out of retirement

It's ironic that the longest time I would go inbetween posts immediately followed a post announcing my return... how ironic indeed...

Rather than pull a Roger Clemens and announce my retirement only to draw more publicity (and money) by ceremoniously unretiring twice, I'm just going to make a calm collected return to the blog. I'm back. that's it.

Truth be told, I grew tired (and short on ideas) of writing anecdotal collections of short cynical stories. I wanted to write more cohesive pieces that captured my readers' interests and led them through the hoops I had to jump through in my story.

So, effectively, I am unretired. But I'd prefer to think of it as reborn, like the Phoenix.

Tomorrow I will tell the story of the fruit flies, and how they have captured the kitchen and are presently camped out in the foothills of the dining room. Their front line is advancing as we speak, and although they take many casualties, they show an unconscious hunger for victory and push onward towards our lands. I must not ignore the presence of scouts in my bedroom, for they are coming, I know it. I must stop them...

A glorious day

Tonight was different than Monday. Not just because the Astros won, clinching the NL pennant for the first time in franchise existence, and are headed to the World Series, but also because I remained calm and level-headed, much like Bagwell and Biggio, who weren't yelling and screaming, but smiling, patting each other on the back, and feeling happy. Monday I would have run into the streets in my underwear, proclaiming the good news to the 6am streets, only to be shot at most likely. Tonight, I grabbed my celebratory beer, opened it, and settled in with a huge smile on my face. I'm not sure if i matured as a baseball fan, more capable of handling the highs and lows, or if I was simply still numb from Monday night. But rather than overwhelming enthusiasm, I felt just happy. Pleased. Content.

Finally. The World Series in Houston. What a day.

Astros one win away

So I haven't written in this in a week or maybe more (i'm not too sure) but it's not because I've forgotten. I just haven't had much to report. I'm teaching, I love it, my kids are great, blah blah blah.

I'm working on trying to create longer, more captivating stories, since someone has stopped sending me silver packages of nice one-paragraph making-fun-of-Europe stories (Don't let me track you down, whoever you are...). Now, I'm left with the terrible predicament: I must mature as a writer. I'm not entirely sure i'm capable of that.

For now, I'll just fill up space slobbering over the Astros, who turned the Greatest Double Play of All Time last night. In case you're living with Osama B.L. in a foxhole (even Spanish TV showed a highlight of the game), a mental gaffe allowed Larry Walker to sneak (like Gollum) over to third base with one out in the top of the ninth and the astros ahead 2-1. Lidge was on the mound, and since he had got just one double play all year (spanning 70+ innings), it appeared that we would need another miracle to pull this one out. And a miracle was delivered. A softly hit ground ball that Thom Brennaman of FOX said would be impossible to turn came to Bruntlett, who gave the crispest and quickest relay to second I have ever seen. That was one. But it would still take the most fluid turn and bullet throw to first to nab the hustling Mabry. Adam Everett, who plays every game not because of his bat, was probably one of two or three shortstops in the last half century who could have turned it. He did. I went crazy.

It is no surprise that my German roommmate did not speak to me today; I most likely woke her up on half a dozen occasions last night. But it was worth it. The only thing disappointing about last night was that Backe won't get the credit due after pitching almost as well as he did last year in game 5. What a game.

All this has contributed to maybe my best day in Spain; I taught two nice classes, planned my lessons for the next week, cooked an Indian curry that would make Vikash proud, and drank a liter of wine that cost me €.50 (about $.60). My roommate and i have decided to speak only in Spanish to each other in effort to improve and that made me pleased almost as much as cooking dinner, doing the dishes, and doing my laundry did. If you want to laugh at me for being happy at things a domesticated housewife normally hates, well go ahead. You still couldn't rain on my parade today. Only the Cardinals could do that...

Ok I take that back. I just turned on the TV to watch the game. The media favoring the *&$#% white sox for the first time in mmmm ever, is pissing me off. The Red Sox are one thing. They've talked about the Red Sox for the last 8-9 years. They've conveniently ignored the WSox while the Cubs and RSox "curses" (curses shmurses - they don't exist) have dominated media time over the last few years. But now, it's like someone just finally realized the WSox haven't been there and told FOX and they've run with it. C'Mon! Your stories are just as good on our side! Clemens and Pettitte teaming up? Bagwell and Biggio, in their twilight, finally getting a shot? 15-30? Last season? No... all they want to talk about is 1917 and "Go Go White Sox." The Cards and the 'Stros have been two of the classiest and most consistent organizations over the last 10 years. Not to mention teams that do draw pretty well attendance-wise (we're not talking about the '03 Marlins or the '00s Braves)

Thank you AJ Pierzynski. "I don't really know anything about 1917 other than what you media people talk about." So irritating...

Planes, Trains, Automobiles, Buses, and Feet

So i went to Chicago for the wedding and everything went pretty much according to plan - a bride got married, some extended family got drunk and said a little too much about some things, and the best man told an embarrassing story about the groom. I was just glad to be there for Becka.

Trouble is, Cádiz is harder to get to than Hanover, NH. By the time this trip will be done, I'll have taken the following transports:

2 planes, a train (Sevilla to Cádiz), an automobile (to O'Hare airport), a bus (to Sevilla train station), and foot. Add in about five taxis and double everything else and you'll have my total trip transportation. Don't let my girlfriend ever tell you I don't try....

