Gernika, without the bombs

The little town of Gernika is situated just a half an hour outside of Bilbao.  It's a town nestled between a couple of mountain ranges.  Every Monday during the harvest, Gernika is in holiday.  They have a wonderful fresh food market and a magnificent history.  This Monday was also unique.  The last Monday in October is the last Monday of the harvest year.  Here you have the opportunity to sample cheese, cider, and stock your kitchens with the finest foods Gernika has to offer.  It is a truly gastronomical wonder.  We went by bus early in the morning and we left by train in the mid afternoon full of cheese, cider, and txorizo in talao.  Good day, great experience.


Plagued by Injuries
Liz and I have been hear for nearly 1 month and already we have a laundry list of injuries.  In the first couple of days Liz and I had already consumed half a bottle of antacid and I suffered from from a nice case of insomnia for a bit.  My next injury was what Liz considers a "sympathy" injury since my father had just hurt his meniscus and Jermichael Finely had done the same.  I injured my knee for about 2 weeks, which seems OK, but when you have to walk everywhere, it kind of sucks.  Recently, I have been continually suffering from lingering aliments.


Pumpkin Carving
Pumpkin carving was a blast!!  We recorded it and sped it up and tried to make a cool movie for our students, but the lack of technology at my school failed me.


Sick of Halloween
Halloween hasn't even come and I'm already tired of it.  I have given the same 55 minute presentation to 12 classes and I am glad that it is officially over.  Thanksgiving here I come.  Well, until next time, stay tuned.

Free opera tickets? Well if your asking...

Who ever said karma is bulls*** obviously never had anything good happen to them.  I have been a nice person my whole life and I guess has paid off for me.  My positive outlook on life has molded my personality into that of a kind and helpful person.  In most cases I usually put peoples feelings before my own. Last Saturday it paid off.

Last Sunday I went to the Guggenheim on a request from a friend.  It was a free day and there was finally a collection in the Guggenheim that warranted my attention.  It was my friend's first time in the Guggenheim.  They headed around in the lower permanent collection while I ran to the collection on the top floor.  I'm not sure what it is about modern art, but frankly I just don't have a taste for it.  Not to mention, I wanted to get lost in the Flemish collection on the 3rd floor.  I mettled around in this collection for about two hours or so.  Finally on my way out I decided that I was going to send a quick message to my friends to let them know that I was leaving.  During this time I heard something that immediately grabbed my attention.  It was the sweet sound of well-spoken English.  Admittedly anytime someone hears their first language in a country that doesn't speak their language, they will gravitate towards those people.  Moreover, I heard them mention a bathroom and they were looking at a map.  Therefore, very politely I said, "Oh, the bathroom is right over there".  Needless to say, they were hooked.

They did the whole "Oh you speak English, where are you from?".  I responded that I was from the United States, Wisconsin to be exact, and they mentioned that they were from Florida.  We carried on with the usual chatter and then I asked them what they were doing in Bilbao.  It goes without saying that I wasn't prepared for the answer that they gave me.  The woman said that they were in Bilbao for the opening of her husband's opera.  It turns out that her husband was the very famous composer/writer Carlisle Floyd.  His opera, Susannah, was opening for the first time ever in Spain.  At this point I hadn't the slightest clue what to say.  So I came up with the only excuse that I could to avoid a conversation about the opera, "I've always wanted to see one, but I've never had the money".  Of course, his wife said, "Hey, couldn't you hook him up with some tickets?".  Next thing I knew the publicist for the Bilbao opera took my number and asked when we would like to attend.  Next thing I knew, my girlfriend and I had scored 9th row tickets and a bag of goodies from the publicist and didn't pay a euro cent!

The only problem was that we had no idea what we were going to wear...

There is such a thing as too much of a good thing

As our 4-day weekend approached us in the beginning of October due to National day in Spain, we quickly gathered and decided that we needed to take some form of action.  Our first line of business was to experience the Spanish nightlife.  On one Saturday night Liz, Amy, Iñaki, Marta, Iratxe, Graham, Andrew, and myself went out to play a game of dados and go to the discos.  The one thing I learned, which actually seems pretty smart, is that everyone chips in 10 euros and one person buys all of the drinks for everyone.  So we all gave our money, trustingly, to Iñaki.  We started in Santutxu while we met up with everyone and then headed to a bar closer to Casco Viejo.  It was at this bar that we were introduced to the lethal game of dados, El Señor de Tres, or, Lord of the Threes. 

