My first day as a 31-year-old

5:30 AM: Alarm goes off.
6:20 AM: I coaxed myself out of bed.
6:40: Ran seven miles
7:45: Took a shower/got ready
8:15: Headed out the door. I walked 10 minutes to the place where my ride picks me up.

Almost there. Just around the bend.

8:55: We arrive at school.
9:00-11:45: I squawked at the kids in English for a few hours (I'm hoarse for the third time in the past two months). (The excitement of the day was probably the 4-year-old that puked.)
12:20: I headed out to my private lesson's house.

The exit gate at school.

I thought this private lesson person cancelled class forever as of last week, but I went to her house just to be sure. She wasn't there.

Turn to the left, then to the right to get to the lesson.

12:40: I had fifteen minutes before the bus left, so I headed to the papelería that is near the bus stop and bought some folders and scissors.
12:55: Bus left for Sevilla.
1:34: Arrive at the bus station in Sevilla

The very last bus in the background is mine.

I arrive outside the bus station.

I stopped at the grocery store to pick up some essentials, since tomorrow is a holiday and I'm guessing everything will be closed. I got a bike from the bus station and rode it home.

Groceries in one bag, school items in another.

Walking home from the bike parking stand.

Up the stairs...

...to fourth floor.

2:30-3:30 I ate lunch and then left for the reverse trip to the bus station.
4:00: Bus left for Alcalá del Río
4:45: Bus arrives in Alcalá del Río

The bus has arrived in Alcalá del Río.

4:45-4:48: Walk to school

Part of the walk

Back at school!

4:48-5:15: Hang out in teacher's lounge

5:15-6:45: Private lesson with third graders
7:00: Bus back to Sevilla

 7:40: Back in Sevilla's bus station

 7:45: Took a bike back home

Plenty of bikes to choose from!

 

 

Back at home, I talked to my parents on Skype, read an e-mail from Shaelyn, had an e-mail chat with Renée, talked to Deb and Steph on AIM and snacked all while posting this entry. Tomorrow is a holiday...

Tales from the CEIP (Chapter 1)

***My apologies for the formatting in this entry. I can't get the program to work with me. I tried the HTML and the regular compose screens. I give up. The system wins.


I work in an elementary school with kids as young as four. There are few moments of silence; someone always has something to share or a burning question to ask. For example:

1. In one of the 6th grade classes a student came up to me and asked,
    - ¿Cómo se dice, 'Ay, Dios mio' en inglés?
    - Oh my God!
    - That's British English, right? You're British? (She asked in Spanish.)
    - No, I'm American.
      She gave me a look of 'just-agree-with-me-because-I-have-a-bet-with-my-friend-and-I-need-to-win.' But I refused to be British for her.
     -Well, how do you say it in British?
     - Oh my God!

2. In the same 6th grade class I heard two students talking to the teacher and her reply, "Well, go ask her." So they came over and asked (in Spanish):
     - Melissa, did you work at a language camp during the summer?
     - No....
     - Ok... (No further questions.)

3. In the four-year-old class there is one little girl who asks me every week (in Spanish):
     - What's your name?
     - Melissa
     - Why do you speak English?
     - (Answers vary)

4. I often get asked (in Spanish):
   -Do you speak Spanish?
    But most of the time they don't even bother. They just ask:
    -¿Cómo se dice _______ en inglés? (How do you say _________ in English?)

5. The first grade teacher went out of the room for a second and the first question a student asked:
     - Melissa, ¿tienes hijos?" (Melissa, do you have any kids?)
     This question was followed up by another students comment:
     - Melissa, we don't speak your language. We don't understand you when you speak to us.
     It was then that I thought to myself, "I've only said, 'NO', what don't they understand about 'NO'?"

