The Last Day of School

I thought the last day of school would be an extremely sad day for me. But it wasn't. It was only a little sad.

The last day was a "festival" where many of the classes sang songs and did dances and the 6th graders graduated and left behind their most awkward years of physical growth. I spent the day playing with the kids and helping with the festival and it really felt no different from a normal day.

The day started with the graduation of the 5 year olds as they are leaving the "infant education" part of the school and going to the "elementary school" part of the school. They were pretty adorable and dressed in mock graduation outfits. Jessica pointed out that my school is very good at taking every opportunity to make the kids dress up and do things that they will later be embarrassed by.


My third graders sang three Beatles songs (Yellow Submarine, Yesterday, and All Together Now). They did a pretty good job with the lyrics and we were pretty pleased with their performance.



As you see in the video, we also seized the opportunity to make them dress up and put them in sailor outfits....toma!


But, as I said, the day passed like any normal day. I didn't even really get to say goodbye to the kids because they were so excited about the festival and didn't really understand that I was going for good. Alas, it may not be for good as I am going to try to come back to Madrid during the Christmas season next year and visit the school.

The main highlight of the day was that we had a lunch for all of the professors after school. Unfortunately, a lot of my good friends couldn't hang around but some of them were there. I gave a toast to all of the teachers and told them all thank you and said my goodbyes. Except they weren't really goodbyes because I just ate dinner with all of the ones that I'm friends with last night and we are also meeting for lunch next week. So the last day wasn't sad because I haven't said goodbye to anybody yet. But the time will come, and along with it, the tears.

A Bad Case of Lastitis

What is Last-itis you ask? We'll it's constantly thinking that this is the last time you will do thing X. And I can feel a bad case of it coming on. I've got a little more than a month left of this adventure but I only have three more days left at work. Most people would be thinking "F Yeah!" but I've loved my work this year. Not necessarily loved what I do but more so who I do it with and the fact that it's with kids.

My coworkers have been amazing and are a huge reason why I've enjoyed my time in Spain so much. Being able to relate and have real relationships with Spanish people has made me feel just that much more Spanish myself. Likewise, spending lots of time with my Spanish family has led to so many long conversations about the past, the family (which is VERY large), and life in general.

This whole experience has been so refreshing that it pains me to think about giving it up. I seriously get sad thinking about having to say goodbye for good to some of these people - to some of the kids and even some of my coworkers who I may never see again. It's been a while since I've felt like a goodbye was forever because at Princeton you see everyone again, especially those that you want to see again. And high school before that was the same. So saying goodbye to some of these people "me va a dar algo" as they say in Spain (meaning that you'll get choked up kind of).

So my case of Lastitis has started really early and I find myself missing Spain long before I'm even packing my bags.

The French Riviera

Wow. Blogging is getting harder and harder these days. Perhaps it's because there are only a handful of people who actually read what I write. Perhaps it's because I'm lazy. Either way, pictures available on facebook.

The French Riviera. When I heard that phrase in the past, I always thought to myself, what a grandiose place. Meaning, "hey, french riviera, get over yourself." But, I really do think that it lived up to all the hype. All the fancy shops, fancy restaurants, ritzy places and other grandiose things were counterbalanced by beautiful scenery, quaint streets, and overall extremely friendly people. In fact, the most unfriendly person we encountered may have been the Prince of Monaco who declined our invitation to get schwasted and roam the city of Monte Carlo.


Anyways, the trip started in London with a 5 hour layover that lasted 5 lifetimes. London has the reputation of having horrible weather, all the time. I had previously assumed that this was limited to outdoor areas but the London Lutton airport quickly corrected that misconception by exposing its patrons to the coldest conditions in the transportation business since the Titanic (da dun chsshhh). After nearly escaping death by freezing, we made it to our hostel in Nice at around 10 pm.


We immediately set out for an American-style bar called "Wayne's" which was well known for its reputation of having more people dancing on tables than on the floor. Perfect. We passed the night with a few drinks watching the many drunk Americans doing what they do best. Jessica managed to make friends with a 60+ year old Bulgarian woman who was going nuts on the tables. Surprise, surprise...


The next day we went to a small mountain town called Vence. We were actually trying to stay in the town "St.Paul d'Vence" but something got lost in translation and we made a hotel reservation in the nearby but obviously distinct town of "Vence". Luckily, Vence was a cute town and boasted the only giant statue of a dove/pigeon that i have ever had the pleasure to see. Plus our hotel was amazing and came fully stocked with things such as purple sheets, a green bathroom, and a lounge cat.


We went out to dinner at a really nice french restaurant and had some amazing food. The food in the south was a mix of French and Italian food and we had some really impressive dishes of gnocchi and scallops and a cornucopia of other delights.


We made it to St. Paul d'Vence for a few hours the next day on our way back to Nice. It was a really pretty town with tiny streets and lots of flowers. There wasn't really anything to do there so Jessica temporarily quelled her insatiable appetite for sweets with a crepe (on a cannon, not to be confused with Christ on a bike).


