Albion Field Station, Oct. 2-4

The first thing most of you will notice about this post is its belatedness. Don't judge me, please. I've gotten emails from several of you saying that you miss me writing to you and you wish that I'd drop in every now and then for a word. If it's any comfort at all, I've hardly been able to spend time with myself, let alone other people. I took 20.5 credits this quarter while working 10 hours a week, and ironically enough, test week gives me more time to sit down and do this than I ever had during a week of instruction. I apologize for getting out of contact, and will try to do better next quarter.

One of my new responsibilities this quarter is working in the Heritage Room at the Library. I have enjoyed this new opportunity immensely, working with the delightfully old documents with names like Noah Paulin and Irwin scribbled across them. There really are some buried treasures in that room. I have had the pleasure of working with my long-time friend Fallon in there. Thanks to our work, we have become better friends than we ever were in high school. Another new responsibility is my internship at Yountville SDA church (aka Signs Memorial Church), under the leadership of Pastor Sam Alexander. I've been working with the youth there and learning about fun things like offering calls, scripture reading, and Adventurer clubs. Next quarter, I'll get to preach there (on an undisclosed day; I'm nervous enough without all of you being there), and it has been a great learning experience overall.

All of this work doesn't mean I haven't stopped to have fun once in a while, though. After celebrating the third annual Justin Day by sneaking a hot drink into Colloquy (no carpet was harmed in the process of this celebration), the Religion Department packed its bags and headed to Albion. I had forgotten what a beautiful place Albion was, and there had been vast improvements made since I'd last seen it. It was a welcome reprieve from my heavy academic load, and I listened to Brad Gienger's talk on God's ability to use our weaknesses with great interest. A group of us theology majors stood by the fire, talking into night about all the dreams we had for ministry, our favorite Bible verses, and what we want to do in Heaven most. It was, in short, great bonding time for the department.

On Sabbath morning, we had the annual Bible bowl. This may sound like a very elementary game, but among Theology majors, it is fierce competition. The teachers don't participate as a rule, not because it would be an uneven playing field, but because, as Dr. Ranzolin says, "We'd be embarrassed to show how badly we'd do on it." Personally, I think the teachers know their stuff, but I could feel my own rustiness on general Bible knowledge as we played the game. My team, named 3ABN as an inside Adventist joke, came in second place, which is fairly decent, considering the stiff competition.

After lunch, I went out on the river on the field station's new "party boat," which could theoretically accomodate up to 10 people. Dr. Muth, the current caretaker of Albion Field Station, wanted to test it out on adult-sized people before the college board came to visit the following week. It was good that he did, because we discovered that if too many people stood in the front of the boat, it took on massive amounts of water. We had to carefully distribute our weight to keep it balanced. We all had a great time, though, and that just added to the excitement.

I spent the rest of the afternoon preparing for vespers, because I had the homily for it. Naturally, I was a bit nerve-wracked with my professors there, but I feel like I did a decent job. I spoke on personal devotions, an issue I've been struggling with this quarter because of how little time my academic schedule leaves for it. Without it, though, my academics are kind of useless. So, I was speaking as much for my own benefit as anyone else's, and judging by the comments I received afterwards, it struck a cord with quite a few of the busy people there.

The evening was spent in fun and games, especially many round of Mafia. Mafia is a bit of a Religion Department Retreat tradition, as it's a great way of just enjoying each other's company. Another popular game is Angel Hernandez's favorite, "Elefante." It's a bit of a variation of King Elephant, but not quite the same. I relished the socialization, knowing I'd be returning to my academic solitude the following day. We took our time on our way back up the coast, stopping at Navarro for some of their excellent grape juice.

I spent the afternoon studying, but gave up and went to a Dramatic Arts Society-sponsored production of Lyrics on Lockdown. This work generated a lot of controversy on campus, despite a disclaimer at the beginning by Mei Ann Tao. Despite its controversial bits, I was impressed at the vivid storytelling, the moving graphics, and the sheer poetry of this man's tale of being arrested without cause. It gave me food for thought for my classes.

So, there's a snapshot of one weekend this quarter. Over this next week, I will try to catch up to the present. I wish everyone good luck on their finals, and a very happy holiday.

From Texas to PUC

Everything really is bigger in Texas: the expressways, the buildings, the distances between things, and even the event itself was on a bigger scale than anything I'd seen in a long time. It was, in short, a wonderful weekend celebrating the wedding of my cousin Travis Purdin.

The rehearsal dinner was held in the Ft. Worth Stockyards, a truly elegant affair with candles flickering from low tables, a delicious avocado bar, and. . . a barbecue fountain. Only in Texas, no? The most foreign element of it for me was the bull, Big Jake, that was there for photo purposes. Somehow my parents talked me in to taking a picture on it, despite the fact that I was wearing a skirt.

The best part of it for me, though, was finally meeting Judy Purdin, Travis's mother, in person after corresponding with her for some time. I had some vague memories from my aunt Lisa's wedding years ago, but that was before I knew her. Meeting my great-grandmother's sister June was also a highlight, having seen her picture many times, but never her face in person.