El Señor de Tres is a dice based game that you play at bars in Bilbao. Basically each number warrants an action, one of the more lethal of the rules was the señor de 3.  Basically, everyone rolls a dice at the beginning of the game to see if they are the señor de 3.  If you roll the 3, than every time a 3 is rolled, you have to drink.  Of course, Liz, myself, and Andrew were among the lucky that rolled the 3.  By the way, there is such thing as too much of a good thing.  We played this game with a drink called Kalimotxo (a mixture of half red wine and half coca cola).  Chugging beer is one thing, chugging this sweet, sugar-filled drink is another. There was one time during the game when I felt as though I was going to vomit and had to sit out a couple of rounds.  There was a point when I saw the last bit of Kalimotxo being drunk as I headed to the bathroom.  As I was using the restroom I couldn’t help to think to myself, “Thank God it’s gone”.  Feeling relieved I headed out towards our table and out of the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of Iñaki filling up yet another round of glass with Kalimotxo.  Son of a b****!  I just remember thinking to myself “no more señor de 3, no more señor de 3”.  After another round the game was over.  Gracias a díos!  On the other hand, I strongly believe that I could have lasted the whole game had I been drinking beer.

After two rounds of Señor de Tres, it was time to head to the discos.  By this time I figure that it was 1 or 2 am.  We headed across the river into the bit sketchier area to find some discos.  A disco is a dance bar or what we would call a club.  However, don’t ask where the “club” is in Spain, because the word “club” refers to a whorehouse.  With that said we entered into a gay disco at the top of a hill.  Don’t ask me why we were in a gay disco, but it wasn't my first time.  Europe is admittedly more gay-friendly than the rest of the world and fortunately for us, they knew how to party.  We naturally formed a little dance circle and choked down our 8 euro drinks that left a bit of a sour taste in the back of our throats (figuratively, of course).  Shortly after 4 we departed the disco in search of another.  That’s right, I said in search of another.  In Spain, the discos stay open until 7, 8, or 9 in the morning! 

We all got in line for the next disco until we heard that there was a 5-euro cover charge to get in the disco.  After realizing that Liz and I had 6 euro between the two of us, we had to decide which one of us would go in and which would sit outside and wait.  No, just kidding.  Liz, myself, and our Scottish friend Graham decided that it wasn’t worth it and headed home.  We later found out that our roommate Amy did not get home until 8 am that morning.  All in all it was a good night.  Stay tuned for my next post about the opera.

The First Month

The first month is just about coming to a end.  To sum up this amazing, albeit hectic, first month: we have found an apartment, signed up for residency cards, signed up for bank accounts, began teaching, took 3 day-trips, started to line up extra work, planned Christmas vacation, explored the city, went for a night out in true Spanish fashion, and went to the opera. 

San Adrian IES is the school that I was lucky enough to get placed.  The teachers are nice and the students are interested.  When I first walked in the school, I wasn't sure what to expect. I met with Bernardo, my tutor (the teacher that is in charge of my primary caretaking), and he gave me my schedule. We chatted about what I was doing and covered our emails that we had sent back and forth to each other before my arrival.  Let me say first off that Basque people are extremely nice, contrary to my previous assumptions.  My first schedule had me working from Tuesday to Friday. When I came in the next day he had given my an entirely new schedule working from Monday to Thursday.  He told me I could choose which schedule I wanted.  By this time I had already told Liz to try to get Mondays off for obvious reasons.  I was very hesitant to accept either of the two schedules, so I asked if I could tell him later via email.  When I got home, I found out that Liz's schedule was Wednesday to Friday.  I sent my teacher an email explaining Liz's schedule and how it would be better if I had Monday's off.  When I came in on the following Tuesday to work, I was hit with yet another curve ball.  My newest schedule had me working from Wednesday to Friday.  I work 6 hours on Wednesday, 2 on Thursday, and 4 on Friday.  All my excitement of having two days off was soon extinguished by Liz receiving a new class on Tuesday and on my second job needing me to work Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays.  So long 4-day weekends, hello extra money.  Oh well, it could be worse.  And as of late, I have been contacted on about 6 tutor jobs.  Once again, goodbye 12 hour work week, hello 24 hour work week.  Once again, it could be worse.

The bank account and identification cards were interesting experiences to say the least.  I was a lot of head nodding and signing things on our part, hopefully no one was trying to take advantage of our foreignness.  I am going to pick up my new debit card (which is useless until we get paid) on Wednesday, and my identification card shortly thereafter.

Our three day trips were to Plentzia, Santander, and Haro.  Plentzia is a beach about a 45-minute metro ride north of Bilbao.  Beautiful beaches, quaint little town, and picturesque river lined with numerous vessels.   The strange thing was that I forgot to bring my swimsuit to the beach.  It's strange that it never registered in my mind to do so.  We (Liz, Amy, and myself) had planned to meet one of Amy's friends, Iñaki and his friend Marta.  When they arrived, in true Spanish fashion, about 2 hours later, Iñaki mentioned that due to the strike in Bilbao, the metro might be shut down.  At first we panicked, but then we realized that they were striking in Bilbao and that we might be stranded on a beautiful beach on a gorgeous day.  It's strange how our worries seemed to just melt away at that point.  After a quick photo shoot on my part, we departed with out fingers crossed.  We caught the metro and were back into Bilbao for dinner.  

