The half-life of awe

Our family went to Zion National Park in Southern Utah this summer, and as we approached those stunning, red striped mountains and then drove through what felt like another planet, our mouths were literally gaping open and I could hardly breathe. Two days later, after having seen those mountains continuously and hiking down the river bed of the equally gasp-inducing Zion Narrows, we were waiting for a bus with those same mountains as our backdrop, and I realized that we scarcely noticed them anymore. I guess this is the downside of our essential human ability to adapt to new surroundings - we can't walk around feeling every beautiful ray of sunshine on our arms or writing poetry about every leaf or screeching to a halt at the miracle of each bird - a LIVING THING!! Look, a perfect, flying LIVING THING!! But isn't it a shame that when you see something enough you just don't notice it anymore? I decided to call that phenomenon "the half-life of awe" - the time it takes for that spirit-sparkling "I am ecstatic to be alive and experiencing this" feeling to decay. Unfortunately, like the half-life of radioactive materials, our awe seems to drop exponentially. Each time we experience it again we just get used to it. 

One of my favorite quotes comes from Thornton Wilder's play, Our Town:

“EMILY: "Does anyone ever realize life while they live it...every, every minute?"

STAGE MANAGER: "No. Saints and poets maybe...they do some.” 

So because I would like to be both more Saint and more Poet, I am fighting the decay of awe and slowing down its half-life by reminding myself to be awake and aware of more minutes of my day. Especially my husband's and children's faces and voices, but also the buildings I see as I walk around, which yes, I am sad to say, I am just getting accustomed to. 

Here's to living life in a perpetual state of wonder! And here are some things I saw as I walked around the city yesterday.

Notice the Christian tower on top of the Islamic arch. There's a blog post simmering in my head about that. Also note the woman in the lower right corner reaching out to me with a sprig of Rosemary in her hand. They are Roma (Gypsy) fortune tellers, and they're everywhere around here! They hand you the sprig, then if you take it they tell your fortune, and then want money.

At Lindsay's Flamenco class last night, her teacher (in the front) cornered me and told me Lindsay has a real gift for Flamenco - she was heartbroken to hear that we are leaving at Christmas and that Lindsay can't continue in the States.

And when we woke up this morning, it was pouring rain!! Like Northern California pouring. It felt like home and was such an adventure to walk to school! We took pictures of all of us in our rain ponchos which I bought for a Euro apiece at a Dollar Store (they call them "Chino Stores" here because they're always run by Chinese families), but they're on Erik's camera. I'll add them when he gets home. 

Part of that white building is our house - ours is the part that has those four rounded windows at the top (we have all three floors, plus the roof-top terrace!) It's huge inside, but Spain's economy is struggling right now (and we are used to Bay Area prices) so our rent is the same as it was for our little house in California.  Oh, and look at the middle level to the left of our rectangular window - you can see the word "Campamento' written in black on the building. They don't use street signs here - they stick lettered tiles directly onto the buildings.

I'm taking Lindsay and Lucy to meet the Clarkes in Paris tomorrow!! We'll be there through Monday - I hope to be able to upload and write as I go but we'll see how much time we have. 

Little things are teaching us big lessons

Stone and Ivan (yes, Stone is eating his shirt)

This was the highlight of my day. I pick Stone up from recess between 11:00-12:00 every day, and usually spot him kicking a ball, running around or getting a drink... but always by himself. He always says he doesn't have any friends. But today he said "Hey Mom, look, I made a friend!!" I asked what his name was and he shrugged, "I dunno. He speaks Spanish!" I asked the little boy and his name is Ivan, and Stone said these golden words, "I learned that I can have a friend even if he speaks Spanish!" A huge breakthrough. I find it interesting that of all the children in his class, it was this boy - he was born in Spain but his parents are Swiss. I wonder if it was the physical similarities that made Ivan willing to break through the language barrier and befriend the new kid, or if it was that he was used to his parents speaking a different language and so a non-Spanish speaker wasn't so weird to him (even if it was a language he didn't understand). It could just be chance that the two ended up together, but I have a feeling that Ivan's broader social framework enabled him to connect with the "other" more readily than other children with less exposure. This is one thing I'm hoping that my children will gain from this experience abroad. That their hearts will be expanded to feel empathy for a much larger spectrum of God's children than they would had they had less exposure to other ways of looking, speaking, living.

I was putting laundry away in Stone's room and looked to see him hanging out here. Does anyone know of a career where you get paid to climb stuff? This kid just can't stay on the ground!

Other events today:

Lucy went back to Ballet after having observed it on Thursday, and she had a FANTASTIC experience!! It was a great level for her and I was touched by her willingness to adapt to her teacher's different way of relating, and also by her teacher's willingness to see the best in Lucy and soften her approach to her (no clapping this time). The developed quite a lovely rapport today, and I learned a couple of valuable lessons.

1. In response to my blog post about Lucy giving her mean teacher another try, my wise friend Christie emailed,

"Through multiple opportunities I learned to value the mean teacher (I probably am one as well:) and found them to be extremely loyal, authentic and useful. My first mean teacher (6th grade) was hard for me, the second (high school) was more manageable and by college the meanest of them all ended up being one of my favorite teachers of all time.  So there is hope!"