The other chafe is the waiting. Total estimated layover time: 8 hours. And then there's always the lovely surprises, like when the old man next to you in the train station takes off his shoes. And socks. And somehow makes a room with three-story high ceilings feel like a 2 foot wide high school gym locker. Or the "designated smoking areas" in the airports which are large areas appearing every thirty feet or so, ensuring that you're always in the war zone. I can't tell you what a welcome relief that was stepping off the puddle hop with a vise around your temples, 4 lbs. of cotton stuffed into your throat and the distinct feeling that someone had pulled open your eyelids and blown air into your eyes for a full minute and walking into a cloud of smoke.

So i heard i missed the game of the century on sunday - or should i say two games. With the 18 inning epic catapulting the 'stros into the NLCS for the 2nd straight year, I'm left scrambling to line up my mlb.tv and internet options for the start of the series tomorrow. Could only be more excited if I was in Houston. Go 'stros

Thom Brennaman gets down wit it; another bike stolen

I have moved into my new apartment, and with internet set up, I'm watching the Astros-Cubs game with unbelievable excitement and anticipation. The game's being shown on Fox in the states, but I'm able to get it with mlb.tv, a service provided by MLB in association with ESPN, live and streamed through the internet.

I guess there's some disagreement about advertising, b/c I haven't seen any commercials yet. What I'm seeing instead is the broadcast booth feed. I don't really know who's calling the shots, but the entire commercial break consisted of zoom-ins on hot girls in the stands. I'm not joking - it was pretty unprofessional, but funny nonetheless. sometimes they'd zoom back and forth, rapidly, like 12 year olds playing with mom's digital camcorder. Then, the booth is preparing the tape on Clemens for the next half inning, and you hear Thom Brennaman saying "Alright that's good. Stop it right there." But he keeps talking. "Yeah right there. Alright. A'it. Aaaa-iiit!!!" Like he's pretending to be black or something. Really weird stuff....

My life was changed yesterday, but it didn't last very long. Orla (my host for the first month I was here) gave me one of her old bikes that she didn't need anymore. It was brown and the paint was peeling, but it was a bike. I was thrilled, and after a little bit of oil, more air in the tires, and some tightening of the screws, I was off and riding. With the wind whipping through my mane, I rode all the way to El Corte Ingles, an hour's walk and definitely longer on the bus than the 10 minute bike ride. I felt liberated; I was suddenly able to go anywhere, do anything. What a day.

Then, I locked my bike up outside with a chain. When I woke up this morning, it was gone. Fourth bike stolen in the last 5 years. I have yet to have a bike longer than 2 months before it gets stolen. I felt like a part of me has been taken. And yet, the fault is almost all mine. I'm pretty sure I looped the lock over the top of the seat, allowing the thief to simply lift the lock up over the seat and hit paydirt. I feel like such an idiot...

Eliminate place-kicking; the Spanish way of doing business

I remembered why I stopped going to espn.com when doing research for this entry. First, it takes me about 15 clicks of the back button of the browser before I find what I'm looking for b/c I keep getting distracted by interesting stories. Second, though, is because it really is the Yankees-Red Sox network. That's all they wanna talk about - who's gonna win the AL MVP - Big Papi or A-Rod (including a breakdown on who has the cooler nickname), who's gonna win the AL East race, blah blah blah. I know they cover those two teams b/c "that's where the fans/interest is" but I think it's self-fulfilling. The more they cover Yankees-Red Sox, the more those fans'll watch and the less I will. Hell, I didn't even know there was a tie in the AL East race...*

Alan Ashby is hoping to become the next full-time play-by-play guy for the Astros when Milo Hamilton semi-retires next year. I like Alan (from extensive personal interactions) but the guy makes a must-win pennant-race thriller sound like a Double-A Spring Training game. He's not terrible as the former-player-turned-color-guy, except in the innings after he does play-by-play (4th and 7th) when he still thinks he's 'the man' and tries to interrupt Milo for some fun fact that is largely unneccessary. [ed. note: I used 7 different hyphenated phrases in this paragraph] He's smart, which is a rare thing for a former player turned broadcaster, but he ends every sentence with a raised intonation. It just sounds lame - kinda like I did when I tried to call the Dartmouth baseball games last spring. But at least no one paid me. Or listened to it.

I had another extended interaction with the Spanish way of doing business today. After going to bed after the Astros game last night at 5:30, waking up at 8:30 to go over to my future apartment, waking up the girl that lives there, and waiting for 3 hours for the cable guy, I found out that the owner of the complex didn't want ONO (the internet company) to install a cable in his apartment. Even after the cable guy told him it wouldn't be more than a cable, he still said no.

So the cable guy left. We eventually talked him into it (apparently he thought he had to get a 4'x4' box installed and pay for it, even though the cable guy told him he wouldn't), and I've rescheduled the cable guy for tomorrow. This of course, is just the end of the story; I already tried to get internet, was told I couldn't get it on my street, then told by a different girl I could get it, then told I couldn't get it without a bank account, then told I couldn't get it on my street again, then finally was scheduled for the appointment today.

I hate Skip Bayless and think he's a terrible human being. But this article about eliminating kickers from football is great. A little mean at the beginning, but i like his style and what he has to say.

Excerpt: Giant, gifted men battle their guts out playing a violent game, and the outcome is all too often decided by some former soccer player who has absolutely nothing to do with football. No football talent. No football heart. No football mind.