Before the afternoon ceremony, we drove out to Keene, home of Southwestern University. Dad has many memories there (and I never knew he'd had anything to do with it), and it's always nice to get a better mental image of a place I hear about from other students. The most striking feature of the place to me was the library--it's a tall, elegant building, though I couldn't see any of its actual stacks through the windows.

The ceremony itself was in a big, beautiful Baptist church on Travis Road. It was beautiful in a way European churches aren't--it was airy and well-lit, with lots of clean, white surfaces. The bridesmaids were beautiful in brown, and the bride's dress was a lovely, intricate number with a long veil and sparkly beading on the embroidered details. Travis's vest was white to match her dress, though his groomsmen wore brown, also. I thought that was a nice touch. It was a lovely ceremony, though I think the Bible boy stole the show--he kept on peeking out at everyone and making cute little funny faces.

At the reception, everything was a harmony of pink and chocolate brown. The happy pair's initials were lit on the floor of the reception hall, and the cakes were probably the most elegant part of it, very modern and geometrical, yet lovely. The bride's cake had intricate piping all over it, a complicated design of scrolls and flourishes.

After goodbyes were said, we were back to Pleasant Hill to get ready for the school year, which started the following day. Since then, we've been pretty busy as a family. Choir Retreat, for example, was the weekend right after school started. The group sounds good this year. After seeing them do so well right off of such an early retreat, I think they have the makings of a great year in them.

For a week or so I've been at PUC, working at the library. In fact, I'm writing from the library now. I apologize that it's been so long since I've written; it's been a busy time, as you can see. I could write more about this last weekend at home, but I figured this was long enough already. Hopefully you'll all forgive me for this long gap; computer woes don't help anyone publish things on time. I wish everyone a great school year, full of great learning opportunities.

From Italy to California

I would like to apologize for being a very bad blogger by not writing squat since I returned to the States over a month ago. I've been traveling in this time, but that's a lame excuse and I know it. In my defense, my computer went AWOL on me by running out of hard drive space for pictures and, for a while, did not let me sign in to my own email account. Thanks to how much material there is, I've decided to do this in two parts, so please be patient with me.

Ravenna and Bologna are, at this point, very old news, so briefly, I'd like to say that Ravenna had absolutely amazing golden tile mosaics. There's so many awesome gold mosaics in this city that they have a specialized school there just for mosaic restoration. Bologna is famous for its incredibly awesome food, which I enjoyed very much after seeing their cathedral. Their cathedral is quite large, having been halted at some point in its construction for the crime of threatening to get larger than St. Peter's Basilica. I lit a candle there, even though I'm not Catholic, because it was the last cathedral I saw on that trip with real wax candles, not those nasty little electric things.

I did attend a lovely concert in Dante's church in Florence later that week, an oboe-soprano-organ combination. It was a nice prelude to seeing a then-popular film in an old theatre palace, the Odeon, which I recommend to anyone who enjoys old theaters and seeing films in original sound. It was a lovely break from the pressure of getting my project, death masks of Valjean and Javert from Les Miserables. Although the Valjean mask didn't turn out as cool as I wanted it to be, I feel like I properly blew the class out of the water with my presentation.

My return to the US was a whirlwind of visits with family and friends I hadn't seen all year. I enjoyed these very much, from seeing my aunt and uncle's new house in Fish Camp, to visiting the rest of my Spencer relatives in Desert Hot Springs, to a lovely family gathering in Napa with my Mom's side of the family where I swear, the bruchetta was even better than the Italian stuff I'd had shortly before.

In many ways, returning was a relief--many convenient things were at my fingertips once more, like cell phones and waiters who understood the word "vegetarian" and air conditioning in buildings. A number of things, though, were like visiting a foreign country all over again. I got frustrated at the ugly aesthetics of American paper, missing my A4 sheets wistfully. The lack of buses and trains was a bit disconcerting as well, and going back on to the American diet was a reverse culture shock as well.

One journey that was almost like visiting a foreign country was attending a wedding in Texas for a distant cousin of mine, Travis Purdin. That, however, is worth a separate episode, which is the one you'll be getting next. Thank you for your patience in reading even this far.

Siena and Venice

Right now, my bags are packed, all except for my computer, and I am going to the airport in an hour to return to the States after being gone for over 10 months. I don't have dates on this entry because I already packed my journal into my carry-on and, ha, I'm feeling a little too lethargic to retrieve it. I meant to write this entry a week ago, but that's all right. Just know that after I get back, I still have Ravenna, Bologna, and Assisi to tell you about.

Siena is a small town we visited a week ago, but unfortunately, it had high prices to get into things. In the spirit of staying with the group, I sat in the main piazza and sketched one of the worst done sketches I have executed the entire trip. At the very least, it had some good gelato and the various churches were lovely from the outside.

Venice, on the other hand, was absolutely magnificent. I had always heard so much about it and wanted to visit it, and it did not fail to meet my expectations. Taking a water taxi on the Grand Canal, I was enchanted by its many bridges, its unique buildings, and the little water alleyways off the canal. It amazes me how people can live so surrounded by water. Our first stop was the Peggy Guggenheim Museum.