I realized that I so value kindness and gentleness that I have very little tolerance for other approaches - and so I call "deal breaker!" too soon and miss out on other, extremely valuable characteristics. Of course there is a line at which a person's behavior becomes abusive, but overall I would say it would serve me well to develop a thicker skin and be willing to tolerate a brusque manner in order to learn different, valuable lessons. 

2. Sometimes you bump up against someone at precisely the wrong moment. This woman yelled and clapped loudly in Lucy's face, and so for Lucy, she was the yelling, clapping-in-face woman (i.e., "mean teacher.") This woman didn't know my daughter - what she saw in that moment was a girl with a look of misery on her face who burst into tears and ran out of the room suddenly. So she could have categorized her as the fragile, bad attitude girl (i.e., "poor student.") It's a good idea to suspend judgement and give people lots more chances and see them in other contexts until they become whole people in our eyes. 

3. Don't quit something until you've really given it a fair chance (and sometimes that takes a long time). Man, I was close to letting Lucy walk away from that place and never go back! And we would have missed this whole learning opportunity. This is overwhelmingly the lesson I've been learning so far in Spain - push through the pain! I have no problem doing that myself, but it's really hard for me to see my kids cry (and my kids are HUGE feelers and very dramatic expressers so it always feels like a big deal)... and force them to continue. 

And that is it for comments on Dance.

Other things from today:

Stone is doing much better in general. Sophie's spirits are now starting to sink. The kids are very nice to her and she understands a lot at school, but she says that she mostly sits quietly at school and doesn't speak much, so her goal is to talk with friends every day at recess. It's so much easier for her to sit alone and observe, or go hang out with Lindsay and Lucy. She could really use a friend! There's no one her age in the American family, and no one her age in our friend's family in Amsterdam, so it's been awhile since Sophie had a good buddy. She will be so excited to go back to America and connect with English speaking little girls her own age! She is our most social child so the loneliness is hardes on her I think (she tells me every day how homesick she is).

My evenings have been spent on Trip Advisor and cheap airline and train websites - we discovered that things get booked way ahead of time so we decided to get all our travel on the calendar and paid for right now. We have some really fun things coming up... but I underestimated how much time it takes to plan it all!! My eyeballs are shriveling from all the time on a computer screen. 

It's much cooler now and it even rained for a bit today! Highs in the 70's all week, with sprinkles. And leaves are turning yellow!

Last thing: I went for a run yesterday and Erik loaded his iPod for me with new songs. I learned again how powerful music is! Some of my favorite songs I hadn't heard in a long time, and then... from 30 Rock, Werewolf Bar Mitzvah. ("Werewolf Bar Mitvah, spooky, scary! Boys becoming men, men becoming wolves...") I laughed and laughed and thought that I take myself and my life waaaay too seriously! I need a little less analyzing, a little more Tina Fey.

Weekend at Home

Yesterday Sophie and I planned to go on a special date together to visit a beautiful church with a famous statue of Mary, and then get a special treat from a bakery.

A long bus ride to a new part of the city

When we arrived we saw the basilica swarming with Will and Kate Wedding guest impersonators, including humongous hats. Is this a thing in America too? If so I have never been so grateful that most of my siblings and friends are already married. We asked what was going on and it turns out that this chapel hosts weddings on the weekend! At first someone told us we wouldn't be able to get in and we were disappointed that we come all that way for nothing. But we were persistent and (though we felt awkward in our tee shirts and flip flops) the museum guide let us in.

This is the famous "Virgen de la Esperanza de la Macarena." The statue was carved in the 1600's and is dear to the heart of Seville. She has real human hair, elaborate, luxurious clothing (including underwear) and five crystal tear drops showing her empathy for the worries and burdens of the people praying to her.

As Sophie and I tried to walk through the chapel inconspicuously we heard sudden joyful chords  from the organ and looked back to see the back doors shutting. We were trapped in the wedding! It was so fun to slink into the back and watch the bride walk down the aisle. We stayed for a few minutes, wondering what it must feel like to be her - to be Spanish, to be Catholic, to be so connected to this place and to her family and friends in the audience. Then a side door opened and we snuck out, amazed that what at first seemed to be the worst moment to visit the cathedral turned out to be the best!

We grabbed a chocolate croissant and a chocolate donut at a bakery, but the bakery had no outdoor tables and chairs and when we tried to sit somewhere else we were asked to leave. We walked around in the heat for awhile wishing we had a bench, but suddenly saw a reason to be glad we hadn't had a chair - who gets to eat a croissant leaning against a castle?!

Last night we ordered Domino's pizza and watched a movie at home, which was surprisingly comforting. Oh! And in the middle of the night we heard this shrill, weird alarm sound in our room... which I remembered after a minute was a sound I'd heard in Thailand when we had a gecko on our wall. So we must have a reptile friend living in our room!