But sometimes it's more their responses than their questions that are amusing:

1. I asked a four year old: What's your name?
    - Fati (short for 'Fatima')

2. The preschool teacher needed a volunteer, so she looked at a little girl and said, 'María, come here.' Two little girls got up. The second 'María' explained that she was María Angustia and the other little girl was Ana María. María Angustia insisted that she is the real María, it's just the other teacher always calls her Angustia.

3. A little boy in the third grade brought an American dollar bill to class. He showed it to me. I asked him who the man on the bill was.
    - Obama, he replied.
    - No, look at the name under the picture.
    - Washington, D.C.!
   
4. One of the most beloved songs amongst all grades is 'head, shoulders, knees and toes'.  It's one of the few songs I actually sang as a kid too. However, it may be a little confusing for the kids here because when I quizzed my third grade private lesson on what 'rodillas' were they answered 'knees-and'.

5. The teacher explained the science test to the first graders. They had to identify the parts of the face (eyes, ears, mouth nose, head, etc.) in several different ways, but almost all of which was coloring. One of the students exclaimed:
   - Seño, ¡qué guay es tu examen! (Teacher, your test is so cool!)

6. It was the end of November (Thanksgiving to be exact) and the first graders were going to do an art project having to do with DÍA INTERNACIONAL PARA LA ELIMINACIÓN DE LA VIOLENCIA CONTRA LA MUJER (International Stop Violence Against Women Day). The teacher explained that women are the same as men and they have all the same rights. One kid raised his hand and (in Kindergarden Cop style) explained that women are different from men because they have vaginas. (See, this stuff doesn't just happen in the movies.) 

And then there is just what I overhear:

1. A girl in the third grade explained to her classmate (in Spanish) that:
- It is a shame that Melissa can't speak Spanish. She can understand basic things like how old you are, but if I say that I'm going to Mercadona to buy tomatoes, she can't understand me.
- It is a shame because I need tomatoes. (Since I said this in English, she just stared at me.)

2. It was around 11:30- time for a snack. One of the second graders was inspecting the sandwich he had. He looked inside, closed it and then looked at his friend and said:
    -Mi madre es una diosa. (My mother is a goddess.)

Act like a vampire, dress like a pirate.

Every Thursday at around 5 PM (Spain Peninsular time), I breathe a sigh of relief. I have made it through four days of classes at the elementary school, three hours of class with the Catholic school kids and several hours of private lessons. I have managed to run before class, get myself to countless buses on time and find available bicis to get me to those buses and back home. I, like many language assistants in this town, have made it through another week. And then on Thursdays, just a little past 'around five' I remember that the next three days are full of nothing. Nothing to get up for, no buses to catch and no need for a watch. My three-day weekends are the complete antithesis of my four-day work weeks. And the breath after that sigh of relief is a shallow gasp of air caused by the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. There is nothing more terrifying than having absolutely nothing to do (idle hands = devil's workshop).

Luckily, Spain always comes up with something. Take two weekends ago, for example. Friday started off as it usually does; I got up at 10, went running, made lunch, etc. My eye was sort of bothering me, but I thought it was just from swimming the day before. Maybe my goggles let in too much chlorinated water. But on Saturday it was clear that that was not the case. My eyelid was swollen, the white of my eye was more of a shade of pink and I have never felt such an aversion to daylight. Oh, how wonderful it must be to be a pirate and get to shield your eye from that burning ball of fire in the sky. Why had I never noticed how bright it was before?

It was pretty clear that this problem needed to be addressed as soon as possible. Since it was October 29th, I probably could have gotten away with dressing like a pirate for a few days, but I ran the risk of a few days turning into many years if I didn't get my eye looked at ASAP (after I went running).

Since it was Saturday, all of the medical clinics were closed. I would have to go to 'urgencias'. Unfortunately, I didn't have my insurance card yet. We (the language assistants) were told that if we had a problem before we got the cards, we should just go to a certain hospital and tell them that we were a language assistant and didn't have our insurance card yet and they'd just let you in. From what I heard, this was not the case. You needed your card number, at least. So I e-mailed/called all of the contacts I could find: the two people at the language assistant office, the emergency contact, my school bilingual coordinator, etc. No one answered. It was the weekend, after all. A long holiday weekend, to be exact. I posted a comment on the language assistant Facebook page, asking if anyone knew what to do. I also called some past students from the language school last year asking them what to do. They urged me to go to the public clinic and get treated. They said that that clinic had to help everyone, whether or not they had insurance.