Eliminate Kickers
http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/page2/story?page=bayless/050929




* technically not true, but I was proving a point

'stros

I stayed up to listen to the stros-cards game, in the hope that the astros would pick up an extra game on the phils. as of now, it's not looking so good. But one thing in particular: Reggie Sanders hit a two-run homer off Scott Strickland to break a 4-4 tie in the bottom of the fifth. The St. Louis crowd did not stop cheering for him until he came back out of the dugout for a curtain call.

A curtain call after a 5th inning homer in a game that means nothing to your club other than a tune-up for your struggling ace? In baseball circles we talk about Cards fans as being classy and educated, but that's pretty unnecessary and disrespectful to the opposing pitcher, in my mind...

About that opposing pitcher - why was Scott Strickland in the game in the first place? I'm beginning to think James Richards (old family friend, normally very pro-Astros) was right after all: Garner's not a very good ballgame manager.

Ooh Astros just tied it back up... nice... (They would later win the game in dramatic
fashion, negating the offensive explosion from the Phillies, and giving them a chance to seal the deal and the Wild Card by Friday)

Sober moment: heard about two of the girls from my course who moved to Sevilla had their car broken into the first night they were there. All their luggage was stolen. I was sad for them, but they did leave all their stuff in a car in the middle of downtown. One of the girls was already upset about her whole experience in Spain that she packed it in and went home. The other's trying to stick it out for a few months.

New ledger; Spaniards criticizing my english

I found out that my 7:30 am flight from Sevilla to Madrid to Chicago next week for Liz's (Becka's sister) wedding is going to cause me considerable damage, primarily to my pocketbook. I don't know why I picked that early of a flight, b/c I can't get to Sevilla that early; it's 2 hours away and there aren't buses or trains that early.

I have the option of staying overnight in Sevilla, but that's not really an option b/c I have to teach from 9-10pm the day before and there are no buses/trains after that.

I'll end up paying $175 to cancel, plus $69 for the new ticket. This is going into my newest ledger, called

"Why do things early? You just get screwed. The Last Minute is the best minute"
1. Booked hotel for three nights in Cadiz on internet before coming because 'you don't go to Europe without a place to stay'. Found out hotel was misleading about its location and was 1.5 hours away, in Cadiz province, not city. Cost $300.
2.Bought airline ticket months in advance, trying to save money. End up spending $200 more than if I had tried to book it a week in advance.

Ended my training phase of teaching English today. Next week, it's the real deal: I will teach four classes of about 2.3 students each. Hopefully they'll fill up, but for now, it's just a few classes: 7-8 year olds, 10-11, 12-13, and adults.

I met one of the adults yesterday and he made fun of the way I said the number 20. He asked me, 'come se dice veinte en ingles?' I said, 'twenty' thinking 'whew, this guy's really low level...' But then he told me, 'no, it's twenty.' I said, 'that's what i said, twenty.' Then I got a lecture about how American English sounded bad and how you're supposed to pronounce the 't', as in 'twenty' instead of 'twinny.' So he should be fun in class.

Losses across the board

So if Peyton Manning wasn't undroppable, I'd cut him from my fantasy team for costing me two losses already this season with his embarrassing underperformances. I think I'm going to write an e-mail to Tony Dungy and tell him to bench his ass.

What's that? The Colts are 3-0? Who cares? Peyton's thrown 2 TDs and 2 INTs through three games. Last year he had 9 TDs and 1 INT through the same number of games. That's just not cutting it for my #1 draft pick.

Astros lost thanks to Mike 'the Joke' Gallo and Phil 'I outsmart myself worse than Bob Brenley' Garner, who decided that a left-handed specialist who cannot get left-handers out should come in to pitch with the game on the line with a left-hander at bat.

Went to a charming town called Vejer de la Frontera that the tour book said was a 'labrynth' and called it a 'white village.' I wasn't sure what either of those meant until I saw the city on a hill with wildly undulating streets and every building whitewashed. Really cool.

Went to church this morning in the Cathedral. Huge dud. They decided that 17th century acoustic ingenuity wasn't enough for the demands of modern Churchhood, so they installed a massive microphone and speaker system in the church. Since the natural acoustics were still in place, the combination resulted in a terrible echo, rendering most of what the priest said in Spanish unintelligible. There was hardly any life in the church and it was inundated with tourists walking in during the liturgy. Despite a beautiful setting, I doubt I'll return very much.

Estate Party Canceled

My friend Elisabeth got us invited to a party at an estate in the countryside, complete with an enormous Spanish-style bbq, swimming pools, horseback riding, and all kinds of fancy rich-Spanish people stuff. Her roommate did so b/c he felt back for bringing 10 people back to the apartment at 6 in the morning and being louder after Elisabeth asked them to keep it down. He made her coffee when she woke up and then walked her to school, trying to appear nice, but Elisabeth knew that he was really just trying to get her from telling anyone at school about the debacle, knowing it would cost him future students from living there.

But then he called us after we waited around all day for him to pick us up to say he ran out of room in his car b/c he had to carry some speakers and he'd already promised rides to two others. She was not too pleased.

Our backup plan was going to the beach, though, so it wasn't too bad.

I go to church this morning at the cathedral, which should be an experience, to say the least. It is beautiful inside, except for the Wrigley Field-style nets everywhere to catch falling pieces of ceiling...

True Lies and Goodbyes

Since I'm still not allowed to tell people from the course that I got a job (it'd be a bit rude I think) with the school, I have to avoid awkward conversations about my future plans. The terrible thing is my sense of integrity won't allow me to really lie, so I try to tell half truths, such as in the following conversation.