We arrived late to church and had to stay in the foyer... just like home!! :)

Lucy lost another molar

And one of my favorite times of day... reading Harry Potter with Lucy. She had read 1-3 quickly but lost her momentum in Book 4, so I'm reading it with her almost every night before bed. I love our simpler life here that allows us to do that. That time is so precious to me.

Bull Fighting: You love it or you hate it

While at home preparing for Spain I read a bit about the Who, What, When Where and Why about Bull Fights as I decided whether to take the family to experience that iconic part of Spanish culture.

Who: Bull Fights grew out of the ancient traditions (Phoenician and Roman) of both animal sacrifice and Man vs. Beast sporting events (think Gladiator). A few hundred years ago Spaniards began to bring a massive, razor-sharp horned, angry bull into Plazas to fight brave souls on holidays for entertainment (no bull ring or protection for the spectators), then later in the 1700's the Sport (or "Art," depending whom you ask) developed into basically the form we know today. One main "matador" with an entourage of lesser "picadores" and "banderilleros" (still dressed in traditional Andalucian costumes from the 1700's - sparkly, elegant, always pink knee socks) against one 1,000 pound bull.

What: The fight consists of three stages, announced by a bugle and accompanied by a live brass band of very traditional Spanish music. In the first stage there are several "toreros" (bull fighters) who take turns making the bull run at them by waving a cloth at it, and then running to duck behind a protective wall. This is to get to know the characteristics of the bull so they will know how best to interact with it. In the second stage, riders on horseback come out and after a series of passes, plunge a spear into the bull's shoulder muscle, which makes its head drop and significantly weakens it. (The horses are now protected by kevlar. Until 1930 the horses would almost always be killed by the bull's horns during this stage). Then other toreros come out on foot and plunge smaller, hooked spears into its shoulder muscles. In the third stage the main matador comes out with a sword to perform a series of passes with the cape and then finish off the bull.

When and Where: About 20 fights per year in Seville alone, and there are bull fights all over Spain. Bull Fights still happen in Portugal, but the bulls are not killed (like catch and release).

Why: This is the big question! When I read about it in the States I was on the fence about attending one. One one hand I thought it sounded barbaric; on the other, I wanted to get inside the mentality of Spanish culture and be open-minded enough to see whatever they have been seeing in it for ages. After talking with our American friends who had just attended one the week before (and found it fascinating enough to want to go to another one), we decided to go with them.

I prepared the kids with lots and lots of information so they would know exactly what to expect, and I was shocked that they all wanted to go. All four of them (and the Martens' kids) were transfixed the entire time, and no one seemed bothered in the least. That was really surprising and fascinating to me. Children can grow up thinking just about anything is normal (for better or worse). I was also surprised to see so many Spaniards in the audience - I had heard that it had become a tourist event, but it was a mostly Spanish crowd that had clearly grown up attending these their whole lives.

The beginning stage where the toreros attract the bull with their flags, then jump behind those white circles in the red walls for safety. I don't know if you can tell from the photo, but the bull ring is actually a very small, intimate venue.

This is the last stage - the bull has been speared in the shoulder and has those small  barbed spears sticking out of it. The matador is about to kill it with a long sword. He has to make the bull charge in order to get the sword thrust deep enough - and as it charges he has to place it in exactly the right place (and keep himself safe).

Erik's Reaction:
I've been asked to share my thoughts on the bullfight we saw today. 

I went to the bullfight with an open mind. Sure, I had questions: Is it cruel? Is it art? Is it tradition and therefore valid? Does it ennoble the hunt of life-sustaining meat for consumption? I didn't know how I would feel. Well, now I know. 

(Side note: Whoever designed the stadium must have had a race-horse jockey friend he asked for advice about seat spacing. "Hey Shorty - sit here and tell me if you have enough leg room." (Sits down.) "Yeah, plenty of room!" I've had better leg-room on quarter-operated three-foot-tall merry-go-rounds inside malls. It was painfully uncomfortable.)

Boring

I hate to burst the mystery, but here's what happens: a bunch of flamboyant guys put up a cape, the bull charges, the guy moves the cape. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Then a guy on a horse shoves a spear in his back. Then some prancing guys stick cheerleading batons in its neck. Then one last guy comes out, puts up a cape, the bull charges, the guy moves the cape. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. He puts a sword in its neck. Then more cape charging. Then they drag away the dead animal. Then they bring out another bull. Repeat. Then another bull. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeatzzzzzzzzz. By the end I would have even preferred watching NASCAR. 

Ridiculous

Pink knee-high socks. Tight outfits with gold embroidery. Hats that look like Olive Oyl's hair (the girl from Popeye). Silly stances and body contortions. It was all arbitrary and, outside of the historical value, meaningless. And I personally don't put much value on non-value-driven tradition or history (which is very little in my book). It was one of the most ridiculous things I've ever seen in person (a list which includes several elementary school plays). 

Cruel

It was straight-up mean. Tease the bull. Fool the bull. Exhaust the bull. Hurt the bull. Tease it more. Fool it more. Exhaust it more. Hurt it more. Tease. Fool. Exhaust. Hurt. Tease. Fool. Exhaust. Hurt. Then stab a huge sword down it's neck. Then tease it and fool it and exhaust it for another 30 seconds until it collapses in a quivering heap. 