So I went and explained my situation. I got on the waiting list and sat in one of the waiting rooms. It looked like most people had been there awhile. As I sat I started feeling like I was in the wrong place. At our language assistant meeting they had told us to go to the private hospital, because we had private insurance. Since I didn't have the private insurance number I was hesitant to go, but as I sat in the waiting room dreaming of the times when I didn't mind sitting in a room with the lights on, I thought maybe it was worth a try to go to the private hospital. I spoke to the lady at the reception desk again. She told me I could leave, but I had to tell the nurses. So I went to the nurses and I told them I was leaving. 'Just go,' they said. You don't need to tell us, '¡vete!' So I went. I told my No-Insurance-Card story to the other hospital. They told me they couldn't help me without my insurance card number. I pleaded with them. I told them we were told to come to that hospital and tell them we were language assistants and they would help us. They made some phone calls, talked to some people in the clinic and somehow, I got in!


About 20 minutes later I was called in to see the doctor. He asked me some questions, looked at my eye, told me there was a piece of plastic in it, took it out, prescribed an antibiotic and sent me on my way. I felt like a new woman. I couldn't help but notice how nice it was to have the sun shining on my face so late in October. I went to the pharmacy, got the antibiotics and went on with the rest of my 'nothing' days.


Then, the following Thursday, at around 2 PM I got a call from the first hospital telling me their records showed I was there from 4 PM to 11 PM and they needed my insurance number to process the visit appropriately. I tried to explain the situation, but was told that the records did not reflect my account of the happenings of that day so I would need to come into the hospital and fill out a request for a copy of the doctor's notes for my visit. The notes that would surely not exist because I didn't see a doctor at that hospital.

But there way no getting out of following this protocol. So the next day (my 'nothing Friday') I headed to the hospital (again) to fill out the form. To make a long story slightly shorter, I'll just tell you that I filled out the form, talked to several people (at least four of whom I heard explain that I didn't speak Spanish well), including one doctor who was convinced I needed an English translator. And while he was explaining to this supposed English speaker what I needed know, I got really annoyed and interrupted. I told him that I understood the situation and rephrased, in my own non-Spanish speaking words, what it was he wanted the translator to tell me. Luckily, whatever I managed to say convinced the doctor that I did, in fact, understand and he released the translator. It wasn't that I didn't understand it was that I didn't feel the need to waste anymore of my time (or anyone else's) on a situation that was clearly going to lead to a dead end. There were going to be no doctor's notes because no doctor saw me. So I kept asking questions, trying to get the situation solved that day (and got in a little extra Spanish conversation practice). Although I had the slip from the other hospital with the date and time on it, I was told that it didn't prove anything. They didn't even want to look at it. My alibi did not hold up in this court of law. The doctor's report of the other hospital was irrelevant to the case. That was a completely different hospital and anything that I did there had nothing to do with what happened here.

I simply had to go through the regular procedure to fix this issue. The next step was to wait for the call telling me they received the doctor's notes from my visit at this hospital. I would need to come back to the hospital and pick them up and take them to the insurance department (down the hall) so they could process the claim. (It was not possible to have them sent there as it was a different department. I had to come in person.) And in the case that there are no doctor's notes because I wasn't seen by a doctor at this hospital? I was told I still had to come in and pick up a paper that said there was nothing in my file. And so I went home and waited for the call.


The following Thursday I got the call. They said that the situation had been resolved. The End. Kind of a surprise ending, huh?