A 4-day weekend approached us in the beginning of October due to National Day in Spain. We quickly gathered and decided that we (Liz, Amy, Andrew, and myself) needed to take some form of action.  On Monday we decided to head to Haro, a small town in the wine producing region of La Rioja.  I, being the naive tourist that I am, thought that we could just show up in a country that loves their wine (on a day off, have you), and expect to have no problem getting on a wine tour.  Needless to say, that was one thing that we didn't do when we were in Haro.  So without any opening, we decide to walk around the bodegas and see if they had any cancellation spots available.  When we crossed over from the town to the bodegas (they were separated by a river) we were almost instantly met by the sweet smell of vineyards.  It's a smell that I can only compare to goodness and more goodness.  My spirit was instantly raised.  I could have sat there all day just smelling this sweet smell.  Anyway, the mission was a failure.  We then decided to do the next best thing...head to a bar and get a bottle of wine and some raciones (small plates of food) to split amongst ourselves.  All in all, it was a successful day in Haro.  Stay tuned for my next two posts on our night out and the opera.

Travel Tip # 1--Money goes fast!!!

My girlfriend Liz and I came to Spain with a considerable amount of money, but between the hostel, food, and putting a security deposit and first month's rent down on our apartment, we had successfully spent over half of our money.  Then we thought, "What better way to make ourselves feel better than to take a trip to Santander with our little British roommate Amy?"  We thought that it would be cheap due to the fact that its only an hour and a half away.  Wrong.  Our first task--transportation.  We decided to take the 3 hour commuter train at 6 euro roundtrip a piece rather than the one and a half our bus for 8 euro.  We saved 2 euro a piece!!!  Big savings!  Then we thought, "We should pack a lunch!"  Good idea, until we realized that we had not purchased food the night before and had to get it when we got into Santander.  Still, no problem, as we expected there was a grocery store in Santander.  We spent 5 euro total on our meal.  Not bad.  We even opted to walk to the beach from the train station.  Unfortunately, the beach was a bit farther than we had originally anticipated.  After a 30-40 minute walk we reached the beach and collapsed in a grassy area for our midday meal.  There's nothing like a wonderfully prepared picnic next to a beach overlooking a terrific beach on a breezy day.  Although, there was something missing from my childhood memories that I used to enjoy with my sandwiches.  And that item of course was sand itself to give the sandwich a bit of an extra crunch.

So we managed to get to the beach for under 20 euro, not bad right?  Once we got there though, Liz's old guilty pleasure and my new found fondness kicked in.  We left the towels, bags, and supplies with Amy and headed for the nearest surf board rental store.  We found one at around 11:30 am.  It was the same place Liz had visited two years ago.  On our way there we were debating the amount of time and if a wetsuit was needed.  When we got there our decision became much simpler.  The lady was about to close shop until 3 pm, so we had to rent for a minimum of 3 hours, and due to the windiness of the afternoon, a wetsuit was needed.  At that moment, our trip from under 20 euro to over 60 euros in a matter of minutes.

Even though I hate spending money, I would spend this money again in an instant.  I love surfing.  Call me a poser, call me whatever you want, I don't care.  I love surfing.  The best part about it, I spent 2 of the 3 hours getting absolutely wrecked.  It's the first activity that I have done since high school football where I enjoyed the punishment that was inflicted on me by the unseen power of the sea.  The experience was beyond words.  Every crash was unique and every muscle in the body was used.  I was getting pushed and pulled, thrown and sucked.  I loved it, and I didn't even catch a wave.  Haha!! Weird.  I felt so excited to do something that I'm not good at.  And I didn't think once about sharks!!

Leaving the surfing behind us, Liz, Amy, and myself headed to do some more touristy stuff on the little peninsula that jutted out into the harbor of Santander.  On our journey we encountered a zoo, castle, and a Segway tour of the peninsula.  Alas, we began to run out of time and hopped on the bus for 1.2 euro a piece.  We were tired, sore, and ready to head home.  Unfortunately, we realized that it was Saturday and that all grocery stores will be closed on Sunday.  Thinking quickly, I headed to the grocery store in Santander and the girls headed to the sweet shop in the train station (actually come to think of it, I was the only one thinking on my feet).  The good thing was that we had snacks, but the bad thing was that I had to add that total to my traveling expenses.  Hello extra 15 euro.  Bringing the final to over $100.  O well, it was worth every penny.

House Hunting International

Sorry about the lateness of this most recent post.  I started this blog 2 weeks after I arrived, so I have to play some catch-up.  Basically, we arrived in Bilbao around 2pm on the 23rd.  Needless to say we were both exhausted.  We found the nearest ATM and made our first of many withdrawal.  Even though I called ahead and told my bank that I would be in Spain on the 22nd of September, my transaction was declined...thank God I was traveling with a bona fide sugar-mama (OK a bit of an exaggeration)!