I'm usually not much of a fan of modern art, but I did find some of the Jackson Pollock paintings in there mesmerizing. Even if they are just paint splatters, there's something captivating about the texture to it. The painting I sketched, though, was this beautiful work called "The Substance of Fog" which described its scene in very few lines, with nothing but simple shading. It killed my blue colored pencil, which was the first colored one to become shorter than my soft lead sketching pencil. That was amusing.

Afterwards, we stopped for lunch and shopped at a mask shop next door. I love Venetian masks, and had always wanted one. Looking through the brilliant collection of vibrant colors, feathers, and sparkles, I was like a kid in a candy shop. Then, when we reached the Piazza di San Marco, my mind was blown away by its astonishing beauty. It's hard to describe the way the light falls on the cathedral there--the soft blending of gold into the facade full of winged lions, the symbol of St. Mark. His bones are said to be in there, smuggled to Venice at the height of its power.

We visited the Bridge of Sighs, which was where prisoners condemned to death or life in prison would walk to get their last view of Venice and sigh. The gondoliers, of course, say that if you kiss under the bridge, your love will last a lifetime. I did not take a gondola, as they cost about 100 euros per trip, but I'd heard the superstition before. Apparently, there's only one female gondolier in all of Venice, the first one ever. Sadly, we did not see her at work. There were plenty of gondolas in the canals though. They are truly elegant crafts, with their long, black tapered ends and gold designs.

Then, we entered the cathedral of San Marco. It is curious, how the floor is wavy. This is from years of the water moving underneath it. Venice sinks a little more every year, and in the piazza, they just keep on rebuilding the floor, making the pillars on the portico shorter and shorter all the time. There are also many lovely Byzantine mosaics in the cathedral, too much for the senses to take in. We heard mass sung in Vietnamese, which was a bizarre but lovely experience.

We walked back to the train station from there, over the Rialto bridge. It was a long walk, but well worth some of the local sights, like seeing people load their personal motorboats like one would a car and leave. There were also many fascinating shops we never entered, but boasted of eye-teasingly beautiful wares as we passed them.

At any rate, a lovely day. As for now, less than an hour remains before I get to go to the airport. I'm so excited! Thanks for reading all year long, those of you who have. I really appreciate it. Many hugs from Italy, soon to be in America again!

Rome, July 9-10

Last week I had the pleasure of traveling to Rome. It was an exciting trip, with many wonders to see, and even a once-in-a-lifetime experience where. . . well, you'll see.

We left the school at six in the morning. After some time on the road, we stopped for breakfast and coffee at an Autogrill, and I went up to the counter to order a caffe nocciola. "Ticket?" the lady asked. Bewildered, she continued, "You pay first." I heard her mutter, "American," behind my back with that patronizing chuckle I try to avoid hearing. This irritated me, but the coffee was good and put me in a good mood for the day.

As soon as we arrived in Rome, we made our way to the church where Michelangelo's Moses is held at the tomb of Pope Julius II. It is truly an incredible work; I love the way his beard, hair, and clothes flow together. It's amusing, too, how much he does resemble Charlton Heston. The relic of that church was odd, too--the supposed shackles of Paul and Silas the night the angel freed them. There was also aan entertainingly creepy sculpture of a skeletal angel of death there.

From there, we went to see the Coliseum, Rome's most recognizable monuement. It's massive, a perfect oval, with rooms exposed from what would have been beneath the floor for the animals used in gladiator battles. A cross recognizes the deaths of Christians there. Next to it is Constantine's Arch, which is absolutely gigantic. I'm guessing whoever did the Arc du Triomphe in Paris had a good look at it during the design process.

We ate lunch in the shade of the trees next to the Parthenon, then explored its ruins. After spending last summer in Athens, these didn't impress me so much, but it was fascinating to think that at one point, this was the center of the mighty and massive Roman Empire. Some say that empire never ended.

The Vatican City is built like a fortress. As we entered security, I was told to leave my backpack at the concierge. I mention this now because. . . well, you'll see.

Shuffling through the enormous halls of the Musei Vaticani is an experience beyond what even my vocabulary has available to write about. I have seen many large buildings, many overdecorated Baroque buildings, but nothing like this, nothing this impressive. To get to the Sistine Chapel, I walked past many wonders, such as the controversial statue Michelangelo is said to have sculpted, then sold as an antiquity. I was impressed by the Raphael fresco, the School of Athens. I never knew it was so large. The Sistine Chapel is worthy of all the praise it has received. I spent an hour sketching one of the larger sibyls, Libica, which caused me to appreciate the effort Michelangelo must have gone to in order to finish before the wet fresco dried.

Coming out of there, I took a wrong turn and wound up in the crypt, where a number of popes are buried. I paid my respects to the most recently deceased pope, John Paul II, who had a number of lovely metallic roses over his tomb. I also peered into the supposed tomb of St. Peter, which was highly decorated. I could sense the importance of these tombs to the Catholic religion, even though I do not share their faith, but nothing could prepare me for the interior of St. Peter's Basilica.

