Windmills in Consuegra

For one thing, a part of me popped out yesterday when I saw a familiar face on my FaceTime screen that gave me this sense of something sure that I can't put a word to. As I'm always struggling to fully reveal my personality and the memories that make up who I am, starting a conversation where it left off with a person that really knows you is so comfortingly easy. I feel a blanket of relief, for whatever reason, from the pressure of making decisions. I feel at ease about letting the future present itself to me as it comes. I hope that I am attentive when I do decide.

Today I went to see the windmills that so represent this region in the middle of Spain. The stain of Spain. I was walking along the same path of Don Quixote and walking on steps of ancient castles that saw wars and the same wind that was blowing in my hair. I am fascinated with the history of this place and how long ago it seems. And in the same breath, Uranus only orbits the sun once in 84 earth years-- basically a human lifetime. (We are learning English vocabulary in science.) Time is mind-blowing. 

the misfortune of traveling

So I feel like it's finally the right moment to sit down and reflect on the past several months as there have been many ups and downs as I'm sure is representative of all of our lives, depending on how you look at it. I am sitting in the living room of my already burning up piso amongst piles of Spanish homework I'm trying to get done. The sun is shining brightly, and summer is arriving sooner than last year. This scares me. I woke up yesterday with a tingly in my throat and sure enough, some sort of allergy or sickness is in my chest. Every week is another adventure!

Last month, Bryn and I finally decided to go to Morocco for a 4 day weekend. It's the one place we had been putting off seeing because of safety and since we had another girl coming along, Mree, it seemed safer. It's unfortunate that this word, safety, is even associated with Morocco, but after being mugged, the word proved worthy. I started writing my friend a letter about my experience in Marrakech with the introduction being, "I was robbed in Morocco," but as I let myself digress, I realized that I had wonderful, detailed memories of the place that I wouldn't allow myself to remember in light of the robbing. So I got mugged. Mree, Bryn and I were walking back to our hostel as the sun was setting, in the outskirts of the center area, and some young dude was there in my path. I knew the second before it happened, that the seconds that were to follow were going to be a struggle. He ripped off my strap with ease, dragged me the ground and pulled me until I couldn't hold on. All that strength I thought I had! I apparently ran after him. I know I said several curse words of hate until I retreated, turned to Bryn, squeezed her face with my dirty hands and fell into a heap of sobs. I wanted her to feel it too. No one in the streets did anything but stare. I was basically being carried by Bryn as we finished running our way back to the hostel through crowds of staring Moroccans. Some guys said in English, "Don't cry girl." When we got back to the hostel, our lovely host gave us tea and sympathized with me. I didn't stop crying. I remember I had left two special, super valuable rings in the purse. A gold and diamond heirloom from my aunt and David Yurman favorite. I know that sounds so diva-ish. Bye bye rings, camera, iPod touch with years of obtained music, pink Spain phone, Bobby Brown lipstick, lipgloss, my favorite pen, American chapstick, 2 credit cards and my driver's license, a free scrub I had just gotten and my Marrakech map. That's what was in that H&M terrible black purse. If that man knew the value of all of that, he will be living like a king in Morocco now. So after like 30 minutes of sobbing and asking for shots of something and apologizing to these other clueless American babies (ok- study abroad students) for crying, I was convinced to go to the police station to report the issue. Mree came with me because Bryn was throwing up her couscous from earlier. We had to walk to the place twice because I didn't bring my passport the first time and then we had to go to a copy store because these 1920's prison/police stations didn't have computers or copiers. There was a toothless man chained to a holding cell crying. The officer told me that the woman had yelled when this guy mugged her and therefore, people were more alert and able to capture him. "Did you scream when this happened?" "Yes and I called him some bad names in English, but I suppose since no one speaks English here they thought I willing gave him my purse." This is how I felt as I went through the questions. We came back to the hostel. I spoke to the caretakers for awhile so for peace and then I went to my bunk succumb to exhaustion.