As far as teaching stories go, the best one I have happened in the after-school English class. Two students went a little out of control with a black marker when coloring their worksheet so they wanted to start over with a new sheet. I told them I didn't have any more copies, that they would have to work with the one they had. I attempted to fix the mistake they had made. But they were not satisfied. They wanted to have a prettier picture. They begged me to let them go and make a copy. I told them if they could ask me in correct English, I would let them go to the office and make a copy. So they asked the wise third-grader how to say 'May I make a photocopy?' in English. I'm not sure what he told them to say but what they said to me was neither English nor Spanish. I could make out no words. They tried again, but to no avail. Just when I thought they had given up, they called me over to their desks. They showed me a bracelet (made out of pop-tops and ribbon) and asked me if I liked it. I said, 'Yes, it's beautiful.' They told me I could have it if I let them make a photocopy. I tried it on and said that it was too small. They insisted it was a perfect fit, but I was not sold. They begged me to reconsider, but I didn't cave. And so they worked with the worksheets they had.


And for those of you who don't have Facebook:


- I was walking into school one morning and I heard a little girl explain to her mother that I was the language assistant at the school this year. 'Ella es inglesa-americana.' (She is (British) English-American.)


- In one of my private classes I had the students listen to a song. 'It's by the Beatles,' I said. They stared at me blankly. 'The Beatles? George, Paul, John, Ringo? The band from the 60's? No?' They assured me they had never heard of such a group.


Lastly, I recently found some great trails/areas to run in Sevilla. They are .75 and 1.5 miles from home. The closest one, the Charco de la Pava, is usually pretty empty, except for a few people biking around it and the soccer games going on in the center of it.

Why did the chicken cross the road? To get to Charco de la Pava.

Charco de la Pava- 2 miles around.

The other trail goes on for 4 miles in one direction and I don't know how far (yet) in the other direction. So far I've encountered a few other runners, walkers, cyclists, fisherman, horses and one car on this trail.

Ignore the brown water. Look for the trail.

 The Plans for the trail. 

Kind of a boring blog ending, huh?

Smoking cigarettes and watching Captain Kangaroo

Two and a half weeks ago I arrived in Spain. I took the airport bus to the (good ol') Prado bus stop where my friend and new roommate, Megan, was waiting to assist me in transporting my things to our new home on the other side of the Guadalquivir river. One metro ride, three tenths of a mile walk and four flights of stairs (no elevator) later, we were home. After unpacking for a few minutes, I accompanied Megan to Alcalá (de Guadaíra) where she was going to class and I was going to run. I made it six miles with heat and sun and jetlag and then I headed back to Sevilla, where I tried to sleep, but failed. So I unpacked and tried to convince myself that I had really had gone home for the summer and was now back in Spain. And I had a lot to do now that I was here.

First on the list: get necessary documents together for renewing my Spanish identity card. The necessary documents included a copy of every page of my passport, so I went to a copistería (=Kinko's, but just a type of store, not a chain, not corporate and there are actually more of them than Kinko's. Also, you can't make your own copies; it's full service). I was the first in line, but when I told the copy guy that I needed a copy of every page of my passport he said I was going to have to wait while he tended to the other two people in the store. He answered his cell phone, flirted with the one girl, helped the other woman and eventually got around to making my copies for me. For whatever reason he charged me only 60 cents. I'm going to tell all my friends that need copies of every page in their passport to go there.

Next, I had to hand in those photocopies to the correct extranjero office. It took maybe thirty seconds to hand them in. It will take approximately three months before I have to go in for appointment number two and then who knows how long before I actually receive my card. I'll keep you posted.

