely with others' children and becoming a second mother to many; feeling heartbreak when a relationship (of any kind) doesn't work out, but really it was so you could find someone better or appreciate better what you had and joy in the day it really all does come together (because IT WILL); having to move back home after earning a BS, but finding that you know you are closer as a family as a result; working custodial day after dreary day, finally to one day have someone thank you and it makes your day; or experiencing weakness upon weakness, to see one day how it has made you more Christlike and empathetic towards others who suffer.  In every case, the situation isn't exactly ideal, but the experience builds strength and shows us what we can endure and what truly matters in life.  Coming back to the Les Mis example, Eponine was right when she says the rain doesn't hurt, but that it makes the flowers grow.

So, for every up and down recorded here on my little blog from this summer with its gamut of experiences, there is surely a million other disappointments and joys and blessings in disguise, rains and meadows of blooming, fragrant flowers that you, my friends, are expert in and could tell me about.  And I'd love to be your listening ear.  It's the least I can do, really, as thanks for doing the same for me!  Remember that you are not alone and that Heavenly Father is working hard in your life and that he loves you!  As the songs says, "That's all you [and I] need to know."

How to Answer?

Picture this: You come back from a trip long enough that friends and family missed you, and everyone asks how it went, seemingly excited and somewhat jealous of the wonderful trip they imagine you've had. They suppose that the normal life you have "resigned" yourself to coming back to is boring and mundane, anxious to hear your larger-than-life version of the world beyond their own.  Everyone asks how you are doing, what you thought, and you do your best to sum up the recent past in a few words, unsure which of all your thoughts and experiences to share.  You begin by describing it as great/crazy/totally worthwhile, or something to that effect, and then either the conversation ends soon thereafter because you don't know where to begin and they don't have time anyway; or their eyes begin to glaze over and they get all shifty as you excitedly begin to answer and continue answering a question they asked, and your excitement fizzles out as you get the feeling they didn't really want that much of an answer; or they are just as excited as you and the conversation goes on, with questions and story-answers flying back and forth, perhaps indefinitely, or at least until you have to drag yourself back to real life and remember time constraints, possibly to continue the catching up soon.

Have you ever had that happen to you?  The trip?  The questions?  The answers?

I know that I frequently give long-winded answers and give people more information than they bargained for, but I'm feeling quite torn and, frankly, disappointed.  I know my colleagues, friends, and family are excited to have me back, but I don't want to give everyone the same one-word sum-up of the past three months of my life, and I do want to share what I've learned and done with them.  I don't want to completely take up the limelight, though, ending up feeling like a braggart of sorts.  So you can see that I have a bit of a dilemma as to how much answer to offer, and if doesn't make me feel any better when people ask questions and I get on a roll as I answer them, only to realize that they are ready to cut the conversation short and escape, as though to put a pause on it, or maybe even to hit the "Ctrl+Alt+Delete" button.  Lucky me, such a button doesn't exist outside of technology in social situations.

 

Okay, so I'm exaggerating, but I do feel a bit at a loss as to how much to say.  Thankfully, closer friends do seem much more interested and don't seem to mind me as much.  Maybe 'cause they know already how much I talk and they expect it.  ;)

I do try to share the conversation in my effort to not hog the conversation or steal the spotlight...

So, how was Europe?

It was crazy.  It had its ups and downs, and I learned a lot.  It was totally worth it, but I am glad to be home in the States.  If you want pics or to hear about what I did, most of it's on my blog.  If you have questions, ask.  It's great to see you again!

How was your summer?

***

Boy, I will be so glad to move into my place for this Fall and finally stop living out of a suitcase and have a ward with Home Teachers and Visiting Teachers to call my own.  In the meantime, it's been wonderful to spend so much time with my bro and new sis-in-law, work on a phonology project with my MA colleagues and professors, and catch up with so many close friends.

Day 96, Home at Last!

The last day of my European adventure, at long last!  We spent our last pounds and pence on the taxi ride, courtesy of a nice Punjabi man, and a few Cadbury chocolates to tide us over for breakfast.  Really, the entire day was one long waiting period, divided into ways of biding the time.  First, it was waiting to get to the airport, then to get through all the security protocol, then for our gate to open, then for our plane to start, then for the flight to end.  Next, it was to get through customs and make it onto our connecting flight, only to wait a few hours more for it to end and finally land in Salt Lake.  Lastly, it was waiting to arrive at my brother-in-law’s grandparents’ home to get my car, for us to get to my sister and brother-in-law’s home, and then stay awake until late MST to help adjust to being in a time zone that’s at least 7 hours earlier than I’ve been in for the past 3 months.  And, what with all the waiting I’ve done on this trip for trains, metros, and whatnot, I like to think that I’ve become more patient and laid-back while waiting…What ARE we in such a rush for?  Maybe slowing down will actually cut out some stress and extend our lives.  Even so, I am grateful that I did have movies and food and a book to help pass the time and distract me from my anxiety to get to my blessed America during my long flight home.

All the same, all the weeks of waiting and longing to come home and the last few hours of traveling to finally get to my destination were worth it, especially when the customs officer told me, “Welcome home,” and the pilot on our flight acknowledged to hard work and valor of our military personnel on flight, ending his remarks with a warm, “Welcome home and God bless!”  No, I am not yet at home in the town I grew up, nor do I have an apartment to call my own, but I am indeed at home in the sense of being back in the culture I was raised in and have taken for granted for all these years!