So that's pretty much it: boring, ridiculous, and cruel. Oh, but it's historical? Oh, it's a grand tradition? Oh, they eat the meat? Oh, the ticket proceeds go to orphans? Oh, there is actually some skill in there that my untrained eye can't see? Oh, I guess it's not so bad after all. Then I have a really good idea. Let's invent and institute a new event which will be revered and protected in 400 years. How about... You get a bunch of really really strong bodybuilders, in a cage, all wearing nothing but oversized baby diapers, and they are each wielding long sock puppets decorated by local elementary school children, but the sock puppets have rocks in the ends of them, and now inside the cage we'll release a bunch of chickens, and they goal of the diaper-wearing bodybuilders is to hit the chickens hard enough to knock them across the cage as far as they can over and over again, without killing them. Don't worry - we'll eat the chickens. And we'll give all the ticket sales to fight cancer. And man, did you see how ornate those sock puppets were? And check out how carefully that guy wrapped his diaper. And wow did that chicken take a beating and keep on going. Olé!!

That scenario is no less ridiculous, boring, and cruel than what I saw today at bullfighting. 

(Note to anyone who enjoys it: This is just my opinion and I allow everyone to have their own. I fully accept that many people find it to be uplifting, artistic, enjoyable, traditional, and valuable.)

Amy's Reaction:

I felt mixed the entire time. Here are my thoughts:

Nicole found the atmosphere to be extremely respectful. I agreed. Whereas American sporting events feel highly commercialized and American entertainment is highly violent (movies, video games, even cartoons), I found this environment - where an actual, real death occurs - to be less violent. I appreciated the quietness of the crowd and the absence of vendors and pop music, and I could definitely feel the crowd's respect for the skill of the matador and the animal. I also thought that as a Spaniard I would find meaning in the continuation of a tradition of my ancestors, including the costumes and the music. 

I had never seen an animal be killed before, and as a meat-eater I have thought for a long time that it would be healthy for me to see where my food comes from - to appreciate the animal that died to make my hamburger. I thought that the death of these bulls was much more dignified and respectful than the slaughterhouses where most meat comes from. They live on ranches and are well taken care of before having their big moment in the ring. With that said, it's not like we're asking through the drive-through window "did this hamburger come from a bull who had a chance to die bravely?" And even if we could, though it had a happy life, the bull-fighting death was torturous and slow and felt extremely inhumane to me.

Erik and I have commented before that modern life has robbed males of some of their biological strength. While females continue to birth and nurse and care for children in basically the same way as our ancient ancestors did, males' instincts to hunt and protect lack a natural outlet in modern society, where males are largely confined to desks and computers and meetings. I was sitting next to a bull fighter in training during the fights, and he said that the magic of the Sport for him is in the psychology of dominating the majestic, powerful animal. That chance to feel something so primal and so male made him feel alive. He told me about seeing his training partner getting thrown and gashed by a bull during training, and their coach yelling to him "Tell yourself you're not afraid!! YOU are in charge. Tell yourself that he can't hurt you. YOU dominate him!!" And he said it incredible to watch his friend rise up all bloody but with different posture and a power that made the animal suddenly cower. I can see the draw in this. And it was fascinating to watch that element of the fight - there was one torero in particular who seemed to have the bull hypnotized  - he carried himself like a puffed-up, chest-beating Alpha male, and he had that bull (and all the females in the audience) wrapped around his finger. With that said, Erik made the point today that if you want to feel like an Alpha male by pitting yourself against a physical threat, go into Mixed Martial Arts. It's not a real "fight" if one contender has a horse, spears, a sword, and wall to hide behind. 

So in the end, I thought it was a fascinating experience, and I can definitely see why people (especially Spaniards) feel passionately about it. It does elicit strong feelings - it's crazy that this topic has been my longest blog post! Perhaps because it was something so different from anything we've ever experienced, so we've never processed the ethics of it. My conclusion is that the slow, painful torture of a living creature cancels any of its redeeming values, which are available in other Art forms and Sports. But I'm glad we went! 

Victory!!!

Two huge victories today:

1. Stone went in to school with a smile and a thumbs up... and came running to me when I picked him up exclaiming, "I did it!! I did it!! I didn't cry today!!" So we stopped at the store on the way home and got his bonker thing. We all had a party and Erik taught him Ninja tricks this afternoon. Stone's next goal is to participate (and not cry) tomorrow so he can buy a foam sword for Erik so they can fight together.

YAY, STONE!!!

We walk past a 2,000 year old Roman aqueduct on the way to Ballet 

2. Lucy and I re-visited the Ballet school to observe a higher-level class (the class she joined on Tuesday was far, far below her level). At first I was very put off by the teacher's manner again today - for example there was one moment where I explained that we were there to observe the class, and she just looked at me, raised an eyebrow and spun on her heel and walked away. And during the class, she was so rough with those girls! Yanking, cranking, yelling, clapping... but none of the girls seemed phased by it. She would be so harsh but then a minute later have this playful twinkle in her eye and tease them. And at several points she would push the girls really hard to master a skill and when they'd get it the whole class would cheer and she would give them a hug. The dancers really seemed to like her, and by the end of the 2 hours I could see that she was a much better teacher and a much warmer person than her brusque exterior had first suggested. So Lucy decided to go back on Tuesday and said "if she is mean I will just handle it like the other girls do." I was so proud of her. I think this will be really good for her (and for me!!) to acquire skills to deal with different - I would say difficult - personalities.

