Yesterday was my favorite holiday, Thanksgiving, or as they say in spanish, "Día de acción de Gracias." That's quite the mouth-full considering all you really need is a hefty appetite and the word "thanks" to celebrate this uniquely American day of feasting. Aside from being thankful, it's the one day of the year where it's socially acceptable to stuff as much food into yourself as physically possible in a glutton-filled attempt at being appreciative for the 'good' in your life. Call it hypocritical, but the leftovers, sweet potatoes, the awkward family silences, and the football (I should say"American" football) make this day the best day of the year. It's one of the few uniquely American holidays that we can celebrate together, regardless of religious affiliation, and I love every second of it.
This year however, was my first time not being able to celebrate Thanksgiving with my family, and instead, my friends and I ate a dual-turkey dinner coordinated through our program. That's right, at my table of about nine people, we ate an excessive two whole turkeys, accompanied by an olympic-sized swimming pool's worth of wine. What we lacked in pumpkin pie, sweet potatoes, and normal mashed potatoes, we made up for in our mutual realizations of how much we missed home. I guess you could say we ate our feelings in turkey. Come to think of it, that's exactly what we did.
Thanksgiving, this year, was a reality check. Our dinner last night made me realize 1) how long a year really is, 2) How much I really love 'Murica, 3) I'm growing up, and 4) Don't let a vegetarian carve a turkey, it's just not a good idea for anyone. None of these realizations sat too comfortably at first, but I'm starting to get used to the idea that Barcelona will begin to feel more like home than Davis, and the people and places that I used to call home will change, and feel foreign to me upon my return. But that's the reason why I did this in the first place, for this amount of time, to flip everything I know and take for granted on it's head, in order to become cultured or grow up or 'enhance' my university education or something stupid like that.
Word of the Day: Thanks - Gracias
Gracias a todos para esta oportunidad. Thanks to everyone for this opportunity.
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
5 things about Amsterdam, The Netherlands
Now that the smokey haze of my trip to Amsterdam has finally begun to settle, I can start to digest the events that took place in my four days and three nights in that dutch-themed amusement park of a city. There should be a warning that Amsterdam is actually a schizophrenic combination of two Dr.Jekyll/Mr.Hyde-esque places. During the day, Amsterdam is a quaint and pristine city, situated about a maze of canals, bordered by crooked town houses
and filled with notoriously friendly Dutch people smiling and biking around. When seeing the city for the first time during the day, one can easily see how
Amsterdam churned out and inspired artists like Rembrandt and the legendary Van
Gogh. Amsterdam in day light is the type of place you would bring your grandmother too, or go to meet your girlfriend's parents for the first time. Alot of the midwest was settled by Dutch immigrants, and you can see the humble, friendly, pastry-filled roots of Dutch culture in Amsterdam. But then the sun sets.
As the sun goes down, the city of Amsterdam transforms into a buffet of debauchery, with enough neon light and tourist traps to make the Las Vegas strip look like an elementary school playground. Rick Steves describes Amsterdam as a 'hedonist's delight,' and certain areas in Amsterdam are exactly that - with everything from pancakes of every flavor to prostitutes of every ethnicity. Somewhere in one of those alley ways you might be able to find whatever is left of my dignity next to the remnants of one of my pancake dinners. Luckily I could make up for my lack of dignity by absolving myself of my sins at our hostel.
Our hostel was a Christian hostel (read ‘mission’) tucked away on an alley way in the heart of the red light district, two doors down from a Thai massage parlor. Happy endings aside, we only stayed at our sanctuary long enough to get the bare minimum amount of sleep to function the next day, in order to avoid being exorcised by the somewhat over-zealous staff of volunteers. Other than pictures of Jesus on the walls and proverbs in our room scorning us with shame every time we came home late at night, eyes bloodshot, smelling like combinations of sin only possible in Amsterdam, the place wasn’t horrible, and it provided a good home base to retreat back to when it became unbearably cold outside. In all honesty, I'm surprised that I didn’t get smited right there in that hostel or burst into flames at some random point during the night.