As we came in for a landing in the Salt Lake Valley, I looked down at the neat, orderly rows of housing of the cities below and wondered to myself whether or not they are in actuality much different than the ones of the metropolises I’ve spent the summer in.  Tout à coup, a realization struck me: Yes, they are different; the ones directly below me had yards, lawns with grass and trees, not to mention that the very layout of the Utahan neighborhoods is more linear and organized than those of Paris, Lisbon, Madrid—you name the city.  Sure, they designed their vast cities with undulating curves so as to hinder attacking catapults, but ours were designed for commerce and transportation.  It is in such simple details that one can see how drastically history has shaped the cultures on these continents separated by an ocean. I have had the taste of Europe on the one side that I for so long yearned for.  I, like my country in the eyes of the world and relative history, am young, but I am grateful to my time in Europe for pushing me to grow up a bit more and for helping me to see what a gem my life in the blessed United States has been.  No, I know that the places I saw were not third-world by far, but the very differences of simplicities such as toilets, toilet paper, and toilet handles or ways to do laundry, or what side of the road and car to drive on and in—simplicities I never really questioned because they seemed so natural—were brought to my attention and appreciated at last.

My sister and her husband feel like the beginning of their two-week long trip was long ago, and my sister has mixed feelings about being back and having to go back to work in just over a week from now.  I, however, am ecstatic to be back.  I even can use my American phone again!  I came back and received multiple texts right away from my brother, asking about where I was, how I was doing, and wondering why it’s been so long since I’ve update my blog.  I’ve got work to do, but after having had a few months of wandering, I’m ready to settle back in!  So, I just want to end this trip chapter of my life with a few thanks.

Merci, Paris, for the crêpes, waffles, pastries, and for being my first European experience.

Gracias, Spain, for fulfilling one of my life’s dreams and for giving me a view into my mom’s youth. 

Obrigada, Portugal, for reminding me of my hometown and for showing me the value of both understanding a language and being able to respond in it (rather than just understand).

Merci and gracias, my French and Spanish friends, for teaching me your languages and welcoming me in for even a brief time.

Thank you, Ben and Ashlee and Bonnie, for teaching me how to ask questions and become more independent while having fun!

Thank you, my dear SPAN 105 and 106 students and BYU and the US Government for providing me with the means to go to Europe.

Thank you, Mom and Dad and my family and friends, for your support and many prayers on my behalf.  I love you.  You are the reason I could look forward so much to coming back.

And thank you, Heavenly Father, for always being there, always hearing my prayers and those of my parents; always putting the right people in my path to teach me and help me or so I could help them; always protecting me and guiding me; sometimes showing me glimpses of what I might expect for my future; and sometimes filling me with complete peace, regardless of where I was.  I know that the ups and downs were meant to be experienced and that you have shaped me into a better person.  Thank you for blessing me with a home in the United States of America in a loving family, surrounded by loving friends and with the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints as a constant in my life, no matter where I go in this world. 

How did I ever deserve such incredible blessings?!?

Day 80, Unique Beauty

I just went to Córdoba!  Ashlee and I had considered it before, too, when we went to Sevilla, but we mistakenly looked at the guided group costs, leading us to believe that the Mezquita alone would cost 37 euros, so we chucked that idea, only to regret it somewhat later when Ben and his mom found out that it really costs 8 euros!  So then it was a toss up between using a train pass to go there or to break up my trip to Avignon into two days, but I ended up deciding on seeing something new.  My but was it worth the trip!

Once my train arrived and I got some information and a map, I beelined it over to the Judería, the ruinous, old part of the city enclosed in some of the old city walls.  The mezquita-turned-cathedral was my first stop, mainly because it is the one famous thing I knew of before even coming and it was a must-see.  I had seen pictures of it, of course, but all I was expecting was the unique but plain red and white arches.  Sure enough, those were the first things I saw as I stepped through the entrance, but that wasn’t even the half of it!  Indeed, the place had originally been a Visigoth church, complete with familiar Christian images (which reminded me that they were of the Christian faith in the first centuries Anno Domini), images which are now artifacts recovered and set on display within the structure.  It was after them that the Arabs invaded and took control, converting the edifice into a mosque and giving it its reputation as the largest Islamic structure in the West and the 3^rd largest in the world!  However, the conquest of the Catholics eventually led to yet another overhaul of the building, creating a cathedral smack dab in the center of the mosque.  The result of so many years of additions and renovations is a beautifully unique hodgepodge filled with ironic juxtapositions.  Now, I’ve seen a fair amount of Arabic architecture and designs from southern Spain, but I don’t cease to be amazed by the intricacies found in every inch of tiling and marble plaster that have lasted for so many centuries.  The cathedral’s more western contribution is equally elaborate, but a world of its own;  it contrasts its figures of Christ and saints combined with Roman lettering with the winding, intertwining designs and Arabic lettering, void of what would have been sacrilegious depictions of living beings.

 The inner courtyard

Visigoth artifacts

Arabic ceiling

Arabic arch

Spanish Catholic ceiling

American me with some of the mix

 Yes, all of the above pictures were from ONE building!

Leaving the ancient beauty of the Mezquita, I wandered across the ancient Roman bridge traversing the Guadalquivir, coming back just in time to have missed my chance to enter the alcázar and its adjoining gardens.  It turns out I wasn’t the only one who missed the hours, and I soon made friends with an Argentine girl who was also on her own in the city.  Together, we walked around the alcázar por si acaso we could at least get some glimpses into the gardens.  On our way, we found a poor baby golondrina (swallow) that couldn’t fly!  It was so cute and took a liking to my new friend.  What a shame that we had to leave it, probably to an uncertain death.

