Witch's Brew

One of the traditions at Pueblo Ingles is the Queimada, a peculiar concoction of alcohol and incantation.  At 7pm on Monday night, we were invited to the grassy area next to the main lodge where the Program Director, Jason, and the Master of Ceremonies, Amelia, had set up a table and all of the necessary ingredients.  They explained that throughout all of the different weeks of Pueblo Ingles over the years, people have been presenting the Queimada (kay-madda) to all of the different participants.  All of the groups seemed to enjoy it and it made for the perfect opportunity to blend Spanish and English in an elaborate ceremony.

With great care, Amelia mixed the punch of Galician aguardente (a brandy from northern Spain) with sugar, cinnamon, orange peel, and coffee beans.  With all of alcohol that was in the bowl, she lit the brew on fire and it burned with a blue flame as she lifted it and poured it back again with a ladle.  Amelia and Jason explained how well everyone enjoyed the tradition but that we would need to invoke some witches to chant over the ¨cauldron¨.  Immediately, Laura, Montse, and Jill came out dressed in capes and witches hats, reciting the special words in Galician, Spanish, and English.  It was a rather drawn out and rude spell but it gave the drink the time to mix and meld.  Amelia and Jason put out the fire and then they served the strong, sweet concoction. 

The party continued with each country singing a song from their country and having a few laughs at their own expense.  The American contingent sang ¨You Are My Sunshine¨ before the other countries had their chance.  The revelry continued long into the night with a lot of drinks and jokes in the bar and out on the patio.

P.S.  It´s worth mentioning the story of actually writing this article for the blog.  It´s my lost-in-translation moment.  I was sitting here at the little table in the bar area of the main lodge of our La Alberca resort and I turned to Ricardo to ask him how to spell Queimada.  I didn´t know the word very well and I´m sure that I mangled the pronounciation in merely asking the question.   He was happy to oblige but being a vibrant 22-year-old, he didn´t quite hear what I was asking.  He asked me to clarify.  So I asked him again.  This time he got a look of shock on his face but being young, he was understanding that this American guy would want to learn some Spanish and he kindly obliged, carefully spelling it out with English letters.  So I typed it carefully, told the story, and saved the blog post so you all could read it.  A few hours later, I found that I had some time to edit the story.  I Googled the words that he told me so that I could confirm the ingredients included in the recipe... but was rather surprised that every result that came up from the search was full of vulgar references and impolite phrases!!!  What words did I post???  The Program Manager, Jason, clarified the situation while almost falling down in laughter.  Ricardo spelled out Que Mierda instead of Queimada, effectively teaching me ¨What The Fuck!¨ instead of the specific name of the alcoholic drink.  It got a lot of laughs when we explained the whole situation to the rest of the Spaniards and Anglos.  Everyone was quite amused with the fact that I had not only used this phrase as the main subject of my blog story but that I would also go ahead and Google the words...

Ricardo thinks that this is the best Lost-In-Translation story of the week and perhaps the whole year.  Anything to make our friends laugh a little, right?

No Habla Español

Working for Pueblo Inglés is such an amazing experience.  There are seventeen Spaniards and one Italian who are innudated with English 24/7.  It´s hard to constantly work on their English skills and not attempt to learn some Español in return but we´ve been asked to keep the education focused on their benefit.  After one day, I had some great one-to-one conversations with Alberto M., Ricardo, and Giuseppe, as well as great conversations with everyone over meals and at the bar.  Javier H., a professor who will be moving to Pittsburgh in July, is a science fiction and Star Wars fan.  Elena is a mother of a twenty-month-old son.  Rafael is the soft-spoken man who shares our villa.  Allyson is a Cubs fan from Wichita.  Cemile is half British, half Turkish who lives in Paris.  Ricardo and Eduardo taught Susan and me a complicated Spanish card game called ¨Mus¨ (pronounced moose!).  Jason is the program director from Vancouver who is still mourning the loss of his team in the Stanley Cup...

The comparisons between my experiences at Pueblo Inglés and my memories of Camp Webb are limitless.  I look forward to sitting with a new collection of friends in the dining hall at each meal.  The activities are clearly scheduled throughout the morning and afternoon, and they´re signaled by the ringing of the bells in the main hall.  All around, we´re surrounded by magnificent scenes of nature, rambling pathways punctuated by trees, lampposts, open spaces, and well-placed benches.  Little birds chirp from nearby foliage and the occasional hawk circles overhead.  Everyone is friendly and outgoing but rarely awake until later in in the day.  The kitchen staff is astounding and creative and sometimes we´re not really sure what´s in a particular dish.  Skits, songs, conversations, presentations, and small talk is all filled with personality and laughter.