Both of Amsterdam's personalities, day and night, mix traditional dutch culture (clogs, pastries, blonde people) with 'relaxed' laws and a vegas-style night life for a fascinating, eclectic, and truly unique city. I could go on for a while about all of the schizophrenic qualities of Amsterdam, but I'll skip my rant and serve you a hot dish of 5 things about Amsterdam, The Netherlands.
1. Canals
The canals in Amsterdam help make the city what it is - in addition to inspiring artists, the maze-like layout of the canals makes places like the Red light district really easy to get lost in. This can be really fun, for a few hours, until you realize that you've been wandering in circles and stopping in the same coffee shop for directions for over two hours. During the day, watching the light reflect off of the canals gives a sudden sense of clarity and understanding to the impressionist movement, but at night, the canals provide the perfect setting for tourist traps and creepy old men.
We took a canal cruise through the outer canals which turned out to be a 'lover's' cruise. It was lovely.
2. Coffee shops & Cannabis
Amsterdam is well-known for it's 'coffee shops' that sell marijuana in some sort of ambiguous gray area of Dutch drug laws. Being a college student in California, I'd like to think that I know a thing or two when it comes to marijuana. Well, I 'learned' a whole lot in Amsterdam. But before you judge me, understand that I really enjoy a good ole cup o' joe. I am talking about coffee, nothing else right now. It turns out that it is kind of difficult to find a place that just sells a good cup of coffee. Regardless, the Dutch treat Marijuana like coffee. Dutch people and tourists alike head to their local coffee shops in the morning to drink a quick cup of coffee and smoke a joint or two and hang out for a while. Coming to Amsterdam, I expected to see shops filled with rasta-inspired, Bob Marley impersonators with joints the size of a baby's leg, with smoke billowing out of coffee shop windows reminiscent of "Fast Times at Ridgemont High." To my shock, there was a huge shortage of Spicoli, and instead, it was very much as what a friend of mine described as a 'giant living room.'
When I first walked through the winding, canal-lined streets of Amsterdam, I was rather unimpressed. Upon first impression, it was just a giant theme park for adults, with the same deliciously guilt-ridden food, gimmicky shops, and a red light district instead of rides. Once you mixed in the whole 'Dutch theme' it just seemed raunchy, to be completely honest.
But a little bit later, after drinking some 'coffee' and testing some of Amsterdam's finest, the city is absolutely incredible. The 'raunchiness' of Amsterdam went up in smoke and disappeared instantly. Neon, it turns out, is a really interesting color. Luckily I didn't realize at the time that the neon attracts tourists like mosquitos to a porch light, but that neon took me to some interesting places. You can walk for what seems like hours (which might actually turn out to be only a few minutes) in a maze of beautiful canals, get lost and never see the same thing twice. After wandering long enough, you eventually get a little hungry, which brings me to the next 'thing.'
3. Food
The theme park I frequented as a child had great funnel cake. My parents and I would always share one after riding a roller coaster and soak in every trans-fatty, disgustingly sweet calorie. Dutch food brought the theme park of my food to a whole new, incomprehensible level, throwing away any of my previous notions of sweet, savory, and everything in between. The food, or what might be more aptly described as 'munchies,' was worth every guilt-ridden calorie. Everything I ate, for some odd reason, disappeared in a matter of seconds as if it were a freshly prepared Thanksgiving dinner in the middle of rural Ethiopia. My delicious dutch pastries disappeared more quickly than a set of 22 inch rims on a broken down Cadillac in south central Los Angeles. I ate my pancakes faster than a Kardashian wedding. I ate quickly to say the least, but I digress. One of my personal favorite food sources was "Febo's," and here's why.
The neon lights, dutch phrase, and playful exclamation point draws you in, ( Go ahead and try to pronounce that without giggling). "Oh, this might be good, fast and cheap at least," you tell yourself, and then right there in front of you, a whole wall-vending machine stocked with deep fried goodness, for only a single euro, or maybe two if it's a deluxe burger. Thank you Holland, for this incredible invention, I will tell the people of my homeland stories of your human triumph. This easily beats the Eiffel tower in my humble opinion. I don't want to tell you how often I ate here, but if this were in Greece, I would have single-handedly saved their economy with how many little rice and bean filled croquets I bought.