In the last bit of time I had left before catching my train back into Madrid, I went by a few other smaller sites.  One was the old Jewish synagogue, and it was small but intriguing to me because its structure and design was heavily influenced by the Arabs, but the words and scriptures inscribed in the wall plastering were Hebrew!  I also went to the Casa Andalusí, which has been around since the 600s AD.  Neither cost very much, and I almost didn’t end up paying for the synagogue because it was free for European Union residents and 30 cents for others and the worker told me that “no se lo nota,”—that is, he couldn’t tell that I’m a foreigner.  I took that as a compliment and paid, earning myself a souvenir ticket to go with my little collection.  :D

The rest of my time was spent walking a little and thinking while lounging a lot.  I got to thinking, too, about why people try so hard to create great empires when they have been so prone to eventual destruction.  For example, civilization after civilization had built and resided in that same spot, now only preserved as a souvenir of sorts of the past.  Then again, each civilization came to contribute something of its traditions and knowledge to help create our culture today.  Everything had a purpose.  What’s more, the most important thing is that people live to be happy and help create happiness in others’ lives.  My first thoughts had been defeatist at best, making so many lives seem a waste.  But then, why do we bother to give a few cents to a beggar, an orange to a homeless woman and her child, or care about an injured bird?  Because we are compassionate human beings and all we want in life is happiness—for ourselves, for others, and for our children.  Really, in the end, we are just like that mezquita so well known in Córdoba: an odd mix of past influences, but with a place in the world to bring, if nothing else, a bit of beauty into the life of another.

Day 79, Holy Toledo!

Just take a wild gander at where I went on July 12.  And it only cost me about 8 euros to get there and back.  I wasn’t sure if I would actually end up going with those two girls because it kept getting postponed, but then I went and slept in, waking up at the time I was supposed to meet them on the day we finally decided upon!  Thankfully, they patiently waited for me, and we made it at last.  Like Coimbra, it was hilly, but it wasn’t so bad nor was it so hot.  I don’t recall being overwhelmed by awesomeness, but at least now I have pictures (including one of me and shining armor [knight wanted]) as well as bragging rights.  I wouldn’t’ve even really thought of it, except Ashlee pointed out that now when someone says, “Holy Toledo!” I can say, “Yeah, I’ve been there.”  That and it’s a cultural hotspot near Madrid and my mom and others have recommended it.  I wouldn’t flown all the way over to Europe for it, but it was definitely worth the day trip.

Day 78, Scavenger Hunt

Things to find on a Monday morning in Madrid:

• Cheap Havaianas (flip-flops—turned out to be rip-off knock-offs, but I did end up buying a new pair of flip-flops)
• Find cheap pizza for lunch (Calvin had extra time between Pamplona and Barcelona, so we hung out for lunch)
• Get train info (for meeting Cassi and Eric)
• Take pictures (of my mom and aunts’ haunts from their time in Spain in the 70s)
• Cuzco: Site of Franco passing by Hotel Cuzco
• Ríos Rosas: Seventh Day Adventist school
• Pío XII: Former location of a friend’s home and swimming pool
• Avenida de los Parques: Home sweet home away from their USA home
• May and June 2011 Liahona magazines (for preparing and teaching YSA FHE in Spanish!)

Day 77, Changing of Plans

I decided that I can’t handle another week of being away from friends and family and just sitting around here.  So, I’m taking those nice French YSAs from last week at the temple and ravioli activity up on their suggestion: I’m going to their hometown, Avignon!  Instead of meeting up with Cassi and Eric in London on July 24, I’m meeting them in Avignon on July 19.  Big change of plans, but I feel good and excited about it.  Talking to Cassi and Mom helped me ground myself, too, because it’d been a while since I’d talked to family.

In other news, I went to church—not atypical in the least!  But this time, I ended up sitting apart from Teresa, which put me out of my comfort zone, but I ended up sitting near another YSA, who loaned me her hymnal for singing and led me to the YSA Sunday School after sacrament.  There, I met a couple of other YSAs and loved the lesson about Christ’s trial and death.  Yes, it’s a lesson I’ve had innumerable times, but this time, the teacher had us stop and think about the characteristics of Christ found in individual scriptures.  That itself was interesting, because it made me look a little deeper into the scriptures and see the differences between how the apostles, for example, handled the betrayal of Christ and how he himself handled it. The teacher then asked us how we ourselves can come to develop those characteristics so as to change and one day become like him.  One of the striking questions he asked was, “In what ways do we deny Christ and deny our faith?”

Day 76, Bookworm

Before Calvin left, he gave me a book to read to help me pass the time in the metro and in general on this trip.  More than once had I mentioned needing to find a good, easy, fun book to read—something different from the textbooks, manuscripts, scriptures, and foreign literature I’ve been reading for the past few years.  In fact, I was worried that I had lost my reading and comprehension skills because I fall asleep so easily and miss so much when I read.  I mean, I like to say that I like to read, but I haven’t really sat down to read for kicks since the summers in high school, basically.  Could I even still read?  Much to my delight, I found that I can!  Actually, I was tickled that I am still the bookworm who will read and read, even when walking, not wanting to put the book down.  I am still the girl who will read into the night, the one who made it so my parents thought it best to put a motion sensor light in my room so that the light would turn off for once!

Thanks to Ben who put me to a bit of a challenge, I went to the Retiro park after the YSA BBQ and gave out some of Ashlee’s surveys—in between lots of reading.  :)

Day 75, More Than Language

Honestly, I don’t remember much of Friday, it was that memorable!  What I do remember, though, is that I putzed around the apartment for most of the day and finally got out to attend a YSA activity.  I helped prepare probably a couple hundred Russian raviolis, some filled with mashed potatoes and some with meat.  The activity itself was intended to teach the YSA how to prepare them and then feed everyone with what we’d already made and what they finished making.  The two Russian girls in charge expected that people would mainly come to eat rather than contribute, which is logical and is the case for some, but at least I knew I’d done my part.

However, believe it or not, my favorite part of it wasn’t making or eating the food, but conversing with the people who came into the room!  You see, not only did I enjoy it because Spanish was involved, but also because two French people I met in the temple the day before came, along with a friend, and we had multilingual conversations with our limited overlaps in each others’ language skills. Here I was in a conversation with a French guy and a Portuguese-Brazilian guy, the first having experience in French and English; the second in Portuguese, Spanish, and some English; and me, in English, Spanish, and French.  Sometimes I had to translate and sometimes they understood each other okay because of language similarities.  (In fact, I had mentioned to the French guy that the language similarities and differences are what I love to see in the Romance languages, and then a conversation came up later in which he made that point to say how he could understand some Spanish, with a bit of a smirk and a knowing look at me!)  Now, the simple fact that we could communicate with English being a common is one thing, but what I love most is that I was able to use the languages I know and marvel in the fact that what ultimately brought us together was the gospel of Christ and our membership in his Church.  Just like going into the temple and seeing service being done, even though one worker is a Spanish-speaking Spaniard, another is a Portuguese-speaking Portuguese, and the other is an English-speaking American.  I love it—living a life where I can find friends anywhere because of a common bond in loving Christ.  The language part is a bonus.  ;)

Day 74, Hidden surprises (but when are they obvious?)