Girl from course who is currently unemployed and would love to have my job: So, what are you doing after the course?
Me: Teaching English, hopefully (there's a chance my job offer was a fraud. small chance, yes, but a chance)
Girl: Well we're going to Sevilla, you should join us.
me: I think I'm going to stay in Cadiz. (truth)
Girl: oh do you think you'll find a job?
me: it would be nice to have some work. (this is true)
Girl: Well if you don't, you should come join us in Sevilla.
me: Yes, if I can't find work here, it would be nice to try Sevilla out. (generic truth revealing nothing)

Anyways, it's difficult to do, but i'm still glad I am in the situation I'm in rather than still looking for a job.

I found an apartment (flat) today. I'll be living with a German girl. I don't really know much about her but I somehow decided to live with her after only meeting her for 3 minutes...

But the apartment is amazing - the previous owner calls it a hobbit hole - the ceilings are barely tall enough for me, let alone my future roommate... I'll be about 1 minute from school and my job, and i'll be on the first floor of the building, which is nice b/c there's only one thing I hate more than stairs: fat men wearing leopard print thongs.

I'm generally really excited about my future here in Cadiz, but it's a bit rough at the moment because all my friends are leaving. I have three main friends, a French girl who speaks german and english, an English girl from Cornwall, and an American girl from DC who went to Wm & Mary. It's nice having girls for friends for the first time since freshman year, but it does suck when the whole class makes fun of you and your 'harem.' What am I supposed to do? There are 14 people in the class, and only three guys. Why is it a problem that I have made friends with three girls?

Movin' on

My course ends today with a 15 minute interview with the Moderator, someone from the parent company who ensures that our grades were fair. Our tutors told us that if we showed up hungover though, it wouldn't be a huge problem. sweet...

Still worried about Rita. My mom told me they left at 8 am to try to get out of Houston. By 5 pm, they were almost out of gas and had only got as far as Kingwood. For those of you that aren't familiar with Houston, that's about 45 minutes away normally.... Since they couldn't find any gas (there's no gas anywhere in Houston), they just had to go back home. Terrible... They assured me that they'll be ok though because the storm's turning back towards Lousiana. Poor New Orleans...

Might go to Africa sometime next week, but today I'm going to the beach. good luck with the 'cane if you're around houston...

I got a job!!

In a stunning development, after sending out only six résumés and not even being interviewed, i received a job offer!

The company where I am taking classes is starting an english course his year and they wanted a teacher from the course. And i guess they decided they wanted me!

I was, of course, deeply honored and nearly accepted on the spot. I'll be teaching all ages: kids, teens and adults, and all levels as well. They're looking for a flat for me as well, and I can't tell you what a relief it is to know that I don't have to move to a brand new city and look for a job only to find out that the boss is a jerk, they don't pay what they promised and I generally get screwed. Instead, i get to work with all the great people i've already met at the school and they'll be there to help as well... It really couldn't have worked out any better.

now i'm at the beach in shorts but no boxers. I took them off in the water trying to pick up this unknown thing sitting on the ocean floor. turned out it was the skin of a rat. There were about a dozen of them in the water. Nasty little buggers...

from the Adventure mailbag...

Dear Morgan,

I feel that you always write about negative things over there. It sounds like you're having a terrible time! Can you tell us about some good things that happen to you or is everything as bad as you make it out to be?

K. from Houston

Well, K., the critical approach does happen to be part of the style that I am writing in, but i do understand and respect my listeners' requests, so I will write a more generic entry focusing on the good things that have happened to me recently. If you are a fan of the more usual biting criticism of Europe and/or other funny stories, stay tuned for Monday's edition.

The course has been really good for me so far; I have found that I really love teaching. It is an incredibly enriching experience where I feel that the knowledge that you are changing lives is worth so much more than the Christmas bonus that so many of my friends will be receiving... Although it would be nice to have a little something on top of my €800 a month for changing lives...

I've also met some very interesting people, and have entirely platonic friendships with girls for the first time since high school (with one notable exception in college). It's really nice, and I spent the day at the beach with three girls. One girl, the European who I argued with so vehemently last weekend, has turned out to be a really good friend, and we've chatted about everything from speaking three languages in the home (she did it) to why the ocean turns green before a storm.

She also has potentially changed my outlook with regards to deadlines: she believes that she'll take however much time she has to do an assignment. So extensions on homework (which we received) just means she'll be up late on Sunday night instead of thursday night. So she's decided just to not worry about stuff until it's basically due. We agreed that if something's due on Monday and we know it will take about 6 hours to do it and we try to do it on Saturday, we'll stare at the computer like monkeys all day long and still do it on sunday. I don't think i've met someone who has the same outlook as me as per deadlines as I do, and it's rather liberating.

I've sent off four resumes so far to different schools, but I think I'll end up picking a city and moving there and looking for a job. I'm thinking about Sevilla or Valencia, so if you have opinions let me know. I'm not interested in touristy, but I am interested in slightly modern amenities. Madrid and Barcelona are both out b/c of price, location and/or language spoken there.

Other than that, I finish this Saturday and then start a young learner's course on the following Monday. The school year starts basically at the beginning of October, so it's a little tight for me as far as windows...

I've realized that by resorting to humorless writing, I've effectively failed my mission, since my playwriting teacher at Dartmouth told me humor should only be used to further the plot development. Since I have neglected to further my plot with humor and have been forced to resort to lame prose, I have failed as a writer. I will try again on monday.

