Shenanigans of September and October Occurrences

From having my purse stolen in Italy, to smoking a Cuban cigar in Germany…From feeling lonely and as if I have too much time to myself here in Laredo to feeling slightly overwhelmed and incandescently happy with what life has to offer. A lot has happened to me since I last wrote in here, which is why it would be completely absurd for me to begin to describe the excitement and emotions behind every drastic moment, and also one of the reasons I have continued to procrastinate. When thinking about writing this blog, a whirlwind of events and emotions flash through my mind; I begin to fume from strange orifices of my body and sweat like a baby trying to wrangle his way out of a dirty diaper because I am so overwhelmed with where to begin. That said, I will do my best to highlight the most important things.

When we last left off, the old stone streets of Italy, in all of its enchanting antiquity, seemed to be whispering quiet words of beckon to my soul, so I picked up my hiking stick and strapped on my walking sandals and I began my trek atop a golden donkey. The donkey actually entailed a 45-min bus ride to Bilbao, another 5-hour bus ride to Madrid, a nearly 40 Euro 1 AM cab ride to the airport because the metro was closed, and 8 eerie hours of attempting to sleep on the cold airport floor waiting for my 7 am flight, I finally arrived in Venice where Zdenek and Christoph collected me from the airport in their typical manner of gallantry. Finding our way through the labyrinth that is Venice was a mystifying experience. Almost as mystifying perhaps was my run-in with David Bowie. Let me explain.

It was a warm Venetian night, and I had enjoyed a Spritz and a large cup of ale, so needless to say the epithelial layers of my bladder were stretched to the max. So, I did what any girl would do and meandered into the bar to wait for the toilette. This toilette happened to be in the darkest, dankest and dirtiest corridor of the bar, and there also happened to be one lone toilet—complete with crusted over puke particles and spots of urine on the seat to serve as a testimony to all the drunkards who passed by this john and tried their best to aim. I said a “bon courage” to the man in front of me in the line as the door creaked closed and took away most of the light, adding to the misty eeriness of this strange place. As the man inside the single stall began his adventure, I turned around at the sound of a strange accent inquiring of me, “Ay, missy, Just where do you happen to come from?” I was caught off-guard, but nonchalantly replied, “Oh, I’m from Nebraska, no big deal.” Imagine my surprise when she said, “I’ve never heard of it! I’m from Australia! I’m here on a school trip.”

“Oh, that’s like some little island in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, right? Good thing your country doesn’t matter anymore now that Steve Irwin’s dead.” OK… I only wanted to say that. I pretty much just shrugged, and said, “Ah, crikey! That’s phenomenal…” and I was cut off by my own train of thought because there behind this girl from Australia was none other than Sir David Bowie. I had to know for certain, and the Spritz and ale gave me an unsurpassed confidence, “Sir, are you David Bowie?” he shuffled his feet and laughed nervously, letting his shaggy hair cover his squinty eyes. “Noo, ha ha, but I do get that a lot!” I was sure he was lying. “Oh, are you sure? Cuz you REALLY look like David Bowie. Where are you fr…?” Before I finished the question he nervously interrupted me, “No, no, I’m just a normal dude from Austria, I promise.” WELL. That was what did it for me. “Austria…sounds a lot like AUSTRALIA. Bowie, is that the best cover-up you could think of? Well, deny it all you want, but I KNOW you’re Bowie and I want you to know, I love you!” Then the bathroom door opened and I made my way inside the small cell to relieve my bladder and increase my chances of getting an STD via toilet seat by 75% (thank you Mrs. Jackson for freaking me out about this in 8th grade health class). When I made my way back into the corridor, Australia was still standing there looking an awful lot like a dingo ready to pounce on its next baby, while David Bowie was nowhere in site. One of two things had to have happened: 1) I blew his cover and he had to find a place where no one recognized him 2) he was recognized and hurried into the celebrity bathroom.

Anyway, so no one believes me, and that pretty much sucks, however, me, my heart and my memories all know the real truth, and in the end, that’s all that matter. This sole experience culminated into the climax of my life, and I knew it was all going to be downhill from there, but could I have realized just how abrupt and steep the downhill incline from this high point would be? Never, in a million years.

The next morning was spent winding through the streets of Italy with Christoph and Zdenek listening to absolutely terrible music loud enough to cause an old man’s hearing aid to explode, but it made me so happy nonetheless. I was in Italy, I was with two great friends, I had just met David Bowie, I had not a worry in the world, I was letting God take the reigns and it was so fabulous. I remember sitting silently in the back seat and Zdenek sang, “Don’t know much about history, don’t know much biology…” (well, actually, he didn’t sing the lyrics correctly, but he never has to know that) and as I sat there I sat and thanked God for how beautiful my life was, for sculpting me and changing me into the person I finally am, for blessing me so incredibly much for such an undeserving soul, for bringing me so much wisdom from all the pain I had experienced, and for finally bringing me to this moment.

