Take Note

Today I commence my 2-week vacation from my already rather vacation-y life.

Oli and I are bussing to Andorra today to meet his parents and go skiing for the week...I just hope I fit in the ski clothes they bring and that I don't die, in that order, because frankly, I could deal with death but not death in baggy clothing ;) . All in all, though, I'm ready to take those mountains head on. Additionally, I think this marks the first time ever that I have left a place with 65-degree weather to vacation in one with 30-degree weather. Death!

And moreover still, it would be really cool if when I go to Andorra they stamped my passport, even though they usuaully don't check buses, because it's not part of the EU and therefore, this little ski shenanigan would renew my 90 days and then I could go to Holland with my friend Virginia in May...... Which one of the saints takes care of travellers again? I forget, but Holla to whoever s/he is.

I'll be home Monday the 28th and Tuesday the 29th and will check email and then it's off to Paris to see Virginie on the 30th until the 3rd.....I'm kinda wishing I knew French, but whatever, what I lack in substance I'll make up for in style (Thank you Helen Hunt and the film Girls Just Wanna Have Fun for that quote).

That's all for now.
Hasta pronto pals!

Can I help you to Improve your Spanish and ride Bike this spring?.. nice! :)

OK - So there is this website in Spain similar to Craig's List. It is called Loquo, and it is the bomb-izzle. My roommates and I have found people to do language exchanges with on this site, but more recently, we have taken to just perusing the ads for sheer entertainment. Check out the doosey below posted by a chick searching for an English speaker........not only the longest post EVER, but also, well, you'll see for yourself.............

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Yes yes!.. I am one foreign girl of 25 years.. !!" I am making my second curs about Administration in the University.. here in Barcelona.

I like Barcelona because here I can to find different cultures and languages.. I like the tourism, because My first curs is Hostelery – Tourism.

My Language is Spanish.. I like Spanish!! and is easy. becuase the pronuntiation is the same like you wrote..... and I like teaching my Language ..of course! I have not problems is teach..is a one placer..I like help and made that the persons can correct his faults or errors, because I understand perfecting it. I can feeling in your situation!!..becuase I was in the same situation in another country.. don’t worry!!.. if you confuse I can help you! And if you another time confuse the same word.. I can help you another time, but if you confuse for third time.. I will kill you!! Hahaha! It is a Joke!!.. smile!! Be happy!!

..but I wish to improve my poor poor English, bu bu bu.. :( because I have the intention to made more study in USA.. in the future....and I would like to learn Deutsch too, because I was living in Germany about one year.. And I can not go to the school, but I want to learnt, because I know that I understand a little..please help me... I will be very thank you if you help me too!!.. do you know that, sharing is good!!  hehe! And I like it so much it... believe me..

And the spring is caming!!.. oh oh!!.. I would like to have friends for driving bicycle, going to cinema, walking for the city.. going to the church, take pictures, and dancing ...and I can cooking for you too!!.. au au au... are you hungry? Hahaha!!....

but if you smoke, drink so much and if you have bad intentions .. please don’t write me.. I can not support cigarette ........ fooooooooooo.........withdraw.. jeje...

The friendship is very important for me.. and the time is GOLD and what better idea to use it in things useful ...yes?..

Well, with all the best intentions to share good time learning languages.. to pleased Virna. and please, write me , only persons with good intentions ok and dont play ... ok?

Samuelito con queso

Yo -

My bro Sam came to visit this past week and he well photo documented my life here in Spain. If you like, check out pics of us and my pals at:

http://community.webshots.com/user/ajruiter

Also, a shout out to my brother for being an exemplary American while traveling abroad. He didn't bug my roommates to say things "in British" and he didn't ever turn his nose up at Spanish stuff, especially not those lomo con queso bocadillos, of which we ate MANY. Additionally, he understood how unecessary it is to visit all the monuments and pay to go inside them, as this makes for a lamely unfulfilling trip. He was content to chill in the various parks and beaches and hilltops of Barca and to actually have a great time getting to know people and enjoying their company rather than running around snapping photos of everything. Kudos to you, my wise-beyond-his-years brother.

Holla!