English Wars, Part II of IX

In this, the second of a nine part series highlighting the absurdities of the language spoken in the UK and commonly known as "English," but more appropriately described as "British," we will take a closer look at "snap," "slap," and "click" and their blatantly incorrect usage.

When a game called "Snap" was introduced to our class, the seven E-mericans were confused because the game required what we call "slapping" one's hands on the table. When questioned, the Brits admitted that they call a "slap" a "snap." When further examined, they defined what we call a "snap" as a "click." They continued to jumble the words, saying that "sometimes a slap can be called a slap, but a snap will never be called a slap." And a "click" might be called a "snap." Absurd indeed.

I have decided to start a list of people that I have been told I look like. The list begins below. Feel free to comment on the list or suggest additions to it that you have heard before.

1. Rawson Daniel













2. Jon Hampton













3. The gap-toothed goofy kid in the SigEp composite on the third floor


4. Justin Timberlake










5. "Adam" from the TV show Smallville about Superman. The newest addition to the list...

in middle school all over again

Although I've generally felt welcome here, there are times when I can't believe the audacity and just plain disrespectfulness of the Spanish people. I wait in line to be served at bars, candy stores, sandwich shops, but apparently that's impolite or something. You're supposed to shove your money in the clerk's face, use elbows, sweat, and a 2-day-without-a-bath-stench to force the American out of the way. And the clerks don't really give a damn.

The third day I was here I tried to buy a candy bar. I made eye contact with the clerk, and asked "How much for this?" when a teenager planted his left elbow in my chest and shoved his money on the counter. The clerks broke eye contact with me and took care of him. I was in such disbelief I didn't even walk off, just paid for the candy bar.

When i walk down the streets, which are narrow already, for some ridiculous reason that likely has to do with my skin color, I always have to be the one to get off the sidewalk and walk in the street. If I'm on the inside, I have to open my shoulders. Bottom line: the Spaniards never break stride or flinch. I didn't realize it at first and thought it was just b/c i was walking on the wrong side of the road, but today i decided to test it out.

13:30 Walk on the R-side. Old man walking wrong way never looks at me. I sidestep into the street to avoid.

13:33 Decide to hug the wall, determined that I won't be the one in the street. Man about my age, larger than I keeps shoulder closed. I open mine to avoid contact.

13:35 Decide I'm gonna be the tough guy. Woman in her 40s with child. Oh yeah, I'm gonna be that guy. I hug the wall. She doesn't flinch. I tighten shoulders. She's on the outside but doesn't move towards the street. At last moment, I brace for contact. I give in and open shoulders. Spaniards 3, Morgan 0.

Me vs. Europe, Texans football

I just had a wonderful home-cooked whole chicken with stuffing and potatoes and some vegetable dish for lunch. It was almost like having Thanksgiving, but without Mo-mo’s chocolate pie. The girl that cooked it is really sweet but your typical Bush-hating European – we argued last night for an hour at dinner (to the chagrin of the 6 other people who sat in between us and had to idly listen to our conversation) about the two no-no topics: politics and religion.

Although I praised her for keeping a level head the whole time, she didn’t really buy my whole “it’s all relative” argument that, for example, the Europeans can have their 2 hour lunches and we can have our 15 minute power lunches and it’s all ok (something about food quality and the environment…) The good news is that she respected my viewpoint and calm, collected arguing style enough that I got invited to that delicious meal today…

The Texans get underway today and I'm all set up with the streaming radio online... free 7-day trial, but i'm sure i'll end up buying the whole season package for a ridiculous $35 (in contrast, I got 160 streaming video baseball games for $80)... Ok here's kickoff so i'm out...

PC, dartmouth, and brits

Did you know that in several states, when you grade students' work, you're not allowed to use a red pen because theyhave been outlawed. They 'diminish the confidence of the student.' Don't people understand that switching to a green or purple pen will just do the same thing after a few times? People are so shortsided...

The other day we read a study about how students read. It was attributed to Dartmouth, which was exciting. But in typical fashion, the article was about Harard. The quest to be Harvard Jr. continues...

The pretentiousness of the Brits is eclipsed only by that of the US. Despite being a small island a sixth the size of the US, the Brits have decided that theirs is the correct version of english and ours is wrong. The Spanish have the same attitude about Mexico. I teach my students E-merican english in class and make sure that everyone knows when something's not right in American.

After a two week hiatus, my phone is working again. I left my charger at Becka's, and after waiting 10 days for one I ordered off ebay to come in, i finally asked Becka to send it. It came in three days. I'm still waiting for the ebay one to come in... So not that i expect anyone to call me with a calling card, but i have email on my phone now....

comments on the euro, brits

I'm still trying to figure out why all of Europe adopted this currency system that consists of bills of different colors and sizes and dollar and two-dollar coins. I thought that was the worst part about the Canadian system - having to carry around a pocket full of change. Apparently the Europeans thought that was a good idea.

The Brits speak very differently than we do - I am constantly confused by their use of different words. We kept talking about "revising" yesterday's lessons at the beginning of each class, and I was like, "why would we want to change them? and how would we do it anyways?" Apparently, the word "revise" is meant to mean "review", but if you look it up on dictionary.com, 'revise' means what I thought it meant and the brits are wrong. I'm compiling a list of all the strange phrases the Brits use, and although i imagine someone's already done it more comprehensively, that's not going to stop me.