Thursday was at one point going to be spent in Toledo, but one of the girls I was going with had a surprise birthday party for her boyfriend set up for the evening, so I didn’t exactly have much planned—except that I was going to go to the temple.  It ended up turning out well, though, because Wednesday night, Calvin texted me to say that he was leaving for Pamplona and the running of the bulls a bit later than he expected, so he was free to chill for most of Thursday.  He had been staying at the edge of the city in the temple alojamiento, so we met up in near there after I was done at the temple.  From there, we decided to go back into the city and check out the free archeological museum of the National Library, followed by checking out the statues comprising the façade of the library itself.  At the museum, I chanced upon the Dama de Elche, a super-ancient stone figure of a woman left from the Iberians who once inhabited this peninsula, and while looking at the library, I realized that the construction had hidden statues of more than one famous Spanish author from my view, including Cervantes!

She's only 2400-ish years old.  Give the dama a break!  

 

I don’t remember anything really life-changing that we did, but we did walk and talk a lot.  As a result, I have a better grasp on the inner city’s layout and a bit better of a grasp on my country’s politics—or at least Calvin’s view of them as shared over a Chinese lunch in Spain.  Soon enough, his ride to Pamplona was ready to hit the road, so we said bye for real this time and I went to the Prado again to check out some works one of my professors had told me were there and Calvin had reminded me of.  Thanks to Calvin, I found works like the Jardín de las delicias, other works by El Bosco, and works by Goya other than the ones I saw my first time through.

At that point of the day and of my trip, I’d just about had it.  I was tired, my feet hurt, I was alone in a foreign country, I still had what seemed an eternity left of my trip, and I just wanted to talk to my family and go home (both the Madrid one and the USA one).  I also knew that a way for me to get past the feelings was to make friends, and I remembered that there was that surprise birthday party I’d been invited to.  I wanted either a call from home or a call about how to get to the party.  Right in the midst of all my despairing, one of my friends called about the party.  In fact, she had even tried to call a couple times right when I entered the Prado.  In short, I ended up going.  And it turns out that my family had emailed me at about the same time, thinking of me.  Heavenly Father knew that surprises such as those found at the museums and library were one thing, but that I needed a couple more personal surprises to help me keep going.

Day 73, Familiar Places and Faces

As my new friend Calvin’s one full day planned for Madrid, I pointed out some places to go in the city.  Haha, I thought I hadn’t seen much, but it turned out that I, in actuality, was familiar with the biggest things on that tourist map. (Bless the Argentine woman who gave it to me!)  Nevertheless, I was there as a bit of a guide but also as a tourist myself, so we took advantage of the wealth of free time our lives have become and decided to go to the Cathedral of the Almudena, the Royal Palace, the opera house, the Plaza Mayor, the San Miguel market kitty corner to the Plaza, a couple of churches nearby, a kebab place at the Plaza for lunch, the Prado, the Reina Sofia museum, a restaurant for a paella dinner, and McDonald’s for internet and dessert to end the day.

While Calvin went to the Prado, I set off to the National Library to do more work on my thesis.  Yeah, I was so involved in it that I took a power nap next to my 17^th century books, compared all of 1.5 pages of text, and chatted it up with my sister, giving her advice for her trip to Europe.  The last bit of my time waiting for Calvin to finish with the museum, I took pics of the scenery and I sat on the lawn just outside of the Prado, enjoying watching the family next to me as the adults talked and the children rolled down the hill, listening to the sweet and simple Spanish guitar music nearby, and feeling the pleasant coolness in the shade.   

 Fountain scenery in between street lanes

A palace-turned-post office with a fountain

 When Calvin finally was ready, I pulled myself away from the pleasant scene to move on to a free visit to the Reina Sofía museum, where the famous Guernica painting by Pablo Picasso from the Spanish Civil war is preserved as well as works by Salvador Dali.  I am no fan of modern or abstract art, but seeing it in person along with Picasso’s practice sketches and actually looking at the details of the scene really me conmovió: I felt a small hint of what I’d imagine to be the terrible bombing, bloodshed, and horror suffered in the small bombed town of Guernica.

 Guernica and the horrors pertaining thereunto as portrayed by Picasso (not my pic--those were forbidden)

  

Didn't you know Dali painted me in "Girl at the Window"? ;)

To end the tourist day, we ended by having dinner and stopping in at a McDonald’s for internet and dessert.  Hah, I happened to wear a BYU shirt for once and that combined with Calvin and my speaking English tipped off a couple of women nearby.  One turned to me, simply because she could tell I was a fellow BYUian.  What she didn’t realize was that we already knew each other—the two women are pedagogy professors in the Spanish Department!  Thankfully, the one talking to me did remember my name once I pointed out the connection.

All in all, a day mixed with seeing old and new, both of places and of people.

A Side-note

My daddy wanted me to write every day, saying he would as well.  Of course, I was planning already on keeping up my blog to share my adventures, and perhaps I have shared so much that friends have gotten behind and feel weighed down with keeping up on the reading.  Recent weeks should’ve helped with that some, considering that I haven’t been so consistent.  Honestly, I’m tired, too.  It’s not that I lack the time; indeed, on the contrary—I have more time than ever, even than when I was in Paris.  It’s just that I come back late-ish and watch TV with Teresa while being on FB and Gmail.  I have various excuses, but maybe a big one, come to think of it, is that I’m plain tuckered out emotionally.  I still have exciting moments, but most of the time I’m left to my own devices and either bum around at home or try to keep busy out and about. 