PS - HAPPY SAINT PATTY'S DAY! Take a swim in that green river for me :)

American, boy, girl and handicapped people

1. Americans (***disappointed head shake***)

Americans are sooo embarrasing when they travel abroad. They can't stop announcing all the things that are different about Europe and the US. "Oh my God, everythiing is so small here! Everything is big in America!" They LOVE accents and make other English speakers from England, Australia, New Zealand, Ireland, South Africa and Scotland say things again and again. If I hear "Say something in British!" one more time, there may be bloodshed.

So, in true American form, this girl chatted Matt up the other day at the club and went on to proclaim that she had just recently figured out the difference between the English and Australian accent. To test her, Matt tapped Lawson, our super-Scottish roommate, on the shoulder and said, "Tell me where he's from." Lawson, feeling the tap, said, "What do you bloody want?" With that one phrase our American friend pegged it; "Oh my God! You're Australian!!!"

Lawson almost puked up his beer, then quickly recovered and said, "Why, how did you know?"

We died; frankly we couldn't believe he hadn't resorted to violence......and then we continued the charade for the rest of the night, making up a whole Australian life for Law......who, by the way, is from Melbourne.


2. Boys and Girls

So my roommate Matt looks and talks almost exactly like this girl Virena who is from his hometown. She came out to visit once and the similarity almost knocked me over. No one else sees it, but I do and I tell Matt every time he does something Virena-ish.

While my bro was visiting, I continued this habit. At one point Matt turned to Sam and said, "Do you have any idea what it's like to be told you look like a girl on a daily basis?"

In response, Sam smooshed his face next to mine and said, "Why yes, I do." Classic.


3. Broken Spanish.....and people

So my Spanish is getting decent, but I still have my lost in translation moments.

Take the other night when I was trying to say that two people had broken up. I meant to say "they broke up," which would be "rompieron," but I thought this verb would be reflexive in this case, since Spanish is full o' reflexives. I thought I should say "se rompieron" in order to indicate that "they broke up with each other," but this means, "they got broken."

My friends just paused quizzically and then Marta said, "Did someone break a leg?"

Homes named for sewing equipment

Man I love England. Sorry to support imperialists, but I'm beginning to think maybe we should just let the beefeaters colonize everyone (including us!) since they and their country are just so cool.

Take addresses for example. Addresses are just numbers that help you track down a location, right? WRONG! In England, well, at least in Surrey and Oxfordshire, many homes are well old and have their own name. Oliver's house is called "Buckleigh House." Very vintage.

The best ever, though, is Matt's relatives' home. He's applying to this summer TEFL course in the UK and needed to pretend he lives in Oxford in order to get some funding, so he used their address. I kid you not, it is:
Thimble Cottage
Dark Lane
Oxford, UK

!

I found that so funny that I drew a picture of what I thought the house might look like.

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On a different note, many travels and visitors coming up! Here's the list:

March 11-17:
My brother Sam (a.k.a. Samuelito con queso) visits me!!!! We're going clubbin and mountain climbing....in no particular order!
March 22-27:
Skiing in Andorra (a tiny country between Spain and France) with Oli and his parents. Woot! I'm gonna enroll in some ski lessons while I'm there.....bruises, here I come!
March 30-April 3
Off to Paris to see my old roomie Virginie and experience being in a country where I really don't speak the language, without a guide (Virgi has to work during the days...but at night they'll be no stopping us).
April 13-18
Miss Vicki (a.k.a. Victoria Kost) comes to visit me!!!! Can we say "insurmountable fun"?

It's hard to believe I even work....which I do, and somehow manage to save money in the process (?) and really like what I do (usually). I love you TEFL.

Overconfidence

They got me. My roommates got me.

For weeks Oli and Matt have had me fooled and have laughed uproariously as I declared time and time again to the world that I could not be fooled by them. Que mala leche.

Background info: Oli is the biggest practical joker ever. He's so clever and really listens to what people say. In the moment it takes for someone to make a statement and then inhale, he will have thought of a joke that could be played on that person based on what they have just said. It's a little psychotic.

