I’m back in America; more appropriately I’ve been back for twenty days.  I meant to get Chris in Spain wrapped up sooner, but in the course of various burrito bonanzas and the rest of my re-acclimation process it just kept slipping my mind.

At this point, I’ve pretty much covered the extent of the action from my life as a teacher and resident of Spain, so all that’s left is my romp through Paris and Madrid with Mom.  Like the last few times, I am going to let the pictures do the majority of the talking, which you can see here.

This was my first time in Paris and it was great, especially since traveling with someone more financially established than myself allowed me to experience things that I would not have otherwise.  For example, I now have an appreciation for the hot dogs at Roland-Garros and fine Champagne.

Madrid was wonderful, of course, and the comparison of Paris to Madrid easily cemented my preference for Spain over France.  These few days were mostly a refresher for things I had seen and eaten before, but having my iPhone pickpocketed in the metro was a new experience that I do not wish to repeat.

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It is easy to write a summary of my past eight months – I worked as an assistant high school English teacher in rural Spain and had adventures spanning six countries (if I took the time to look through Facebook I could even quantify the number of friends I made) – but much more difficult to synthesize what the time has meant and will mean to me.

On the most superficial level this was a great experience because it provided opportunities for ridiculous amounts of fun (see here, here, and here for good examples) and let me delay the making of any long-term life decisions for at least a few more months. It also helped my Spanish enormously and gave me a lot of material for a pretty decent blog, if I do say so myself.  Ultimately, though, it really helped me realize that I am not happy unless I am independent, working hard and staying busy.  Of course, in Cáceres, I wasn’t satisfied a lot of the time because I was always at loose ends and had almost no outlet for productivity, but I loved feeling completely on my own and responsible for myself.  In any matter, these were good insights that should serve me well as I move forward back in the States.

Thanks for reading.

Yes, it is an illustrated history of Spain for little children.  Just how stupid do these women think I am?  Not to sound like a jackass, but they must have me confused with their students who think that London is the country where estadounidenses come from.  I wish they realized that over five years of Spanish grammar, conversation, film, poetry, literature, history, and culture, I learned a little more than how to say, “I have breakfast at half past seven.”

Sup foos. I know it’s been a while and I have lots of stuff I haven’t updated about, so I’ll just let these pictures do the majority of the talking for me.

First up is Semana Santa.  In Spain, Easter is celebrated for a week instead of half a day.  It’s easy to feel warm and fuzzy at Christmas, but I think Easter is the crux (literally) of Christianity, so this balance is more appropriate than the American one.  In any case, Semana Santa is fun-ish, but it’s really somber and eerie and completely shuts down cities, from little Cáceres to big Sevilla.  Here are some pictures from the Cáceres parades.  The ones in Sevilla are more impressive (the Mary idols have diamond tear drops, for example), but at least Cáceres has Black Jesus (not this one).

Drummer

Creepy silent procession

Black Jesus (see top left)

Recently was the Fería de San Jorge (or Saint George Festival), which celebrates the patron saint of Cáceres.  This involves a big parade through town culminating in a dramatic reenactment of the history of Cáceres which culminates in the fiery slaying of a dragon by Saint George.  It’s actually pretty badass and everyone comes to check it out.

Dragon Before

Dragon After

Two weekends ago was a huge festival called WOMAD, which takes place all over the world.  For some reason Cáceres is one of the annual venues, so from Thursday through Sunday the city was full of people visiting from all over Europe, including rows of temporary shops and food stands, and awesome concerts on multiple stages every night.  The best part was that it was free and the worst part was that it rained most of the weekend, but we had a good time regardless.  Most people carried 5L water bottles full of homemade sangria down to the concerts at night, which was a lot of fun.  Inexplicably, the police made everyone throw away their bottle caps before entering the plazas.

Concert on the Plaza Mayor

Will and I with sangria

Me straight whooping ass on the devil sticks, as usual

After five months in dear Spain, I readily admit it was a nice break going to an English speaking country, where I could relax with an English language newspaper and get jacked on a giant coffee from Starbucks.  Although there are still major differences (I’m so happy we emigrated) between the English and us Americans, I still felt a sort of kinship with the people in London, albeit the kind you would have with an weird second uncle or something.

London is a lovely city (more so when the weather cooperates) with a subway system which is extremely well laid out (not to mention hilarious – stops include one called “Cockfosters”) and facilitates seeing a lot of things in a small amount of time.

What I got the most enjoyment out of was visiting some of the best museums I have ever seen.  The Natural History Museum was very convenient to our hotel in Kensington, so we looked around in there on our first afternoon.  It was a huge, beautiful building with seemingly endless displays, but London’s semi-recent decision to charge free admission to its museums seemed to show – some exhibits could use a little maintenance.  In any case, this museum could not hold a candle to the National Gallery on Trafalgar Square and was absolutely obliterated by the Tate Modern.  I loved both of these, with the Tate even necessitating a second visit while my students were at the British Museum.

I also really enjoyed the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace – at least for the first five minutes or so. It was well coordinated and super traditional, although stopping to fumble with sheet music and stands makes it all a little less impressive.

Even more than the above-mentioned things though, the following are my three favorite parts of London, listed from least most favorite to most most favorite.

1. Line jumping is strongly frowned upon.

2. The pint is the perfect beer size.

3. There are tons of hot women and just as many totally fugly dudes, which I imagine should help my prospects.

Here are my few and humble bits of advice for the people of London:

1. Revamp the police uniforms.  As is, they look like a bunch of silly-nannies.

2. Do away with the unnecessary and unrelenting reverence for the history of the monarchy.  It is boring and clutters Westminster Abbey (a crying child appropriately captured my feelings while I was touring).