The best way to describe how I feel is to liken it to those marathon shopping days I have every once in a while with my sisters and mama—they can keep going and going like no tomorrow (or so it seems at times), but I get so tired after 6 or 8 hours nonstop that I get grumpy and don’t want to do anything but go home.  I’m not grumpy this time, but the worst part of the deal is that I can’t go home earlier because I still need to go to Salamanca, Toledo, and London.  Really, though, sightseeing isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, especially not on an extended basis.  I’ve seen lots of castles and cathedrals and museums.  Can I please just go home?!

Talking to other Americans probably hasn’t helped my case much, particularly when we discuss our own culture and plans for going home while speaking our native language.  (Remember, part of why I’m here in Spain is so that I supposedly improve my Spanish…)  Sure, I’m making friends with native Spanish speakers, but how much are these days in Spain actually helping?  Granted, they sure aren’t hurting my Spanish, but I do have many more years of life in which to improve my skills and knowledge.

To those of you reading this, know that I love and miss you.  I hear stories about what you’re up to and I see pictures, and I know that you think there’s not much of interest back there in UT or WA, but know that simple moments with the ones you love are the ones to live for.  And remember, too, that the United States, despite the junk food, faults, and imperfections found therein, is a special country, filled with the latest technology and medicine and the site of the restoration of the one true church, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.  Being away from home has been the only way for me to recognize the immense blessings I have been given—and yes, that includes you, dear Reader.  I’ll see you after I get home on July 29, ¿vale?

Song of the Day: Come, Come Ye Saints

Day 72, Networking

 I love it when people do their job and are actually happy about it and show that they love to help!  I met a couple of women like that in the library, and it has made me feel so much more comfortable in working there!  Thanks to one of them, I basically have two 17^th century documents and two volumes of the 20^th century version of one of them on reserve for me for most of the rest of my time here.  :)

Aside from getting some actual work done, I went “home” to eat, hoping Teresa had made something.  I arrived to find nobody home, but decided to make one of my special fruit smoothies, kind of as a gift/contribution to living there.  When she got home, she didn’t want any, though.  I found out a few hours later that it was her birthday, too!  Too bad I didn’t have a real gift to give her.

Some women and their kids came to visit for her birthday, and the two girls ended up handing me a Nintendo handheld to play with them.  Okay, so I am so non-videogame savvy that I didn’t even know that the handhelds could communicate and participate in the same game!  Needless to say, I didn’t do so hot with the speed games or games that they didn’t explain to me well, but I kicked their trash on a puzzle game!

Sadly, I had to leave the girls, but it was to meet up with Fabiola, a YSA girl who’s in my ward, so she could show me around the Retiro some more.  Calvin, a guy I met in Lisbon just arrived in Madrid, too, so I invited him to join us.  When we all met up, we realized that the only way we knew each other was thanks to the church: I met both of them at FHE, but in two different countries!  I am so grateful that the Church is a constant and that it brings people together!  Speaking of...

 (Yeah, I was disappointed in the lack of comments on this pic on FB.)  No, we aren't dating; Calvin was trying to block out other tourists, leaving no room for my arm.  

I spy an unwanted tourist.

Day 71 Kit Kats and Tobacco

My first day of the Biblioteca Nacional.  Yeah, nothing says, “Happy 4^th of July” more than going to another country’s national library to look at some of their old texts.  I was going to meet up with Greg and another guy I met Friday so we could eat some BBQ and celebrate together as Americans, but those plans went awry when we found out that the place in mind was closed so the owners could be on vacation, and then a backup place we found was only serving meriendas until 8pm, when it opened up the regular menu for the Spanish dinner time.  In the end, we ended up eating in the Cafetería del Retiro, eating bocadillos, aka meat or eggs on bread.  From there, we went to the YSA FHE, which was fun.  More or less, celebrating my American-ness was a bust, void of my beloved BBQs, watermelon, root beer floats, and fireworks. But at least there was some flat, homemade root beer leftover from Friday’s activity and I had Kit Kats to share.  And how I ended up with them is a story all on its own.

I never imagined when I began learning Spanish that words like “tabaco” and “cerveza” would really be necessary to know, for me at least.  Come on; I’m LDS and don’t drink or smoke!  I have no need for such things in my life!  Well, in a way, Europe has had a bad influence: I’ve drunk tea, eaten coffee- and wine-flavored foods, and now I was on a ridiculous hunt for a tobacco shop!  (I thought the tea was peach juice and didn’t know about the flavorings, but, even still, they are just flavorings.) 

Okay, before you get to thinking I’ve gone off the deep end, forgetting my standards and values, and that I completely forgot I was going to talk about Kit Kats, just listen.  And Mom, your girl is still able to go to the temple. To explain: Tobacco shops here also sell useful stuff like stamps to send postcards to my family peeps and stuff like metro cards that are necessary for saving and buying a month’s pass.  In fact, they are the only place where you can get the card to use the metro, and then you can renew it monthly or whenever in the metro itself, but the original card is only sold in tobacco shops. Why?!  I don’t know.  I mean, what does public transportation have to do with tobacco?!  I didn’t know this until Friday, and I was in such a hurry that when I found that out, I decided to wait until the next day.  Only to find out that tobacco shops don’t reopen after siesta time on Saturdays.  Of course.  Teresa helped me find an open one in a department store, but they didn’t do metro cards. Worse, the tobacco shops wouldn’t reopen until Monday morning!  (Good for helping me keep the Sabbath, I suppose!)  So, Monday morning I went to find an open one.  The first one I saw was a closed stand and the second one was an actual store.  All the hunting seemed to be in vain when I told him I wanted a (discounted) youth’s pass and he replied that I’d need to wait for 20 days.  20 days?!  That’s how long I had left in Spain!  I knew Greg had gotten his pass pretty easily, so I hesitated to buy a 10-trip pass, but I didn’t have sufficient coinage for a regular 1-trip, not to mention that I needed a 1 euro coin for work I’d do at the Biblioteca Nacional.  What to do?  Ah, go to a grocery store and buy something.  What to buy?  Anyone who has shopped with me knows I take forever to decide, but I decided on Kit Kats, a suitable American candy for celebrating an American holiday.  Finally on my way to the National Library, I couldn’t help but laugh at myself and the ridiculous situation. 

