Cultural Week

The week before Easter vacation was Cultural Week at our school.  This is basically a week to learn about Mallorca and go on field trips related to subjects that the students have studied over the year.  I definitely took advantage of this week and it was awesome.

On Monday, April 2^nd, we made crespells with second graders.  These are a typical Easter cookie, similar to a sugar cookie, but are made with lard and lemon instead. They're not as sweet as a sugar cookie from the US.  It was really fun making the dough with the kids because nothing was premade so they got a chance to measure the ingredients and learn the process of baking.  Ingredients here are measured in grams instead of cups and we used a kitchen scale (measuring up to 2 kilograms) to find the correct amounts of what we needed.  I’d never used anything but measuring cups before so it was a new experience for me too. Below are two second graders, Sergio and Nuria, kneading the crespell dough.

All day Tuesday I accompanied 3^rd and 4^th graders to a nature reserve called Puig de Galatzó in the city of Puigpunyent.  We took a charter bus to get to the reserve, about an hour outside of Palma.  This wouldn’t have been terrible but the roads here are very narrow.  Comfortable, in my opinion, for a Smart Car to travel if it’s the only vehicle on the road but we were in a humongous bus and it was a two-lane “highway”.  Oh, and the roads were curved and didn’t have shoulders.  Perfect.  During our ride through the mountains I kept it together until we got to a hairpin curve that scraped the bottom of our bus and we ground to a stop, did a 12-point turn and continued.  There were a couple more incidents when I feared for my life, but, thankfully, we made it to The Puig alive, albeit I was extremely sweaty and nervous.  Low point, we were going back the same way.

Once there, we walked through the reserve accompanied by a guide that spoke Spanish rather than Catalan so I was able to understand!  I learned a lot, especially since Xisca and Paquita were there explaining things to me too.  We saw typical plants of Mallorca and quite a few animals, even peacocks!  The kids were pretty well behaved but Xisca still had a problem with one of her students.  I really like this boy, Miguel, but many of the teachers have issues with him.  He actually reminds me a lot of Jerod when he was younger; very strong-willed and has a mind of his own.  I told Xisca that Miguel reminds me of my own brother and she just laughed. 

On Wednesday, I traveled (NOT through mountains, thank god) with Xisca and Ana’s classes (4^th and 3^rd graders) to a small town called Sa Pobla to learn about the meteorology of Mallorca.  It was really quite interesting.  I learned the eight winds of Mallorca in Catalan.  There’s also a mnemonic song but I haven’t figured that out yet.

Once I got home Wednesday I needed to pack like it was nobody’s business as we were leaving for Greece Thursday and I’d done nothing.  I was really excited to go on vacation, especially to a country that I hadn’t been to before!

I Can Run But I Can't Hide...

As some of you remember, one of my main goals after I graduated from college in Iowa City was to high tail it out of that state and get away from the snow.  I hate being cold and I don’t like wearing five layers and then still be freezing and waking up early to dig my car out of the snow.  Pretty much the only thing that I like about the snow is it makes for a nice Christmas Eve.  You can snuggle up with a blanket and a hot drink and watch a movie or read a book.  But it’s only nice if you weren’t planning on doing anything that day anyway which, never actually happens.  Anyway, I’d had enough after my last winter in Iowa.  So I figured, hot dog!  I’m moving to a Spanish island!  What better way to avoid snow than on small piece of land in the Mediterranean Sea.  Ohhh how wrong I was.  A few weekends ago it SNOWED.  Big time (for Palma).  There was even about a week leading up to it; the excitement was palpable.  On Wednesday, everyone was so happy and telling me with huge grins on their faces that Palma was going to get snow.  I met their child-like happiness with a face that would’ve made the Grinch proud.  I was definitely not looking forward to snow; but, then again, I didn’t really believe that it would actually happen.  The weather is wrong nine times out of 10, why should they be even close this time?  They were SPOT ON.  For once. 

I woke up on Saturday morning to see humongous snowflakes dive-bombing (falling gracefully toward) our apartment.  Amanda and I just looked at each other with disgust-filled eyes.  Once I got past the fact that the snow had found me on my island paradise, I warmed up (but not literally!) to the fact that hey, we could get a snow day out of this!  Apparently they cancel school if it snows because no one knows how to deal with it and “no one here has snow tires” (Um…how much snow were you planning on getting..?!)  Too bad all our snow happened on Saturday and Sunday.  That was just not my weekend.