The night that followed was poorly planned, poorly executed, and epic. The plan was to go to Monaco, a place where we could not afford to stay in a hotel. So that meant we were going to leave all of our stuff in a locker in the Nice train station and spend the night in Monaco, not going to sleep. We bought food for a picnic dinner and rum and mixers to save money as well. One poor choice in particular was the downfall of the entire night. Let me explain.

(Jessica changing clothes in a photobooth in the Nice train station)

When we got off the bus we walked around to some very pretty gardens and to the palace of the Prince of Monaco. We stopped in a small garden near the palace to eat and start to drink. Upon opening the bottle of rum we realized that we had made a grave mistake. Buying a 6 euro bottle of rum was a poor decision. After saving money by not eating at a restaurant and not getting a hotel room, we should have thought about classing it up and buying the 10 euro rum. But, stingy is a hard thing to give up and we paid for it. The rum was terrible and left us with some pretty wretched hang overs.


Anyways, life goes on, sort of. We went to the casinos and did our thing but the nightlife in Monte Carlo was not what we expected. We both got really tired around 4 AM so we decided to go find a place to sleep until the 6 AM bus came. In a half-daze, we wandered all the way back to the garden next to the palace and passed out on the benches there. I kid you not when i say that the palace is up a huge hill that must have taken a half hour to walk up but that didn't enter our half asleep minds.


We caught the 6 AM bus but I quickly decided that I didn't belong on the bus. Taking the turns along this windy coastal road did not agree with me or my stomach and I barely managed to run off the bus to vomit. Out with the bad. This, of course, was after contemplating relieving my stomach into Jessica's cloth travel bag. Long story short, we fell asleep on the bench and managed to miss the next bus, giving us a cumulative hour long wait.

When we got back to Nice we went to the beach to sleep off the poor choices of the previous night. We were rudely interrupted by what appeared to be an Indian wedding party shouting and screaming and being generally loud all around us. Jessica managed to get really burned bring the poor choice count up just a smidgen. We both managed to recover slightly. The rest of the day was a wash. Nothing bad, nothing great.


However, it was this night that we decided on the Chicken Plan of 2009 which consisted of buying a rotisserie chicken and eating it on the beach for dinner the next day. And we did just that, but not without our fare shares of close calls.

When the time came to carry out the Chicken Plan of 2009, we were ready. We walked to the hole in the wall meat store and salivated in the direction of the full rotisserie, spinning delightfully with at least 15 golden chickens. Of course the butcher/15 year old boy only spoke French but we managed to understand that the chickens weren't ready yet, they needed 30 more minutes to slowly and deliciously turn in circles and drip glorious juices. So we went to a nearby plaza to wait. I didn't want to go back right at thirty minutes so i tricked Jessica into waiting 35. When she found out, she furiously exclaimed "What if there's a Chicken Blowout and there's none left!". As we picked up the pace and rounded the corner, we saw the rotisserie, nearly devoid of delicious-looking birds. Thankfully, there was one left and we snagged him just in time, right before a hippie couple tried to get him.


We continued to the beach and had ourselves a (winner winner) Chicken Dinner despite the near-atrocities of the Chicken Blowout of 2009.


We left Nice the next morning and headed back to Madrid via the ice palace of the London Lutton airport. To take our mind off the cold, this time we decided to watch Slumdog Millionaire (great movie by the way). We got a little absorbed in the movie and ended up heading towards our gate about 10 minutes before departure. We quickly learned that this was a bad idea when we showed up at the gate and they told us that we had missed our flight. I called them on their bullshit and they kindly made a call to the airplane and opened the door again for us. Crisis averted, we arrived in Madrid, safe and sound.

La Riviera Francesa

Para que sepáis la razón de este viaje, Jessica y yo hemos pasado los dos años juntos y queríamos celebrar el aniversario de verdad. Así que hemos planeado un viaje a Niza para visitar la costa al sur de Francia. Podeís ver algunas fotos en la parte de la riviera francesa en inglés y en facebook.

Para llegar a Niza, tuvimos que volar hacia Londres y luego hacia Niza. Para ahorrar dinero, cogimos algunos vuelos más baratos que nos dieron una escala de 5 horas durante la ida y la vuelta en Londres. De repente, volábamos por el aeropuerto Lutton que está de 1.5 horas a la ciudad y no podíamos hacer nada de turismo allí. Pues nos quedábamos en el aeropuerto para lo que sentaba como un eterno. Para hacer un poco más daño, el aeropuerto estaba completamente helado y allí pasábamos un frio que te pelas. Lo peor era que el único enchufe que funcionaba estaba alado del chisme que produce el aire acondicionado. Así que allí estuvimos con un frio que te cagas viendo los últimos capítulos de la temporada tres de Héroes. Como te puedes imaginar, salimos de Londres cagando tomates.

Bueno, llegamos a Niza por la noche, encontramos el hostal sin problemas y salimos de marcha como los españoles que ya somos. Encontramos un bar que se llama “Wayne’s” y es un bar en plan Americano que tenía un grupo de música que tocaba los éxitos de los años ochenta y noventa. Se dice que en Wayne’s hay más gente bailando encima de las mesas que en el suelo. Nos divertíamos mogollón viendo a gente borrachísima y bailando a la música como locos.