Kids' observations: Spain vs. United States

First things first: Stone did great in school today!! He cried "super hard" (in his words) when Sophie had to let go of his hand and walk to her class this morning, but he got a grip quick and didn't cry for the rest of the day. I was so relieved! I almost left him sleeping in his bed this morning - he was so tired and I literally cried when I had to wake him up (I successfully hid my tears) - but I'm glad Erik insisted that he be woken up and taken to school. Stone was so proud of himself and learned a lot of new words, and he wouldn't have had that success if I'd let him stay home. Knowing when to push and when to relax is one of the hardest parts of parenting for me - it hasn't gotten any easier since I tried doing Baby Wise 11 1/2 years ago, and would have to lie on the couch with a pillow over my head, bawling my eyes out when Lindsay cried. Sometimes I don't know when to trust my gut and when to override it. At least it's nice that there are two parents - hopefully between the two of us we'll do ok.

Other highlights from today: swimming on a hotel rooftop pool with the Martens, riding my new bike for the first time, and Lindsay going to a Flamenco class (and loving it!!)

We love outdoor cafes!! Although we kept having to remind Stone and Isaac to not race and chase and shriek - even though it's outside it's still a restaurant. :)

What an amazing view! I love tile roofs and had never seen one up close like that.
The Martens have all kinds of great connections since they're here with a University.

And now I'm going to write some of the kids' observations about how Spain compares to home. There have been many lately. I'm going to try to not make any comments on them - these are their words.

Lindsay

• The kids are really, really nice and supportive here. Naomi doesn't speak any Spanish yet, and at her school one day she had to read out loud, and when she finished her paragraph all the kids started clapping and cheering for her! 
• SO MUCH HOMEWORK HERE!!!! And the teacher sends a student around the room to check and see if everyone finished, and then the student reports to the teacher out loud in front of the class. The other day I hadn't finished, and the teacher made me explain why I hadn't finished in front of everyone.
• I was reading out loud (we were going around the room reading) and there was a word I couldn't say correctly and the teacher stopped me and made me read it over and over and OVER again, correcting me.
• There is a rule that you can't doodle in class. One boy was drawing a picture, and when the teacher saw him she walked over and said "NO, Oliver," and tore his paper up and threw it in the trash!
• We have to use pens - no pencils - and use white out for any mistakes. If you cross out one word - even ONE WORD - you have to tear out the paper and start all over again. If it's sloppy handwriting you have to tear it out and start all over again. 

Lucy

• The kids are so nice to each other! They are very supportive, like in PE we were doing a 1 meter jump test, and all the kids cheered for each kid as they did it. Especially the girls are very, very supportive of each other and everyone includes everyone else.
• One day a boy got hurt playing soccer at recess, and my friend Claudia ran over to see if he was ok and walked with him to get help.
• The adults here seem to be mad a lot. In my Ballet class the teacher was very rough and when she asked me a question I said "vale" (Ok) and then she asked louder right in my face "VALE?" and I had to answer "Vale" again. Then later I was looking at my feet trying to do what she was telling us, and she yanked my head up. Then I was trying to do a step but it was different from the way I learned it in my California class, so I was trying but she got mad and clapped super loud right in my face. That made me burst into tears and run out. It was so startling and I HATED it. But then she was smiling later, then yelling, then smiling, then yelling. And always the loud clapping.
• In the United States my teacher never, ever yelled at us. But here my teacher yells at us all the time with a super scratchy coughy voice. 
• So many adults here smoke!! Even the parents of our friends.

Sophie

• The kids here are really nice to their siblings. At recess I see older siblings run to their little brothers and sisters all the time and hug them and take care of them.
• On the first day of school I was standing in front of a girl and she said "Hola, soy Carlota." And I said "Hola," and she said "Quieres ser mi amiga?" (Do you want to be my friend?) and she chose a desk right by me and she is so nice to me.
• My teacher is nice but she does yell at our class sometimes. And she has yelled at just one child maybe four times. But never at me - I am just very quiet and I just make sure I do what everyone else is doing.
• At recess there is no play ground - just a big open area. But there is a hopscotch in the middle, and everyone crinkles up their tin foil from their sandwiches to make hopscotch thingys to throw.

Stone

• At Bing (our preschool in California) I got to run and play outside but in Spain I have to just sit.