Before this, we arrived in Marrakech on Thursday morning and were transported to our hostel by van. We saw camels within 5 minutes and women completely covered in black. There seemed to be no standards for traffic either. We weaved our way through tiny curved streets filled with merchants selling hand-made goods and fruit and arrived at our hostel. We were greeted by a lovely man who told us the details of our contract and led us to our room. After some freshening-up we went to the center for our first lunch and to take in the crowd. We had been forewarned about the snake charmers, monkey handlers and henna tattoo ladies. We found a restaurant that according to Rick Steve was awesome. Typical couscous, chicken something another, vegetables, water. Our mouths were yellow with the spice dye. We walked around, took a picture with a monkey, were harassed by the henna ladies. I think we saw one mosque, bought oil for our hair from a nice couple who sold it for cheap, bought postcards and were ripped off when we bought dried fruit. We smoked hookah at the hostel, had tea and somehow joined in on a surprise birthday celebration for some other people who were staying in our hostel. It was an awesome first day. Day 2, we woke up, met a guy (can't remember the names), who took us to a bus. We had our very own private bus to see the Berber villages this day. We saw lots of beautiful scenery on the way. We learned about the traditions of the Muslims and how Marrakech thrives-- off tourism. The berber house that we entered was made by hand. There was no electricity. The women never left the house and made their own flour and everything they ate and wore. The washed themselves weekly in a stream room with black smoke. A little boy told our tour guide not to let us touch his donkey because last time the visitors touched him too much. We entered the house all westernized looking. I felt the sensation to cover my hair. Our tour guide was modernly dressed but told us that he too was apart of a Berber village and knew how to keep warm in the winter by building fires and how to make things from scratch, but he doesn't believe in arranged marriages. We were served a typical Berber breakfast-- bread (homemade of course), honey, butter and jam. Tea was included of course. We ate as much as we wanted. We tried to say thank you to the hostesses as best as possible. They seemed so graceful and dark. A little girl in the house offered to give us henna tattoo for a small donation and we did it-- each of us. Apparently, many people live within the household and each person has his/her duty. It's a system that works and that has lasted in modern times. After the breakfast we stopped by a herb area and were informed about various herbs and there purposes. I bought henna (why?) and herbs for hunger suppression (ha). We then had to have lunch. We were the only ones in the restaurant. We were served basically a 4 course meal, mounds of food-- tomato salad, couscous again with some marinated meat, fruit and tea and chocolate for desert, loads of bread. I couldn't breathe afterwards. We went to the waterfall at the top of a mountain next. The sun was blazing in February. I can't imagine July. We climbed to the top over slippery rocks and other people. Of course we passed merchants selling hand-made statues and trinkets. Marrakech thrives off tourism. After this adventure, we headed back to the city center. We made an appointment with the spa for later. Later came, we decided to walk to the spa which was outside the city center. We once again dodged camels, donkeys, people on motorbikes, quickly moving pedestrians with no shoes. It reminded me of the Sega video game of Aladdin. We went through a sketchy neighborhood of guys working on cars and even said out loud that is was a little dangerous. The spa was brilliant. We had to get down to our undies. We sat in a steam room and let our pours open up. Some ladies came in and rubbed black soap all over our bodies. Afterwards, layers of skin were scrubbed off my bodies. It was just like what it looks like when you get a pedicure, except this was body skin. It was a bit freaky, but I liked the experience. The 3 of us sat there breathing in hot air, thinking about the Moroccan ladies covered in black who come here once a week to get their scrub as a way of life. Afterwards we sat in our white robes and sipped tea and ate a chocolate treat. It was as if we were royalty. And that's how Marrakech was to me. These glamorous spas and tours and villas with guards amongst poverty. So when we left, the sun was fading, but we kept walking in the same direction we came. As I reflect back, I realize that perhaps this plan had evolved during our stay at the spa. The next day, we sun-bathed and they listened to me be existentialist and ask a lot of unanswerable questions. We ate a nice touristy restaurant were the food was amazing of course. We sat among French royalty it seemed like, and I kept thinking, how is it possible for these French people to walk around with their Louis' and me get mugged? We were running back to the hostel. I'm aways running, but even with nothing of valuable of my ripped and black coat, I felt that something else could be taken. We let night come and slept and then we returned to Ciudad Real.

There are so many more details of this trip that I can't include for the reader because it becomes to exhausting, as it already is. But imagine what it feels like to have nothing in your hands at the airport except your passport (thank God). So sometimes are we carrying around this needless things like lipstick? I don't know. I'm still comforted by having them. One of the hardest bits has been to not take it so personally. I think I've damned the man who did this to me over and over and over and it'd be nice to let it go. If only someone could understand what those rings meant to me. But it won't change it. And I realized that life is full of these big ugly surprises. Surprise! No, really. You don't know that and all those other clichés that exist until they happen to you and form your opinions. I don't know if these kinds of things are necessary for thanks or for learning or for being more aware or for the simple change that it creates in the chaos of plans and walking really fast. There are going to other times that I'm taken to my knees and dragged around. It's a bit frightening, but as they all say, we've lived through this one. It hurts, yes. It hurts. In relation to my own experience, I hope as I've seen, that the hate/revengefulness I have within, fades away and I can just keep remembering the vivid colors of Marrakech and the oppositeness of it to my westernized worlds in Spain and the USA. I don't want it to keep me from traveling, from smiling at strangers because I'm scared they will look at me as a typical American. But keeping the guard up is my lesson. There are levels of goodness and badness and desperateness that I have no idea about.