Oh, but there’s more.  After burning my brains out trying to figure out the beginnings of this thesis project of mine and what to look at in the National Library, I found out about our BBQ dinner dilemma.  And I was hungry after not having eaten lunch.  Put simply:

• The aforementioned conditions combined with a couple of others=grumpy Ariel.  
• Grumpy Ariel+fruit+Parque del Retiro pond=happy Ariel.  

Later, Greg and I met up to find a place for dinner (and the other guy didn’t show), and along the way we stopped at a couple more tobaccos, and I finally had success when I gave up on the youth pass and paid the 17 euros extra to forego the age check and get the pass then and there.

Who would’ve known I’d spend my holiday in a foreign library and hunting down tobacco shops?  Talk about 4^th of July a la española! 

Gosh, I miss my country, my friends, and my family.  God bless!

Day 69-70, Different

WARNING: Not PC (but when am I?)

Saturday…The most exciting part of the day was the evening, when I met up with Greg, an American I met at the activity Friday night, to go to the Prado Museum for the free hours. It was great!  I remember learning about famous Spanish artists in my Spanish Civ class back in the day (thank you, Hrma Hoskisson!), and I finally got to see some of their works in person!  For FREE!  I saw Goya’s harsh but true rendition of Carlos IV’s family and depressing, tenebrous works from his dark period; I saw the Greco’s brightly colored depictions of Christ; and I saw the well-proportioned famous (and a personal favorite) Las Meninas by Velázquez.  Yeah, I saw some other art, too, but we made sure to see those big artists. 

 

Once we were kicked out for closing time, we walked around a bit more.  We were going to see some Catalan statues on a nearby walkway, but those plans were derailed by the gay pride festivities.  Seriously, the plaza-roundabout was FILLED with rainbows and men dancing in briefs and other such going on.  The funny part is that I had only the night before heard that such a thing would go on this weekend, but it was a complete accident that that’s what I found upon exiting the metro on my way to such a refined, cultured place as the Prado.  Such societal extremes…

On Sunday, I went to church with Teresa.  Even though I’m in the heart of Spain, there are Latinos everywhere!  Don’t get me wrong; I love Latinos!  It’s just that I came here, expecting to be surrounded by Spaniards and vosotros, but there are so many Latinos that I can keep using the seseo without the so-called “lisp” that is actually a “theta”. Church was no different: mostly Latinos, but with a smattering of Spaniards in the mix. 

Back at the apartment after church, I ended up talking to my momma and baby sis until they had to get ready for church.  After that, I took a nap.  By the time I woke up, Teresa was just coming back from being out with a neighbor, Carmen, and another lady, Estela, came a little while later.  Hah, it turns out that the other lady and Teresa are the exact two ladies one of my professors briefly told me about when he was helping me get set to jet with Madrid, and here I was, sitting with both of them!  They knew him when he was a missionary.  :)  We ate arepas made with Ecuadorian cheese with a side of caffeine-free Coke (which I generally don't drink to avoid the caffeine), and sat there on the terrace for a good few hours.  At times I didn’t know what to say, but once Estela came, everything was great.  There are times I am content to just sit and soak it in, feeling competent because I can understand their language.  And there are times, like moments that evening, when I was part of the conversation and felt super content at being welcomed into their world.  I sat there, simply happy.  One of the greatest moments of the night was when Estela was talking with me and was saying that she’s scared about meting Utah Mormons.  I asked her if I scare her, and she answered, “No.  But you’re different.  You do realize that, right?”  It touched me that she could tell, without even knowing me super well, that I love learning about other cultures and that I’m not one of those people who is very close-minded and ethnocentric.  Gah, I’m not doing justice to her words, but it felt great to be recognized for not reinforcing the smug American stereotype.  And it felt like she could see part of me for who I am, and showing it to me as though for the first time, or at least being another witness, confirming what I’ve thought before: I am different.  And it feels great.

Days 67-68, Sweet Nothings

Well, I’m getting settled in here and I’ve finally made some more friends, but I’ve actually spent quite a bit of time doing nothing but be on my computer.  What I have done hasn’t been of huge consequence in the world’s eyes, but it’s been sweet—in many sentidos.  

On day 67, Thursday, I kicked it back for most of the day, getting up late-ish and spending a good part of the day on my computer updating this baby, my bloggy!  (Ugh, I have no sé cuántas fotos to title.  The ones on here are but a mere fraction of the some 1500 I’ve taken!)  Then, to my surprise, my sister called me!  We talked about life and our plans for her and her husband’s upcoming trip to Europe.  I got to share some tips with her for traveling and touristing.  As if I knew something, hehe.  Gee, I’m happy to see them in a few weeks in England.  But, for now, I need to enjoy Madrid, yeah?

For lunch, Teresa made some spaghetti.  I thought when I decided to move in that I’d be largely on my own with food, even though she told me we’d share noodles and the like, but it appears that she’s making me food whenever I’m here!  I thought, too, that she said she didn’t cook much, but, wow, she cooks amazingly!  The picture doesn’t show it, but those noodles were in a giant bowl and were at the point of overflowing with delicious homemade sauce.  And the drink was some pudding called Natilla mixed with milk.  Me basta decir que by the time I finished, I knew what it meant to have a “food baby.” And that says a lot, coming from me!

