Movement

You read this here first!

Americans have always had a fascination with movement. The pilgrims and other colonists braved the Atlantic Ocean to search for a better place to live. The pioneers constantly pushed Westward to find their own place. Regrettably they would take this place from the First Americans living here, some of whom were nomadic, which is a lifestyle based on transience. Our way of government is based on movement: both towards a brighter future and towards a more idyllic state of being. What I think makes me most American is the fact that I love to move too.
I don’t mean that changing houses is a personal hobby, although I have done this more than once and have found it to be an adventure that opens new doors and new possibilities. I think to accurately explain my love of movement I have to give a little of my history and my experiences getting from there to here.
I came into existence after my parents met each other in two clubs that normatively are about movement: running club and skiing club. My dad was a pilot, moving through the air with the greatest of ease. My mom was a teacher, passing on knowledge to a new generation of movers and shakers. Together they have made a family that moves in solidarity and individually.
To say we are an active family could be an understatement. My aunt says that she thought my brothers and I would never grow tall because my mom would have us walk too much as we were growing up. She was partially correct as I am 5’7”. With an older brother, sitting still and watching was never something I could stand to do. When Sean (my older brother) ran, I would want to run. If Sean learned to ride a bike, I wanted to learn to ride a bike. When Sean started playing soccer, I was right there with him. In the summer if we were up, we were moving, whether by air, land or sea. By air I am referring to the summer we wanted to fly. We built parachutes out of everything we could find: tarps, umbrellas, garbage bags tied to broomsticks we thought would be a hybrid oar/wing. We were totally wrong in this and none of us are aspiring engineers today. Water was also an integral part of summer even if “the sea” sometimes meant a small lake near our house, the local pool or the sprinklers in our yard.
Sometimes the sea did mean the sea, though. I was able to participate in the great American tradition of family vacations. Sometimes we flew, but mostly we drove. We went to places like Glacier Park and the Gulf of Mexico. Our vacations usually included visiting my grandparents house three hours away or my other grandparents house three thousand miles away. These trips included stops at museums, restaurants, tourist traps, amusement parks, historical sites, campgrounds, hotels, motels, Holiday Inns and as many rest stops as there were on the side of the interstate. We sometimes did this as a summer trip and sometimes as a cross-country move to new places and new possibilities; our Labradors would come on both.
The best part of these trips was that we were together. All six of us were together in our Astro van with the two dogs and our seventeen suitcases in the back. We were together through card games, our car games and every Harry Potter book-on-tape. We were together for the one time we watched a DVD in the car. It was playing in the car next to us as we crept through heavy traffic from Tampa to Orlando. Most times we laughed, sometimes we slept, and sometimes I was kicked out and made to walk along the road.
In high school I started to drive and it changed the way I thought about moving. I could go when I wanted (until curfew) and where I wanted (which was mostly up and down Main Street.) Turns out I wasn’t meant to be a race car driver any more than I was meant to be a bird or tall as I have hit five deer, two pheasants, a cow, a tree and the ditch. All separate incidents. I also found some new modes of transportation like four-wheeling and driving a tractor. I rolled the four-wheeler and ran the tractor into a hay bale.
Then I moved on to college and all sorts of modes of transportation in trying to get there and back home. I have carpooled, been dropped off by my dad, taken the bus, the train and a plane, and most recently driven my very own car here. Driving is fastest, the bus is cheapest and the train is the most comfortable. While here I ride my bike to class which is a quick alternative to walking and a green alternative to driving. (This whole article, by the way is actually a warning to students walking down the newly christened “Bulldog Alley.” I am on my bike and I have shown an incredible ineptitude when moving by use of vehicles.)
Last Fall I made the biggest move of my life when I went to Spain for four months. I learned that America doesn’t have the best roads or buses or trains. I learned that you have to sit in your assigned seat on a train and saying loudly in English, “There is someone sitting in my seat and I don’t know how to tell them,” does not constitute as a request for someone to get out of the train. I learned that riding in a car called a Panda with your mom on unnamed streets in downtown Sevilla can be the most stressful yet exhilarating driving experience of your life.
Next Spring I will move on physically and figuratively from Gonzaga. I am not sure where I am going or how I will get there, but I do know that I will continue to move. Like many Americans before me I will move along the path that is our life. Sometimes I will have to run and sometimes I will have to crawl. Hopefully, if I try to fly I have more than two garbage bags and a broomstick. Actually, as long as I have the support like that of my brothers and the faith that I can do it, I will try. I will move forward as person and as an American because that is what we do best.