Third on the list was buying random things like sheets for my bed, weights ('cause I need big muscles to intimidate the small children) and groceries. I also wanted to sign up for Spanish classes, get a gym membership (for when it is rainy and when I want to swim), get a library card and sign up for two races (A FREE night race in Sevilla and the 10K(ish) race in Alcalá (that I ran last year). I was not able to sign up for Spanish classes again because I was not able to register within the registration period. No, online registration was not an option. You had to travel to the registration office, take a number and wait. The two times I went they were out of numbers (aka they only serve x number per day and that number was already there waiting). The third time I went was the day after registration was closed and I asked if I could register anyway (since I registered late last semester) but I was told I would have to wait until February. Actually it was more like:
"Registration was open in the beginning of September. Where have you been?"
"The US"
"Well, that's not our problem."

The gym search continues because I don't want to pay $100 (I did the conversion for you) every month to use the gym when I know perfectly well I won't go that often nor do I have that kind of money. Getting a library card might have been one of the easiest things on my to-do list. I went in, filled out a form, waited until someone felt like helping me and they entered my information into the computer and handed me a card. And I had only slight problems signing up for the races: I got lost going to register for the night one, but eventually found the Olympic Stadium where registration was taking place. Make all the jokes you want about how an Olympic Stadium must be hard to find but I insist that it was. You don't know....you weren't there! (As in the Friends episode after the one where Monica get stung by a jellyfish). Registering for the Alcalá race was no problem. I have experience with that.

The bank payment step in the Alcalá race registration.

The last thing I did was sign up for a Sevici card. It's the card that lets you rent bikes around the city to get you places faster. I signed up online, paid the yearly 25€ fee with my credit card and waited for my card to show up in the mail.

The Sevici card came in the mail just a few days later. I saw it in the mailbox as I was leaving for the night race. I decided to try it out right away. The race started at 10 PM and it was an 11.9 KM (~7.4 miles) race, which meant I would probably finish a little after 11 and would have just a few minutes to make it to the bus stop and catch the last bus of the night by 11:20. If I missed the bus my options were walking home, finding and then paying for a taxi or biking home. I thought biking sounded like my best bet. So I grabbed a bike and headed off to the start line. I wasn't exactly sure where I was going or where I could leave the bike, but I thought I could figure it out. I made it to the race area and found a place to park the bike, but since it was my first experience with returning a bike, I was having a hard time getting it back into the bike holder. I asked a fellow bike parker to help me, but he couldn't get it to go in either. So I asked the policeman that was nearby and he tried to give me instructions on how to do it. After a few tries it clicked in. Now the thing about the bikes is that after you pay your yearly subscription, you can ride them anywhere for free for the first half hour. After that you have to pay a small fee. Well, because I didn't know where I was going and had trouble parking it, I ended up using the bike for 40 minutes. That was 10 minutes over the free limit, so a 50¢ charge was placed on my account. Before I could use another bike I had to pay the 50 cents. Although I signed up with a credit card, they wouldn't just charge it. I had to have the card with me and pay at the machine/bike station or pay online. Since I was running a race, I didn't have a credit card on me. This left my options for getting home to walking or getting on that last bus.

The race had 23,000+ participants so we running like packed sardines the whole time. If you can even say we were running. My 10:00/mile pace was not my normal racing pace. It got me to the finish line behind schedule. I had no chance to take the bus. And so, because I could and because I had to, I ran the 3 miles back home. And the first thing I did when I got home was to pay the 50¢ charge (plus a little extra in case it happens again, I'll be covered).

On Sunday morning Megan, Katerina and I went to Cádiz to spend a day at the beach. The bus from Sevilla was a little sketchy as the transmission seemed to be on the fritz. You could tell because it lurched into the parking space at the bus station. There were discussions between the driver and another worker and we ultimately did leave in the lurching bus but we only went as far as the other bus station on the other side of Sevilla, where there was a fully functioning bus waiting to take us all the way to Cádiz. The beach in Cádiz was pretty windy and sand was blowing everywhere but we found an abandoned, beached boat to shield us from the sand tornado and enjoyed a few hours of sun.

