Sagunto, Part 2

The weekend was restful and relaxing almost to the point of boredom, broken up by a sudden, unexpected seasonal rainstorm. Struck by a sudden inspiration, I grabbed an umbrella and ran out there with a camera to get the footage you'll see on my blog if you're nice enough to look at the web page. Please. . . view it. I got sopping wet to give you that oh-so-authentic location footage. The link is at the bottom of this email, as it is for all Jillian's Journeys posts.

Class really began on Monday, and for the first time, I went to breakfast. To miss breakfast here isn't a horrible thing to do, as we have this place called the Bocasteria where we can buy ourselves some fairly tasty food on our mid-morning break, but it's much cheaper (as in, already paid for) to go to the caf. My hardest class, it looks like, will easily be Translation and Interpretation. After the Greek course this summer, though, it's almost a breath of fresh air to be applying the same skills with living languages. In a fit of overachieving ambition, I decided to translate "Sabbath Prayer" from Fiddler on the Roof into Spanish because of the disturbing lack of Spanish translations of the song anywhere online.

That is HARD. I have a lot more respect for people who write voiceovers for musical films than I ever had before. To translate the words, make it fit into the music, and then hope that somehow, it will retain the same feel as the original is a mad balancing act that I find ridiculously, suicidally enjoyable.

After class, in the evening, some friends and I went to worship just because we were bored and found out that worship is required, sadly enough for those who'd skipped. Glad that we'd done this, however accidentally, we went for a walk afterwards. The night was fragrant from the freshly fallen rain on the orange groves, and the castle was beautifully lit for the night time. I needed the exercise, and the air; both were wonderfully medicinal, despite the cars trying to hit us every few minutes.

Today they canceled class to take us into Sagunto itself to see some of the local sights. We were supposed to see the castle up close and personal, but it was raining so much (something which hasn't happened at this time of year here in thirty years) that we didn't. We did, however, get to see the Roman Theater leftover from the Roman occupation and explore it thoroughly. I'd gotten to see ancient theaters in Greece, but I never got to explore any of them like this. I was amazed at how similar the passages behind the rows of renovated seats were to a modern theater. Someday, I really, want to see one of the outdoor performances they have there. It sounds like fun, like a Spanish version of the Hollywood Bowl.

Afterwards, my friend Jenny and I went down to their open-air market that they have every Wednesday in Sagunto. Although I had only intended to buy a bag and some yarn, she convinced me to buy a shirt and a pastry as well, both of which were quite good. I'm not sure how I feel about the shirt, but it only cost me 4 euros, after all. I've never been good at shopping for things I don't need. She's teaching me, and I'm a slow learner. Incidentally, if anyone wants to send me yarn, the local stuff isn't very good and only comes in white, grr. . . but I love to crochet, no matter what color I'm using.

Anyways, enough of my ranting about yarn and whatnot. Not a very exotic thing for me to talk about all the way from Spain. Perhaps my brain is too short-circuited today to think of anything more creative to write about; I just wanted an excuse to put up pictures and video. Please check it out; it takes a certain amount of loving care that takes up time and it makes my little heart happy to know when people are actually looking at it.

I hope life is treating you well, as always, with much luck and prosperity.

Sagunto, Part 1

Hello! Yes, I have arrived safely in Spain, and am incredibly sorry for the delay in writing this issue, for any of you who may have been worried if I got here. I almost didn't, though, as my flight from San Francisco to Chicago was canceled due to mechanical failures in the plane, getting me off to a great start on this saga. Fortunately, American Airlines was able to rebook me for a flight to Los Angeles instead, from which I was able to fly to Chicago, literally walking straight off of my first flight and onto the second. In Chicago, I didn't have much time, either--just enough to make a few last phone calls before kissing cell service good-bye for the year.