Round one with Spanish wine ended in a knockout: I woke up at 7:30 on the cold marble floor with my headset on from trying to call Becka. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to run 4 miles, eat a light meal, skip the water and go straight to the red wine. Nine times...

¨Brainstorm¨ is not PC

My course started yesterday, but we met our new English learners today. A collection of people from the area, these were generally wealthier than the average gaditano, as all eight had computers at home. One of the girls in the group likes Manowar, for those who remember my semi-obsession with the ridiculous heavy metal band…

I learned that it is no longer PC to say “brainstorm.” Apparently, the epileptic community was offended, since that term is “appallingly similar to what occurs during a seizure.” Therefore, we have been instructed to use the term “thought shower” instead. I’m not making this up.

My hosts are great: an Irish girl who speaks Gaelic and Spanish and her Spanish boyfriend Jimmy, who also speaks Spanish. We generally talk in Spanish, which is good for me. Jimmy doesn’t have a job. But it’s cool because no one does: the unemployment rate in Cádiz is 44%.

Instead of subtitling the movies (like the US does), Spain shows American movies, dubbed, on about a three month delay. So Señor y Señora Smith just came out and it’s pretty big here. And I watched El Simpson today, but it just wasn’t the same with a slick talking Hispanic Homer that sounded just like the Hispanic Brad Pitt, Morgan Freeman, and Bruce Willis all do. Apparently, however, the Spanish can recognize the voices of their favorite actors: the same guy dubs Eddie Murphy in all his movies. He’s terrible. As is the voice for Will Smith. The whole “black thing” doesn’t really translate too well…

I teach tomorrow for the gaditanos for the first time. Today I taught a bunch of Brits how to play Texas Hold’em in an 8 minute session to warm up for tomorrow. They seemed to like it. But I almost volunteered “playing strip poker” as a possible reason for wanting to learn to play poker when there was an awkward silence. But I decided better of it.

Real Madrid v. Cadiz CF

To get fired up about the game, I watched an at times inspiring, at times campy movie last night called Reál: La Película: a movie by Real Madrid TV about Real Madrid. Of course, I was not without my bucket of popcorn (salty but not buttery) and my refreshment: but unlike every theater save one in Chicago I’ve been to, I had a beer. That was enough by itself to make me enjoy the perspective-lacking movie, but the intense soundtrack of powerful neo-classical pieces and nasty goals did their part as well: I was ready to go buy me a ticket for the game.

With a little bit of American can-do attitude and a lot of cash, I went searching early this morning. I took a taxi to the stadium at a few minutes after nine in case scalpers were selling tickets early for cheaper and the price would go up closer to game time (although sometimes it’s in reverse…) After noticing the streets were mainly empty, I asked a couple of men if they knew where I could get tickets.

“For the game?! Hahah, you cannot get tickets, young man.” Knowing that they probably meant “tickets are too expensive, but could be had at the right price” I said “gracias” and had breakfast.

The Spanish have two of three meals down - lunch and dinner are excellent - but their breakfast is terrible. It consists of caffeine-laced coffee and a sandwich roll. Sometimes the roll has jam on it, oftentimes jamón, and at its best, has a tomato paste or olive oil. In any case, it doesn’t quite hit the spot. After breakfast, I asked the guys who served me where I could get tickets for the game. Again, laughter ensued, but this time I was told to “look for a big man” who might have tickets. I thanked him for the tip, which might could have been useful.

Around the plaza I looked around, asking a few others where to get tickets. Most of them weren’t sure/laughed at me, but one gentleman offered that if I came back between 12 and 1, I would have a better chance then. Thinking that the game started at 12, I didn’t think that much of an option. But he was right, at 9:30 in the morning, there wasn’t anyone around the stadium. Typical Andalucians, I guess…

I returned to my hostal, thankfully, in time to remove my stuff before it was confiscated (apparently my little note in Spanish saying that I went to the game wasn’t good enough) and checked my email to see if a last second attempt to get the book I needed for the course was successful (it wasn’t). Now that it was 11:15, I figured I would have a better chance, but when I arrived at the stadium, it was empty and there were just a few more people around. This time, though, I would be lucky. Sighting two men hanging out by a car, I asked if they knew anywhere I could get tickets.

“How many do you need?” he asked. I knew I was in at that point. He came in at 200. I thought I could talk him down to 150. No, this is a big match and the ticket was 94 face value. I ended up paying 250.

I miscounted and he, like a good scalper, wasn’t about to let me know. But I didn’t realize that until later when it was too late. I’ve decided to think that I payed 200 for the ticket and lost 50, rather than paying 250 for the ticket. Nonetheless, since I thought I might be looking at 400, it was a steal.

After trying to get in through a few gates (I did find the Real Madrid team bus that I saw in the movie last night) I asked someone what time the game was. “Nueve de la noche”: 9 o’clock. Right. I mixed up the numbers when I saw the poster: it said 21:00, not 12:00. That’s why I couldn’t find any scalpers at 9 in the morning, and that’s why there wasn’t anyone at the stadium 45 minutes before game time (I’m not really sure I was thinking about anything other than that I had just procured a ticket).

In any case, I returned at 8:15 for the game, looked for my seat for a half hour (there´s no such thing as sections; the seats are numbered 1-300 straight across the side of the stadium) and finally found it, on the second row, even with the penalty box, on the side that Real Madrid would warm up on.