Originally we booked our hostel for 2 nights, with obviously an optimistic outlook on finding a flat.  Unfortunately, we took a couple of days longer, which should have been expected.  We spent the first day sleeping off our jet-lag and the next couple looking for apartments. All in all, we spent 5 exhausting days and nights at the wonderful, however dodgy, Hotel Bilbi.

Previously to arriving in Bilbao, Liz and I had found a roommate from England, Amy.  Even after dozens of emails and phone calls, Liz and I could only catch the attention of realtors (which coincidently charge you to find an apartment).  On the other hand, Amy had lined up two showings from England.  Of course, due to France's incompetence as a nation, her flight was cancelled and was unable to rebook her flight until 3 days later.  This is the first of two things that the French screwed us on.  Anyway, Amy put her trust in Liz and I to select one of the two apartments.  The first one we looked at we were almost certain was going to be ours, but we had to check the other one out just to say that we shopped around.  We were right.  We choose the first one and moved in, went through the legalities, and paid our deposit and first month (Rosa, our landlord, allowed us to stay the rest of September for free!!).

Finally, a place to call home for the next month!!  Once again, I settled into a place with 3 girls and 1 guy, me.  The housemates consist of Liz, our british friend Amy, Elvira, a girl born and raised in this very flat ( also the daughter of the landlord), and me.  Interestingly enough, our lease came with some added perks in the form of our landlord Rosa.  When we first met her and she showed us the place a vaguely recall her mentioning something about a maid service that we got with our lease, but we just assumed that it was something lost in translation.  After the first couple of days we realized that it wasn't a maid, but Rosa that was coming to clean every couple of days.  Its similar to having a host mom again. She sweeps and vacuums the floor, makes our bed, and does our laundry if we leave it by the door.  She buys us hangers, olive oil, eggs, and cold medicine.  Then again, Spanish parents are used to taking care of their children until they're in their late 20's.  Well thats all for today, until tomorrow...

The Backstory

Whether your reading my blog because your related to me, know me, or are interested in my adventure, please bear with me.  This is my first blog.  For those of you who need no introduction to who I am, feel free to skip the first three paragraphs.  For those of you who want to know my backstory, enjoy.

My story is nothing spectacular and by no means unique, but I'm going to tell it to you anyway.  Surprisingly, my story involves zero impulse, however, does cater to my ability to be easily persuaded.  Ever since I was young I have been at every and anyone's beck and call due to my need to please.  When my brothers' broke my collar bone when I was young I kept quiet because they wanted me to.  When my best childhood pal decided he wanted to play football instead of soccer, I gladly jumped on the band wagon.  When a girl I liked mentioned that she was doing a semester abroad in Spain, I quickly obliged the idea.  When I much admired professor of mine enlightened me of an opportunity to teach English in Spain for better part of a year I couldn't help but explore my options.  I, being a recent graduate of a wonderful public university in Eau Claire, Wisconsin, had two options; I could either begin the nerve-racking job search in the ever-unemployment ridden United States or enjoy an experience of a lifetime (and get paid to do so). Needless to say it didn't take a whole lot to get me back to the wonderful nation of Spain.

As I have previously mentioned, there was no impulse involved.  I first heard about this opportunity when I got back from Spain in the fall semester of my Junior year.  I entertained the idea for about a year or so until my options opened up in the Spring of my Senior year (coincidently after I finished a short three week stint in Spain visiting my cousin) when I decided that I was definitely going to apply for the program.  I began the application process in December of 2009.  It was long and tedious, not to mention very poorly planned process, during which I was in the process of completing my teaching practicum at a high school in Wisconsin.  There was however an end in sight; all at once as though the floodgates had broken wide open, I was accepted to the program, I finished my practicum, and I graduated.

I was relieved and overwhelmed.  Then it hit me, I was leaving in 3 months and I had yet to save enough money to even buy a plane ticket, let alone move to a foreign country.  Not to mention the fact that I had been extremely occupied with my previous three accomplishments that I neglected to find a job for the summer.  Luckily for me, due to my family's recent acquirement of a less than perfectly maintained cottage, my father was able to employ me for the start of the summer.  Also, due to some good connections that I made though out my college years I managed to snag two extra jobs for the second half of the summer.  That coupled with numerous generous donations from loved ones (all of which are greatly appreciated and I love all of you) permitted me to reach my goal.  Then came September 22nd and I was off.

Its not as bad as I have portrayed it since I neglected to mention that I wasn't alone on my adventure.  My girlfriend Liz had also chose to apply to the program, you can follow her blog Elizabeth en España at http://lizenespana.blogspot.com/.  Stay tuned.