He's tried several times to get me, but I always called him out. He got close once. I had asked him if the British pronuounced "item" as "eetem" because one of my students had said he thought that was true. I didn't believe it could be possible and Oli said it wasn't but that maybe in some regions of England they might use that pronunciation. I left it at that. Later, when we were all together I asked Timo if he said "eetem," and he said, "What? Do you mean like an eetem on a list?" I almost died. "Oh my God! ," "I can't believe this! You say 'eetem?! I was just talking to Oli about this and....." And then I realized who had set it up.....so he almost got me, but not quite.

So I got all overconfident and Oli realized this, and he then had the key to my downfall.

It started small. One day he said, "Hey, I have to wash my duvet (doovEt). Can I use the machine?"

I said, "Duvet (doovEt)? You mean duvet (doovAy)."

"No I don't."

"Yeah Angie, doovEt." Timo added. Matt nodded.

"Well, we say doovAy in the States." Todd said.

We agreed that it was one of those British-American pronunciation differences.

So for months (Nov-Feb), I brought up doovEt as a funny difference and sometimes said it when wanting to razz the Brits.

Then one night, running home, we saw an old lady with a walker. Matt turned to me and said, "Poor old dear with a Zimmer frame."

"You mean 'walker,'" I responded as we ran.

"Zimmer frame, chica," Matt returned.

"That's ridiculous" I said, "stop trying to fool me."

In the elevator, we ran into Oli.

"Ols, what do you call the metal things old ladies use to walk?" Matt asked.

I turned my upward glance from Matt to Oli waiting for his response. I caught a suggestive glance from the two of them. I could have sworn Matt had mouthed "ZImmer frame" to Oli.

"Zimmer fram!" Oli yelled, laughing.

"I caught you! See, you just can't get me, losers! Zimmer frame is sooo fake," I shouted, busting out of the elevator.

Then Oli's dad came out and I spent three days touring the city and reading books in the family room with him, since Oli had to work a lot. We were buddies; he asked me to go skiing with the fam over Easter in Andorra. After all this, Matt and Oli unveiled their deception and my gullibilty in front of my new pal.

Doing the dishes together one evening, we got onto the subject of Oli's practical jokes. I, being an overconfident braggart, call out, "Oh, but he's never gotten me. That son of yours is just no match for me!"

"She's right, Dad. I just can't get her." Then he and Matt turned to each other and melted into giggles.

"Ha! I said, you think it's funny that you suck so much?!"

"Yeah!" they said, dying of more laughter. "Tell him about doovEt."

"What? DuvEt wasn't ever a joke. You say duvEt and we say duvAy." I responded.

"You mean a duvAy, dear?" Ray (Oli's dad) asked.

"WHAT?!" I screamed. "You DID get me? AHHH!!!"

"And hey, Dad," Oli sad through victory laughter,"What are those metal things old ladies use to walk around?"

"Zimmer frames?"

"AHHHHHHH. You reverse got me! You didn't only get me to believe something false, you got me to disbelieve in something real!!!!"

I was crying from laughing and gagging so hard.

It was definitely the best fun I've ever had being wrong.

~

A little angel infiltrating the depths of human hell

Be the change you want to see in the world.
-Gandhi

This essay is about Edgar, but it is also about me, and you, and I would like to think, everyone. It’s hard to decide who is and is not affected when you talk about love.

Some of you know Edgar and some of you don’t, but in either case, I promise you I’m going to try and be true to him and not make him into something he isn’t or use him for some political agenda.

Edgar has been in the Army reserves for ages and in a couple of weeks, he’s going to Baghdad. When I first found that out two days ago, I was completely surprised at how I burst into tears and couldn’t stop crying. But the thought of Edgar in a war zone was so unnatural.

At times like these, people always say things like, “So-and-so is the best. He’s never hurt anyone and he’s always nice and it’s such a shame and so unfair...”

But Edgar is the biggest peacemaker I have ever met.

Edgar accepts everyone, even those who would oppress him, and reaches out peacefully to help others learn acceptance. He loves people. He can’t get enough of people. The goofy joy he breeds is simply, lovely. In concrete terms, he has worked on dozens of diversity and fundraising events at our university. Before I left for Spain, there was a solid couple of months when his hair was always at this funny frizzy length because every other week or so he would shave it in the “Shave Your Head for Cancer” drives he helped to plan. In personal terms, I would have to say that I have sometimes been put to shame by Edgar’s unwavering challenges of injustice, on both institutional and interpersonal levels. At times when I may have let unfairness slide because the fight might make me look like a nut, his ego was not a factor. The only factor for him has always been making sure everyone is loved and able to express love.