Not only are its dimensions unfathomable, but designed with the sorts of proportions that make the observer, no matter how brave, shake with the impression of their own insignificance. The space is very high, lit almost solely from the lantern of Michaelangelo's dome, which casts large, harsh shafts of light all over the church. Even Michelangelo's lovely, more human-looking Pieta shrinks into the background in the mere contemplation of the building's striking features. I listened to the end of mass, sung in mens' voices, and walked the length of it. I passed pilgrims, priests (some of them putting away their vestments from performing mass), and penitents confessing their sins. My emotions were mixed. I couldn't bear to stay and I couldn't rip myself away from it.

My friends gently took me outside, to the massive yet slightly more friendly-looking piazza designed by Bernini. It suddenly struck me, as I was admiring the orange and blue uniform of a Swiss guard, that I still did not have my backpack. I ran, panicked, all the way around the outside of the Vatican City wall, back to the entrance of the museums, just to find it all shut up tightly. I walked back, weeping and sick and tired of losing things. One of the teachers comforted me and agreed to help me pick it up in the morning. In the hotel that night, I sketched a still life of all of my earthly possessions at the time, and the mere fact that they all fit in one page was depressing.

In the morning, a solid breakfast put me back into a good mood as we started on the walking tour. We saw so many things, starting with the Italian eternal flame in the piazza which also contains the former Venetian embassy, and the building with the balcony from which Mussolini gave his speeches. From there, we saw Bernini's famous Four Rivers fountain and the church next to it, the Agony of St. Agnes (it contains her shrunken head). The Pantheon, which we saw next, was very impressive, perfectly preserved from 116 AD with its missing keystone in the middle. This allowed for a shaft of light to illuminate one of the walls, opposite from Raphael's tomb.

We went on to the Trevanni Fountain, where it is said that if you toss a coin in, you will have good luck and return to Rome in your lifetime. I did this, and it made me optimistic in going to the Vatican to pick up my backpack from the Vatican.

First, we tried the museum entrance, where I'd left it. They sent us over to the other end of the Vatican City, from which they sent us to what could best be described as the back door of the Vatican. There, the Swiss guards, after eyeing our appearance to make sure our intentions were good (I could see them linger at my cross; it's good camouflage in situations like this), let us through.

Inside, we were trying to find the office that had been indicated, and saying to each other, "You know, Obama's supposed to be meeting with the Pope today." We turned a corner and saw a line of Swiss guards standing in front of one of the doors to the Vatican, the red feathers in their hats fluttering in the wind. Behind them, in front of us, there was a polished limo running and waiting, boasting both the Italian and Papal flags. Even if that wasn't for the Pope or Obama, without a doubt, it was cool to see. I got my backpack restored to me, but the cool things were just beginning.

After a good piece of pizza and some excellent iced coffee, we met the group at the Spanish steps, then made our way to the Villa Borghese. Our reservation was pushed back by an hour, so we relaxed outside for a bit, listening to the jazz music of a street musician. One of our students drew him, then exchanged the drawing for his CD. Inside the Villa Borghese, were the two Bernini sculptures I'd always wanted to see, Apollo and Dafne (which shows her in the process of turning into a tree) and Hades and Demeter. I drew, in this one, the way the hands press into her flesh as though it were real.

On our way out was the really cool stuff. We passed convoys of diplomatic cars on our way out of the city, returning to Rome from the G8 Conference. After watching that at length, we heard the sound of a helicopter, looked behing, and--three US military helicopters, headed to from the Vatican to one of the smaller, older airports. Undoubtedly, one of these was carrying Obama, for no one would secure such a small airport with so many lines of police for anyone less.

In short, it was an amazing trip, in many ways, with once-in-a-lifetime experiences. Tomorrow, to Siena, and Thursday, to Venice. I wish everyone such good fortune, no matter what adversity it appears at first. Keep praying for my lost luggage in Spain! I love you all, very much, and am looking forward to seeing some of you in so little time.

Florence, 6/29/09-7/8/09

Yes, I made it to Italy! It wasn't without problems--I did end up leaving half of my possessions in the Valencia airport thanks to RyanAir luggage regulations (which are not very clear online), but despite this profound loss, I've enjoyed the PUC Honors Beauty course here so far. It's still possible, after all, to have the luggage rescued.

Every day here is packed, and that is why I haven't written yet. The school, Villa Aurora, is on its own a work of art, the dorm being the villa of a cousin of one of the Medicis. Even though a historical building can be frustrating to live in (no air conditioning), it is still really cool to get up in the morning, look at the other tower, and go, "Wow, I'm in Florence." Unlike Sagunto, there is lovely vegetation everywhere, plenty of grass and flowers everywhere.

