Feb 23, 2006

Pepe plays the guitar.

We have Alpha meetings at a bar down the street from the church every Tuesday night. This past week an older man wandered in to the back of the bar where we meet, because he saw the guitars laying on the table.
He picked one up and began to play this incredibly gorgeous classical Spanish song. Nate, one of my fellow short-termers, began to play with him. Somehow, as we all listened to him and he met everyone, he decided to stay for the meal, and then the video, and then the discussion groups...it was random. But very good.
I don't know what his story is...I have been thinking a lot about it though. Every one's story, so different, but the author of life never ceases to awe me in his innate ability to twist and turn and create the most incredible stories by pouring his presence over the pages.

Pepe. The random guitarist.

Feb 16, 2006

Beginning of a wonderful story?

February 2006
As rain raced down the sides and over the shaky bus stop that was my feeble shelter from the pelting rains of La Coruña, Spain, I shivered deep into my oversized rain jacket.
It was one of those nylon deals that folds into its self and zips up into a pouch. I bought it for a trip to Alaska three summers ago, and I will admit that it was a lot more fitting for that trip than for today. Today, it not only provided very little warmth from this chilly Galicia rain, it also was a major faux paux in a very fashion-conscious city. “American, right here!” The jacket screams to the passing cars. Wet, shivering, clueless, American.

A car pulls up to the stop. “This will not end good,” I think to myself “this can only end in disaster”.
The window rolled down and the woman inside began to speak to me. And for so many reasons I couldn’t reply. First of all, I understand little Spanish. I speak even less, and even if I could have understood her, the echo of the rain pelting the plexi-glass overhang and the roar of passing cars on a soaked street made hearing her a complete impossibility. And furthermore, I am pretty sure she was asking for directions (she yelled and gestured in that way that people do when they are lost and frustrated enough to ask a total stranger for help) and I have only lived here for a little over two weeks. Needless to say, it did, in fact, not end well.
I started to say that I don’t speak Spanish, but only needed to get three words out before she looked at me in that sad way, as if to say “You are even more lost than I am…”,rolled up her window and drove on.
It serves her right. Didn’t she notice the huge navy-blue nylon rain hoodie? How do you miss that?
Then again, maybe she was stopping to tell me how ridiculous I looked.
Tough to catch a bus in this town, it is.

I eventually gave up on catching the bus and went home. I didn’t need to go to the supermarket that badly. I sloshed up the stairs to an empty, silent apartment. I needed to call Mom. For being the kind of person who could go days without talking to another person, I was starting to feel a little too isolated. It had only been about twelve hours. “Strange…” I muttered under my breath.
I have a wicked cold. I even had to go back out into that weather to get some cough drops and tissues. Right now I am resting. I really should be studying Spanish, but I want to write this.
I guess I’m hoping it will be the introduction to a wonderful story.

Feb 15, 2006

Great Greasy Bouffant, Jean Claude

This new kid from France joins our class two days ago, he´s got this huge mass of hair that can only be defined as a "Bouffant". It's so very greasy. So greasy, that when he runs his hands through this monstrosity upon his head, it just stays that way....he wears pink sweaters (he has at least two different shades of pink sweaters), and he has an opinion that he feels the need to voice on every subject.

We talk about cars, or the news, or food, or music, and really the point here is to learn how to talk about these things in Spanish...he continues to miss the point.

"Me parece que...", "En mi opinion", "Yo creo que"...blah, blah, blah....It´s a good thing his bouffant amuses me so much, or I would not be able to handle having him in class.

Feb 9, 2006

Tardy and a bit of a racist.

I eat many pastries. God bless the bakery.

Started classes at la escuela oficial de idiomas hoy.

La Profesora was eh.... 25 minutes late for class and also a bit racist. (I'm pretty positive she was making fun of one of the Chinese girls in class today...) (I will be next, once she hears me speak)

What can you do? At least she can teach me Spanish.

And for 25 minutes I can get to know my classmates. Chinese, German, French, Portoguese, English, Australian, Irish, Brazilian, Polish, and a few others I am not sure of...one guy from the middle East somewhere....

Pretty diverse, no? I am the only American...kind of fun. Too bad we know what everyone thinks of Americans. Good thing I am not from California.

Feb 5, 2006

The Ria

This evening I went for a walk along the Ria, where the mouth of the river meets the ocean. The sun was setting and the tide was low, boats sitting on patches of marshy land waiting to float again come morning. There is a footbridge over the water that is ancient....I mean actually built by the Romans....ancient....incredible...

In the evenings all the families come out and walk the Ria together...Old, young, strolling, pushing carriages, roller skating, walking dogs...I was actually one of the very few people out walking alone. Such a sense of family...enjoying one another, enjoying life and creation and the cool air at dusk...it´s something truly beautiful here.