I looked on Facebook a few hours later, around 10 am, and one of our teachers had already uploaded about 60 photos of the snow.  She lives on the outskirts of Palma and it had snowed about 4 inches where she was.  She was on cloud nine, as she had never seen that much snow in Palma before, or maybe in her life.  I’m not sure.  The last snowfall that actually stuck to the ground a little bit was in 1985 and one comparable to this one was in 1956 (this woman hadn’t been born yet).  She got up at 4 in the morning, realized it was snowing, woke up her sister that lives next door, and started taking photos.  At FOUR in the morning.  I’m glad they enjoyed it, because I was sitting, freezing in my apartment, pissed.  At any rate, the snow’s melted now and we’re back to sunny, albeit, chilly, skies.  Let’s hope that was the end of it.

A few weeks ago (Feb 16 and 17) I took part in Carnival at my schools in Campos and Palma.  Carnival reminds me a lot of Halloween in the US; everyone dresses up elaborately and there’s a big party at school.  I went to Campos on Thursday, rather than my usual Fridays, to participate in their Carnival celebration and parade.  The teacher I work with has an extra costume that I borrowed, I was a ladybug, and she also invited me to have lunch with her family at her house in Campos since it’s about an hour outside of Palma and we’re going to be there for the whole day.  Carnival and lunch were fantastic.  Her parents were really welcoming and I got to meet her sister and infant nephew, Marc.  For lunch we had some type of soup; it had home-grown potatoes, sweet potatoes, green beans, pork meatballs and what I was told was ox.  It was delicious and I went back for seconds.  Of course, before the meal even started, we had olives and booze.  Typical.  I tried Martini liquor, a strong but tasty beverage, before the meal and then chased with wine during.  I was pretty relaxed by the end of lunch to say the least.  After, we had dessert, which was a cake topped with apricot halves and powdered sugar, and coffee (would I like a shot of cognac in mine?), I was stuffed and ready for a nap but we still had to go back to school for the parade.

The three, four, and five year olds and their teachers all took a walk around Campos up to the main plaza in town.  They were all dressed up; some were superheroes, princesses, Formula 1 drivers, the whole shebang. 

I had a great time, and I’m really thankful the opportunity to work in Campos was given to me.  The town itself is very different from Palma, I don’t think I’ve heard two words (that weren’t directed at me) in Castellano, they ONLY speak Mallorquin.  I’ve already picked up a few essential phrases in Catalan:  Has fet pipi?  (Have you gone to the restroom?)  Seu bé (Sit down properly) and Menja (eat (your snack)).  More to come, I’m sure!

Finally, an update.

Since I’m long overdue for a blog entry, I thought I’d start with our Christmas trip.  But first I’ll give you all a quick update on my life so far:  I’m still in Palma, Mallorca teaching English.  I’m at the same school, same apartment, same everything as last year and it’s great.  The people I work with are a really good group and they’ve taught me a lot about Mallorcan culture and the Spanish and Catalan languages.  

This year I also decided to broaden my horizons and take a Catalan course.  It’s just two nights a week for a couple of hours and so far it’s not too bad.  It’s a little more relaxed than I would like, but we don’t have to memorize a bunch of verb conjugations either.  I’m not sure if that is a high point or a low point. 

Also new this year, I’m teaching an adult English class through a separate company here in Palma.  It’s Monday evenings to a group of teachers at a local school.  They’re intermediate level so they know quite a bit; I’m able to joke with them a little too, which is fun.  The first day, when we talked about our weekends, one of the women asked me how to say “resaca” in English.  Hangover.  At least they’re not scared to ask questions.

I was also approached by the superintendant of our school to teach Infantil (ages 3-5) in a town called Campos.  It’s about 45 minutes outside of Palma and it’s on Fridays.  Goodbye three day weekends.  I agreed and my first day was this past Friday.  I work with a teacher who speaks English and basically we do crafts with them and I just talk like I would talk to any other preschooler.  The only problem that I’ve had so far is they speak Catalan to me because the teachers only speak to them in that dialect so they assume that I speak it too.  I don’t.  It’s close enough to Spanish that sometimes I can figure out what they’re saying.  I think it will be a good experience and I don’t work with Infantil in Palma so it’s something new.