The first day of class had us in a drawing workshop, the first of two we've already had. This was very helpful, as we went to the Galleria dell Accademia that very afternoon, where Michelangelo's David is. None of the photos or art discussions really prepare the viewer for the sheer proportions of the David. He is over three times my height! Sketching is a requirement for every museum we visit, so I went looking for something else in the museum to sketch. I enjoyed their musical instrument, triptic, and plaster cast collections, but none of it really captivate the eye quite like the tall, powerful David. I spent some time sketching him, spellbound by the near perfection of the sculpting.

Our next day was already our first all-day excursion to a lovely set of five towns on the coast called Cinque Terre. Between the first two of the five towns, Riomaggiore and Manarola, there is a beautiful walk dedicated to love. People have left libraries worth of graffiti on the walls to profess their love, and others have left padlocks on the fences to represent how long and unbreakable their love is. There is also a cliff there called the Mother-in-Law Cliff, because no one would survive the drop, but I find this to be a very horrible thing to do to a mother-in-law.

I kept walking, all the way to the next town of Comiglia, enjoying the scenery and the company of my classmates. Daunted by the staircases, I skipped it and took the train to the town of Vernazza, which I explored on my own. The warm colors of the buildings were so lovely that I attempted to sketch it in color, but that was a bit of a disaster, ha. I put aside my childish attempt and trained over to the last one, Monterosso al Mare, where I found my friends again. One of them had been stung by a jellyfish, poor girl. We explored the town at length. There was a man sculpted out of one of the cliffs, some wonderfully cheap gelato, a long tunnel with wave designs on the wall, stores framed by flowers, and even a peculiar church with a somewhat frightening number of skulls inside.

For a rest, we took the next day off to have 6 hours of class instead, three in drawing workshop and the other three in normal class. Then, Friday, we hit another museum, the Bargello, which used to be a jail. It's famous for Donatello and Verrochio's David sculptures. It was also interesting to see panels used in the contest of who would get to sculpt what are now Ghiberti's Doors of Paradise across from Brunelleschi's massive dome. Did I sketch any of these? No; there was a sculpture of a Dying Adonis I liked too much, and did horribly at sketching.

Even Sabbath, we had an excursion. This one was optional, but it was still a bit of a hike. It was to the Villa della Petraia, which overlooks the city of Florence, making Brunelleschi's dome look like a child's toy. It was owned by the Medicis first, during which many splendid frescoes were painted in the courtyard. Also, a king lived there with his lover at one point; her room was a peaceful silken blue that I admired very much. After taking in all of these lovely rooms full of history, we walked back for our Fourth of July party at the school. There was barbecue, gelato, watermelon, and even some fun little fireworks. A group of us gathered around the fire and sang until it even annoyed me enough to leave.

The next morning we actually saw Ghiberti's Doors of Paradise, then visited the museum nearby, where the real panels (not the copies outside) are kept. They are truly amazing works of art, though I spent more time with Donatello's Magdalena carved out of wood. Her roughly carved features would inspire pity in the hardest of hearts.

Monday morning's excursion (yes, yet another!) was to the Capella Brancacci and Santa Maria Novella. The first was small, yet lovely. I fell in love with a self-portrait of one of the artists, who just happened to have a very pretty face. My sketching in Santa Maria Novella was not so successful, sadly, thanks to how dark it was in there. The frescoes behind the altar are truly amazing, though. What amused me were all the women having to wear funny-looking blue robe thingies to cover up their bare shoulders.

What really took the strength out of my brain, though, was the Uffizi Gallery, where we spent the whole day yesterday. This is one of the oldest art galleries in the world, designed by the art historian Vasari, whose book we just finished in class. There were great wonders within, beautiful works by the likes of Botticelli, Leonardo da Vinci, and Caravaggio. I went through the entire museum as a start, pausing in front of Botticelli's Primavera and Birth of Venus for the full emotional satisfaction of seeing them in person after spending a ridiculous amount of time researching them Winter quarter. The very few Greco and Goya paintings there made me feel right at home. The most impressive piece to me, though, was a shield by Caravaggio with the head of Medusa painted on it--it looked like it would leap out and come alive.

Then, I went back to sketch. The crowds in front of the Birth of Venus intimidated me, so I sketched one of Botticelli's madonnas instead. He used the same model, Simonetta Vespucci, after all. After an hour, I felt like I finally had the folds of her veil right, which were a real headache. I stuffed myself with some lunch, then went downstairs in hopes of sketching the shield, but once again, there were too many people in front of it. So, I found a painting of the Annunciation with a candle in the center of it, and wound up spending over an hour and a half working on the candle and the folds of Mary's robe behind it--in color. By the time I finished, I was basically staggering. I did one more halfhearted sketch of a sculpture before leaving and collapsing, exhausted, in the portico next to the main square.

We were given this morning off, and with reason. Let's be honest--how many of you have made it this far just reading about it? Add to that massive reading assignments for each day, and you have the size and shape of the program. Tomorrow, very early, we depart for Rome. I'm excited, for two reasons. First, I've always wanted to see the Vatican. Secondly, that's two days free of reading assignments to hopefully get ahead. Thank you for your patience in making it to the end of this, if you have; I appreciate it. I hope you're having a wonderful summer, full of great experiences.