That evening, after Teresa took a siestita, she took me to a market where I bought a few kilos of produce for less than 5 euros!  Soon after coming back, I headed over to the LDS Institute, but I arrived late and decided to wait for the class to end so I wouldn’t interrupt and draw attention…only to find out that the class wasn’t going because the only others there were Elder Faustino (the teacher) and his son!  There was another class, but I decided to go home.  At least the trip was useful for finding out where Institute is, meeting a couple of other YSAs, and getting one lady to fill out Ashlee’s thesis survey.  (She was supposed to do it a couple weeks back, but it didn’t really work out, and because I’m still here, I offered to see what I could do.  Gah, I hate approaching people for things like that, especially now that I’ve seen how it goes when people try advertising by handing out flyers and the like.  But, the people I need for this survey are just like me.  I shouldn’t be scared of them.  And if the say no, well, no harm done.  If they say yes, then, great!  …That’s what I have to remind myself.)

Day 68, Friday, I went to the temple again.  And the French-speaking girl I met there on Wednesday was there again!  In fact, many of the youth there were the same as the other day.  Makes sense, since they have to travel so far and then stay in temple housing.  I was planning on passing the couple of hours between my temple visit and the YSA activity by doing reading on my computer, but I finished much earlier than expected, so I stuck around to ponder, pray, and read the Liahona magazine.  

It’s good to take the time and take advantage of the peaceful atmosphere to think about life and pray and figure things out, yes, but this time was different than others.  You see, that 5-year plan I created in high school is just about completed (minus getting married, but that will happen when it happens), and one of my big plans was to come to Spain.  Well, I’m here now.  And I’ll finish my MA soon, perhaps even next spring.  And as great as sightseeing is, I’ve found that it’s not what excites and sustains me; having friends and interacting with them is what does it for me!  At any rate, I read an LDS general conference talk by Elder Oaks on Wednesday that has had me thinking about what my desires in life are, because desires ultimately affect actions.  So, I’ve been stuck with the question: What do I REALLY want to do with my life?  The extra time in the temple helped me sort that out.

Mind at rest, I went out and walked around.  I could see clouds gathering, threatening to storm.  But amidst all the wind (bless it!) and clouds, I saw a real-life depiction of what I want for my future (notice the temple in the background):

At the activity some time later, I again saw the couple missionary that helped me find the temple.  They are super sweet and the husband, Brother Anderson, made sure I met people there, at what turned out to be a party for his wife.  When I left some time later, I was finally at peace with being here—I have friends who want to spend time with me and help me.  One even offered to take the survey to her ward!

So, you can see my life is full of sweet nothings.  Are you surprised?  Why?  Ah, you were hoping I’d say something else, something more to chismear about?  Well, as much as I’d love that, too, we’ll just have to wait.  :D

Days 65-66, Little Preparations

So, on day 65, Tuesday, I finally arrived in Madrid!  Thanks to help from a bishop here in Madrid, I'd made arrangements to live with an Hermana Soto, and I found my way to her place with relative ease--as much ease as my fatty bag and bulky backpack would allow at least.  And I even got up the nerve to ask a couple of people for help!

Now, I knew going into it that Hermana Soto's room for me had to bed but that they had a blowup mattress.  It turns out that the place isn't hers, though; in fact, it belongs to the poor invalid woman she cares for, a frail thing that is confined to a bed or a wheelchair, staring out the window and scratching here knee all day.  The viejita (as Hrma Soto calls her) can't hear and says something like, "Oye," every once in a while.  As I sat in the same room as her, I could smell that familiar smell, that one particular to old people in diapers, too weak to do much more than breathe.  It reminded me of old folks' homes I've been to, and of when my grandparents were dying.  I looked around the room and saw old pictures of what this woman looked like, and I wondered who she once was, picturing her more lively and chattery, like the younger old Spaniard women I've observed here.

The place itself was small, old and run-down, meager to say the least.  And yet Hrma Soto was still willing to take me in.  On top of all that, I found out that she only recently found out she has breast cancer and that much of her family is poor, still in South America or barely getting by in the States.  I had planned to just stay with her, but once I arrived, I just couldn't feel settled, contemplating how I could find another place.  I even considered how much it'd cost to stay in a hostel for the entire time (but that wouldn't be as good for learning Spanish).  Thankfully, as soon as I opened my email, I saw some messages from one of my professors, telling me that I should contact a woman named Teresa, someone he taught on his mission years ago.  Wonderful!

I eventually made it out of the house to finally eat and get money on my phone to call Teresa.  While out, I ended up wandering, wandering, wandering, until I ended up at the Plaza Mayor.  I'm not gonna lie, I was a bit disappointed; I expected something fancier and grander.  Just outside of it was a market that reminded me of Pike's Place in Seattle!  While in the vicinity, an Argentinean couple asked me where we were on their tourist map, but I couldn't tell them because I was still on the hunt for a map myself!  They invited me to join them, which I eventually decided to do.  Together, we found the Catedral de la Almudena and the Palacio Real!

After that bit of sightseeing, I was finally able to charge my phone and call Teresa.  She invited me over to scope it out before making a decision.  Some metro stops and five flights of stairs later, she greeted me at her door.  She welcomed me in and I was delighted to see her place was in much better condition, and I just felt good about it.  In short, I decided to stay with her. 

Back at Hrma Soto's place, I sheepishly told her I was going someplace else.  I felt like a heel after what they'd done for me, even to the extent of manually pumping up the mattress and putting sheets on it, but I did write her a note and leave her some money.  She tried to return it, even putting her hands on her hips and giving me defiant look with that small, short frame of hers, but I copied her and insisted she keep it.  While there, I met a set of sister missionaries (one of which is from WA and knows my cousin), who were there to teach Karen, a girl who also lives with Hrma Soto and the viejita.  They were all so sweet to me, and the sisters even insisted on helping carry my stuff to the metro!