Now I´m officially a Cadista - Cadiz soccer fan - because the woman next to me told me so. But I was just as saucer-eyed and camera-flashing as everyone else when David Beckham was practicing no more than 15 feet away. I tried to get pictures but none of them turned out well. He was a big ham - kept smiling, waving, and clapping at the fans, he was thanking everyone for coming out.


As far as the game itself went, Ronaldo broke through for Real Madrid early on, 4 minutes into the game. The fans had the wind taken out for much of the rest of the first half. But in the second half, everyone seemed to sense something was happening, and after controlling the pitch for much of the first 15 minutes of the second half, Cadiz finally broke through with an equalizer. The crowd erupted. It was pure ecstacy. You've never seen anything like it if you've only been to american football games. An explosion of sound.

But unfortunately, with about 10 minutes left in the game, Robinho, the young Brazilian transfer, created his fifth scoring opportunity and dumped the ball off to Raul, who delivered the game-winner. It would be a loss for Cadiz, 2-1, but no one went home losers: they were back with las estrellas, the big boys.

The Ultimate Consumer in Europe's oldest town

Today i made a truly remarkable discovery in this, the oldest town in Europe, with tiny streets, dilapidated buildings, and rustic charm: a gigantic uber-department store/movie theatre/discount retailer/grocery store rolled into one: el Corte Inglés. This place has everything: toys, electronics, clothes, furniture, 5 restaurants, a bookstore, a candy store, a magazine store, i mean everything. Then, attached to it is a gigantic retailer/grocery store (think a slightly higher class wal-mart) that's integrated with the other parts. Oh yeah - I forgot the movie theatre on the 2nd floor: with 10 screens, it shows about 80 movies a day. And it's all Americanized: I was giddy with excitement, feeling like I was in "ultimate consumer" paradise...

Although finding the store was a great accomplishment, the more remarkable thing about my experience at el corte ingles was that I actually didn't buy anything there. I went looking for three things: a charger for my cell phone, a program for my Palm that has all the maps of Europe on it, and a book that I need for my course teaching English. Sadly, I found none of them. I bought the charger on ebay, decided not to buy the maps, and (mom you can skip the rest of the sentence and move on to the next paragraph) am probably out of luck with the book, which was the only thing I really needed to start my course on Monday.

If anyone has ridden in a car with me, you know that I have not only a terrible sense of direction, but a penchant for not listening when directions are given to me, wanting to appear like I just needed a little steering in the right direction. In reality, I need someone to hold my hand through the process, probably draw me a map, and then give me a phone number to call when I get lost. So you can imagine what happens when I attempt to do this in a foreign language...

Spanish television strikes again: now i'm watching a reality-tv show where they just shot a lion with a tranquilizer and watched it vomit all over the cage. Sorry "Jackass"- I think this show's got you beat in the ridiculous quotient....

Tomorrow I wake up with the Cadistas (fútbol fans) to mill around outside the gates of the soccer game and eventually purchase a ticket to the game for €400, only to find out it's for next week's exhibition game against the minor league team. Next week, I'll find out that the ticket just gets me in the grounds, and doesn't even let me past the gates so I can actually see the game. But it'll be cool - I wore my Cádiz soccer jersey today and caught the approving eye of many elderly men around town, and that's gotta be worth something...

Day 2 in Cadiz

Although I slept most of the day, I still managed to get a few things done today: namely getting a cell phone. You can now call me at (+34) 686-002-678 and it's free for me... so, for example, if you have skypeOut, you can call me for about 2 cents per minute, and i won't pay anything either... sounds like a deal, huh? just wait 5 years when we'll all be talking for free... Yeah, so I just found out that that part isn't actually true: I exhausted my €7 balance in an hour's time. Not understanding what happened, I looked around on the website and found out that 2 cents per min is only for Spanish landlines; cell phones are €.22 per min. I guess we'll have to wait a while for cheaper communication on cell phones...

I was listening to my mp3 player as I was walking down the street after dinner. Specifically I was listening to the trailer music from the movie Troy, a typical Hans Zimmer knockoff type piece. I couldn't hear anything but the rousing score, and I just couldn't help but think that I was Achilles and everyone on the street was about to attack me, but I had ridiculous fighting skills and could take them all... then I couldn't help but think I was a little strange, and I changed the song...

The nudity epidemic continued today - between halves in the Liverpool soccer game (which you can watch for free, while the Cadiz home team games cost money to watch on TV; no wonder everyone here's a Real Madrid fan: you can actually watch their games...) the guy at the internet cafe switched it to rabbit ear TV and sure enough there's another topless woman. This is local tv, not even cable - I can't help but realize the US is so much more conservative than Europe....

I chat with every old man I can to find out whether it's possible to get tickets for the Cadiz-Real Madrid season opener on Sunday... I keep trying to translate the word 'scalper' with phrases like "one who sells tickets illegally on game day" but it doesn't seem to work out too well... An old man at my hotel who speaks in a raspy, thickly accented Castillano, said something about €500, and that's what I saw on the internet. I told him how you could go to a Yankees game - our equivalent of Real Madrid - for 30 bucks and he just about had a heart attack imagining seeing a soccer game for that cheap. In any case, I'm just going to show up at the stadium with lots of euros and hope I can get in...