Spain Summer Course, June 18-28

This is, sadly, my last JJ episode from Spain--my suitcases are packed (except my computer, which I saved out for last), my room is swept out and empty, and a large number of my possessions are cast aside to make weight restrictions in the airport. In just a few hours I will be leaving for Italy to start a new chapter of my journey, but I wanted to tie up Spain properly before going on my way.

Working at the school here, I have enjoyed being involved in every part of the summer Spanish program for its first week. It was wonderful to put, at last, faces to the names of people whose applications I'd processed. I picked them up at the airport, translated for the orientation, gave the tour of the campus, and went on the excursions. The translation work has, perhaps, been the most unexpected but rewarding aspect of the job. Not a single day passed from the day they arrived until yesterday where I didn't get some form of oral interpretation practice.

Just in the first weekend, there was translating for the orientation, the weekly excursion to the beach, the Sabbath afternoon excursion to the City of the Arts and Sciences, and a long, nasty speech on the history of the castle at Peñíscola on Sunday. That trip was lovely, though, blessed with much better weather than the last time I'd gone there. After the visit to the castle Papa Luna had inhabited, we actually got to enjoy some time at its beautiful beach. The water was perfect. . . and the sun was great, right up until I got back and realized I had sunburns in places I didn't realize were possible.

I attended the sevillanas classes right along with the kids on Monday, enjoying the teacher they use for the summer course. That night there was an opening dinner that featured a proper tuna band (they're sort of like troubadors, but traditionally poor students asking for soup by singing) and ladies in sevillana dresses, myself included. The interpretation was ridiculously hard, as the speaker had a strong Argentine accent.

On Tuesday night, there was a festival, La Noche de San Juan, which is almost a Spanish version of the fourth of July in how it's celebrated. Everyone gathers on the beach and has a picnic, building a campfire. We roasted marshmallows over ours. At midnight, there are fireworks, and after the fireworks, everyone runs into the water and jumps over ten waves for luck. Those who want to be really lucky go back to their fire and jump over it. I did that, and ha, I feel lucky.

The next day was the excursion to Sagunto--my last excursion to Sagunto. In the process of translating Ana Fernandez's speech about the history of the city, I was able to find the answers to some of your questions. Yes, Hannibal did bring elephants to Spain through Sagunto--he tried to use them to cross the Pirinees mountains after his famous eight-month siege of the city. Morvedre, the random name written on the obelisk next to the Mercadona that people have been asked about, was the Arab name for the city, meaning "Old Walls." It is still used to describe the old section of town. No, I still cannot pronounce whatever "Cartagineses" means in English. And, incidentally, yes, Franco did use the castle during the Spanish Civil War to store weapons and prisoners.

I spent most of the rest of the week preparing for the Italy trip while translating for ESDES where needed--finding a sketchbook for my art course in Italy was no easy task, or the art pencils to use in it. On Friday night, I did my first actual formal vespers translation for a general church audience, and I was shocked at how well it went--the speaker was easy to work with, even if it was a bit of a marathon of a sermon for the listeners. The more oral interpretation I do, the more I like it, even if it's a real brain trip.

Sabbath afternoon, after church, I went with a member of ADRA to do a food run. They take a van and collect food and bread from the cafeteria and four bakeries, then hand it out to various places in need, such as the gypsy neighborhood Clot de Moro and the ADRA camp made for Morrocan immigrants, Casa Nueva. It was quite an experience in seeing a side of Sagunto I hadn't known much about before, those who need the ADRA food donations to survive from day to day. The van started to break down halfway through, but we made it back to the school with no problems.

And now, I finally have to accept that I'm leaving Spain. I've grown attached to it, and it's hard to leave a place where I've thrived so well. Someday, I'll definitely have to find an excuse to come back. If anyone out there is thinking about coming for the summer or the year, really, I recommend it. It's an unforgettable experience that'll get under your skin like nothing else.

Working Vacation in Spain (June 3-17)

It's hard to put a name to the time I spent between the two language courses. I was working for ESDES four hours a day, but for the most part, I had a lot of time on my own to deal with in one way or another.

At first, I spent a number of afternoons hiking on the mountain behind the school, because there were some trails I'd never seen before and I was concerned about getting enough exercise. I liked to go up and write up there, take in the view over the edge of a journal or a Bible. My two weekends were a little more interesting than that, though. The first Sabbath on my own was actually quite busy--I participated in Sabbath School for a change, needing the social contact, and had lunch at Pastor Ortiz's house.

Because the ESDES visit to the Science Museum is scheduled for the day I leave, I headed out to the City of the Arts and Sciences of my own volition to see it that Sunday. I got out at the Cabanyal stop in Valencia instead of the usual, and found it interesting to see a different part of the city on the way--cheaper fare and closer to where I wanted to go. The entrance fee to the museum was less than for a movie ticket just about anywhere, and well worth the price.

