MedievAl ADventure

My adventure of the week was taking the AVE (high speed) up to Madrid to visit a missionary friend and her new husband. I've known this woman almost my whole life and she's always been an inspiration since she moved to Spain by herself to teach and be a missionary, which is one of my life dreams. I spent Friday while they were working marching around Madrid solo. From the last time I was in Spain, I had this memory in my mind that Madrid was wonderful and one of the better places in Spain. Not really my feeling now. I once again somehow lied to myself until I believed going to museums would be fun. I mean it's cool to see famous art like La Guernica but the Lord withheld the ability for me to comprehend themes and motifs and staring at a painting for more than .11 seconds. The one museum I did like though was the Museo de Jamon (Ham). Omg.

The next day Steph and I went to Toledo, which actually is one of the better places in Spain. To me, it almost didn't feel like Spain. It's this unbelievable medieval city that has huge Arabic, Jewish, and Christian influences all smashed in one place. It reminded me a little of Jerusalem with the intact city wall, tiny streets, and mosque competing with the synagogue. Steph also was perfect because we share a similar level of patience for art and tours. We did find ourselves pleasantly surprised that we enjoyed the audio tour we took of the Toledo cathedral. I'm usually one to critique the exorbitant decor of Catholic churches, but to learn about the rationale and deliberate thought behind each fresco, sculpture, and altar piece was actually really cool. Another highlight of the Toledo day was that it was All Saint's Day (Nov. 1) which I still don't have any idea what that means, but we visited the cemetery. Literally everyone and their cousin and then some goes to the cemetery on this day to douse the graves with flowers. The air is actually potent and hard to breathe because of so much floral smell. It was also weird because literally every tomb was identical with the same tombstone, cross, and Jesus crucifix which made me wonder how many of them were genuine and how many were just the cultural influence or last ditch afterlife effort. But what a fun cultural experience.

My last day in Madrid, Steph and Ned took me to this baby evangelical church. The pastor was all ready to preach when suddenly he just decided God didn't want him to speak and instead it was going to be an open floor for testimonies. So that turned into two hours of practically everyone in the room sharing their story and what God is teaching them. Really, really cool. Really, really church. We finished it off with street pollo asado (roast chicken) and croquetas (deep fried cream of chicken soup). It's pretty telling when how small your matchbox is when you find yourself longing to stay another night in a strange bed.

But I had to come home because my first Spanish oven adventure awaited. I have this roommate who is small and feisty and almost never home, but she technically owns (or maybe just is the primary renter) of our flat. She came home the other day to find the oven broken. The button that releases the gas was partly falling off. So of course this meant a thorough interrogation of all of us and several large accusations, to which all I said was Hi I've never used the oven because I couldn't figure it out. But we endured a positive hour of this generally enjoyable conversation. The next day in hopes of abating her panic, I tried to mess with the oven and it worked fine for me. All that being said, it motivated me to don the mad scientist hat and make lasagna  in our dear oven without any idea of what the internal temperature was. There isn't even a low/high option. It just is. But after escaping a few small blazes, I successfully didn't let Spain stop my lasagna gluttony.


So I got dragged to the depths of Catalunya to attend a Young Life event pretty much all in Catalan. Totally was under the impression it was a quick two hour thing and I'd be home in time for the usual 9 pm bed time. But no. We drove two hours. Each way. BUT YL Banyoles has this really great space in the middle of this total BARRIO. They just keep it open in the evenings during the week for kids to come and j chill. The kids seem really intense. Just picture kids whose parents don't have time for them or whose friends pressure them into rough stuff or chicas who don't really care about themselves. So the leaders broke out this game called Biopolis which could rival Focus on the Family for cheesy, wholesome games. Naturally the kids took it extremely seriously and got really deep. One girl even confessed that humping is her favorite relationship activity. Hopefully that isn't too much for a blog. Might have to up this rating to PG-13.

Another YoungLife activity was at the instituto-basically a combo middle/high school that only goes up to 16. We go Wednesdays to play soccer during "patio" time (recess). If you know me at all, you know I loathe soccer, especially playing it, and have only half of an athletic bone in my body. It just doesn't happen. But these chicas were complaining about how they were embarrassed to play and so a demon possessed me and I heard myself saying I'd play if they did. Terrible mistake. Resulted in both of my knees being skinned for the first time since age seven, but I at least was able to kick the ball in the right direction. Probably going to give Messi a run for his money if I keep this up. The best part of the day though, was at the end the girls asked me why I moved to Barcelona to attend their instituto for just my last year. Hi, sorry, I'm NOT fifteen, but thanks for thinking we were classmate pals. 

This week, my language friend Ivan asked me to tell him the story of our country's history. This exercise is one I encourage everyone to do because I learned two things. 1) It's the weirdest and most awkward thing in the world to tell someone the United States' history in a different language. Mostly because when was the last time you thought of the Revolutionary War? Or explained the purpose of the Constitution and Supreme Court? Well, actually I do frequently think of RBG, but...still. 2) You learn what you are passionate about by the way you tell our country's story. That's been really interesting to think about, especially with what I've been learning about how Spain politics differ from ours. Every night for the past week (leading up to 11/9 vote for independence), everyone in my apartment building neighborhood comes out onto their balconies and bangs pots and pans for several minutes for independence.

At the end of all of this I might just have to write myself a Things Allie Has Learned In Spain post. I just passed the halfway mark, but I'm going to have to find some potion for growing more brain cells because I'm exploding and not sure where to put it all.

xoxo.