On day 66, Wednesday, I planned to go to the temple to make a reservation for later and then go to the Biblioteca Nacional to see original 17th century texts for my thesis.  The night before, I looked up something related to the temple in my scriptures, and that morning I decided to wear a skirt to go in to make the reserva.  On my way there on the metro, I had the thought, "What if I end up doing baptisms for the dead today?  Would I have time?  Would I do it?"  The next thing I knew, I saw a couple that looked suspiciously like an LDS American couple dressed up in Sunday clothes.  My suspicions were confirmed when I saw their missionary name tags!  They showed me the way to the temple, and it turns out that they are the senior couple in charge of the institute and YSA activities here!

Check out what I found:

As soon as I saw it, something in me came to life, something I hadn't realized was missing.  I used to think the Madrid temple was...not to my taste, but I quickly realized that its designs reflect the history and culture of the region, complete with patterns reminiscent of ones I saw in Granada and Sevilla.  Beautiful!  Oh, how good it felt to be there!  I walked in, asked for a reservation, and the old man behind the desk motioned for me to go at that very moment!  Hmm, good thing I happened to think to bring my recommend, that I was in a skirt already, and that the possibility had already crossed my mind--oh yeah, and that I've lived such that I feel good about going in!

Once in the baptistry area, I found that the main group of youth was from Portugal and that there were a few people from France and a few others from the States.  My week in Portugal proved helpful in understanding the temple president's Portunol message, and I loved that I was in a room that, as he described it, was a mini Tower of Babel, filled with languages I recognized.  I would love to be a temple worker in such a place.  Maybe one day when I'm old a gray.  :)


Some time later, I made it to the Biblioteca Nacional, got my new carne to enter, came back to my new place, and was received by Teresa, who immediately threw a plate of food together for me.  I had been planning on going to institute, but along the way I kept thinking, "What if I don't go?  I'm not actually going.  What if Teresa offers me dinner?  I don't want to offend her by rejecting it to hurry off to institute."  You can guess what happened.

Hmm, it seems that Heavenly Father prepared me for each step of the way with little thoughts along the way.  He tends to do that.  :D

Days 62-64, Obrigada, Portugal

I realize I have fallen terribly behind, but traveling around with limited time on the internet and wanting to describe so much makes it hard to write or even attempt to write all that I could say.  How about I let this handsome Fado singer and his accompanists say it for me? 

Day 61, Word Games

As much as I do love to talk, this morning was one where I was quite content to listen.  Why didn’t I talk much?  Because Ashlee and I accompanied Ben and his teacher in going to the Castelo São Jorge that sits on the hill adjoining our hostel, and since it was his Portuguese tutoring time, his teacher said that it would be Portuguese-only…I don’t speak Portuguese.  But why was I content about it?  Well, as a linguist in Spanish, I have learned about patterns regarding how Latin evolved over time, eventually getting divided politically into languages such as Spanish, French, Portuguese, and Italian.  And I did sit in on a Portuguese 101 class for three weeks.  At any rate, I was fascinated by how much I could understand of what Ben’s teacher said, and I understood most everything that Ben and Ashlee said in Portuguese.  Haha, even when Ben and his teacher had to sit down (after we wandered through the old castle grounds and some Moorish ruins from 200 BC) to correct his homework and he told us we didn’t have to feel like we had to stick around for that, Ashlee was content to stay because it was Portuguese and she loves it, and I was simply enthralled with the language that is foreign to me.  Hah, and Ben thought I was being sarcastic!

Honestly, it surprises me just how much I can understand without really having studied the language much, all based on having learned some general rules and patterns both within the language itself and in relation to its similarities with Spanish.  The frustrating thing is that even if/when I understand a question, I don’t know how to respond!  Yeah, that became an issue in the restaurant we ate in for lunch.  I had just had some real genuine Portuguese food, bacalhau a mintronha, and I got up to fill my water bottle in the bathroom sink so as not to have to pay for it, when the lovely waitress serving us took the bottle from me, offering to fill it up.  I understood her words and question, answering that I wanted cold water rather than natural water, but then I wondered if they’d give me bottled water rather than tap water and that then I’d have to pay.  I tried to protest having to pay, but words failed me, and my mind became a jumbled mess of Spanish, French, English, and potentially made-up Portuguese words and fragments.  Thankfully, Ben’s teacher was nearby, so it got resolved pretty easily, but it did show me how important it is to learn to speak a language and not wholly rely on the fact that “most” people know some English.  And it turns out that the waitress was really simply being kind and that the water was free!  Yay, tasty, cold water!

Lunch over, Ben's teacher left us to our own vices.  ;)  Really, though, we aren't terrible troublemakers and our main plan for the afternoon was to venture across the water to see Cristo Rei up close and personal!  To do so, we simple had to take a ferry.  I loved it!  I only wish we could've been on the deck rather than inside.

 The view on the way over on the ferry

 Cristo Rei

 Cheesy picture?  Sure, but we could've been anywhere in the world, lounging on the grass together.  But where did we go to do it?  The shade under a tree in front of Cristo Rei.

 

From way up there, we saw a domed building that looked interested, so why not check it out?  Using Ben's man-sense of direction and our woman intuition, we eventually found it, "it" being the city Panteão.  Unfortunately, our little hunt in the heat ended we we found it and learned that it had closed only minutes before.  Oh well, that mean we could go to the movies sooner and buy ourselves some theater candy and drinks.  :D

At the movies, we watched X-Men: First Class, which was quite violent but intriguing.  Perhaps one of the best parts, aside from the polyglot nature of the film, was the Portuguese pronunciation of it: "sheez man."  But on our way over,  we played word games with Ben's Kindle's dictionary.  Yes, we thought of it all on our own. It had started as word meaning and etymology look-ups for stuff like "cloister" and "effigy," but it became a guessing game of reading definitions and guessing the words.  And we had a blast.  Nerds, totally and completely.  Another unexciting but very contented moment for me.  :D