School started on Monday. I was placed in an elementary school in Alcalá del Río, a pueblo 30 minutes north of Sevilla (by car. By bus- an hour). I'll be working with kids ages 4 to 12, but mostly the younger kids because I'm really good at singing songs like 'One little, two little, three little _______ (fill in your noun here. The kids said 'elephant', but I don't)'. The teachers seem really nice, even the ones that aren't part of the bilingual program. They've been trying out their English on me and telling asking me questions about the sports teams in the US. The 4th and 6th graders asked me questions about my favorite things like, what's your favorite color, food, sport, piece of clothing, etc. I was also asked (in Spanish) several times if I spoke Spanish to which I replied 'No.' It's not a lie. I really don't speak that much Spanish. But several of the quick ones could tell by my eyes that I understood what they were saying, for the most part. Among my favorite questions were: How old are you? (To which I answered 84 and they pondered it for awhile.), Where is your favorite restaurant to eat hamburgers, McDonald's or Burger King? (To which I had to answer that I didn't eat hamburgers.), Do you like football? (I had to clarify if he meant soccer or NFL football. It didn't occur to me at the time that the answer was the same either way.) and my favorite, Will you speak to us in American?

My first impression of the classes is that the students are so loud and never shut up and that it is a miracle that they learn anything at all. At one point I was so overwhelmed with all the talking and the volume of this talking that I just stopped and stared, lost and mystified. One of the students asked why I wasn't answering any questions. The teacher answered that they were too loud and all talking at once so I couldn't hear anything or speak. Spaniards are highly skilled in conversations like this. I've seen it in action before. Everyone will talk at once yet somehow they still hear each other and carry on coherent conversations without ever having a moment of silence. It's amazing, but it takes practice to master a skill like that. Apparently school is a great place to acquire this skill. I hope I can improve in the next 8 months.

My other job is in Alcalá de Guadaíra on Tuesdays and Thursdays from 3:30-5. I'm teaching English in an after school program to kids in 1st through 3rd grade. It's an hour and a half class after their regular school day. Needless to say, it's going to be a challenge. The students are getting a strong grasp on what 'Be quiet, please', 'Sit down' and 'No, you can't go to the bathroom, you just went to the bathroom' mean. On the first day one little boy drew all over a desk (in pencil, luckily), two kids made paper airplanes, two girls glued two erasers to a ruler and danced around the room and one told me he was bored. The second day I had 30 kids because the other teacher was gone. When a student brought up a worksheet a fellow classmate had scribbled all over and informed me that he wasn't doing his work I said, 'I don't care. If he doesn't want to learn English, it's not my problem.' As long as he was scribbling on the paper and not on the desk this time, I was happy. This job is definitely out of my comfort zone, challenging, and exhausting but that's why I think it might be good for me.

In the rest of my free time I want to take on more private lessons. I am searching for adults to teach because I may go on child English lesson overload.

The last big event of the past two weeks was the race in Alcalá (El Naranjo).

Me in the El Naranjo race last year.

I took a bike to the bus stop at 7 AM on Saturday, rode the bus to Alcalá, walked the 1.5 miles to the start line and discovered that I was mistaken about the day of the race. I went running in Alcalá anyway, took the bus home and did it all over again on Sunday morning. This time there really was a race. And, as expected, I came back to Sevilla with a sack of onions, a sack of potatoes, an orange, two apples, a t-shirt, a granola bar, a sports drink and a can of Coca-Cola Light. Totally worth the 6€ and two trips to Alcalá for all that. Also, I asked the bartender ('cause of course there is a bar at the race) if there were any extra race posters that I could have. He took the one off the wall, removed the tape, rolled it up, wrapped a napkin around it to protect it, taped the napkin on with the old tape and handed it to me. Wasn't that nice? Finally, Megan and I have something to hang on our bare walls. And we can count more than just the flowers on the wall (which doesn't bother me at all).

The poster, all wrapped up by the Spanish bartender.

This year's El Naranjo t-shirt.

The CliffsNotes version is always better than the actual book.