Now on to our holiday trip.  I didn’t make it back to the US this year for Christmas; instead Amanda; her sister, Paige; our friend, Neus; and I traveled around Eastern Europe for ten days.  We started off in Budapest, Hungary for 4 days then bussed to Vienna, Austria for two and finished up in Prague, Czech Republic.  It was a chilly trip, but, thankfully, there was no snow.  We got really lucky, apparently, because this has been a very mild winter for that part of the world. 

After almost a full day of traveling, we reached Budapest in the early evening.  We found our hotel, set stuff down, and headed to dinner.  One of my favorite things to do in new countries is check out the food situation for local grub.  Typical dishes in Budapest (pronounced Bu-da-pesht) is goulash, but not the typical pasta dish that I was thinking.  It’s more of a hearty soup/stew meal that has potatoes, pork cubes, vegetables, and lots of paprika.  Budapest is known for paprika, which is used abundantly in many dishes and comes in two kinds: spicy and sweet.  I like the spicy one better myself, probably because I’m deprived of a good fire in my mouth here in Palma.

The 27^th was our first full day in Budapest, which we took full advantage of by heading out on a guided, walking tour of the city.  The day was pretty terrible to be honest, weather-wise, as it was extremely foggy and cold.  Wet cold.  So about eight minutes into the walk we were complaining to each other about being cold. 

The way the walking tour worked was it was free and then at the end, if you were impressed with the guides/information, you would tip accordingly.  We’d done this before in Berlin and were very impressed.  It’s nice because the guides are working for tips only and that usually makes the tour a lot more fun. 

Budapest is divided into two sides: Buda and Pest.  They used to be two different cities entirely but they merged some years ago.  Pest is completely flat and known for its rich culture whereas Buda is very hilly and more industrial.  Separated by the Danube River, the two are actually different tectonic plates; hence the difference in landscape. 

Probably my favorite part of the tour was our guide pointing out a bronze statute of a little boy in what looked like an elf costume (tunic; large, pointed hat; and slippers) sitting on a railing by the river.  He told us that the people of Budapest rub this child’s thighs for good luck; sure enough, the bronze was shining bright on the upper leg area of the statue.  Extra bonus: the statue is a girl—the sculptor who created it wanted to include his son; hence the boyish charm.  Yes, I rubbed his/her legs.

During World War II many Hungarian Jews were arrested and deported, however, a large number of them were taken to the river and drowned.  The Nazis would make them remove their shoes before either shooting them or shoving them off the pier. 

In commemoration of this incident, there is a memorial of different sorts of bronze shoes left in disarray on the riverbank. 

The food here is delicious, it really gives Germany a run for its money.  That, and it rivals portion-size in the US.  Double bonus.  One meal I ate goulash soup followed by beef/veal stuffed in cabbage served with cream sauce.  Coupled with a few of local Hungarian beers, it was a dinner fit for kings.  The next day we went to a restaurant for lunch where I ordered cream cheese (not Philadelphia cream cheese) soup with bacon accompanied by mushroom risotto.  Both of these options were on the appetizer menu but were humongous!  We found the food and lifestyle in general in Budapest to be very inexpensive; we always got a ton of food for a very reasonable price. 

During the evening we ventured around the Christmas markets.  Our guide had told us earlier in the afternoon that Budapest’s markets had won “Best of Year” in 2008 so, of course, we had to check them out.  We saw a lot of handmade crafts and many food and beverage tents.  One of my favorites was the kiosk that sold rum-spiked hot chocolate.  It was rich and delicious; you couldn’t even taste the rum!

We left Budapest of the 30^th to take a bus to Vienna, Austria.  The bus was only about 2 hours, so it wasn’t that bad.  We arrived in Vienna in the afternoon, checked into our hostel, and went to find coffee.  We landed at this quaint café in the center of the city where I ordered coffee (which turned out to be a shot of espresso and sugar) and a pastry with a shit-ton of meringue.  I guess I can’t get too used to my ‘cafes con leche’ (coffees w milk) that I have all the time in Palma.  Though my dessert was meringue-laden, it didn’t destroy the taste of cookie and raspberry, thankfully.

After we put our stuff down in our hostel, we went to the Freud museum.  We figured we had to use our time wisely in Vienna as we only had two days to fully appreciate the Austrian-ness of the city.  Let the touring begin.  The museum was Freud’s old apartment in the center of Vienna and it was a self-guided tour, which was nice because you could look through things at your own pace. 