I wanted this post to be about my experiences in general over the past few weeks. It's obviously become about just this one thing. I suppose it's been festering within! I ran a 10k two weekends ago and then pulled a neck muscle. I went to Cordoba last weekend. I'm studying Spanish a lot. I'm cutting back on my eating because I'm too self-concious to get into shorts with any extra weight. I still smile when I eat sweet cake, but beat myself to death for enjoying it later. Don't know how to fix that bit.

So, this is this for now. More time will bring different moods.

The weather on October 7th is phenomenal in Ciudad Real. Stay!

One of the first thoughts I had when I arrives in Spain is that I should have gotten feather extensions in my hair because I could have started the trend here!

I came back and the spanish words that I already knew sort of just flowed again right out of my mouth, but there's so much less talking and more thinking again. Miquel is with me now and what took a week when I first arrive in Sept. 2010 took a day with native Miquel who has been so helpful with his car and his understanding. I'm so spoiled.

First off, Spanish economy is in a crisis (Not like other places aren't!) and a bit of funding has been cut from schools (of course). That worries me quite a bit because I almost didn't get paid my last month there. But, I have hope. If the money runs out then I will go back to the United States. But I'm looking forward, much more, this year to teaching. I have a more concrete schedule with lots of science classes. I think I will feel motivated to make a difference.

And most of all, I'm not leaving this country until I've kind of mastered the language! I must push myself!

I forgot to tell you all my stories

I have a million tiny stories to share about my daily life here. I have pieces of stories written on scraps of paper so that I can remember to put them here, but for now, because it's nearing the end (WOW, Vaya!) I just wanted to say this: From all that I've learned, I think the most subtle and yet recognizable to me is that it really is sometimes so much sweeter to say nothing. It's not always important to say everything or anything at all. There is something sweet about the silence, the unknown, the lack of clarity in situations that don't even need clarifying. It reminds me of how many times too many words made moments confusing for us already complicated and unsure humans. This entire journey has felt like it's always about words, understanding words, making myself clear, and yet, with so few words life continues and things happen and in the end, I am understood. Contrary to me generally wanting grand explanations and poetry and dramatic paths to solutions that normally never come, this feeling of taking myself back, hushing my heart, having to remain silent while surrounded by all this Spanish is truly refreshing. I think I can say right now that simplicity, tranquility (this word in Spanish is used so often.. tranquilo tranquilo) doesn't mean that nothing is happening or that things aren't being analyzed enough. I like it.