It just occurred to me that I have neglected to include copious amounts of information in this blog. I never wrote about the Feria in Sevilla or Alcalá, my last days in Spain, how I came back and how I am currently writing this from my piso in Sevilla. It sounds like a daunting task right now (much like my scrapbook from my 2001 study abroad trip has been for the past decade. I'll finish it one of these days though.) Consider this the CliffsNotes version of Spain May 2011- September 2011.

So, back in May I was walking out of school one day and by chance got invited to the Feria de Sevilla by one of my students, who had a casesta. (You go to feria to eat, drink, dance and possibly dress in a gypsy dress or suit). Here are the photos:

At the portada with students and an author (Chris Stewart).

The Portada

Inside the caseta

Some of the food: tortilla española, anchovies,
jamón ibérico & some other fish.

Part of the menu

Rebujito (Manzanilla with Sprite)

The Feria by day

I also went to the Feria in Alcalá (in June). I had a dress but will not be publishing any of the photos. A student was nice enough to lend me said dress but I felt uncomfortable and out of place in its shoulder pads and turquoise with white polka dot print. It crossed my mind that maybe the students had a dare as to whether or not I would actually wear it. Well, I did. And if I wear one again next year, it will be one that I purchase myself.

Clarisse and little Macarena

The Portada in Alcalá.

Then I spent a few more weeks in Spain hanging out, waiting to take my Spanish test on the 27th and feeling lucky I was getting out before it got any hotter.

The weather forcast for the week I left.

We may or may not have been on bottle #2, but it
was definitely before the bar.

Saying goodbye to Shaelyn the night before I left.

The morning I left I pulled my two big suitcases and two travel bags a couple blocks to the spot where there were always taxis waiting.

 Please proceed to the taxi at the front of the chain o' taxis.

I was having trouble maneuvering the bags and just as I got to the crosswalk that would lead me up to the taxi, my bag piling system fell apart and the bags toppled over and onto the street. The taxi drivers, who were standing outside their cars talking, didn't move. I picked them up, repositioned them, crossed the street and greeted the drivers. I don't remember exactly what I said first, but I know the driver asked me where I was going. Although an answer like 'to the prom' crossed my mind, I was choking back tears and could barely produce the word 'aeropuerto' so I kept the sarcasm to myself. (Besides I have no idea how to say 'prom' in Spanish). I was ready to go home, but that didn't make it easy to leave.

My flight took me from Sevilla to Lisbon, where I had a one hour lay-over. It just so happened that our plane arrived in Lisbon on hour late. As a result I, along with other passengers on a slightly later flight to NY, was escorted to the customs line before the rest of the plane (we didn't get to go through the line any faster, but we got to the line faster). Then I literally RAN through the terminal (with my two travel bags) to the gate that was at the very far end of the terminal. I was running and carrying a backpack and another bag that together probably weighed 50 pounds (or at least seemed like it) and the flight attendant was standing at the gate, flagging me in and saying 'Hurry!'. I'm not sure what it was about my actions that led her to believe I was not taking the fact that my flight to the US was leaving NOW seriously, but I once again kept my sarcastic comments to myself, knowing they wouldn't increase my chances of having the plane wait for me. I got on the plane and found my seat just before they shut the cabin door. Upon arrival in NJ I discovered that one of my suitcases had not made the plane (but miraculously the other one did). Then I left security, got my ticket to Milwaukee, got soft serve ice cream, went through security again and waited for the flight to board.

Once I got home I felt like I never left, except that I had missed out on the births and growing of many friends' children and one nephew, to all of whom photos and e-mails just don't do justice. I was glad to be home and happy to see everyone in person. Man, I missed you guys. I appreciated the reminder of the people that are always behind me. I am a lucky girl.

(These are just SOME of the people. The rest of you somehow escaped the camera.)

But absence makes the heart grow fonder so you'll find me once again in Spain. And you'll find a diversion from work at this website again. (Although I'm pretty sure that viewing my website still counts as a work-related task if you work at CB.)