On Our Way

Well, we said goodbye to our host families today and headed off at 6:35am. We got to Malaga by use of GoogleEarth's helpful pictures, and got tickets on the AVE (a super fast train) to Madrid. The trip was long and we saw mountains and olive trees fly past in a blur. When the sun came up there was a beautiful sunrise on the mountains. We paused in Cordoba, and then came into Madrid around 10:40am. We went and got in line to buy tickets for a sleeper train, but it was full. Instead we got tickets that will allow us to take a train to Barcelona at 11:45 tomorrow morning.
We took a metro and bus to a suburb called Saint Augustine and wandered around for a few hours trying to find Rachel's brother-in-law's uncle's house. :D
Elizabeth, Suzanne and I finally sat down in a park while Dan and Rachel went and found a cybercafe to look up their number. Then we called the Eichelman's and Mrs. Eichelman picked us up at the bus stop. We found out that this town is very different from other parts of Spain because of the vast urbanizaiton. It helps the missionaries fit in because people aren't well established (with generations living int he same house). The family was very kinda nd generous, adpoting us into their home for the night and sharing two meals with us. They are also going out of their way to make some conections for us with Mennonite Your Way in the cities where we are traveling to so that we can save money on hostels and be able to live with some of our brothers and sisters.
If you are reading this, please pray for team unity, as we have been having some problems with personality clashes. We are sorting it out, but we always appreciate your prayers and God's help.
Dios vos bendiga.
Mark

Modern Málaga and some Old Stuff

This past Saturday (our last in this town) Eliel invited us and the Allensville group to tour some of the places in Málaga which we hadn't seen yet. First we went and saw the Málaga Picasso Museum which had a number of great Picasso works and pictures of him as an old man. Then we went to the Picasso homestead museum which had pictures of Picasso as a little boy—the little boy pictures were much nicer than the old ones. In the end, most of us declared that when Picasso was painting clothed people he was a pretty cool painter. Not all of us admitted this, but I´m sure everyone was thinking it in their heart of hearts.
Later that day we went and visited the Agricultural and Cultural Museum of Málaga. Mainly it was really old things all displayed very nicely. It was pretty awesome, I thought. There was even a chicken egg incubator made by the Buckeye company of Springfield, OH. Go Bucks! Anyway, moment of state pride there. The Allensville folks seemed to like this museum better than the Picasso ones because a number of them are farmers or mechanics or construction people and they enjoyed seeing the differences and similarities between the tools they use and the ones used back in the day in Málaga.
Later on we had some free time and a few of us went and saw the Málaga Cathedral which is a rather interesting building because it was built to have two steeples in the front but one was not finished. Interestingly enough, and here´s the interesting part, the steeple was not finished because the Spanish government decided to take the money and send it to the United States to fund the revolutionary war.
Anyway, the United States had an impact even here and today we´re continuing that impact, just in a slightly less violent and disruptive way.
- Daniel

There are some more "estadounidenses" (USAers) here. A group from Pennsylvania has dropped in to help finish building the church. It is a very large building, but the 2nd and 3rd floors haven't been done. There is nothing on the floor, or walls- just cement, and there are also some rooms on the main floor that are the same.
Today there were more Americans in the church than there have probably ever been. Six American students, two American professors, two American missionaries (with their two children), and the group of twelve Mennonites from Allensville Mennonite Church.
We're about to have some paella for lunch so I have to run, but I'll get another video uploaded for you while I'm eating the delicious rice, shrimp, chicken, and calamari. :D
Mark



Ok, so the movie didn't upload so I restarted it and now it is done, as is the meal. I just finished my desert about 15 minutes ago- at 4:35pm (that is desert from lunch). Just to give you and idea about the different mealtimes here in Spain. And I probably won't eat supper until 10-11pm. Pues, espero Dios vos bendiga, y que vuestros tieneis un dia divertido. :D

One of the most significantly contrasting factors about our "lives" here in España as opposed to those in the EEUU, is our daily struggle to communicate. While I can assure you that every single one of us is significantly improving in our Spanish vocabulary and pronunciation, we still have a long way to go before we are truely comfortable with it. We devote two hours daily to studying the (very complicated) grammar and some vocabulary. Rosa, our teacher, is extremely energetic (and almost 9 months pregnant!!), and also very "typical Spanish" in her attitudes about time and the importance of relationships. We end up talking and telling stories for at least the first half hour of class before we actually "start." She lived in Miami for 2 years, and has a fairly good grasp of English. Every now and then we have trouble trying to understand some of the more complicated rules of grammar because we are so used to the English grammar terms, and she soely uses the Spanish terms.