El primer día pasábamos el tiempo en Niza haciendo un poco de turismo y andando por la ciudad. La costa allí es un milagro, desde las colinas cubiertas con casitas preciosísimas hasta la playa construida completamente de piedras pequeñas, sin ninguna miga de arena. Para ver un poco del paisaje, hemos decidido pasar la noche en un pueblito que se llama Vence. El viaje en autobús tardaba tres cuartos de hora y nos llevaba entre algunos paisajes magnificentes.

Esta noche era mi favorita porque era la verdadera celebración de nuestro aniversario. Cenamos en un sitio muy bueno que ofreció un menú con dos platos y un postre y todo estuvo ricisimo. Comimos muy bien y volvimos a casa para ver el ultimo capitulo de Héroes (vaya celebración era, te juro!).

Una nota sobre la comida de esta zona de Francia - me sorprendió pero como vi, mucha de la comida tiene una gran influencia de Italia. Había un montón de cosas como pizza y lasaña y más que eran del estilo Niceno.

El siguiente día, visitábamos un pueblo cercano que se llama San Paul de Vence y tiene unas calles muy estrechas con flores. Es muy pintoresco. Después de pasando unas horas en este pueblito, volvimos a Niza para empezar una noche impresionante. El plan era para pasar la noche en Mónaco. Pero como puedes creer, Mónaco es un sitio muy caro y no tenemos suficiente dinero para pagar para un hotel allí. Pues pusimos las mochilas en la consigna de la estación de trenes y fuimos a Mónaco con la cena, la bebida y la máquina de fotos para trasnochar y divertirnos en el país más pequeño del mundo (menos el vaticano).

Pasábamos fenomenal andando y viendo unos jardines preciosos y la costa de Mónaco. Empezamos de cenar y beber a las nueve en un jardín alado del palacio del príncipe de Mónaco. El no quiso salir con nosotros pues cenamos solos. Lo que olvidábamos era comprar un alcohol que costaba más que seis euros. Así que el “Rhum” que tuvimos estaba malísimo. Casi no lo podíamos beber. Pero nos emborrachábamos allí alado del príncipe y salimos a los casinos de Monte Carlo para gozar en el ambiente de ellos. Era ahora cuando Jessica perdió la habilidad de animarse y la tenía que animar yo. Y te juro que esto era un trabajo muy duro. Al final, fuimos a un bar completamente lleno de gente mayor que 45 anos para bailar. Salimos de allí para buscar un sitio para dormir a las 4 de la mañana. Al final, en nuestro estado un poco perdido, volvimos al jardín del príncipe para dormir en unos bancos allí. Levantamos a las seis para coger el autobús hacia Niza. Como en mi juventud, mi estomago no estaba alucinado de estar en un vehículo poco predicable y tuvimos que bajar para que pude “recuperar”. Otra vez nos pusimos a dormir y perdimos el siguiente autobús y tuvimos que esperar una hora entera. Mala suerte…

Pasábamos el día siguiente en la playa durmiendo como vagabundos. Jessica, como que no tiene la sangre española, ha quemado mucho y salió de la playa con su frente completamente rojo y su espalda blanca. Este día nos pasó rápidamente y sin mucha animación.

No hacíamos muchas cosas el último día porque no había tanto para hacer y no queríamos ir a Cannes. Así que andábamos por las calles y hacíamos un poco de turismo mientras gozábamos el ambiente de la Riviera Francés. El momento cumbre del día fue la cena en que planeábamos hacer unos bocadillos con pollo asado comprado de una rotisería. Cuando llegamos a la tienda nos dijeron en francés que tardaba 30 minutos más para asar todo el pollo. Volvíamos 35 minutos después y solo había un pollo, un pollo dorado como los tesoros de las aztecas. Comíamos el pollo precioso en la playa y volvíamos a casa.

Más que esto, no ocurrió nada importante entre Niza y Madrid. Menos que casi perdimos el vuelo en Londres y tenían que llevarnos al avión personalmente, llegamos sin problemas. Era un viaje magnifico.

A Family Picnic and Chris Leaves

Chris left Spain last week. He finished up early and went home to spend some time with the fam before heading off to do his masters at Maryland in August. In his honor, and to get the whole family together, we had a picnic in the mountains outside of Madrid.

The picnic was amazing, great food, fun, and a really relaxing day. I seriously love my family here in Spain and I am finally feeling like a part of it all. To be able to sit and talk and feel like a part of the family is something I've never been able to do until this year and it is something I am now very thankful for.

From the following picture, you can basically tell that I fit in with the family, at least the youngins.

It's sad that Chris has left us and the apartment definitely won't be the same without him. In fact, it may be a little dirtier and the fridge a little more empty. But, alas, life goes on and you've got to enjoy the time that you have because eventually you're going to go to graduate school and sign your life away. Oh, wait, thats just me...