The first exposition I explored was all about the science behind Marvel comics. It explored things like mutation, the actual abilities of a spider, and even infrared technology. Upstairs, though, was where all the good stuff about the human body was--everything from DNA to voices, it was all there and very interactive. There were scales to measure the proportion of water in your body, fun little tests meant to prove what causes adrenaline rushes, and even a drawing test to highlight how men and women remember the same painting very differently. There was also an exposition on the effects of drugs. It had a booth one could stand in to see what an extasy trip is like. It gave me a headache. The next floor down had an exploratorium, with the usual delights, such as a reverb mike. There was also a "dream house" and a natural history exhibit of the Mediterranean, which was interesting.

The next weekend there was an excursion to Elche through the church, and it was wonderful to get away for a bit. Even though it was just a youth rally of sorts, not a sight-seeing visit, I enjoyed seeing the beautiful palm trees there and having communion for the first time since -cough- Greece. I definitely felt need of it after all that time; a year's too long to go without it. I enjoyed being forced to spend time with Spaniards by dint of being the only American, and I found myself wishing everyone got that opportunity at some point as a language student. It was good for me, at least.

Having made, at last, a friend with a car, Manuel, he took me to visit some of his friends in the agricultural zone La Huerta. There's little pockets of farms and fields there, with irrigation systems that date back to the Arabs, yet are still in active use. Manuel's friends were elderly men, whose faces showed the length and difficulties of their lives. When they gave us lunch, it was the best meal I've had in Spain; it had come straight from the field to the table. These men showed me their workshop, as they are also craftsmen--I was astonished by what they could work in wood. They sent me off with a new leather bag (new to me, at least) that someone had given them, for which I was grateful; my old one was very worn.

Then, Manuel and I drove off to Albufera, where there is a lake nearly as vast as Tahoe. In the village of Albufera stood some of the traditional Valencian homes, barrakas, with white walls and high, hay-thatched roofs. Many of these had crosses on their doorframes. It happened to be the festival of Corpus Cristi, and the village was hung with embroidered cloths of many colors. We followed a processional which visited a shrine in each neighborhood to pronounce a blessing on all the parts of the village, lighting candles and scattering rose petals in front of the images of the saints. On our way back to Sagunto, we had horchata, then I prepped for the adventure I'd been prepping for myself since I first laid eyes on the Palau de Les Arts Reina Sofia, the opera house in the City of the Arts and Sciences.

This company was undertaking, for the first time in the history of Spain, a full production of all four of the operas in Wagner's epic (16-hour) Der Ring des Nibelungen. I could only afford to see the first two (though the tickets were only 19 euros with a latecomer discount), and it was unforgettable.

The first one, Das Rheingold, was absolutely amazing, using technologies I'd never before seen on stage. My favorite part involved the Rhinemaidens at the beginning, who were actually suspended from the ceiling in tanks of well-lit water. I also delighted in the fiery dragon created for the shapeshifting of the dwarf. Every minute of it was thrilling--from its famous overture to the giants to the gods on lifts. The fortress of Valhalla at the end was made up of actors suspended from the ceiling in a fantastical configuration--in short, really cool. I was lucky enough to come out of this one to fireworks, which reflected dazzlingly off of the buildings and the water.

I was shocked when my friend Katherine, straight off of a plane from the US, wanted to join me for Die Walkurie. The trip over gave us time to catch up. The opera itself was a bit much even for my attention span--five hours. It took a lot of stamina to wait patiently through the boring love triangle in the first act and the gods' hissy fits in the second to reach what I'd really come to see--"The Ride of the Valkyries" done in its actual context, with all of the vocals. It really is thrilling, and the end, where Brunnhilde is surrounded with fire, is cool, too.

That was how what I'd consider to be a vacation here in Spain finished--my personal time, at any rate. Parts of it were boring, but all considered, it wasn't bad. I hope that life is treating all of you just as well, and that I can write at least once more before heading off to Italy on Sunday. Happy late Father's Day to all the fathers out there--thank you for all you do for your children.

Closing Ceremonies (May 17-31)

Since I seem to be a month behind on my blog and the summer course starts tomorrow, I thought I'd do my best to sum up everything that happened at the end of the year long course in one post. I'll do my best to keep it short, but it's a lot of ground to cover.

The dread DELE test for which we had prepared all year long came, was incredibly grueling, and went. To celebrate the completion of this grueling ordeal, we went to Port Aventura, an amusement park in Cataluña. It was a long trip to get there, but through it I enjoyed the company of Chelo's cute little son, who was a real ball of energy. It felt good for me to be back in an amusement park--the adrenaline rush of a roller coaster, the smell of the brakes, the sound of the cranks at the top of each drop. It felt like being in southern California again, although there were some key differences from my usual haunts there. For one thing, its theming was based around places, not fantasy, and it almost made it even more enjoyable.

When I beheld the section devoted to China, my breath was taken away. It was so lovely with its tiled roofs and spacious dimensions. Even though I rode just about everything in the park, my favorite part was doubtlessly the show Chinatown. Not only were the various acrobats and contortionists beautifully put together in ways that captured the imagination, it was tied together by a lead "magician" who mixed Spanish, Catalán, English, and French with a natural subtlety and flair that captured the show's delightful mix of everyday life and fantastical acts.