Llego a Cadiz

As I was walking past the giant Cathedral after a pleasant paella dinner in Cadiz, I watched a little girl, no more than 5 years old, bend down to pick up a full bottle of lemon-flavored fruit juice, as almost any kid would do. If you remember SqueezIts, that's what it looked like - a clear plastic bottle of fruit juice that you could squeeze to get more juice out. As suddenly as she stopped to pick it up, however, her Spanish father snatched her by the hand, cursed at her in Spanish, and kicked the bottle away, which seemed slightly more flexible after the kick than it did at first.

Astonished by her father's abrupt and angry reaction, I examined the bottle more closely to see what the big deal was. It was then that I realized it wasn't a "El SqueezÍto" but a condom, filled with urine. I couldn't contain myself and started laughing out loud, albeit to the glare of her father, who probably assumed I left it there, waiting for that moment...

There's something about Europe that I'm sure many of you who've been are aware of, but I was not: nudity is apparently commonplace and accepted. I was walking past a woman's boutique when I noticed a "Invisible" push-up bra advertisement. Apparently, the manufacturer deemed it necessary to demonstrate just how invisible the bra was - and sure enough, it was invisible: I didn't see any bra at all, only a woman's exposed bust. Stunned, I continued on, only to find out that even ads that, unlike the bra ad, didn't have to show nudity to demonstrate their product (like a body lotion ad - the US agencies typically highlight legs rather than chests) had the model showing off her bare breasts. And it went on and on; I saw a topless girl at the beach, the tabloids have full frontals and aren't even in the sealed plastic wrappers that keep 14-year old eyes out. Naturally, I would assume that this exposure to nudity would make the adolescent males more mature and polite towards women, but remembering some of my friends' stories of Italian boys, I guess that's not the case...


Someone needs to tell me that I'm not a tourist - I'm actually living here. Because I'm tipping like one, and it's killing my wallet. Everytime someone does something nice for me, I have to tip somewhere between 30 and 50%. I tipped 3.12 on a 3.87 taxi ride today because the driver was speaking slowly and using words I could understand to tell me his love for the fútbol team here, and since I like the fútbol team as well, I gave him the nearly 50% tip. I gave my taxi driver that helped me find a hostal the change from a €10 bill. The taxi cost €4-something. It goes on and on, but in general, I'm just being appreciative when everyone's nice to me for butchering their language. I guess I should learn that they're just more patient and polite here...

Now it's time to get ready for my fantasy football (American style) draft - which starts in an hour and a half (3AM my time) because my jealous friends have tried to stop me from winning for the third time by scheduling it for a time when they knew I would be in a brand new city in Europe that most likely didn't have internet. After learning that I would get internet starting Sunday, they rescheduled the draft from the weekend following to tonight. But I have prevailed. I found a place that had internet and was open 24 hours (a luxury hotel), paid my €12 for the 24 hr access and €7 for the cab, and even found a current-converter in a store where a Chinese woman who spoke neither Spanish nor English somehow told me that they definitely did not have any current-converters for UK to Spanish current.

Tomorrow - when I wake up - I'll go to the beach (sorry Chicago - Cadiz has got you beat with the whole beach in the middle of the city thing) and maybe even a run...

Sevilla at night

After an extended delay at the London airport that consisted of 1) Iberia Airlines not telling us the gate until 20 minutes prior to departure, prompting a stampede of Brits and Spaniards to an inefficient and worthless bottleneck checkpoint; 2) Everyone in the aircraft (i´m serious) watching the safety demonstration while I read my newspaper; and 3) while taxiing on the runway, a loud screeching/clunking sound that i swear was the airplane wheels running over a large metal pipe, forcing us to stop the plane while the stewardesses ran around the airplane like decapitated chickens and did nothing to assuage our fears, we finally took off without much fanfare and left the dreary English countryside for the Andalucian sun.

Sevilla was exactly like I imagined Spain would be like: narrow, cobblestoned alley-streets with soft yellow lamps lighting the way for Vespas, walking tourists and the occassional French Connection/Bourne Identity car chase scene going past. I´ll have a picture tomorrow from right outside my hostel, but this computer won´t let me put anything up. I walked around at about 11 pm, and most of the restaurants had tons of people sitting outside in tables, drinking wine and eating tapas. Most of them, however, were tourists, from Spain or otherwise. I even ran into a girl I went to high school with, but I turned down her offer to come party on the river with a bunch of other exchange students because it seemed like a token invite and her description of where to go consisted of ¨someplace down by the river¨. I wasn´t too confident that my carrier pigeon sense of direction was capable of finding her, since I couldn´t remember her name either...

My room is the size of a standard broom closet, and yet somehow there´s a sink in it. I also managed to swing a hot shower with good water pressure down the hall, and despite a tube of shampoo puncturing itself and then after making a hole in the ziploc bag that was supposed to prevent this from happening, proceeded to leak all over my clothes...

Tomorrow I´ll look around the city for a current converter (despite my mom buying three for me, none of them work) and then head for Cadiz...

The Adventure Begins

I've arrived in London Heathrow airport for the first day of my journey. I have a 4 hour layover here before I get on Iberia flight 4143 to Sevilla. The plane ride was uneventful; I was just happy I wasn't sitting in the middle of 12 Jamaican tourists who hadn't showered for the duration of their 6-day vacation in New York...

I knew I was in England when we dropped out of the cloud cover and it was foggy and raining. That made me happy. We also flew over some part of London that I'm going to pretend was Wimbledon or something else famous, because it looked just what I thought London was supposed to look like.

One interesting thing about this airport is that all the employees are of Arab descent, instead of hispanic or black, as they are in most of the American airports...

more updates to come...