In addition to this gift of a restaurant, every other store in Amsterdam is a restaurant or food stand serving what appears to be the most delicious food you've ever seen. Some honorary mentions are pancakes, Argentinean steak, Vlaamse fries, and sweet, warm, powder-coated, jelly filled pastries. If I remember correctly, one blueberry turnover tasted like a reassuring pat on the back. Some of the food I ate in those few, chilly days in the Netherlands tasted like the closest I'll ever get to nirvana.
4. Anne Frank's Annex
On a much more somber and sobering note, we decided to take a break from all of the sin and debauchery to do the responsible thing, and pay our respects to Anne Frank and her family.
I've learned about the holocaust and the persecution of Jews in World War 2 quite a few times now, but the poignant story of Anne Frank always seems to evoke a very strong and tangible sense of emotion for me. The sheer numbers of the holocaust make it difficult to connect with individual stories and the ramifications for families, but Anne Frank's diary provides that connection, and window into nazi-occupied Europe. Anne Frank's story, unlike many other holocaust memoirs, offers an innocent and poignant perspective to the holocaust that ultimately summarizes the prolonged death of a thirteen year old Jewish girl and her family in hiding. For two years between 1942 and 1944 Anne hid in the annex of this apartment with seven other people, in a room not much bigger than the one I sit in right now. Out of the eight people that hid in the annex, only Otto, Anne's father, survived.
It's easy to forget stories and events like the Holocaust when you're in a place like Amsterdam, but it's important that we don't. While this story can leave the most positive individuals depressed, Anne Frank's unrelenting hope is something that should be admired, not mourned.
Amsterdam was more of an adventure than a trip, and these 5 things barely begin to summarize everything we did in our short weekend there. I think Amsterdam is the exact opposite of Paris, in the sense that it is everything but refined and classy, and instead like a giant living room, stocked with everything you could possibly want, besides Family Guy. Instead of refined and gourmet, the food is quick, dripping in grease, and just as, if not more delicious, and instead of sparkling monuments and history, Amsterdam has weed and hookers. And while it might be sad to see that Dutch culture in Amsterdam has been exploited into a theme for this theme park of a city, it is a sight to see none the less, and a really, really fun one at that. Overall, Amsterdam was just an unabashedly, inhibition-free, hands-down, good time.
Word of the Day: Fumar - To smoke
No fumé nada en Amsterdam. I did not smoke anything in Amsterdam.
As the sun goes down, the city of Amsterdam transforms into a buffet of debauchery, with enough neon light and tourist traps to make the Las Vegas strip look like an elementary school playground. Rick Steves describes Amsterdam as a 'hedonist's delight,' and certain areas in Amsterdam are exactly that - with everything from pancakes of every flavor to prostitutes of every ethnicity. Somewhere in one of those alley ways you might be able to find whatever is left of my dignity next to the remnants of one of my pancake dinners. Luckily I could make up for my lack of dignity by absolving myself of my sins at our hostel.
Our hostel was a Christian hostel (read ‘mission’) tucked away on an alley way in the heart of the red light district, two doors down from a Thai massage parlor. Happy endings aside, we only stayed at our sanctuary long enough to get the bare minimum amount of sleep to function the next day, in order to avoid being exorcised by the somewhat over-zealous staff of volunteers. Other than pictures of Jesus on the walls and proverbs in our room scorning us with shame every time we came home late at night, eyes bloodshot, smelling like combinations of sin only possible in Amsterdam, the place wasn’t horrible, and it provided a good home base to retreat back to when it became unbearably cold outside. In all honesty, I'm surprised that I didn’t get smited right there in that hostel or burst into flames at some random point during the night.
Both of Amsterdam's personalities, day and night, mix traditional dutch culture (clogs, pastries, blonde people) with 'relaxed' laws and a vegas-style night life for a fascinating, eclectic, and truly unique city. I could go on for a while about all of the schizophrenic qualities of Amsterdam, but I'll skip my rant and serve you a hot dish of 5 things about Amsterdam, The Netherlands.
1. Canals
The canals in Amsterdam help make the city what it is - in addition to inspiring artists, the maze-like layout of the canals makes places like the Red light district really easy to get lost in. This can be really fun, for a few hours, until you realize that you've been wandering in circles and stopping in the same coffee shop for directions for over two hours. During the day, watching the light reflect off of the canals gives a sudden sense of clarity and understanding to the impressionist movement, but at night, the canals provide the perfect setting for tourist traps and creepy old men.