Amys' observation (in addition to the ones I've already shared, like adults pulling children around by the wrist): When I pick Stone up from class, the teacher has several times now pointed out that Stone does not color with the appropriate colors. "All the other children colored their beach balls in these nice bright colors. But Stone only used green and gray. Please work with him on that." Or "All the other children drew distinct facial features on their circles, but Stone made his into a jelly fish. Please work with him on that." Never have I been so aware of my American values (perhaps especially Californian, and even more especially Northern Californian) of free thinking and free expression, fostering creativity and showing respect for the child as a human being! Wow. I bite my tongue when my kids mention these differences and I say "How fascinating!! What can we learn from this different way of doing things?" But I will admit that inside I am flabbergasted, sometimes amused and sometimes incensed. We will continue to strive for an open mind, to try to see the value in their way of doing things and remind ourselves that our resistance to certain behaviors are only because they're different from what we're used to. But I don't think I'd want to do that for more than four months, to be honest. I believe in gentleness and respect, and in the importance of play and exploration for young children. They have to hold still, color with everyone else's prescribed color palette and march in line soon enough as it is. 

"Do prayers work at school?"

Today Stone asked me "do prayers work at school?"  He told me he goes into the bathroom to pray, but that they don't work. I asked what he prayed for, and he said "that you will come get me RIGHT THAT MOMENT." So we tackled the issue that's even tricky for adults: praying that God will help us be brave and strong and smart and peaceful as we go through the hard stuff - not that he will take the hard stuff away. This was not the news Stone wanted to hear, but he said the night-time prayer and changed his petition from "Please make me not go to school" to "Please make my brain learn the language, because I really REALLY need to understand everybody." 

I picked him up from school "extra EXTRA early" at the beginning of recess time (11:00). (We discovered there is a girl in his class who speaks English, and his teacher kindly situated her next to him. We'll see if that helps!) We decided to go on a Mommy-Stoney exploring walk until girl-pick-up at 2:00. Here we are at a statue of four 17th-Century Sevillano Artists. We learned about each one.

We walked around a real castle wall

And through a more modern, commercial part of the city, passing a McDonald's, a Burger King, a Dunkin' Donuts, and two Starbucks! And this colorful park

Next we crossed the river - I had wanted to do that for awhile and he humored me. As we crossed we noticed a huge tower, which we discovered was the Torre de Oro (golden tower), and inside there was a boat museum for 3 Euros! Stone was so excited to finally find real cannon balls. Just now I looked up the Torre de Oro and this is what I found on Wikipedia:

The Torre del Oro (English: "Gold Tower") is a dodecagonal military watchtower in Seville, southern Spain, built by the Almohad dynasty in order to control access to Seville via the Guadalquivir river.

Constructed in the first third of the 13th century, the tower served as a prison during the Middle Ages and as a secure enclosure for the protection of precious metals periodically brought by the fleet of the Indies, another possible origin for the tower's name.

We climbed to the top of the tower and I loved Stone's comment about the view

After a long time in the boat museum (I couldn't believe his attention span in there! He kept exclaiming things like "Get a load of this baby!!" about the ship replicas), we headed back to the school. This is the entrance of the Cathedral of Seville, which we get to walk past on the way

If I take my eyes off him for a second (like chatting with a mom outside the school) I find him high up in a tree or on any climbable surface

After Siesta, Lindsay, Lucy and I caught a bus to try out dance class! I discovered I only had a 50 Euro bill so we had to break it at the store... and the most convenient thing to grab as we rushed to the bus stop was a box of 3 Magnum bars. :) We missed our bus anyway and were late to dance class, but that was ok

Lucy had a Ballet class with Anna; Lindsay had a Flamenco class with Naomi (which ended up being canceled so they went to their house to do homework and hang out). I'm going to have Lucy post about the Ballet class because it was quite an event and the jury is out on whether she'll be going back. I also want to post about our observations of typical Spanish ways of adults relating to children... and how we choose to deal with those cultural differences. I'll have Lucy post tomorrow

Naomi gave Lindsay a fan!! Women use these all the time here, and this one is so beautiful and so special. How did she know purple is Lindsay's favorite color?

And Anna gave Lucy a beautiful fan too. As we left their house Lucy said "Can Anna move in with us?"

I feel so grateful yet again for family and friends - I have received so many expressions of love and support. We are so blessed, and I am trying to take the advice I am giving the kids and stay optimistic and do the best with what we're given as I help Stone adjust! My overly-empathetic nature tends to truly suffer with those who suffer, so I have been taking Stone's struggle really hard. I feel better when I remember to take the long view of his development, knowing that he is going to be just fine! 

Support through the transition

Today I woke up with a sore throat, a stuffy nose and a heavy heart. It's nothing serious, I just think the vacation phase has worn off and we're starting to adjust to the realities of staying here for an extended time. Lindsay and Lucy needed help with homework and I loved being home, making muffins for them (no baking powder but they turned out fine, at least when eaten warm with butter!) while they worked at the kitchen table in the morning dark. Is it starting to be dark in the mornings in America already? It doesn't get light until 8 am here and I'm not comfortable running in the dark by myself, so that decision is made for me. Sophie woke up and I hugged her and joyfully danced around the room with her in my arms as usual, but that didn't prevent her from being in the grumps 5 minutes later when I asked her to get dressed for school. Brushing hair, eating breakfast, getting dressed.... it was all just a horrible thing to ask.