The next evening, we were finally taught how to make paella, the national dish of Spain. It's amazing to see the process, the ceremony surrounding its making. To make paella really is a social event as much as a culinary one.

That Friday we had our Clausura, or graduation ceremony. Donning orange and blue ribbons, we marched in to Pomp and Circumstance and heard beautiful music from a variety of groups, including the local choir and some of our resident Oakwood music majors with their rendition of "Pie Jesu." While the teachers handed out the diplomas, they said something nice about each student. My tutor said, ha, that I was like a sponge designed to absorb the Spanish culture. Strange emotions came while hugging all of the teachers on the platform--I can see why they were crying. I'll certainly miss them when I leave. The evening finished off with horchata and fartones, some students leaving the very next day.

I spent the weekend having lunch at the house of some of Jenny's friends on Sabbath, then going on a doomed excursion to Peñíscola. It was the first time it had rained on that excursion in 30 years, and we had to go back early. Fortunately, I'll be going with the new batch of Americans this Sunday, so I'll write more about the place itself later. It's known for its lovely beach, and the castle that looks out over the water--the home of an obscure pope at one time.

Then, on Monday, we had our last dinner together as ESDES for the year at China Long, one of our favorite restaurants. We had a good time, laughing, singing, and even dancing until there was this collective sense of, "Wait. . . I've still got to study for finals this week," and we returned to the school. As soon as I emerged from my exams that week, I headed up an excursion to Sagunto for the German group that had come--the first official part of my work for ESDES. I actually learned some things about the town I hadn't known before, like Hannibal's siege of it and the existence of a museum I'd never visited there before.

It was hard to watch all my classmates leave, Jenny in particular. I tried to cram as much time together with her as possible before she left, hosting two sleepover nights in a row, watching movies and laughing into the night. Then, she left. . . and then I wasn't an ESDES student any longer, an American. I was now just another volunteer, a part of the life of the campus.

As for now, the campus is filling back up with Americans again. Hopefully I'll be able to catch up on everything else before too long, but for now I just want to take a moment to wish everyone who's just returned from a year abroad luck. . . and that they never forget what they learned in their host country.

Random Festivities, May 10-13

The week after the museum visit was riddled with random events. The first one was on Sunday, where almost the entire morning was eaten up by our ESDES market. This is how we sell things that we can't take back with us to the US. I didn't make a lot of money (not having a lot to sell), but it was enough for me to buy a CD by one of the local Theology majors who used to be a harp virtuoso. I was a little sad about my hand-crocheted scarves, which went for less than the original materials had cost, but since I originally made them to donate to ADRA, I can't complain. I couldn't sell my worn leather boots, so I donated those to ADRA. I have a feeling that before I leave, even more of my possessions will end up there, but I don't mind.

The next evening we had an ESDES party at our director's flat in Sagunto. The weather was perfect, the sun just right. Juan Antonio Lopez lives on the top floor of his building, and there's a beautiful view of Sagunto and the castle from there. The food was delicious--pizza, tortilla española, and virgin sangría. We all spent the evening talking, playing many rounds of Psychology, and just laughing and enjoying each other's company.

Two evenings later was a school-wide banquet. After class, Jenny did my hair in elaborate curls which were surprisingly durable. I donned my purple suit and all the girls boarded a bus bound for Valencia. We were supposed to find our dates waiting for us in the City of the Arts and Sciences, but I was lucky enough to have Regina, a German volunteer, as my date. We laughed about how this was because we were too good-looking for the guys.

From there we went to Al Fresco, which is sort of like Fresh Choice, for a wonderfully delicious dinner. We were there until nine thirty or so, eating and laughing, taking pictures in our "gangster" 30's clothes, and then we boarded the bus again. Watching Flubber on the bus, I thought it was going to be over then and there at 10:30, but it had only just begun, to my amazement.

The men had completely redecorated La Frontera, our student center, to look like a jazz club. There were lit tiki torches in brackets on the walls, and candles and Chinese lanterns on small tables. There were shave ice drinks, and a group of guys who played live jazz music. Everyone started to dance, and it was fun. We were later led outside to watch as Diago, one of the Theology majors, juggle flaming torches and breathe fire. It was spectacular, even though he modestly said afterwards that he wasn't very good at it.

The last song sounded, long, sweet, and soft. Lourdes, our girls' dean, thanked the men for showing all of us a good time, and offered up a prayer to close the event. Handing me a glass of sweet, cool horchata and a farton (which is to horchata what crumpets are to tea), a guy gave me the weirdest compliment: "Your face is like Madonna's." This gave me a good laugh to send me off to sleep at last, having enjoyed a beautiful evening.

Anyways, I hope you all are lucky enough to enjoy such lovely evenings as summer comes. . . I wish you all well, and my congratulations goes out to everyone who graduated this last week and weekend. I'm very proud of my former Pathfinder girls graduating from 8th grade, as well as of my "little brother" who hates it when I call him that, so I'll refrain from using his real name here. Congratulations, is all I can say. Best of luck to what lies ahead.