Later that night we decided to go to an opera.  We were definitely underdressed, but it didn’t really matter as we got tickets last minute and were in the top most seats.  In some aspects, the top was better; you didn’t have to worry about seeing over anyone’s head; but at the same time, we couldn’t really see in general.  I got pretty lucky and was able to watch in between two peoples’ heads.  The opera was only about an hour and a half long; it was in German so I couldn’t understand anything, but let’s be honest, I wouldn’t have been able to understand if they were singing in English. 

The opera house was enormous and very beautifully decorated with frescoes and all sorts of statues and chandeliers. 

The next day we went to the Royal Summer Palace.  Most of it was close because it was winter, but the grounds were still nice to walk around.  From the palace we walked around the city some more and saw the main squares of Vienna.  We had a pretty short time in Austria but were able to spend New Year’s Eve there, which was fun, though there were way too many people in the plaza for my liking. 

On January 1^st we took a bus to Prague!  I slept most of the way, it was about five hours, and was ready to be done traveling when we arrived in the Czech Republic.  Amanda had organized a taxi pick-up for us when we got to the bus station (around 10:00 pm) but we waited for about ten minutes and the taxi wasn’t there.  Luckily, there were other taxis waiting and we just grabbed one of them.  We asked the driver before we got in if it would be about 10 euros for him to take us to our destination (we showed him the address) and he said, “Yes, 10 euros”.  Perfect!  Looks like this taxi worked out after all.

Well, we finally get to the street that our hotel is on, after the driver getting turned around a little bit in the city; and we get out and he says 20 euros.  We tell him, no, you told us that it would be 10.  No, no, 10 for going through the first plaza, 10 for the second.  Hm…  We all go to argue and then he starts yelling at us in Czech so we decide, whatever, to cut our losses and give him the 20 euros, the jackass. 

Our hotel is a bit more of a nightmare.  By the time we get there, it’s about 11:00 pm and we just want to go to bed.  Well, there’s a sign on the door saying reception is closed that we have to go to some other hotel around the corner and get our keys for this hotel.  Um…this is a little sketch.  After we get our keys, we’re able to get to our room, which is a dingy disaster, to put it lightly.  Amanda and Paige’s sheets/pillows looked dirty, there were still used dishes from another tenant, and just overall, it looked very grimy.  All we wanted to do was shower.  And not get a disease… 

We spent one night at the “hotel” and the next morning found new lodging.  It was successful as we found another hotel across the street for a similar price.

Prague is home to the oldest working Astrological clock, said to be made in 1410.  It’s very impressive.  On the hour it rings and the 12 disciples march around while a tiny skeleton ticks the hours.  The four figures flanking the sides of the clock represent undesired characteristics during the time period when the clock was made: vanity (symbolized by a woman holding a mirror), greed (a man holding a bag of money), death (obvious reasons), and pleasure (a man playing an instrument).  I’m not sure why the last one was a ‘despised quality’, but he’s next to ‘death’ so we’ll go with it.

The next stop on our tour was the Dorotheum; a large music hall that had four musicians’ statues on top of it: Mozart, Handel, Bach, and Beethoven.  It used to have other people but the Nazis knocked most of them down.  They were originally supposed to find the Jewish composers and only push their busts off the roof but they didn’t know which ones to choose.  In the end, they craftily thought that the one with the biggest nose would be the Jew.  It turned out to be Hitler’s favorite composer; he was Austrian and not Jewish…

We continued walking around the city on our tour.  I really like the guided walking tours because you usually see things that you wouldn’t see on your own.  And there’s not getting lost in the city and having to whip out a map.  We visited another sculpture made by Czech artist, David Cerny, who is known for creating the unusual.  One of his sculptures is a bunch of black babies crawling up the TV tower in Prague, another is Freud hanging by his hand from a pole in the center of town, and the last is what we visited:  two urinating men.

According to our guide, these two men are Hitler and Stalin urinating on the Czech Republic (the area they’re standing in is the outline of the country).  You used to be able to send a text message to a phone number by the statues and they would pee your message.  Now they just write quotes from famous Czech residents.