I have to do double takes every once in a while.  I´m in Spain.  But you wouldn´t know it because everyone and everything at our part of the resort is in English!

The Best Part of Waking Up

I´m not much of a morning person.  Just ask Robert.  He emerges from bed happily chattering while I´m more likely to quietly brood through the first 60+ minutes of my day and wait for my personality to awaken.  Since beginning Weight Watchers though, I´ve willingly, or semi-willingly anyway, thrown off the covers earlier and earlier each day to accomplish my work-out, knowing full well that, for me at least, the likelihood of exercise decreases as the day progresses.  Still, I´ve never understood those Folgers coffee commercials with the woman who silently slips down the stairs while the rest of the family sleeps so she can savor her coffee and the sunrise.  Until today. 

Today we set the alarm early for a brisk morning walk to offset last night´s amazing lemon mousse before the schedules of the day began.  We planned on a trek to the nearest village, but ten minutes in, a road sign clarified that we were heading the opposite direction we had intended.  Yet I could never say we went the wrong way.  Because we passed a babbling brook, a field of dill, two horses that sauntered over to the fence and eyed us expectantly and with a friendly neigh.  Then there was the ferocious guard dog who barked furiously, clearly suspecting we were there to steal his herd.  City slickers that we are, we couldn´t come to agreement about the species of the herd.  Robert claims they were shorn sheep while I maintain they were goats.  Nevertheless, they bleated/baa´d their greetings.   And beyond all these roadside landmarks there were gloriously green trees and then meadows that skirted the indigo mountains.  A sky held both a blinding morning sun and a nearly full moon.  And a peace not even the occasional passing car could spoil. 

And the beauty and the aura and the energy made me think that even without the exercise or the Folgers, I would awake early for this.  Perhaps Spain has made a morning person of me.

Fresh

Strawberries.  Finland will forever be associated, in my mind at least, with strawberries.  Not the American, available-by-January, mammoth monstrosities bred for durability to survive the long truck ride to the grocery store strawberries.  Small, succulent, juicy, pungent, best-strawberries-I´ve-ever-eaten strawberries.  We bought them in the market in Helsinki from a handsome youngish Finn in a striped scarf.  He seemed a bit bewildered by my enthusiasm.  But he´d probably never eaten American strawberries.

Then we had lunch in a little cafe.  I opted for the more traditional Finnish lunch, so Robert chose the pork in some sort of sauce.  I thought for sure I´d win Round One of the ordering competition, but I was wrong.  We knew the sauce was a tomato sauce, but I couldn´t put my finger on the other ingredients, the elusive combination that made it sublime.  So I asked.  And after the cooks came back from their smoke break, they gave up the list:  tomatoes, garlic, chicken stock, rosemary.  Nothing to account for that flavor.  ¨But,¨ the waitress stressed for the third time, ¨the tomatoes are fresh.¨

I buy organic.  I shop the Farmer´s markets.  And yet somehow fresh tastes different--dare I say better--in Finland.  We prayed in some beautiful churches.  We strolled through cobbled streets.  We bought gaudy 3 euro umbrellas to shield us from the sprinkles.  But tonight, when I´m finally ensconsed in our Madrid hotel and able to succumb to a jet-lagged slumber, I´ll dream of the strawberries.

A Cloudy Day in Helsinki

The flight from Chicago to Helsinki was smooth and uneventful.  Unfortunately, Susan and I weren´t able to keep our seat assignments and ended up sitting a few rows apart.  I sat next to Lief, a atheist mechanical engineer with strong beliefs in extra-terrestrial life and the benefits of racial profiling.  I was able to steer the conversation to geometry and computers but there were times when I just needed to get some sleep.  Lief really wanted to talk, so I got so little sleep on the long, long flight.  Susan didn´t get much sleep either because her seat was close to the only operational bathroom.

Upon arriving in the Helsinki Vantaa airport, we quickly realized two facts.  1.  There was little in the airport to preoccupy our time for the eight-hour layover.  2.  Finnish words seem to have a lot of extra vowels and consonants!  We found the number 615 bus from the airport into the Tikkurila railway station at the center of the city where we could walk around to all of the major sights.  Sadly, as the bus rolled its half-hour route into the city, we watched the slight rain grow into a steady rain shower.  Here we were, with a handful of hours in Helsinki for the first time and we were going to get drenched!  With some advice from a local, we ducked into a Everything´s A Euro shop and bought some brightly-colored children´s umbrellas.