The flight to Madrid was long, dull, and tedious like most transatlantic flights, amplified by the fact that I couldn't sleep. By the time I got to the Valencia flight, I was so tired, the only thing keeping me awake was a certain skepticism as to how airworthy the plane really was. And, of course, some magazines talking about great things to see in Spain I hadn't realized were even over here. Even in a year, I don't think I'll see everything I want to see in Spain, let alone Europe. Coming off of that flight, I thought I'd lost my baggage, but fortunately, they had merely come in on a different terminal, so I was set for success already.

Riding on the highway at break-neck speed, I enjoyed the scenery passing by--with all those orange groves, the place looks like Southern California used to before all the orange groves were covered by houses, with the added perk of the occasional ruin of a castle. Upon my arrival, I was settled in with a very nice room mate, Yamuna, who speaks no English and is very sociable. That's a very good combination for someone who's actually trying to learn Spanish. She told me how her somewhat odd name is actually the river that flows in front of the Taj Mahal. Cool.

The next morning, which was my birthday, I took the placement test to see what group I'd be placed in for the year. I scored in the top group, to my wonder, joy, and delight. This made me eligible for the Translation class I so badly wanted to take, which I registered for along with the rest of my 19 credits. That may sound like a lot, but the pace and culture here is much more laid back than PUC, and I feel like I can handle it. If I can't, I'll probably drop my Bible class--we have worship every night, several hours of church and sabbath school a week, and the credits probably don't transfer to my religion department back home anyway. If I took a class at their seminary, on the other hand, that would count. . . but I don't want to try that until I get a general feel for the coursework in the regular ACA classes.

I celebrated my birthday by walking into the town of Sagunto with some other ACA students. We had to cross several orange orchards, walk under a tunnel, and ask for directions when we got lost to get there, but it was rewarding enough when we actually located a place to eat. Sadly, we didn't have time to do much else, so we got back in time for evening worship, which was followed by an orientation to dorm life here. It is very different than dorm life at PUC, and I actually appreciate the enforced silence rules they have from 10:30 PM--7:00 AM. If they had that rule at PUC, I know any number of people would get a better night's sleep.

Yesterday was my first day of class, but I only had two classes which aren't even into the subject matter yet, so no comment. I did, however, meet, their Biblical Languages teacher--nice woman, and a lovely wake-up call for me to remember to practice my Greek. With Spanish swimming around my head, though, I really don't feel like it. That afternoon, the school had us all bussed into Sagunto to go to Carrefour, a store a lot like Walmart, but better, for some of our daily necessities. It was hard for me not to fall into the temptation to buy a nice, large jar of Nutella. I justified my purchase of a bottle of tonics by my need for a one-liter bottle for my water. We were supposed to go to the beach afterwards, but there wasn't enough time--we just got to see it from the bus, looking beautiful and tantalizing. I can't wait to go next week.

There were two worships last night, and three this morning, so I'm actually sort of worshiped-out. I've enjoyed the music in all of them, and the preaching, even, up to a point--the more tired I am, the less any language, particularly Spanish, makes sense, and I'm still jetlagged. I think I'll appreciate it all a lot more next week, and I am truly glad to see such an active church community over here.

Hollywood to Home

Joyfully I sat on a stump at the entrance of Camp Wawona, waiting for my grandpa Les to pick me up. In an hour or two, he did, but that was only the beginning of the epic birthday weekend for my father and I, ranging from Hollywood to Disneyland, and eventually bringing me home at last, where I am now writing as I prepare to leave for Spain in two weeks. This weekend was a great delight for a variety of reasons, but first and foremost because of family and food. You may laugh at the last one, but food has recently become very, very important to me as a rare and valuable commodity. Even rarer and more valuable, though, was the family I got to share the weekend's events with.

I almost cried when we got to the hotel. It was so beautiful, and I had nothing to do with its ongoing upkeep. The beds were soft and comfortable, and the furniture matched. It may seem odd that something that simple would strike me so powerfully, but to look at the city of Los Angeles through the window was truly a spiritual experience for me.