Most of our language learning, though, comes from outside the classroom. From the checkout process at a store to trying (unsuccessfully) to get the bus to stop at the right place, we are perpetually gaining vocabulary! We read everything -- political posters, advertisements, graffiti -- and try to identify words or figure them out from the context. We´ve even started a game of sorts, where any one of us can indiscriminately give out an unidentified number of points, stars, credits, kudos, thumbs up, etc. to any person in our group that correctly identifies or translates a word/phrase first. So, it´s not the most sophisticated game, but it keeps us entertained.

As we are learning, everything comes "poco a poco," little by little. Last week, I felt so accomplished to have a conversation with someone at the bus stop! (okay, so it doesn´t really count as a conversation if she asked what time the bus typically comes, and I responded with one sentence, but still! i knew what she asked!) This week, I told my host parents about our time in Morocoo and they understood me. Next week, I´ll be giving dissertations on the key concepts of metaphysics at the university in Córdoba. (okay, maybe not.)

A frustration for me right now is that I want to be able to talk at an adult level, but am still babytalking my way through life. I have the vocabulary of a 3 or 4 year old, and the grammatical prowess of a first grader, but my mind is still thinking like it always does! Now I know what it would feel like to be a child genius :)

Here are a few funny mistakes or, what I choose to call "alternative linguistic choices" that have been said in this learning process:

Estamos bicicletas. - Morgan
We are bikes.

Cuantos años tiene tu abuelo? - Rosa
How old is your grandpa?
El tiene setenta y Dios. - Rachel
He is 70 and God.

(Las ventanas abrierto o cerrado?) Are the windows opened or closed? - Rosa
(Si.) Yes. - Morgan

(Como se llama tu abuelo?) What's your grandpa's name?" - Rosa
"Rosemary." -Morgan

(Nosotros somos mujeres.) We are women. - Mark

Even though there are still many times when we have no idea what is being said, we take encouragement that the times when we DO know are becoming more and more frequent!

- Elizabeth (para todos)

A Trip to Morocco

The trip began at 10.00, Friday morning with all of us piling into the Yamaha Popular Music School minibus—which is owned by a fellow from the church—for the hour and a half drive to the port of Algeciras (near Tarifa for those who like surfing). The hour-long ferry ride was really not very bad, although we weren't allowed outside, which was a bit of a bummer. The day was a bit chilly and misty so we didn´t actually get to see Morocco until we were just about to land in Tanger.

Morocco is a land of dust, street-peddlers, poverty, culture, colour, and action. For Morgan, this was his first visit to a third-world country—or developing nation, if you prefer—and one of his first comments was that he felt out of place. In a way, we were all out of place, especially when compared to how at home we had come to feel in Spain during our few short weeks there. For [Mark]—who tried to look on the bright side by finding a cool mountain and palm tree—the experience was not entirely enjoyable.
[Mark]'s difficulties began within a few hours of our arrival, after we were settled into Hotel Solazur, and we sat down on a short wall overlooking the beach and began to enjoy our hard-won spoils, namely, cool Moroccan bread, a little tub of Nutella—ah... delicious... did you know that Hasselnuss is German for Hazelnut? I did—and some Laughing Cow Cheese—you should all try it, it is spectacular, especially with saltine crackers. No sooner had we sat when a man who had introduced himself to us earlier that day as Muhommad came and began to discuss our names, intentions in Morocco, country of origin, and other platitudes with us. He offered to show us the way to the Souk and Medina or anything else we wanted to see. We politely refused. Soon thereafter, a man arrive peddling a small leathern wallet for only one Euro! One Euro! Well, [Mark] took the deal, but no sooner had the man exchanged the wallet for the one Euro coin than the man claimed it would be better for [Mark] to pay in smaller coins but, searching through [Mark]´s handful of change, could find no better option and eventually handed back the Euro and, taking his wallet and one or two of [Mark]´s coins, walked off.

Not the best introduction for poor [Mark] and when Muhommad returned soon thereafter and asked us for a donation for helping us around town and [Mark] was guilted into giving him the Euro... well... that pretty well cemented his opinion of the majority of Moroccan people. Others of us were dealing with other things, however, in the form of the scrutiny of many pairs of eyes.