The clouds above matched our sleepy stupor as we shambled through the streets of the city.  Now with some protection from the raindrops, we investigated the stark white Lutheran Cathedral (Tuomiokirkko) and ornately decorated Uspenski Russian Orthodox Cathedral.  Two delightful young tourist guides in rain ponchos answered our questions about the the layout of the streets and where would find some good seafood for lunch.  The harbor had a colorful farmer´s market with fruit and vegetables, wooden crafts, tablecloths, and mink furs.  We bought some delicious fruit at the market and then marched through the city down Korkeavuorenkatu street to find the Juuri cafe.  This was recommended by our Lonely Planet Helsinki book, and it offered some a Finnish spin on tapas (nicknamed ¨Suomi tapas¨ or ¨sapas¨)!  Unfortunately, the sapas were only available for supper, so we ordered two daily specials and sat down amidst the crowd at a simple wooden table.  Susan had a fish dish with a light cream sauce and baked potatoes and I had a smoked pork dish with a delectible fresh tomato sauce and some sort of bulgur as a side.  It was just so nice to sit and relax for while, all the while a light chatter of the Finnish language buzzing around us.

By 2pm it was time to make our way back to the airport to catch our flight to Madrid.  We were bolstered by the lunch but we were so ready for this leg to be over so that we could fall into our beds at the hotel in Madrid.  We caught the bus back through the neighborhoods of colorful apartments, went through the security check again, and dozed in comfortable chairs at gate 24 until our 5pm plane boarded.  Susan and were grateful for our time together in Helsinki but maybe more so to be able to sit together on the flight and snoozzzzzzzz...

Packing Up

Originally, I thought we would be experiencing extremely hot Hot HOT weather like we did in on our honeymoon in Morocco.  Temps there soared well above 120 degrees Fahrenheit.  (I remember it getting to 140 in Meknes, but Susan says I'm exaggerating.)  It was a baking heat, the kind where you look around twice just to make sure that you're not in an over with a tray of gingerbread.  We constantly drank liters of water and sweat all of the bad stuff out of our pores that I still, to this day, consider myself fully detoxified.  But looking up the average temperatures and the extended forecasts for all of the major cities that we will be visiting, Susan and I both found that it will be more reasonable.  Most places are listed from the high 70's to the mid 90's.  No baking ovens, hopefully.

But as Susan and I started packing at midnight last night (I know, I know...) we really needed to take this into account.  Shorts or pants?  Jackets?  Umbrellas?  Which shoes will be comfortable walking shoes and which shoes will allow me to blend in better.  (Susan has a proven theory that you can tell which nationality a person is by looking at their shoes.  We've played the game many a time at airports.)  There are a lot of questions that I need to have the answers to in order to prepare for the weather.

Because we're only taking backpacks on this trip, we have to consider the weight, the volume, the practicality, and the fashion of each item.

School's Out For Summer!

We can finally start looking forward to the vacation.  For so long, we were concentrating on the end of the school year routine, finishing projects, correcting papers and tests, completing report cards, filling out spreadsheets, talking to principals and specialists, writing recommendations for a student teacher, contacting parents, discussing curriculum and schedule changes for the fall, and planning for the impact of government cuts to funding, faculty, and equipment.  And all the while teaching students that are frenzied with warmer weather, increased hormones, feelings of seniority and superiority, and impending vacation!

But today is Saturday and there are no classes on Monday.  School is out.  In all honesty, this is the time of year when I ponder putting aside the agrarian notion of a school year that lasts from August to June and adopting a year-round school year with staggered breaks.  I really think that the state of education would benefit from it.  But not this year.  I'll set that thought aside for now - we're on summer vacation!!!

Okay.  Three days is not a lot of time to prepare for three-and-a-half weeks overseas.  In that time frame, we have a wedding reception, Gourmet Club, Pentecost, and a graduation and confirmation party.  Oh yeah, and we both need to get our Wisconsin teaching licenses renewed and we're going to join the Snap Fitness gym because we had email Groupon deal.  Tick tick tick.  The clock is ticking and there is not as much time as I'd like to get all of that (and packing!) done.  But I think that I'll use two different strategies here.  1.  Make lists.  2. Take pride in the things that have been accomplished.  Breathe in.  Breathe out.  It will all get done, we will have a safe trip, and it will all work out!  Because if I get hung up on the details and not enjoy the time that I'm spending on this vacation, the vacation will pass all too quickly and then the doors will open and we'll be using those three dreaded words once again.  (Shhhhh - back to school - shhhhh.)