Stone slept in (as in, he came into my bed at 6:30 and went back to sleep) and I waited until the very last second to wake him. He was deep under, and as I picked him up he said "Wait, I'm not finished yet, I still have the last piece in my hand!" He opened his eyes and looked in his hand in confusion, then laughed at himself, "I was dreaming about a puzzle! Whoa, that was weird!" Such a sweet, happy boy, but as soon as he discovered I was dressing him for school he began to cry, and when I set him down he ran and hid under the stairs. With Erik gone and my reserves low I knew I didn't have it in me to peel my shrieking son off of my body and leave him at school, so I just told him right away that he didn't have to go to school. He was so relieved, he kept saying "Thank you, Mommy, oh thank you, Mommy," and hugging and kissing me as I ran around to get everyone out the door.

The older girls had a hard time as we walked - Lindsay was still feeling overwhelmed by the thought of four months and Lucy was in tears that she still hadn't finished her giant load of homework (over the weekend!). Luckily Christie had shared with me the story of our dear friend Tracy, who injured her hip in their Ragnar race, but refused to give up and walked the last 3 miles. That girl just DOES NOT GIVE UP. And then she missed her flight home, and then, unbelievably, missed a SECOND flight home, knowing that her husband had had to go out of town and her kids were with babysitters. Christie went to pick up injured, double-flight-missed Tracy from the airport and found her in characteristically cheerful spirits. She asked her "how are you not in tears right now??" And Tracy said something like, "Well the people in the airport saw some tears, but you just take what life gives you and make the best of it!" I sent Lindsay in to school saying "Think of Auntie Tracy and how she would never, ever give up." And I sent Lucy in saying "Think of Auntie Tracy and how she would just acknowledge the difficulty but not let it get her down! Move forward with a smile like Tracy." And they both went in greatly encouraged.

I headed home with Stone relieved to have him with his mommy but wondering what to do with him. Long story short, I talked with my wise new friend Nicole, whose 4-year-old boy had also cried and hidden this morning, and she reminded me that school is only two hours and that he would get over the hump. When I talked to her on the phone I was ready to pull him from the school altogether... but during the morning we did a short "Mommy School" and then all he wanted to do while I washed dishes and folded laundry was play on my phone. No friends to play with, not enough toys.... this would be a long four months. I was not as buoyant as Tracy I'm afraid and I gave in to the "what am I doing here??" feelings (maybe because Stone kept asking me "Why did you take me here?? Please can't you take me back to California??" and listing all his friends that he misses so much).

Luckily I was able to talk with my adored in-laws this afternoon and they gave me the pep talk I needed, reminding me why this is such a valuable experience for me and for Erik and for all of the children, and how the pieces did fall into place from the very beginning. And they gave me some really great advice:

-Stone's experience at school would change greatly if he had a friend. There is a really nice mom with a boy Stone's age - be proactive and talk to her. Invite her and her son to the park after school so Stone feels comfortable with at least one child.

-Make a game out of understanding some Spanish words. Erik's dad told me that when Erik's hearing-impaired brother was little, he had a really hard time because he was so bright but he missed so much of what was said. So Erik's mom tirelessly taught him words and signs, which unlocked the world around him and enabled him to engage in what everyone else was experiencing. This clicked for me because Stone's #1 complaint is that he doesn't understand Spanish. He is such a curious boy who always wants to know what's going on, and it frustrates him to no end to be lost in a sea of unintelligible gibberish. Decode the gibberish in a fun way, and suddenly his brain will know how to engage! So I taught him a few key phrases tonight and he was saying them over and over before bed.

Simple solutions that really encouraged me and gave me the shot in the arm that I needed.

Also, Lindsay's play date went great today, and tonight I walked into my room and she was helping Naomi (her American friend) with Spanish homework via Skype on my computer.

Everything is going to be ok. Hmmm... I didn't take any pictures today. Just imagine me making a defeated face, and then a slightly more hopeful face, and then a super grumpy face, and then in the end a peaceful face.

Weekend Trip: Nerja

First, I forgot to mention some exciting news in my last post: on Friday Lindsay got invited to a birthday party!! And then tonight at dinner time the phone rang, and it was the mother of Lindsay's favorite friend at school Sofia, and they invited her over for a play date tomorrow after school. This was so exciting for me, and particularly good timing for Lindsay, who had her first wave of homesickness today and cried for quite awhile tonight that she doesn't want to be here any more.  She has been so positive and energetic this whole time, it's natural that at some point she would hit a wall. I remember from my time in Chile that it's absolutely exhausting to listen to and speak Spanish every day, in addition to all the emotional processing it takes to navigate a new school with new friends and teachers in a new country. My heart aches for her - she doesn't cry hard very often and she did tonight. But anyway... it's a blessing that the 6th grade girls are so nice to her and I'm so grateful for those invitations.