We took a canal cruise through the outer canals which turned out to be a 'lover's' cruise. It was lovely.
2. Coffee shops & Cannabis
Amsterdam is well-known for it's 'coffee shops' that sell marijuana in some sort of ambiguous gray area of Dutch drug laws. Being a college student in California, I'd like to think that I know a thing or two when it comes to marijuana. Well, I 'learned' a whole lot in Amsterdam. But before you judge me, understand that I really enjoy a good ole cup o' joe. I am talking about coffee, nothing else right now. It turns out that it is kind of difficult to find a place that just sells a good cup of coffee. Regardless, the Dutch treat Marijuana like coffee. Dutch people and tourists alike head to their local coffee shops in the morning to drink a quick cup of coffee and smoke a joint or two and hang out for a while. Coming to Amsterdam, I expected to see shops filled with rasta-inspired, Bob Marley impersonators with joints the size of a baby's leg, with smoke billowing out of coffee shop windows reminiscent of "Fast Times at Ridgemont High." To my shock, there was a huge shortage of Spicoli, and instead, it was very much as what a friend of mine described as a 'giant living room.'
 |
| The Bulldog, the world's first Coffeeshop |
But a little bit later, after drinking some 'coffee' and testing some of Amsterdam's finest, the city is absolutely incredible. The 'raunchiness' of Amsterdam went up in smoke and disappeared instantly. Neon, it turns out, is a really interesting color. Luckily I didn't realize at the time that the neon attracts tourists like mosquitos to a porch light, but that neon took me to some interesting places. You can walk for what seems like hours (which might actually turn out to be only a few minutes) in a maze of beautiful canals, get lost and never see the same thing twice. After wandering long enough, you eventually get a little hungry, which brings me to the next 'thing.'
3. Food
The theme park I frequented as a child had great funnel cake. My parents and I would always share one after riding a roller coaster and soak in every trans-fatty, disgustingly sweet calorie. Dutch food brought the theme park of my food to a whole new, incomprehensible level, throwing away any of my previous notions of sweet, savory, and everything in between. The food, or what might be more aptly described as 'munchies,' was worth every guilt-ridden calorie. Everything I ate, for some odd reason, disappeared in a matter of seconds as if it were a freshly prepared Thanksgiving dinner in the middle of rural Ethiopia. My delicious dutch pastries disappeared more quickly than a set of 22 inch rims on a broken down Cadillac in south central Los Angeles. I ate my pancakes faster than a Kardashian wedding. I ate quickly to say the least, but I digress. One of my personal favorite food sources was "Febo's," and here's why.
In addition to this gift of a restaurant, every other store in Amsterdam is a restaurant or food stand serving what appears to be the most delicious food you've ever seen. Some honorary mentions are pancakes, Argentinean steak, Vlaamse fries, and sweet, warm, powder-coated, jelly filled pastries. If I remember correctly, one blueberry turnover tasted like a reassuring pat on the back. Some of the food I ate in those few, chilly days in the Netherlands tasted like the closest I'll ever get to nirvana.
4. Anne Frank's Annex
On a much more somber and sobering note, we decided to take a break from all of the sin and debauchery to do the responsible thing, and pay our respects to Anne Frank and her family.
I've learned about the holocaust and the persecution of Jews in World War 2 quite a few times now, but the poignant story of Anne Frank always seems to evoke a very strong and tangible sense of emotion for me. The sheer numbers of the holocaust make it difficult to connect with individual stories and the ramifications for families, but Anne Frank's diary provides that connection, and window into nazi-occupied Europe. Anne Frank's story, unlike many other holocaust memoirs, offers an innocent and poignant perspective to the holocaust that ultimately summarizes the prolonged death of a thirteen year old Jewish girl and her family in hiding. For two years between 1942 and 1944 Anne hid in the annex of this apartment with seven other people, in a room not much bigger than the one I sit in right now. Out of the eight people that hid in the annex, only Otto, Anne's father, survived.
 |
| The entrance to the aparment that hid Anne Frank's annex |
5. The library
The staff at our hostel recommended the library on their list of things to go see. Personally, the library seemed like the absolute last place I would want to go in a city like Amsterdam, but it actually turned out be some pretty good advice. Located on the outskirts of the city on a canal, the Amsterdam library, or "Bibliotheek" is Europe's biggest library, and it provided a great place to rest and reflect on our adventure through Amsterdam. Besides having some of the most comfortable chairs I've ever had the honor of sitting in, the interior looked like the inside of the U.S.S. enterprise, adorned in white plastic and chrome from roof to floor. We stayed in the children's section, with the comfy chairs, bean bags, and Dutch picture books, which are surprisingly hilarious when trying to read them out loud.