tengo ganas hacer esto

I love seeing this blank space staring at me on my computer screen. (the Locoturio´s computer because of course my internet does not work) I have been thinking of writing an update over the past several days, but have only now taken the time. Last night I went to the Ciudad Real fair. In April and May many cities are famous for their incredible fairs. Although not entirely incredible, going to the fair was something different. There was no ferris wheel, but there were bumper cars and lots of carnival food like hotdogs. There were also about 7 tents with different Spanish music for dancing. It felt very Spanish, and although being there made me feel very American, I enjoy these authentic atmospheres. I enjoy watching the traditional dances, the people singing along to words I don´t know, and being apart of yet another pleasurable activity the Spanish put so much priority on. I get inspired by reading really good articles. I must thank Lauren for leaving the Paste magazines for me. After reading several film and book reviews (from 2010, ha) I had this sense of confidence and clarity about going home this summer. I would like to spend all of my time reading, catching up on documentaries and films, studying Spanish and spending as much time as possible with a list of people I have in my head. These musical reviews and articles also make me wish I had grown up in Memphis or Brooklyn (2 very cool but very opposite American cities) with parents who were exactly alike and exposed me to art when I was born so that it would be inherent in me. I would have surely become an artist or writer. Lastly, the Lilith Fair article, about the 1997-1999 women´s music festival started by Sarah McLachlan, made me think a lot about putting into words something I´ve felt before about my teenage years. It helped put into words for me what trying to be apart of the music scene was like when I was ages 14 to 18 and even more. It was always about the boys. And thát´s exactly it. The girls wanted to be apart of the music scene (like anyone) because it was super cool, dedicated, messy, loud and our parents didn´t understand. And because we wanted the boys? Or we liked the music? But to think about playing an instrument seemed out of the question. Too scared? I think most just too intimidated. There were lots of girl fans at Furnace Fest, but there were never girl artists. That´s something I didn´t think about at the time because it just was like this. I like seeing the music scene change. And I also just got done reading Half the Sky. Rootin´on the girls of this world! Random: I think it´d be great to have one of those movie relationships where you never knew you could end up loving someone so much. The couple is sitting at a park (but they don´t know they´re a couple) and the male says (during the moment of silence), "I think I love you" and without hestitation the female goes, "I´m going to marry you" as if both vomitted the words. I wish my internet worked because, you know, you always want to do the most when you can remember. I want to tell about Christmas vacation more. I have a lot of great stuff from observing people in airports during that travel time. I´m also thinking about how being in Spain and especially with Miquel, has taught me to think more about what I eat and how I´m going to make it. Flo also taught me a tiny bit about cooking when he stayed with me during Carnaval. I mean I have vergüenza when I cut tomatoes in front of Miquel. And "it´s cool" to eat cool stuff, instead of it being a chore. Most people visit Mercadona everyday. Mealtime is the most important. It´s important to eat well, and that´s surely new for me. I´m going to keep this mindset in PC. I´m continually thinking about advice I want to give to my children. It´s like this automatic assumption that what I´ve learned will be advice for my children because I´m doing what I can when really I´d like to tell this to younger, less experienced Jaclyn and do it over again.. I think. Passing on knowledge to our descendants. But I want to tell my girl(s) that first off, outer beauty is way overrated no matter how much doubt you have about that throughout your adolescence. It´s April now, and it just feels like the downslide of my time here this year. After being sick the last part of March and now that I´ve recovered, I have a refreshed sense of purpose for being here. I have so much excitement (rather than dread) about studying and learning Spanish. I am also so thankful for the sunshine and the good people who want to be apart of my life. I´m also very excited about music these days, spending my free time (and with working internet) trying to discover some more goodies. Lastly, let´s enjoy this day! Say, "okay!" when we make some plans, but try really hard to not want to turn the pages of the planner too quickly! ¿de acuerdo?

Today

So as it goes, the adventurer must rest, come to terms with routine, and still find goodness in the very moment that is now. So since Prague, I have not traveled and only saved. Dreary Ciudad Real becomes more dreary, with a long winter I'm not use to. But this week the sun is shining, the prices are still low here, and I walk at most, 30 minutes to any given destination. And I'm in the heart of Spain. I've taken little hikes here and there in Castilla La Mancha, the region of my beloved city, and appreciate the simplicity of this place, the flat land, the glassy lakes, the numerous rivers, narrow, windy roads not bombarded by shopping centers and fast food. I have taken more time to study Spanish. I've gotten to know this place more.

Hello sunshine

I had planned on copy and pasting what I wrote in my journal of the details of my Christmas break trips. I'll get back to that later. Today I woke up to a gorgeous and freezing day in Ciudad Real. If there's sun the cold doesn't matter. I have been downloading some music. I miss dancing so much. There's really nothing more tranquil and soothing for me than dancing. I have dual desires: I so desperately want to master Spanish to be able to communicate better with the people I'm constantly in contact with. And then I find myself craving American music, English anything, nostalgia for easy understanding. It's like homework in college. I will detail the entire house, organize my g-mail before I will sit down and concentrate on studying.

Despite the new feeling that still exists here, routines form. Mondays replicate past Mondays. Do I find comfort in routine and knowing what the expect? Yes. I will admit that because I'm trying to speak only Spanish, I have found that I use the phrases "I can't wait for.." "I hope" and "I wish" a lot. I feel like I'm living in the now, but perhaps it's inevitable to keep looking forward, in those moments of silence, monotony.. not being able to stop your mind from imaging what's next.

I have decided to reapply to the program for another year. I can request another city, perhaps in the lovely Andalucia, but I fell in love with my school before Christmas. As well, I have made helpful contacts, great friendships, met a boy worth sticking around for, and find that I enjoy a smaller city as opposed to the gigantic Madrid or Barcelona. Plus, I need to keep learning Spanish!

There's more to come.