The next day we saw a few sights before going to the long-anticipated Hollywood Bowl. A cemetery may seem like a bizarre tourist attraction to start, but Forest Lawn is no normal cemetery. It houses a brilliant stained glass replica of Da Vinci's Last Supper as well as the world's largest painting. I'm not kidding; at 90 ft high by 160 ft wide, the size of this painting is truly staggering. My father and I, suddenly struck by an inspiration, decided to track down the grave of the famous Walt Disney. Despite rumors that he is frozen beneath the Pirates of the Caribbean at Disneyland, we found his family plot, a rather humble private garden where he, his wife, and his son-in-law are buried. More difficult to track down than Walt Disney, however, was our own relative aunt Lydia. Whereas Walt was easily accessible outdoors, we actually had to be buzzed in to a locked mausoleum and given directions through the winding corridors to find her. She had lived to be over a hundred before she passed away recently, and I can only hope that some of that luck carries over to the rest of us.

From there we visited an excellent vegetarian Chinese Restaurant, The Happy Family, before going over to Griffith Park Observatory. The observatory is a beautiful building, recently restored and outfitted with an entirely new underground floor of exhibits. The new exhibit I appreciate the most down there is a vast wall panel of the stars on ceramic tile, rendered accurately from a satellite image of a patch of the sky no larger than what is covered by a person's thumb looking up at it. I can now say officially that I have been stargazing underground. Coming back outside, the sun was setting beautifully over the famous Hollywood sign, and we made our way over to the Hollywood Bowl for the long-anticipated concert.

John Williams is not just an amazing composer, but a very charismatic, personable musician in live performance as well. It is one thing to half-listen to his internationally famous Olympic Fanfare while the sports are being shown on television; it is another thing entirely to be there in a live concert hall, feeling the kind of energy that many trumpets produce. Amazing, too, is the way that 18,000 people can become so silent so quickly in awe of such genius. I've been to Bay Area knock-offs of the Hollywood Bowl experience, but none of them quite equal the sheer spectacle of outdoor performance done right. The LA Philharmonic may not come close to matching the San Francisco Symphony in musical perfection, but when they play, their audiences listen with much more rapt attention than I've ever heard the San Francisco Symphony receive in even a closed concert hall.

A special guest to the program that evening was the director and choreographer of the immortal classic film Singin' In the Rain. Listening to this man talk about working with dancers like Gene Kelley and Fred Astaire was fascinating, and the clips shown with the music from these various films filled me with admiration for the old school Hollywood actors who had to be able to sing, dance, and act as triple threats. Between listening to his experiences and hearing so many of John Williams' greatest works performed live, it was a real night to remember.

That alone would have been worth the trip. However, there was still Disneyland the next day.

Disneyland is one of those places which continue to enchant me no matter how many times I visit it. Everything there has a story. Also, they are always building new attractions while refurbishing the old with innovative concepts. I had the privilege of seeing ASIMO, the only robot in the world capable of walking upright on its own. More impressively, it can also run and go up and down stairs; these are movements which were not possible in robotics even five years ago.

Another new attraction worth seeing is in the California Adventure theme park, the Toy Story Midway Madness. It does a beautiful job of combining ride, game, and show technology for a very fun, very interactive experience. It's great to be able to celebrate the introduction of a new attraction like that, but not without some sadness for the old. Let us now spend a moment of silence to mourn the passing of the Golden Dreams film which will be ripped out next week in favor of something slightly more interesting, despite its value as one of the most efficient and moving retellings of California state history I've ever seen. . .

All right. Moment of silence over. It gave me great joy to cross back over to Disneyland and view the fireworks and Fantasmic again. Every time I see Fantasmic, it fills me with great delight and makes me feel like the little girl on Dad's shoulders I used to be. In a good way. Some things are just too cool to be changed much with time, and are still worth coming back to time and time again.

Like home. At the end of a long, 6-hour drive yesterday (which was Dad's birthday--can't believe he's 50 now!), I finally got home to my cats, my room, and the tasks I need to accomplish before leaving for Spain. I am overjoyed to be back, and hope that life is treating all of you well. The next time I write a post, it very well may be from a dorm room in Spain; wish me luck!