Our next stop was the John Lennon Wall.  It’s just a large wall in central Prague that is filled with graffiti of messages of love, peace, and songs from the Beatles.  It’s the only wall in Prague that can be graffitied and the designs change almost daily.  It’s funny to see the wall next to it, as it’s completely blank.  If the security cameras catch you painting the wall next to the Lennon Wall, have to do hours of community service and clean the wall that you painted.  Just paint the Lennon Wall…

After the Lennon Wall, we ventured through Old Town Prague.  Our guide told us that many people long ago used to be illiterate, to the point that they couldn’t recognize street addresses and house numbers.  To solve this problem, people put a symbol above their doors; so instead of living at number 23, you would live at the house with violins.  Some of them are very intricate, like this Medusa:

Marionette puppets are very popular here; there are a ton of shops with all different kinds of them.  Some are people, witches, dragons, Harry Potter, you can pretty much find anything you want.  They reminded me of The Sound of Music when Maria and the kids put on a puppet show for the Captain. 

We also found a lot of places that sold Matryoshka dolls.  I asked a woman if they were typically from Prague, as I’d always thought of Russia.  She said, no, they’re Russian, but there are a lot of Eastern European immigrants to Prague and they bring these dolls with them.  Some stores we walked past just sold these dolls and the entire store would be filled with them in all different sizes.  I really wanted one, but I think that’s the type of thing you need to purchase from the country of origin.  I guess I’ll just have to go to Russia!

As many of you have heard me complain, there’s not a Starbucks on the island of Mallorca.  At all.  Now, at home, this doesn’t really bother me because I don’t go to Starbucks that often or if I’m in the mood for coffee I go to local coffee shops around us.  However, the whole fact that I can’t have it makes me want it so when we travel one of the first things I Google is if there is a Starbucks even remotely close to where we’ll be.  Lucky for me, there were Starbucks in ALL THREE CITIES!  I managed to hold myself back until Prague, because, let’s be honest, it isn’t even that great of coffee, BUT I needed my seasonal peppermint latte.  Which I got, though it wasn’t in its normal red holiday cup.  I guess you can’t have everything in life. 

By the time our ten days were over, I was ready to go home.  Or at least not have to wear four layers.  I forgot how much of a hassle it is to go inside and take off your hat, coat, scarf, gloves, etc.  Not to mention, I looked like that little kid in A Christmas Story when he can’t put his arms down properly because he’s in a snowsuit.  Palma has really softened me to the elements of winter. 

We arrived back in Palma on the 5^th of January and had a few days to relax before heading back to school.  We had a great trip and it was really fun to see three places that I’d never been before.

On A Boat

Last weekend Xisca invited Amanda and me on her family’s fishing boat to spend Saturday out on the water/beaches of northern Mallorca.  We took the bus to Port de Pollença, which is at the very top of the island, and met Xisca, Biel, and their daughter for a day of sun-filled fun. 

We hopped in the boat and headed out to Formentor; a luxurious area where the wealthy of Europe buy real estate.  The mansions we saw from the boat were enormous with rock cliffs and beautiful vistas of the sea. 

We arrived at our destination about an hour boat journey later.  It was an informative ride as Biel pointed out different historical areas and told us about old-time Mallorca.  Amanda and I were both relieved that Xisca and Biel like to talk because sometimes it’s hard to start lengthy conversations in Spanish; especially over the roar of the waves, motor, etc. 

After I made sure my sunscreen was on, I jumped into the water-cool but refreshing.  We swam around a bit and then got back on the boat for lunch that Xisca had packed.  It was so delicious, and we were starving.  We ate roast chicken, trampó (cold salad of raw onion, tomato, and green pepper with salt and olive oil), melon and brownies-not to mention the pre-lunch Spanish standard of olives and chips. 

Something that I really admire about Xisca is she never makes me feel stupid, which, trust me, there are plenty of times that I either say something odd or misuse Spanish, or eat raw red pepper for that matter, that she could look at me like I’m a complete idiot and she doesn’t.  Anyway, as Amanda and I were eating melon, we took bites and it basically exploded juice all over us—Xisca’s family was in control of their pieces.  I made a comment about how we were a couple of disasters on this side of the boat, but Xisca reassured me that we just needed a couple of napkins because they already knew how to eat melon-we just needed practice.  I thought that was nice of her; it’s the little things.  Ha.

We also talked about cultural differences during lunch, which is always a fun topic.  The major one we hit on, besides how Amanda and I both DESPISE dos besos (kissing a person’s cheeks when you meet, see them, say goodbye, ALL THE TIME), was the use of alcohol.  Somehow we got on the subject of how wine, champagne, and usually anis are always present at my school and how that’s not only unpracticed but straight-up illegal in the US.  They couldn’t believe it.

