walking

they say you walk a lot in europe, that being (they say) why everyone is skinnier. i suspect that genetics is involved in the weight issue (and there are plenty of large people here as well) but i do find that i walk a lot. the beach is about 3 or 4 km away, a leisurely 45-minute stroll. i find myself saying things like, "oh, it's only a twenty-minute walk"...halfway across town, that is. or running to the beach and later walking there and back in the same day. many causes lie behind my increased walking, which could or could not be due to the european location. one: no car. two: undependable, semi-costly bus system. they have a lot of buses but each direction costs at least a euro (the lightrail is 1.30) and after waiting the extra 20some minutes for the bus i think, "i could be halfway there by now!" then there is the time. what else am i going to do when i don't have television in my language (and spanish television, well, the less said the better), no dvd, no computer in the house. i do read a lot but when the sun is shining, well, i'd rather dar un paseo so i go out. sitting in a café costs so i walk. a lot. and it's enjoyable, although i think the sun shines brighter here (my eyeballs hurt after just a few moments) and i do manage to turn a few heads (you'd think they'd never seen skin so white, hair so long, and women so tall before! stop staring. stop whistling. por favor.).
anyway, i do walk more in europe. and so should you. es bueno para la salud.

thoughts on ledger...

so i'm not usually "up" on celebrity news, but one of the things that living overseas does to you is magnify news from your patria (if there is such a thing for me). so several friends pointed out this week heath ledger's death and it struck me a bit for a couple reasons.
one, he was born on the exact same date as i (date, year, etc.). God willing, i will see 4 april again but he won't.
two, he was named after the title character in wuthering heights (heathcliff), so in an ironic way it is not surprising that his life was a tragedy.
on other notes, málaga continues to experience the beginnings of spring...and i am enjoying it (although the sun is really bright!). not needing a coat anymore, running on the beach with the wind in my hair.
i'm getting excited about upcoming trips...it's amazing how close everything is over here. morocco in march, granada, israel in june...it's exciting.
as one exits this life, the rest of us go on living. a ripple in time, unfortunately leading to eternal saddness. to quote a friend, "i wish i could have given him hope" because there is so many beautiful things in life...but only One makes life worth living.

a shorter note (to make up for that last long entry)

coming back is always an interesting experience for the wandering gypsy. she found this week to be very enjoyable and in some ways it almost felt like home. yet today, she told the coordinator that she will not be returning another year. no, there is no problem with the teachers, they are all very nice. yes, the pay is too little but they are raising it a bit. no, the weather is lovely. but somehow it isn't home. and the gypsy (getting older) is actually wondering if she shouldn't maybe pick a career (since none seems to appeal to her, she must pick one) before the sand runs out. maybe home and calling are not to be for her...maybe wandering is her fate internally as well as externally. (maybe she shouldn't wax philosophical in third person...)

train travel or how i spent part of my vacation

being convinced that the best way to overcome your fears is to grab them by the ** and go for it, on 1 jan i started on an adventure that, frankly, made me very nervous beforehand: traveling back from napoli to málaga alone by train.
interrail (eurrail for those without a european residence card): the best (and worst) way to travel by train in europe. i should have known that throwing caution to the wind and embarking on the spontaneous voyage of a "global" pass would have its downsides, especially when dealing with 3 different countries who have each received different info regarding the use of said pass.
italy: hopped on the train from napoli to roma, pass never checked. in roma hopped on the train to pisa--checked, wrote in day as instructed. all good. arrived in pisa midnight--trying to get to nice (france), saw only option night train (leaving 0.38, reservation required). tried to get reservation but everything closed. station worker (no English) said just to get on. 2 guys (suppose they were workers, no uniform) first told me i had to sit in aisle, then shoehorned me into a compartment with 5 others...very uncomfortable night--8 hours--but again the pass never checked. summary train travel in italy: dubious and cheap.
france: after 2 refreshing nights at the hostel i braved travel on french trains. arriving at the station, found huge line, train i wanted leaving in 20 min and needed reservation...so i took my chances and hopped on anyway. very official conductor first accused me of subterfuge b/c i hadn't written the date yet (being my 1st trip and later realizing that i hadn't read the fine print very well, ok, not at all) and i argued that no, i was not a dirty american trying to beat the system--in fact, i had even written in the 2nd day though it had never been checked. practically in tears i refused to pay (not knowing what would happen) and he asked for my reservation...to which i sheepishly replied that i didn't have that either as the interrail book said none needed ("ridiculous" he responded). in the end he settled for just the exhorbitant reservation fee of 10 euros (in station 1,50 euro normally) and i continued to montpellier. there, i took the safe route of getting a reservation and the french lady was preparing to book me to madrid (shrewdly noting that i had to pay 50% in spain b/c i bought interrail by claiming spanish residency and, accd. to unread fine print in doesn't work in your country of residency)...but she could only get me to port bou (3 euro) so on i went, noting in persignan when i changed trains 4 grendarmes with machine guns mingling with the crowd. ticket never checked in either train.
spain: id checked (nie worked like a charm) to get into the station in port bou, perhaps fears of basques or shadows of napoleon haunt the spanish-french relations. relief to be back where i could communicate better. went to counter to try my luck at the night train to madrid, only bunks left but the lady only charged me the reservation fee--no hastle about the 50% (ah, to be home to "no pasa nada"...so nice). stayed 2 refreshing nights with kind missionary couple and then tried my luck at the infamous puerta de atocha (11 may), again only charged the reservation fee not the 50%! it's good to be back, and i won't do that much train travel again (in one stretch anyway, and overnight 21 hours is hardcore).