For the guys, we all shared the impression that we were being looked at suspiciously in not an entirely friendly manner. In Spain we blend in somewhat—some of us more than others—but in Morocco there's no hiding the fact that we're foreigners. For the girls it was different, they received so many leering stares that even us guys, who are often oblivious to the responses of other guys, noticed. The culture is rather apparently chauvinist and while, knowing so little of the culture I cannot pass judgment, women seemed itemised.

Religion was obviously a large part of life in Morocco and, as opposed to Spain—a rather secularised nation—, seemed to have a direct, daily effect on people's lives. Five times a day—including at 05.45—the call to prayer blared from loudspeakers mounted on Minarets. Some of us did not, at that moment, quite agree with the sentiment that "it is better to pray than to sleep," although in saner moments we wholeheartedly agree. However, we did meet a few nominal Muslims and a few strict Muslims and a few Spanish Catholics—including some Sisters of Mercy, Mother Theresa's order—and a few people who work in Granada and knew Kevin and Wendy—please hum "It's a Small World" quietly to yourself. Overall, a great experience.

Anyway, those are just a few of my observations and experiences. The sum is much to much for one post, but I may write a few stories later. Pictures say more, though, than my unskilled scripture so we'll try to get some up pretty soon.
- Daniel

Morocco

Well, the group is heading off to Morocco in about 2 minutes, just thought I'd quickly ask that 'll pray for us. Our host families have been warning us for the past 2 weeks- don't drink the water, say no to monkeys and beware the Moroccans with long fingers.
We'll be visitng Wendy and Carmen, two Rosedale alumni from last year, and hopefully be coming back on Sunday evening to reassure our anxious host families.
¡Bendigas a todos!
Mark

Odds and Ends

I´m actually writing on this thing! It´s amazing considering I have been trying to write on this thing for the past couple of days. So yes. We fineshed with our work for the day around an hour ago. We had our snack and now we are on the computers emailing and chating with home. Ahhh...so nice.

Work has been going well. Although there are some times that it does get intersting. Like the time I got hit in the face...yeppers. I have learned never give a big stick to Daniel. Oh, you want the story? Ok. Well Rachel and Daniel had cut down a lot of sticks (you might call them bamboo...and they had the tendency to be around 10 or more feet tall) the day before and we were cleaning it up the next day. So there I was, minding my own business and doing what I was suppose to do. Cleaning up the sticks! And out of no where...BAM, smack, and boom! A stick right across my nose. There a couple of feet away was Daniel, holding the stick that make all that lovely noice. With my nose pounding, I reached up there to feel it and to see if I could feel the damage. And what do you know? Yeppers, it was bleeding. Not quite gushing...well not really gushing at all but there was blood. There I am with tears in my eyes and blood coming out of the top of my nose, not sure what to do. I finally get the bright idea to go and look in a mirror and see the damage. Well to make a long story short, my nose was turning black and blue but luckally I was able to put ice on it and that stopped the swelling and the lovely colors. My nose has been healing nicely. And that is basically the story of the stick across my nose. Although I have to say that Daniel would probably tell the story different, saying it wasn´t all his fault. He would tag Elizabeth with some of the fault since the stick first got stuck on her and then hit me. But I will leave you to deceide who´s fault it is and I will leave you with that! Well leave this section of the post that is.

I also wanted to talk a little about the food that we have over here. Some of it´s the same as in the U.S. but most of it is different. I have to say the weirdest thing I have eaten is probably some pepers. What´s weird about pepers right? Well green and red peppers that are cooked and then chilled are quite interesting. They wouldn´t have been that bad if they had been warm but cold peppers are a little hard to down. :) But basically the food over here is wonderful! We have had pizza, chicken, ham, pasta, salads, soups, eggs, wonderful bread, and a ton of other things. They make wonderful sandwhiches over here! But one of the best thing is the fresh fruit that they have. Kiwi, bananas, apples, pears, strawberries, and many more. The jucie over here is also wonderful. Zuma de piña y uva is probably my favorite of all. Pineapple and grape. Yummy! Although they have a wonderful drink that is basically liquid yogurt! Although when our host dad tried to say liquid...he says leaky. Which is alway fun to hear. It´s a big joke now at our house. Leaky yogurt! Yummy!

Well I do believe I will leave you with that.
Blessings,
Suzanne