It has been almost six months since my last post. Since that time I think I have become a completely different person. Maybe. I guess it is like changing from one shape to another while continuing to be the same substance. This is a change rather than a transformation. One thing I have noticed is that I have a hard time continuing to type my thoughts down. How will I ever write a novel if I cannot write a blog post? Maybe I should get one of those machines that turns your words into typing on a page. Or hire a court stenographer. This may not be the name for it. I ran Bloomsday today. That was awesome; it is the largest road race in America. Maybe even the world. Finals are tomorrow. I have a Spanish Final at 8 am. We will see if my time in Spain pays off. I think that I am going to rededicate the theme of my blog. I really love my life, but there are definitely more interesting and worthwhile topics that I can discuss. Also, readership is around zero and that has to be changed. Maybe if I can pick the winners in horse racing or something I will be recognized as a pertinent source.

So, I have not written in a while and during those weeks of silence I have toured amazing places, learned incredible facts, seen unheralded sights and taken tests. One of those does not belong and I am sure that you can guess. Last week, I had midterms and the DELE or Diploma Espanol como Lengua Extranjera fluency exam. It was tough. But, in the midst of studying I also visited Madrid and Barcelona. They are the two largest cities in Spain and each has a distinct feel that I, as someone who has spent three months in Spain, found surprisingly un-Spanish. I loved both of them, to be sure, but they were unlike anything I have known in the rest of Spain.

The Madrid trip was with our program and so we lived like kings, well compared to the paupers we usually travel as. Also, the program directors are both incredible people who help us with everything and know just where to take us and what to see. The city of Madrid was so busy; people everywhere! Being the Capital for 500 years, it has all the required beautiful parks, monuments, museums (I have an illicit picture of Velazquez's Las Meninas from the Prado). Along with this trip we visited El Escorial, The Valley of the Fallen, Segovia and Toledo.

This is San Lorenzo, in the Plaza outside of El Escorial. Built as a palace, retreat, monastery and mausoleum by Felipe II in the 1500s it is the largest building in Spain. You are not allowed to take pictures inside, which was fine because the architecture mirrors the personality of the King, said and rigid. He was a devout Catholic but the death of 5 wives and something like 12 children weighed on him, as it would anyone. The one bright spot, and one of the coolest rooms I have ever been in was the library. The ceiling is a bright Fresco by Lucas Jordan, who could paint with both hands. All of the books face outward and are coated in real gold, this preserves the pages and also adds to the enlightened feel of the room. This library has the most extensive collection of ancient Arabic writing in the world and behind that of the Vatican, the second most of Greek and Latin. Some of the most important books include St. Theresa of Avila's journal, a bible printed with glue and gold flakes in place of ink and the first book written in Gallego that is also the best collection of written music from the middle ages.

In the mountains above El Escorial is the monument to the dead of the Spanish Civil War called the Valley of the Fallen. It is a basilica dug out of a mountain and so in place of light from windows the inside is dark, yet powerful nonetheless as huge sculptures of angels line the walls of the cathedral that is longer than St. Peter's. It was built by political prisoners as a last "in your face" by Franco who made sure every symbol represented his victory over the heathen republican fighters. Above the basilica is a 125 m cross with statues of the four Evangelists at the base. They are so big that a person would be shorter than their noses. Outside, situated on the edge of the mountain is a parade ground. Right now, there is a lot of dissidence towards the monument as any Spainards older than thirty lived during the oppressive regime. I do think, however, that as Spain becomes more personally removed from Franco this sight will be truly celebrated as an engineering and architectural masterpiece. It is the same way that most people can overlook the thousands of deaths that it took to build the pyramids and Great Wall of China.

The cross is more than a football field tall.

Segovia is more than 2400 years old and it hardly looks its age. The aquaduct is impressive, more than 135 stairs from the bottom to the top. The Cathedral is impressive; I have to be careful that I am not callous towards huge, beautiful cathedrals after visiting so many. It is impressive that people spent so much time, money and effort to build these tributes to God. It is something that happened then and today would be scoffed at as a HUGE waste of money.