As we were heading back to Pollença, the wind picked up and started majorly rocking the boat to the point where Amanda’s hand (on the side of the boat) dipped into the water on a wave.  And I yelled at one point.  I was sure we would die and we still had about an hour to go in the boat. 

We finally arrived back at the port, unpacked the boat, and went to Pollença to drop off Xisca’s daughter as she had to get ready for a concert (she plays the trombone).  We met Biel’s mom who’s about 90, but cooks Sunday dinner for her whole family still!  I couldn’t believe it.  Biel’s family (4 people) and his sister’s family (4 people) come for weekly dinner to their mom’s house.  It’s a great tradition, but I think it would be so much work for her to cook for that many people.  Apparently it isn’t though, and maybe she really enjoys it.  I’m not sure I would, especially if it wasn’t potluck style and happened every single week. 

After Pollença we went back to Xica’s summerhouse in Llubí (a pueblo in the center of Mallorca) in order to catch the train back to Palma.  Biel offered us an afternoon coffee, but as it was about 1000 degrees, I said I’d pass.  Instead, Amanda and I watched him down an espresso and then take (and offer us) a shot of hard liquor.  Um…okay.  He told us the coffee was to wake up, and the liquor was to take the espresso taste out of your mouth.  Good to know. 

When we got back to Palma, we were dead tired, and it was only about 8:30.  Between sun, swimming, and Spanish all day, I was in bed by 10:00.  Such a fun day and I’m so thankful that we were invited.

Never too late to try something new

This past week for a couple of days, Sarah came to visit.  We’ve known each other since high school and have kept in touch throughout the years even though we attended different universities.  As I’m still unemployed, it was the perfect time for her to visit: we could hit the beach, sleep in, and pretty much do whatever we wanted on our own schedules.  Sarah is always up to try new things so we decided to take the plunge and buy a whole fish to cook for lunch one afternoon.  We did research (thank you, Google) before we went to the market to find a recipe that seemed easy enough for two ‘fish idiots’ to cook properly.  Luckily we found one that involved lemon, butter, and spices.  Oh, and the whole fish… 

We got back from the market with a little over a kilo of ‘rodaballo’ or turbot, freshly gutted (in front of us) and ready to cook.  We read the recipe again, seemed pretty straight forward, and then youtubed how to fillet a flat fish.  We failed on the filleting part and just decided, screw it, and threw it in the over as it was.  Amazingly, it worked wonderfully-the scales, after baking, came right off and Sarah became fillet master as she sliced and diced our meal.  Complete with hollandaise sauce, we had a lunch fit for kings.  I think I’m going to have to buy more fish next year; I kick myself that it took me until late June to try it for the first time, but ya gotta start somewhere.   Below is each stage of our fish fiasco.

The rest of our week flew by with ensaimadas, ice cream, heat complaints, and beer.  We had a really good time together (even trying snails!), and I hope it’s not another year before we see each other again.  I joked with Sarah at the bus stop when I dropped her off for the airport that I’d see her in a couple years.  We laughed, but sadly, that’s been a reality before.  Thank god for internet, skype, email, and everything that allows me to keep in touch with friends and family, even when we’re worlds apart.

Safety First? Not On Holidays...

As I mentioned, San Juan was celebrated on Thursday night to mark the summer solstice.  A couple friends and I went down to Parc de la Mar that sits between the cathedral and the sea-there was a concert stage set up and some other type of structure that we didn’t recognize. 

Around 11:00 pm the demons came out.  There was a holiday in January, San Sebastian, that also had demons, however I wasn’t in town for that so this was completely new.  Beckie, one of my other roommates, however, was present for San Sebastian and when Amanda and I told her we wanted to venture closer she told us absolutely not-they chase you with fire.  Hm…well, surely they don’t actually chase you with fire.  We’re going down anyway. 

They actually chase you with fire.  Not a controlled fire either.  These men that are dressed as devils, complete with ugly masks and goat horns, have something similar to a huge torch that is aflame and they come up behind you and almost literally scare the shit out of you by yelling things at you in Catalan.  And then they manhandle you and drag you to the ground or start thrusting you, but that’s a story for later.  You would thing that the open fire-on-a-stick among thousands of people would be dangerous enough…and you would be wrong.  They also carry around bottles of alcohol that they take a pull of and then blow onto the torch, and if that gets boring they light other fireworks that spin around above your head and emit sparks.  Into the crowd of people.  Overall, it was a really cool experience though I felt it was extremely dangerous.  At least they had Red Cross busses there.  

