Week 33

Lost in Translation: I'm happy to report that these days the funny tales of a lost translation are more often found in our students' English as opposed to our Spanish.  Don't get me wrong, I think these errors are a result of confidence in trying to put together a phrase rather than incompetence.  Joni and I are continuously improving our Spanish, but many of the Spaniards in their 20s and 30s have had some form of English education for a majority of their lives.  With that experience, I suppose, comes a carefree attitude for making mistakes - quite essential in any pursuit!  At any rate, this week features a Spanish idiom of sorts that doesn't exactly translate literally.  Near the end of a class with her actors, Joni had one student wish another good luck on an upcoming audition by uttering a friendly wish for "A lot of shit."  In Spanish, the equivalent of "break a leg" is is apparently mucho mierda - a lot of shit.  While it appears rather counter intuitive, I've now got something to tuck into my back pocket the next time I think someone is laying into me with an expletive!

Exploring the City: Ellen Sunderland and her mother Carol visited last weekend, and we enjoyed the various sights of Madrid with them.  Along with the classic standbys, we also ventured out on a new day trip to the city of Cuenca.  We were attracted to this place by the casas colgadas (or 'hanging houses') that line cliffs of the older part of the city.  And while these were indeed quite impressive, we were surprised by the beautiful landscape and paths leading up to and through the city.

This dog climbed to the top of a view point atop an arch in Cuenca (using stairs) and hopped up on the very edge of this stone wall.  It was equal parts exhilarating, cute, and nerve wracking - clearly the dog had done this before, but the extent to which it flirted with what would have surely been a fatal fall had me grimacing through my dropped jaw. 

Joni had been craving this sort of a vacation - one that would take us to a less-well-trod corner of Spain.  That said, there was still a great deal of classic tourist value to Cuenca.  We stepped inside the cathedral, and in addition to it's external beauty the overlook just outside the rear of the church provided a pretty excellent view of the peaceful river valley that flowed into the rest of the city.  I'm used to these sprawling feats of architectural triumph being located in an urban center, and so the cathedral in Cuenca's placement on the edge of this town seemed notable.  That said, I'm no expert on the matter, it's just pretty unique in the scope of my cathedral viewing experience.

A bridge spans from the old city across the ravine to a complex that used to be a monastery but that now is home to a resort (as was evidenced by the tennis courts that now lie adjacent to the presumably much older structure containing accommodations for tourists). The historical significance seemed outweighed by commercial opportunism, so Ellen, Joni and I ventured just far enough to touch the other side before retreating to the side of the river where the common folks walk.

               

   

We also had a brief but wonderful visit with our friend Mark and his girlfriend Kristyn during their overture in Madrid kicking off a whirlwind week around Spain and Portugal.  It was fun getting to stroll through Retiro and sing along with the travel-sized ukulele our friend had brought along.

Memorable Meal: The last night of our visit with Ellen and Carol, we set out in search of a place serving croquettes.  Ordinarily this would be pretty simple - the fried potato cheese balls are prevalent throughout the various bars and cafeterias in Madrid.  But apparently there are a lot of restaurants that are closed on Monday, so we passed on three closer locations to get to Hermanos Egea - about a 10 minute walk from our apartment.  In addition to sampling two varieties of croquettes - veggie and traditional (jamón) - the table was also adorned with a spanish tortilla (similar to an omelet), cheesy fries, and a scrumptious dish of shrimp marinated in some sort of sauce.  We dined at about 8:30, which of course meant that we were essentially alone.  At first I took this as some kind of sign that the restaurant wasn't worth patronizing, but of course it is simply a reflection of Spanish meal times; by the time we departed close to 10, a few other tables had started to fill in.

En la clase: From time to time, I look at my white board after class and it cracks me up. Before the Sunderlands arrived, I told the class that our friend Ellen was coming to visit. They had a problem pronouncing her name, and so I wrote it on the board.  All of the other words were unconnected.



Final Notes: We are gearing up for another week of guests - first with Rachael and Wade Crossman who arrive on Saturday, and then with Chris Breckenridge who will grace us with a visit on Tuesday.  March is busy for visitors, but we've really enjoyed seeing all these familiar faces in a place that is feeling increasingly more like home each day.  Joni started Spanish classes with Cat this week, and I have been making a more concerted effort not to allow people to speak English to me when my Spanish falters.

If you've made it this far, reward yourself with the video of what may be the most amazing thing we've seen in nearly 8 months of being in Spain.