3. Put some sort of disclaimer at the entrance to the Tower of London.  Seriously – it’s boring.

Finally, I would be remiss not to mention the students I took with me.  I could go on and on telling you about the countless times they almost got hit by cars, blocked subway platforms and escalators, sang endlessly as we walked between places, lost boarding passes and IDs after going through airport security, inexplicably turned in their hotel keys to the front desk every morning, sat outside of museums and Westminster Abbey for hours instead of coming in, but instead I will just tell you that despite all of their nuisance, they still managed to be charming and we had a great time.  I was also proud to see how eagerly they took to Dr. Pepper.

At about 5:20 AM I was Facebooking, etc, due to my bizarre sleep schedule that I’ve been on this week, when I heard a buzz on the intercom.  I answered to hear that it was the police advising me that the fifth floor of my building was on fire (I, of course, live on the seventh) and that I should probably come downstairs.  I quickly woke up my roommate with a, “Yo, the building is on fire – we’ve gotta go!”  In hindsight I probably could have woken him up with a more softly worded exhortation, but it did the trick, and I soon found myself running down a smoke-filled staircase (the “Smokehouse” brought to school by firefighters in third grade did not prepare me for this) to the bottom of my building.

It was a really scary moment, but to make it worse, it was after about an hour of standing out in the cold that I found out that not everyone in our building had been as lucky.  Indeed, a man from the fifth floor asphyxiated and died.  Word on the street is that he was the one that started the fire and that this was a successful suicide which took no account for the safety of his neighbors.  For my sake, I am going to assume that this was the case, as it’s not as sad as the case of someone falling victim to an unruly space heater and gives me permission to call this by far the worst April Fools of all time.

Luckily another stretch of vacation will be here starting Thursday afternoon.  I will be leaving Sunday to chaperon the field trip to London for four nights next week.  Although I understand that it could be stressful for some of these parents to let their kids leave the nest for the first time, it still is amazing to see how anxious some of them are.  We are only going to be a three hour flight out of Madrid for four short nights and these kids are all 16 and 17, but you would think by the parents’ reactions that their kids are abandoning them to move to Tibet or something.  One of their biggest concerns is if there will be enough decent food to eat.  As if London, pop. 8,000,000 and a cultural and economic capital of the world, would be less equipped to feed their kids than Montánchez, pop. 2,000.  In any case, I am looking forward to seeing London for the first time myself and seeing the reactions of some of my students who actually have never left Montánchez, pop. 2,000.

When we get back I will have another week free for Semana Santa, the details of which I have yet to work out.  Anyway, talk to you soon, readers!

This weekend was a lot of fun.  I was invited, along with the majority of my friends from Cáceres to participate in an English conversation workshop at a large national park 45 minutes or so north of town.  Basically a regional chemical manufacturer had rented out the hotel for the weekend and we spent Friday, Saturday, and Sunday helping its administrative and sales staff hone their English skills which, for the most part, were already pretty solid.  In exchange for our time we were given free private rooms (it was a nice 4-star hotel), multi-course meals, and plenty of wine.  It was a great time (although the rain kept me from actually seeing the park) and I made a lot of fun new friends.  Unfortunately we all got very little sleep and I am now feeling a little under the weather, which makes me a sad panda.

Four and a half months into my stay, my roommates and I have yet to pay a single utility bill.  If I can find my contract I’m going to see if I’m actually on the hook for them or not.  Skipping town (continent, that is) is definitely being entertained.

The other weekend Danielle and Miguel came up to Cáceres to visit Friday night, and we took off the following morning, stopping through Sevilla to pick up Miguel’s sister who lives in Jerez.  Jerez is a town in southern Andalusia a mere half-hour train ride outside of Cadíz, home to one of the best-known Carnival celebrations in Spain.  Our original plan had been to take the train into Cadíz in the evening both Saturday and Sunday and return when the train service resumed at 6:30 the following mornings.  Well, it appears I am getting old and the rumors are true – it’s a bitch.  Saturday night none of our group could muster the strength to abandon the comforts of the couch, pizza, and NBA All-Star weekend on TV, and decided to stay in.  Sunday, we decided to play it safer, took a mid-afternoon train into Cadíz, and returned to Jerez on the last train of the night at 11:30.

Although this schedule deprived us of the larger part of the nighttime excitement in Cadíz, it was probably for the best.  A light yet persistent rain had kept the crowds at bay, and our costumes did nothing to keep us dry or warm.  Nevertheless, we had plenty of delicious tapas and beers and saw some hilarious costumes and song routines.

Here’s one of the less regrettable pictures of Miguel’s and my Spongebob and Patrick costumes.

The week and a half since then in Cáceres has been exceptionally low-key.  I have been working at school and giving private lessons, but generally keeping a slow pace.  Things should be picking up soon.  Over the next couple weeks I get to look forward to visits from friends from home, a free weekend in Monfrague (in exchange for helping out at a conversation workshop), and finally eighteen days off from work which will include the trip I’m chaperoning to London as well as Semana Santa at a beach in Andalusia or Portugal.

“Obama optimistically called it a “thankless task” in thanking the two men who will take it on. He singled out Simpson, who at 6’7″ should be able to take on any tall order, as “flinty” — an understatement for those who covered the Wyoming lawmaker in the Senate before he abdicated for the ivory towers of Harvard.”

Is this really the best they can do?  Is there no sort of control mechanism before this crap is published?  USA Today, most-circulated newspaper in the United States, please do us a favor and restrain the “wit.”