Finland First

So we secured the positions with Pueblo Ingles in December and in January we began to search for airfare deals.  We poured over the different websites that allowed us to compare varied options of airlines, dates, and layovers.  And then we found a great deal - Finnair had a significantly reduced price compared to all of the other ticket options.

The caveat was that we would have layovers in Helsinki.  Oh.  Allow me to correct my typing.  I should have written "LAYOVERS in Helsinki."  On the way there, Chicago - Helsinki - Madrid, we have an Eight And A Half Hour Layover.  On the way home, Madrid - Helsinki - Chicago, we have a TWENTY THREE HOUR LAYOVER!!!  We discussed the options and weighed the costs and ended up purchasing these Finnair flights for three reasons:  1.  The savings was quite significant.  2.  Twenty-three hours is enough time to actually leave the airport and see the city!  3.  We've never been to Finland before.  Why not sample it so we have a feeling if we'd like to come back another day?

An interesting note: According to our learned friend, Gust Olson, the Finnish folk prefer to pronounce all of their words with the accent on the first syllable.  So Helsinki is not pronounced as Americans pronounce it, HelSINKI but as the Finnish say, HELsinki.  Did we change it so that it's name made it more appealing to tourists?  I'm withholding judgement until we arrive but I'm hoping to get out of the airport and explore a little bit.  Being stuck in the airport, unable to go anywhere, would definitely make it feel like PURgatory.

Couch Surfing

In case I haven't filled your ear with my excitement over Couch Surfing, here are the nuts and bolts.  There is an amazing web service called Couch Surfing that allows users to travel the world and crash on someone's couch.  Rather than paying for a hotel room with no culture and no personality, you could actually spend a few nights in the hospitality of person who lives in the city that you're traveling through.  You could thank them by bringing them a small gift from your hometown, taking them out for a meal, or reimbursing them for gas if they drive you somewhere or for helping you wash your laundry.  And this person would share their city and their music and their culture with you!

"At CouchSurfing International, we envision a world where everyone can explore and create meaningful connections with the people and places they encounter.  Building meaningful connections across cultures enables us to respond to diversity with curiosity, appreciation and respect. The appreciation of diversity spreads tolerance and creates a global community."

Here is our account on Couch Surfing.  Would you like to stay with locals for free when you travel?
 
Okay.  I admit that there is a big step to take in being able to trust someone that you're just meeting online but besides the basic background check, Couch Surfers are able to rate one another based upon their experiences together.  So, similar to eBay, there's a chance to read feedback before you blissfully decide to spend a night in someone's home or welcome them to yours.  We decided to host a bit before our travels to make sure that the system worked and to build up a little Couch Surfing cred.

Newspaper Clippings

This trip begins with my Mom.  As some mothers like to do, my Mom cuts sections out of the newspaper and saves them for us in a bag until we get together.  There will be articles on cooking, dieting, music, books, movies, travel, teaching, and the ubiquitous cartoon.  Susan and I are assured that every time we visit Mom, she will give us some clippings that we'll be extremely grateful to read.  This trip to Spain and Portugal is a perfect example.  A few years ago, one of the articles that she gave to me caught my eye.  It was about voluntourism - the term that combined travel opportunities with volunteering time and talents - and it had details on a few intriguing agencies.  I don't have the article anymore but I was most interested in working for Pueblo Ingles, spending a week at a 4-star villa in Spain, and teaching business professionals in an English-language camp.  In return for our commitment, we would get room and board and a chance to make friends around the world.  Influential newspaper article.  Susan-and-Robert kind of experience.  Wonderfully thoughtful Mom.   

In 2010, Susan and I revisited the idea of applying to Pueblo Ingles as a married couple.  We would both have to work but we would have an almost identical experience and be able to backpack around Spain and Portugal after our obligation to Pueblo Ingles was fulfilled.  A few forms to fill out and a few pages of rules and regulations to scrutinize.  On December 30th, they offered us positions at their villa in La Alberca, Spain!  So from July 17th to July 24th, we will be talking non-stop in English to Spaniards, introducing ourselves, telling stories, sharing jokes, singing songs, acting in skits, showing off in talent shows, talking on the telephone, and chatting over dinner.  In many ways, it's a lot like camp