On a side note while I'm thinking about it, before I move onto our weekend trip to Nerja: I keep thinking how important it is as a parent to be a good listener. I read Parent Effectiveness Training two years ago and it was hugely important for me - I often find myself literally biting my lips closed to keep from talking when my kids are telling me about difficulties, and I try to just give cues to show I'm listening like "oh wow, tell me more about that" rather than making any sort of judgement. And often it yields such a better result than the times that I jump in with my opinion or advice. For example last week, Sophie was all out of sorts, and through active listening I discovered that the older boys at the school are not cognizant of the younger kids and often play too rough - Sophie had been hit in the head by a ball really hard and had been quite hurt. But when I picked her up from school she hadn't mentioned it. I was so glad that it came out later - it helped me understand why her tears came more easily and I was suddenly full of compassion for sweet little her (and also proud of Lindsay to hear that she ran to Sophie's aid and held her at recess). Also, active listening really helped me with Lindsay tonight - when she was crying I was so tempted to tell her about times from my life when I had struggled but how glad I was that I pushed through, etc.... and I certainly will share those at another time. But thanks to P.E.T. I just bit my tongue and encouraged her to talk, and I just sat there with her and hugged her while she told me all about it. I just hugged and hugged and said "that is hard, Lindsay. I love you so much." She declined my offer of help with her homework but she brought it into the bathroom where I was washing Sophie and Stone's hair and then followed me wherever I went to do her homework by me, and kept reaching out and patting my arm or giving me little kisses. I think all she needed to know is that I was on her team, pulling for her and available to help if she needed me - and I think she also sensed that because I hadn't tried to solve her problem for her, I trusted her to get through it on her own. Earlier she had been saying emphatically "I DO NOT WANT TO GO TO SCHOOL TOMORROW" and how much she wanted to go home, and I just said "oh, you are really dreading it" etc... I literally said nothing to "solve" the problem, and by the end of the evening she had perked up and was laying school clothes out and as I said, so affectionate with me. I was amazed and so grateful I read that book!! Thank you Abby, for mentioning it so many times until I finally read it.

Ok, on to our weekend trip! At the last minute on Friday night we decided to get out of town and visit the coast, where we had considered moving when we visited last Spring. Rick Steves recommended Nerja as his favorite, so we rented a car (turned out to be cheaper than 6 train tickets) and packed our back packs for a weekend away! 

Highlights:

Car ride through Southern Spain. There was a road-side sign with icons for Gas, Food, Rest Stop and... Castle. You can see the castle tower really tiny on the top hill. I wish I could have snapped a picture of the sign as we passed it.

The surprise of the trip: The Nerja Caves. We were expecting some small caves with neat stalactites and stalagmites... we were stunned when we entered an underground world of the most incredible, otherworldly formations we had ever seen. Erik and I agreed it was on our top 5 list of most amazing things we've ever seen in our lives. AND not only did it have the Guiness Book of World Records largest stalagmite column, it also held 25,000 year old remains of human cave dwellers - skeletons, pottery, a bone necklace, and paintings on the walls.

Erik teaches the kids how to skip rocks on the Mediterranean Sea.

Today as we drove home Stone said his favorite part of the trip was the hotel buffet because he got churros con chocolate. 

Trip Advisor's #1 Nerja activity was the Donkey Sanctuary. Here a British man houses and cares for abandoned and abused animals. The kids had fun feeding the animals vegetables but Lucy was unnerved by the huge wandering pigs who poked their snouts at our legs, and Erik and I were grossed out and saddened by the swarms of flies and general grossness of the place. We stayed like 20 minutes, left a donation and cursed Trip Advisor. ;)

The town of Nerja has two parts: the ancient, whitewashed village (existing since Medeival Moorish times) and the touristy coastal resort town. Both were beautiful!

We ate the best gelato EVER while gazing at this view 

This area was used as a lookout point for hundreds of years - pirates would often raid this coast, and this cannon is from the 1800's, when Spanish coast guards had to defend the land from Napoleon's ships.

King Alfonso XII came here after a huge earthquake in 1885 and mobilized the people to re-build the city. He commented that this rock jutting out over the sea was "The Balcony of Europe," and the name stuck. 

Walking down to the beach from Europe's balcony, this is the town of Nerja.

One of the 5 boys who found the Caves of Nerja in 1959 now runs a top-rated paella restaurant on the beach (that's a sand floor under our feet). The kids had been so excited to meet him and ask him what it was like to find the caves, but to their great disappointment he wasn't there.

We loved the paella but couldn't bring ourselves to eat the prawns with their legs, antennae and faces still attached. We removed them immediately but whenever Stone would see a dark herb in his food he would say "An eyeball!! You left in an eyeball!!"

They cooked the paella in these massive iron skillets over an open flame

We cooled down with a swim in the hotel pool before hopping in the car for the drive home.

One thing I didn't get a photo of: Many Spanish women of all shapes and sizes and ages wear one-piece bathing suits. As in, only the bottom piece of a bikini. We were shocked the first day but by the second day we were (kind of) used to it. Lindsay asked me if there would ever be any circumstance in which I would go topless on a beach, which was interesting to think about. I said "only if I were alone, but even then I probably wouldn't." She then asked if I thought any of my friends ever would. And so now I am so curious! What are the circumstances under which any of my friends would go topless? The question made me laugh.

Praying for a happy day at school for my sweet little lovies tomorrow...