Word of the Day: Fumar - To smoke
No fumé nada en Amsterdam. I did not smoke anything in Amsterdam.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
5 Things about Teaching English
Struggling to find a way to finance my weekends in Paris and nights in Barcelona, I was lucky enough to find a job teaching English to children ages 7 to 12. Teaching was never my first choice job, in fact, ever since teaching swim lessons, teaching anything to small kids with the attention span of a fruit fly has been relatively low on my list of job choices. However, money is money, and now that I'm a little older and have a little bit more patience, I decided to try again. It turns out, that teaching English here in Barcelona was one of the best decisions I've ever made, and I've learned a lot about myself, language acquisition, catalan culture, and teaching. Come to think of it, I've even been begrudgingly forced to grow up a little bit for teaching. Don't worry, just a little bit. Here is a list of the things that I have realized after teaching English to Spanish kids for the last month.
1. English is really difficult.
I consider myself to be pretty good at English. One might even go as far as to say that I'm proficient, maybe even decent at the language. After all, I've been using it every day for the last 20 years. Until looking at the language from an outside perspective, I did not realize how many random apostrophes, ambiguous verb tenses and weird little quirks we have in our language. In fact, I sadly realized how little I know about the language.
2. You have to grow up a little bit in order to teach.
Apparently, there is this thing in the real world called 'being or looking presentable' or 'looking professional. ' I have to interact with kids, and more importantly, I have to interact with their parents. So, I faced the harsh realization that you need to do these strange things like shave regularly, wear collared shirts, and not get to places late, but 'on time' or even 'early.' The whole concept of being early still confuses me a bit, I think this is what they might mean by culture shock.
3. You have to be prepared.
I realized that teachers, well, at least the good ones, know their stuff. They have lesson plans and activities and books and all sorts of stuff that they prepare in advance for their students. This means you can't roll out of bed, show up hungover and expect to teach two back to back hour long lessons. I've heard that this is actually extremely difficult, and the kids will see right through an unprepared teacher. If you are one of the fortunate few teachers that can teach under those conditions, well, good for you, you're a horrible role model.
4. The Kids
One of my kids legitimately looks forward to his lessons, his parents told me so. He pays attention, does his homework, and might even be smarter than me. He keeps me on my toes to say the least, and honestly, I love it. Over the last month, I've watched him go from struggling over English words like a fresh marine recruit struggling to climb over an obstacle wall at boot camp to Captain America plowing his way through every English word on the page like it's D-Day. It's pretty cool to think that I've taught him that, and it gives me a warm fuzzy feeling. Even though teaching still might not be my dream job, I now understand why teachers teach, and how that one student can make a world of difference on a bad day.
5. The Culture
Teaching English here in Spain has given me the unique opportunity to get close with the families. Not only are they helping me with my Spanish, but I'm also starting to pick up Catalán, and learn about Spanish and Catalán culture. In fact, I watched a James Bond movie in Catalan the other night. Other than that, I get to see the child's perspective of the Spanish academic system. All of my students ( I have 7 total) are currently learning four languages at once. The typical list consists of Spanish (Castellano), Catalán, French, and English. By the time they're out of high school, they are fluent in Castellano and Catalán, and very close, if not fluent in French and English as well. When I was seven years old, I would wear my underwear on the outside of my pants and tie a towel around my neck and then go jump off the couch. At seven years old, I was very seriously working on becoming Batman. In high school I learned some Spanish, and I'm still working on the whole English thing. These kids are working on becoming miniature diplomats and translators. Just think about all the people those extra languages open the kids up to at an early age! I think that's one of the many reasons that today's Europe, on average, is much more socially liberal and progressive than America. They're exposed to more cultures and societies from the time that they are very young, and they grow up with a less isolated, more global view of the world, while we watch "Jersey Shore" and watch rap stars show us their bedazzled jacuzzis in their cribs.