The castle is excactly what I would expect from one; Walt Disney agreed and modeled Snow White's after it. My favorite part of Segovia was, however, the view from the castle to the mountains..... Notice that is a grain elevator and not a castle or Cathedral. Just like home.

The next weekend I went to Barcelona. It is the Capital of the Autonomous Community, much like a State, Cataluna. But, unlike a state, Cataluna has its own language and history that it is so proud of it wants complete independence from Spain. Also, Barcelona is a port city and so it was full of tourists and I heard more English than Spanish. Even the signs are in Catalan and English, but not Spanish. I met a lot friends from Gonzaga-in-Florence there and that was really fun. My friend Matt and I attended an FC Barcelona game. It was a great game and it marked the first time I have been cold in Spain.

In front of the Stadium.

Barcelona also has Gaudi architecture everywhere including the unfinished La Sagrada Familia that he lived in for forty years while working on it. It seems everywhere I look in Europe there is a crane ruining a picture. But, they are just a sign that work is being done, of wanting to better the buildings and it took the under-construction masterpiece of La Sagrada Familia to show me that.

A Journey

I had the opportunity to visit Santiago de Compostela a couple of weeks ago. It is a small town with a big history. Located in the rainy, lush hills of Galacia in Northern Spain, the town and Cathedral is the end of the Camino de Santiago, a 500 mile four week pilgrimage made each year by over 100,000 people. The Pilgrimage started in the 9th century when a priest discovered the bones of the Apostle James in a tomb near what would become Santiago de Compostela. Over the next centuries the route became more popular as Catholic pilgrims were given indulgences (forgiveness from sins for completion of a task) for completing the pilgrimage during holy years. The money brought into the region helped fund the Reconquisition of Spain. Are James' bones buried buried there? Maybe. Is the Pilgrimage worth it? Absolutely. The pilgrimage is not about the manmade route that the peregrinos travel or the manmade shelters they stay in. It is about the relationships that they build with the people who host them along the way and the relationships they build with fellow travelers. It is not about that the relationship that the Camino had with the funding of a war. It is about the relationship that each person who completes the journey has with God along the way. They have time to rejoice in the beauty of creation. They have time to pray during the miles and miles of walking. And they have something that so few have these days; they have time to listen for a response. The facade of the Cathedral. This part of the Church is from the 1300s.

The Shell marks the way of the Camino.

Hiking along the Camino.

My friend Scott is studying in Madrid and so we were able to meet up.

When the Sun Comes Up

A Selection of Pictures from my Breakfast Tour in Europe:

This is one of the many Chocolate Shop window displays. We walked down the street sampling each type of truffle, chocolate bar, chocolate covered nuts and bon-bons.

This is my Belgium Waffle for Breakfast. It had strawberrys and whipped cream. My one later that day had chocolate and ice cream.

In between waffles we had a full day of sightseeing in Brussels. My favorite things were the weather and this Church: the leaves were changing and it was a crisp, cool fall day. Two things we do not have a lot of in Andalucia are trees that change colors and a full day of cool weather. The Church is St. Michael's of Brussels and it was built in the 13th Century. It is very Gothic with high ceilings and lots of stained glass. Also entrance was free, which in Spain is hit or miss with churches and I do not know how I feel about charging people to go into God's house. But then also it is for the upkeep so they need money. Anyway, the Church was beautiful.

Speaking of beautiful Churches... our second course of Breakfast brought us to Paris for crepes and croissants and Notre Dame du Paris.

The inside was amazing with huge stained glass. Mass was going on which again I wonder about the pros and cons of the Father's house as a market place versus the idea of worship open to all.

There was also this Tower that everyone talks about:

It was impressive and we were able to ride a bike around under it, albeit with two people as the American dollar has become so weak the bike renting centers do not accept American credit cards.

The last night we were in Paris we had dinner (breakfast can't last forever) in the Montmartre district. I had steak and french fries and salad and helado and even sampled the wine and had to approve before the waiter poured it for us.

This is the group minus Natalie, who was under the weather.