And Edgar knows how to love. This guy has always been running in ninety directions at once, but he sincerely always drops what he is doing to listen, hug or give a quick massage. Once again he has put me to shame; for a long time I used to feel a tinge of annoyance toward colleagues who asked me to listen to their woes when I had deadlines to meet. For Edgar, there has never been a contest; people first. I can only hope that Ed has received as many open ears and arms as he has doled out, but in any case, I think he takes just as much satisfaction in giving as receiving.

Edgar is also an artist. He not only makes the world a more beautiful place through his actions, but also through his paintings. A major theme of his artwork has been his Mexican-American heritage, the Army’s “Don’t ask, don’t tell” policy, and how these affect or are affected by his being gay. “Who is the real Edgar, anyway, and who will let him just be? Can the various bits of his identity live in harmony? Where can he find acceptance?”

My stomach revolted when I read about Edgar being shipped off because, frankly, I didn’t think that Baghdad in the company of the U.S. Army was that place.

I was so afraid for him and for all of the people he knows. I think Edgar may not know it, but to many of us, he represents so many good, peaceful, even innocent things. He’s not a saint, but he is a genuine human being; he embodies and brings out what is best in humanity, what we could all be with a little more love. I just didn’t want him to be in a place where he couldn’t be himself, or where he’d get hurt for being himself. This point was particularly driven home when my friend Cori, who is compiling a journal for him, wrote to us all:

“One very important thing: The messages MUST be ‘military friendly.’ i.e. ‘Don't ask, don't tell.’ We wouldn't want to get Edgar into any kind of trouble.”

But if nothing to this point has stopped him from being himself, from showing care and compassion, then why would this?

***

Sometimes I feel like no matter how peacefully we try and lead our individual lives, the warring world invariably forces its way in. My sister and I often dream about running away with our family to the woods and living peacefully away from the chaos. Yet, it seems to me more and more that the complicated hell and our peaceful heaven form one and the same world. There is no escaping hell, but hell can’t escape us either.

When I felt afraid for Edgar, I was giving up hope and acting selfishly.

The U.S. Army might not accept who Ed is on his off time, and it’s fighting a war that might not have humanity’s best interests at heart, but all kinds of lofty philosophizing or fearful tears won’t do Edgar, his fellow soldiers or the Iraqi people any good right now. There are more fundamental issues at hand.

Edgar is a good person and I trust him to be a peacemaker even in war. We’ve all seen and read a lot over the last couple years that makes us doubt the character and actions of soldiers, but knowing that a guy like Edgar is going has made me think that there must be other Edgars there, little angels infiltrating the depths of human hell.

We will continue to argue ideology from atop our soapboxes, and the loud voices on all sides, right and left, will create a collective history of this “conflict.” But as is the case in each of our daily lives, the real history of this war, the one that will shape future actions, will be founded in the actions of the individuals on the ground. I hope and pray that as often as is possible, compassion governs these actions so that the people involved will not be burdened with hellish inner histories and that compassionate pasts might encourage compassionate futures.

An Entertainingly Useless Solution

In Barcelona there is a Tram, the last one in Spain. It has a driver who steers the trolley from a cockpit, and other than him or her, there are no employees on the Tram...thus no one ever pays when they board. There are little scanner machines one ought to run their transit ticket through upon entering the Tram, but no one does so.

This has caused obvious budget issues for the Tram company, so they've implemented a plan of action. They've hired 50 actors to take turns riding the transit system in pairs, playing various characters. When the Tram is good and full, the actors break into an argument that generally goes as follows:
"You didn't pay for your transit?! Why?"
"Well, why should I?"
"What do you do for a living? Can you not afford transit? You're receiving a service and you should pay to maintain it."
"Wow, you're right. I may only be a teacher [or other profession], but I don't have to steal the services I utilize."
Then the 2nd actor gets up in front of everyone, who can't have helped overhearing the loud argument, and pays.

I read about this in the paper, but I don't usually take the Tram....but according to Oliver who has seen this in person, after the actor pays, everyone applaudes....but still, no one pays.

I LOVE IT.