Overall, teaching gives me a profound new respect for teachers, and it's helping me transition to the real world, whether I like it or not. As much as I don't like shaving, I have discovered that I look awfully handsome in collared shirts, and when you get to a place early, you have time to do grown up things like read newspapers, drink expressos and nap.
Word of the Day: Enseñar - To teach
Enseño niños el ingles y en la realidad, es un poco divertido. I teach kids English and in reality, it's kind of fun.
1. English is really difficult.
I consider myself to be pretty good at English. One might even go as far as to say that I'm proficient, maybe even decent at the language. After all, I've been using it every day for the last 20 years. Until looking at the language from an outside perspective, I did not realize how many random apostrophes, ambiguous verb tenses and weird little quirks we have in our language. In fact, I sadly realized how little I know about the language.
2. You have to grow up a little bit in order to teach.
Apparently, there is this thing in the real world called 'being or looking presentable' or 'looking professional. ' I have to interact with kids, and more importantly, I have to interact with their parents. So, I faced the harsh realization that you need to do these strange things like shave regularly, wear collared shirts, and not get to places late, but 'on time' or even 'early.' The whole concept of being early still confuses me a bit, I think this is what they might mean by culture shock.
3. You have to be prepared.
I realized that teachers, well, at least the good ones, know their stuff. They have lesson plans and activities and books and all sorts of stuff that they prepare in advance for their students. This means you can't roll out of bed, show up hungover and expect to teach two back to back hour long lessons. I've heard that this is actually extremely difficult, and the kids will see right through an unprepared teacher. If you are one of the fortunate few teachers that can teach under those conditions, well, good for you, you're a horrible role model.
4. The Kids
One of my kids legitimately looks forward to his lessons, his parents told me so. He pays attention, does his homework, and might even be smarter than me. He keeps me on my toes to say the least, and honestly, I love it. Over the last month, I've watched him go from struggling over English words like a fresh marine recruit struggling to climb over an obstacle wall at boot camp to Captain America plowing his way through every English word on the page like it's D-Day. It's pretty cool to think that I've taught him that, and it gives me a warm fuzzy feeling. Even though teaching still might not be my dream job, I now understand why teachers teach, and how that one student can make a world of difference on a bad day.
5. The Culture
Teaching English here in Spain has given me the unique opportunity to get close with the families. Not only are they helping me with my Spanish, but I'm also starting to pick up Catalán, and learn about Spanish and Catalán culture. In fact, I watched a James Bond movie in Catalan the other night. Other than that, I get to see the child's perspective of the Spanish academic system. All of my students ( I have 7 total) are currently learning four languages at once. The typical list consists of Spanish (Castellano), Catalán, French, and English. By the time they're out of high school, they are fluent in Castellano and Catalán, and very close, if not fluent in French and English as well. When I was seven years old, I would wear my underwear on the outside of my pants and tie a towel around my neck and then go jump off the couch. At seven years old, I was very seriously working on becoming Batman. In high school I learned some Spanish, and I'm still working on the whole English thing. These kids are working on becoming miniature diplomats and translators. Just think about all the people those extra languages open the kids up to at an early age! I think that's one of the many reasons that today's Europe, on average, is much more socially liberal and progressive than America. They're exposed to more cultures and societies from the time that they are very young, and they grow up with a less isolated, more global view of the world, while we watch "Jersey Shore" and watch rap stars show us their bedazzled jacuzzis in their cribs.
Overall, teaching gives me a profound new respect for teachers, and it's helping me transition to the real world, whether I like it or not. As much as I don't like shaving, I have discovered that I look awfully handsome in collared shirts, and when you get to a place early, you have time to do grown up things like read newspapers, drink expressos and nap.
Is it still considered 'grown - up' if I eat the sugar cubes separately and pretend like I didn't get any sugar?
Word of the Day: Enseñar - To teach
Enseño niños el ingles y en la realidad, es un poco divertido. I teach kids English and in reality, it's kind of fun.
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