After part one of the festivities we headed down to the beach.  We didn’t really know what we were doing but apparently this holiday celebrates ‘a new beginning’ so you write something on paper to better yourself (a wish or something you want to improve), burn it, and then go for a cleansing swim in the ocean.  We decided to stay out of the ocean but sat by the water anyway and observed others; there were quite a few people there. 

The beach is really peaceful at night, I love that you can’t see where the water meets the sky; it’s just a black abyss. 

By the time we walked back home it was about 2:00 am and we were all pretty tired.  Needless to say, we slept in a little bit on Friday.

More Airline Fun

Today is a holiday.  But not the whole day (people still had to work), only tonight.  Tomorrow is the ‘recovery holiday’ so everything will be closed.  Tonight is Sant Joan, there will be street fires on the beach, people imbibing and making wishes over bonfires and swimming in the ocean at midnight.  I’m sure there will be some injuries, how can there not be with large, open fires and drunken swimming.

In honor of tonight’s festivities, my friends and I are going to walk down, swimsuits in tow, to the beach and have a look at what Palma does to honor the summer solstice.  This evening is the ray of sunshine on the hurricane that is today:

I’ve recently purchased my ticket back to the homeland, after many weeks (no exaggeration) of hoping, in vain, that the gods of all things aerial would take pity on me and pursuade AirBerlin (or any airline, or blimp, or Aladdin) to lower their travel prices.  However, when this dream was shattered, repeatedly, whenever I pulled up kayak.com, I bit the bullet and purchased a roundtrip ticket. 

The fun started today, when I received an email in Spanish (yay) from AirBerlin telling me that they were unable to charge my Visa and that I needed to pay my ticket fee by July 2^nd or I would be declined the pleasure to fly with them and would also have to pay a cancellation fee.  They included their banking information for me to go ahead and transfer money from my account to theirs.  How nice of them. 

On a tangent, this came after I had a nice chat with a woman hiring workers to teach English at a summer camp here in Palma during the month of July.  As I don’t have a summer job, I jumped at the opportunity.  I set up an interview for Monday morning and then received the question that I love most: do I have papers and/or a social security number to work here?  I took the standard approach and beat around the bush in broken, flustered Spanish, that, usually I work for cash payments (because THAT doesn’t make me sound like a hooker…), until we reach the inevitable: no, I’m here on a grant from the Government of Spain.  Well, she tells me, an interview would be pointless if I don’t have a Spanish SSN.  So, yay, America, you’re STILL not part of the EU.

Back to the AirBerlin issue.  After I read about the money wiring, I decided I needed to have a quick chat with US Bank; I recite my situation to them after which, they remind me that there’s probably a limit on how much I can spend per day.  Of course there is.  And of course I went over that limit on the day that I booked my flights home.  Either way, I need to pay AirBerlin money for my flight so I don’t miss my connecting flight in Florida, even if it involves wiring money (with the lovely transaction fee).  But, as nothing can be painless, I’m told that wiring can only be done in person and that I would need to come to an office and fill out paper work.  Not over the internet and ABSOLUTELY not over the phone.  Well, thank God there’s a branch of US Bank in Palma! (sense the sarcasm). 

Sometimes when I used to complain as a youngster about being given time outs (a rarity), my mom used to tell me she WISHED someone would tell her she was in timeout-it was usually when she was juggling about 5,000 things and I had just punched my brother.  And then blamed him for his own injury, and she needed a break.  At any rate, I now understand that sentiment and gave myself a timeout, after which I frantically called my mom.  I don’t care how independent you think you are (or actually are), sometimes you need help, which is not something I make a habit of asking for.  I should work on that.  Today I reached out.  And my mom saved the day.  She called the bank again and through the magic of Genie my ticket should be charged to my Visa.  I’m still waiting for a confirmation email, but we’re a step closer. 

So now, as I sit writing this long overdue post and drinking glass number three of cheap, delicious, Spanish wine, I think—life in Europe really isn’t that bad.  Granted the EU citizenship is a doozie, but it’s a cloudless afternoon and there’s a street fiesta tonight.  What more could I want?  Thanks, mom, for helping when I was ready to jump over the balcony of apartment 2A.  A less cynical post is promised for the future-maybe complete with photos of the past few weeks/Sant Joan!