Here and There

This is a quick update of things going on in my life:
I started the main portion of my semester today. For the last month we have been taking an intensive grammar class. We were placed in classes based on a prueba de nivel (placement test) that incorporated grammar, writing and speaking. I ended up in level 2B, the upper intermediate beginner level. There are levels 1A-5 with A and B at each level. 1A is just starting and 5 is fluent. At the end of the month, if you pass the class you move up one level. But for our classes that began today there are only two levels: Estudios Hispanicos and Lenguas y Culturas. Estudios Hispanicos is the higher level and anyone from 3B up take these classes. A few of the students from the 2B level took another Prueba de Nivel to try to move up to 3B. I took it and did not pass, but was allowed to move up because my intensivo teacher and my Cultura and Historia professor, who is also the ILACA program advisor recommended it. So thank you to both of them. I think my test in my Cultura y Historia class helped because I studied a lot for it and did well on it. It took over two hours and was one of the hardest tests of my life (maybe I should include the Prueba de Nivel tests in this category, but I flat-out do not know those answers).
Our work in grammar is leading up to an Exam called the DELE, which measures the proficiency of nonnative Spanish speakers. It is for this reason that I have flash cards with verbs and the prepositions they carry and do workbook excersises to distinguish between por and para (two words that mean for) and how to correctly use se (this is used as a pronoun, it can make a verb reflexive, or it can be impersonal).
So that is what is happening here, but luckily Studying Abroad also includes being Abroad. For this reason I just returned from a six day trip to eat breakfast in Belgium and France. We went to Brussels to find waffles and chocolate. We found both. I loved the relaxed pace of the city, the warmth of the personalities of the people and cold in the autumn air. Brussels is historic, with the Grand Place Square, known as the most beautiful square in Europe and St Michael's Cathedral, that held its first funeral of note, some king, in 1372. Brussels is also modern, with the European Parliament headquartered there. One and half hours away from Brussels on a high-speed train is the city of Paris, France.
I introduce it as an unknown, because although it needs no introduction, it deserves one if people like me have stereotyped it as just another European hub of history and culture with rude people and expensive prices. The people in France were helpful and friendly and went out of their way to help. Paris itself was beautiful and packed full of sights, marvels, parks and history. We took an amazing tour of the city that was insightful and witty and free. We went to the Louvre to see the Mona Lisa, Aphrodite and Hammurabi's code. The Louvre was overwhelming and I usually love Art museums, but it was so big that I didn't know where to start. Since we went on a Sunday it was free, so again, thank you Paris. We saw two beautiful churches, Notre Dame, which was a surreal experience and the Sacre Couer, which was amazing and reverent. When we were in Notre Dame Mass was going on. Had we been thinking we would have tried to attend, but instead we were with the throngs of tourists taking pictures during the Homily. I have two thoughts on the idea of Mass mixing with tourists. For the tourists, it is great because worship should be open to all and they may never be exposed to it. But then again, worship needs to be sincere and for those attending Mass, it must be hard to concentrate as so much is going on around them. The Sacre Couer is located in the Montmartre District. This is on a hill so it has the best views of Paris and we got to see the City of Lights at night. We also had dinner in a square full of Parisienne cafes. I even had to taste the wine and approve of it before the waiter poured it for everyone at the table.
One day we went out to Versailles. This palace, built by Louis XIV-XVI, to demonstrate the glory of French art, culture and engineering accomplished everything it set out to do. It was Monday, so the palace was closed, but the gardens were open for free. When I say gardens I mean forests, orchards, fountains, lakes, ponds, vineyards, parks, meadows, avenues and flowers. The formal "Gardens" cover 250 acres. But the grounds, where all the trees are trimmed to have perfectly square angles cover 2000 acres. We even drove a golf cart around the grounds. I will put up pictures later.

This isn't Spain, it's Middle Earth

While in Córdoba we visited the Castle of the Christian Kings. It is the place where Christopher Colombus, Isabel and Ferdinand planned the world changing trip to India.
The interior wall and courtyard.

The tower as viewed from the garden.

This is me. Legolas and Gimli just missed being in the photo.

A statue of Fernando in the garden outside the castle.

Colombus asking for money to finance his exploration to India

This Angel watches over Córdoba.

The bridge over the River of Guadalquivir. That is the Cathedral in the background. I was going to ask that they move the crane, but I do not know the word in Spanish.