We parked the car at a lake on the outskirts of Milan, got out and picnicked. Upon our return to the car, we realized that due to my negligent behavior of leaving my purse on the floor of the car, some AWESOME Italian dude decided it would be a really great welcome gift to steal my (favorite) purse that contained about 300 Euros ($450), my iPod, my passport, my visa to Spain, my cell phone all of my paperwork to apply for my Spanish resident card, all of my other important papers, all of my makeup and many other things that were useful to me. I couldn’t understand why any of this had to happen to me, but Christoph and Zdenek were very calm and nice about everything and really helped me to stay calm in the situation, when otherwise I would have had a nervous breakdown. Although it caused a lot of stress and a lot of money to finally put all the pieces back together, as of last Thursday (nearly 1.5 months after this incident) I can finally say that I no longer have any burdens remaining from this experience. So, let’s leave it in the past. It taught me to not worry about things and also taught me to let other people do things for me, because I had no choice.

Christoph’s family was so incredibly kind to me and helped me while I was waiting for my passport and treated me so well, and I could never fully express how grateful I am for that. God was still taking care of me even though he allowed something bad to happen. While I was waiting at the US Embassy in Italy with no money, no cell phone, nothing, I realized they were not going to give me a new passport without 80 Euros. There were a lot of people sitting in the waiting room for the same reason, yet all of them had compassion on me and felt sorry for the poor little girl here by herself with nothing, and they all chipped in one by one and gave me MORE than enough money to buy my passport, the passport photos and money to help me out after the embassy—“just in case!”

Afterward, I spent a little over a week with Christoph in Munich and in his hometown of Beilstein (pretty close to Stuttgart). I rather enjoyed myself in Germany. Munich (and Germany in general) is a very clean and well-organized city and I would definitely love to return someday. This part of my journey in Europe seems so far away already and so much has changed, that I will leave all the little details for my own personal journal and get down to business with the major things going on lately.

Once all of this was over, the amazing moments and the bad, I was more than ready to return to the tranquil haven that I knew awaited me in Laredo. I had another week to spend there familiarizing myself with the little town of 14,000 people, to acclimate myself to the Spanish language and to begin feeling at home before beginning my career as a teacher. At first I was somewhat lonely and I rather despised myself for feeling this way, because that quiet solitude was something for which I had so desperately longed in Nebraska. I have never wanted to become one of those people who only sees the green grass growing on other people’s prairies and not their own. I spent time praying and reading and walking and discovering my town and a life of solitude…and as soon as I become ok and happy with the quiet and the solitude, in walks David, the crazy beautiful surfer from France. When he first moved into my apartment with me, upon first appearances I quickly judged him. Seemingly unkempt blonde hair (that he actually washes and conditions daily, much to my surprise), a Thrasher tattoo boldly covering his left arm, a couple of ear piercings and rather typical skater attire. We could hardly understand each other at first (although this has drastically changed), and my first thought was, “Oh, wow, he is a nice person, but I guess we are completely different people and will have completely separate lives here in Laredo. Roommates and nothing more. He is a boy! A skater/surfer/punk rockaaaa…I bet he never washes dishes and this is going to be weird…but I need money, so OK.”

I couldn’t have been more wrong. He is the sweetest little soul in the entire world, with piercing blue eyes and a smile to kill. Aside from his love for surfing, skateboarding and rock of all kinds, he enjoys cooking and photography and is quite possibly even more of a clean freak than I am, and I love it. Our mutual language is Spanish, although every now and then we throw in some French or English. We have a pretty down-pat routine of going to our classes, lunch, siesta, errands, fun, cook dinner together, wine, talk, goodnight. Sometimes throw in going out for a coffee or a beer or going to the beach or him going to the skate park while I finally sit here and complete my blog. Whatever.

As for my teaching career, I am working at two different institutos (high schools) that are right down the street from each other. Although I only teach 12 hours a week, it takes up a large part of the day preparing the activities and waiting for my next classes and meeting with the teachers to discuss students and the topic for the week. During one month of work, my schedule is the same the 1st and 3rd week of the month and then the 2nd and 4th weeks are completely different. It was rather confusing at first, although I am catching on quickly. The main qualm I have with my schedule is that it does not allow me to get to know any of my students well. During a week I have more than 240 students, and the next week, it will be 240 completely different students (all in all I have about 550 students); thus, it would be rather impossible to learn the names of all of them.

It has been somewhat of a shock working at these high schools after my experiences at Westside High School and the University of Nebraska-Lincoln where we have access to an abundance of technology and other resources. Here I was not even able to give a powerpoint presentation to all of my classes because they don’t have the proper resources to do that in many classrooms. The students are usually very amicable, however rowdy and rude they may be at times. It is very difficult for me to make an assessment or judgment of the Spanish education system because within all of my classes I have come to the conclusion that the behavior of the students completely depends on their level of respect for their teacher and how the teacher handles the students and their learning experience. Some days I come home from teaching and I think, “Wow, I absolutely love my job more than anything in the world. I would love to be a teacher.” Then there are almost just as many days where I say, “Holy crap. I did not know that kids could be so inherently malicious! Respect to teachers, because I could never ever in a million years do this.” I am excited to see where the year goes though, and I will *hopefully* keep this blog updated on what happens with my students and my time here.

I was in Ireland last weekend. Halloween party. Amazing friends. Lovely countryside…I dressed up as David Bowie. Not much more to say except that I was exhausted when I got back to Laredo. :)

This weekend I have a long weekend and do not have to work Monday or Tuesday. Somehow, all of my friends here are French and they are coming to mine and David’s piso tomorrow night for a Halloween party potluck. I have to speak in French all night because one of them has a friend coming from France who doesn’t know English or Spanish, so…. Here we go.