Religious Lingo

There is something very small that almost every person has that can do a world of harm or of good. Something that many of us take for granted until we experience possible inhibitions to the tiny apparatus. The tongue--speech specifically--is this something which often glibly forms sounds foreign to our hearts. Experiencing the inhibitions that come with trying to use the tongue in other languages, I have noticed two manners of misuse of the tongue--examples when the words "suena mal" because behind them is an empty heart.

Spanish, in particular here in Spain, is a language rich in religious sentiment. Pass any time here and the words, "si Dios quiere" will fall on the ears. Less common, "Dios sólo sabe" can also be heard. What is amazing is that either obviously religious phrase can be uttered sincerely by the most hardened athiest. The will, the knowledge of God are farthest from their minds but the saying remains.

On the other hand you have highly religious, Bible-thumping, tract-pushing, Edwards-style people who claim to know God and instead utter phrases like, "Dios te bendiga". Uttering every jot and tittle correctly, they leave no room for argument yet the heart of the hearer feels oppression rather than love. Oozing criticism combined with exasperated sarcasm, to my quenched spirit the words sound false.

James talks at length (c. 3) on the tongue and its powerful untameability--"no one can tame the tongue" (v. 8). I often hear talks on how words issue from the heart, and so they do, but to address these two cases it is a different matter altogether: what is coming out of the mouth is not what is in the heart, as is evidenced (and here's the clincher) by other words and actions. "But if you have bitter jealousy and selfish ambition in your heart, do not be arrogant [i.e., say otherwise] and so lie against the truth" (v. 14).

A life wholely given over to the Lover of my Soul should "suena bien" in word, deed--every aspect. Someone once said to a Creyente I know (after she had testified), "I respect you because you're different. When you say those words I know you really mean it and you really live it." In a world with so many arguments over the "form" of Christianity, as well as the continual struggle with what is true Christian lingo (reformed? evangelical? charismatic? emerging? postmodern?) what I long to see is a people arise--true creyentes--with passion for One.

Pero yo siempre estoy contigo.
Pués Tú me sostienes de tu mano derecha.
Me guías con tu consejo,
y más tarde me acogerás en gloria.
¿A quién tengo en el cielo sino a Ti?
Si estoy contigo, ya nada quiero en la tierra.
Podrían desfallecer mi cuerpo y mi espíritu,
pero Dios fortalece mi corazon;
Él es mi herencia eterna. (salmo 73.23-26)

Amen. ¡Venga pronto, Jesucristo!

¡sigue!

the days begin to fill...church meetings, discussing various issues, spending time with new acquaintances, and especially checking my email to keep in touch with old friends. starting to find a bit of the rhythm...but still looking for opportunities to share hope with the people i am meeting. often see my students on the streets and sometimes stop to chat. still struggling with them not shutting up in class...not sure i will ever win that battle (as the other teachers seem to have just as much trouble). learning to accept the besos...although it stretches my pacnw upbringing. thinking this week of the wonderful family gatherings i will be missing...and missing friends and family as i try to communicate to my classes the importance of thanksgiving (a holiday i have always enjoyed as it means a lot less stress than christmas, and a lot of good food). keeping on keeping on. enjoying a book called _watching the english_ by kate fox on the cultural practices of the english. want to share this poem which hopefully captures a bit of life here in vélez.

vélez

a crowded bar
a football game
streets marked by dogs
but with no name

men on a walk
siesta time
ignoring lights
is not a crime

the bells for mass
for all to hear
but saints are dead—
the gods they fear

an empty pool
a pesky fly
the noisy cars
a baby’s cry

this lazy sun
has taken life
and lulled to sleep
the will to fight

the white-washed walls
like open graves
surround the lives
of those unsaved

inertia kills
with apathy
the hearts of those
who cannot see

but He who vowed
will faithful be
and call the few
eternally

an interesting occurance

something happened the day before yesterday that continues to puzzle me. i was on my way to lunch at my friends´house at about 1.30 and as i was walking on the sidewalk a car was driving very slowly in the opposite direction. almost as if it were a slow-motion scene from a movie, the passenger in the car (there were about 3 or 4 20ish guys) took a long drink of water and spit it at my feet. also as if in slow motion i swept my right foot up but still was splashed. the car continued on its way and i said (incredulous, it was the only thing that i could think to say) <> and continued. no raucous laughter at a good joke greeted my ears, which makes it all the more strange. everyone here that i have told about the story can´t think of any cultural reason and i am left with only two thoughts:
1. they were thinking, <>, as immigration is a sore issue in parts of spain
2. they were wasted/high/drugged, as the part of town they were coming from is a drug center.