Fashion Faux Pas Part Deux

I just saw a girl wearing a denim mini-skirt and what appeared to be either wrestling shoes or the shoes you wear to race cars. Move over Hulk Hogan...or, um, Jeff Gordon.

Hyperactive Piano Drums

Close to two weeks between posts. Again. But as Steve Zissou said, "You know how I feel about apologies, so if it's all the same I'll just skip it...well, anyway I'm sorry." I will try to post more often as keeping up the blog really helps me keep up the introspection. In the meantime, here are two videos one of my teachers told me about. They're awesome.





Today I'm thankful for the time I will be studying for my Spanish test tomorrow. This is the first time in my life where I can literally walk out onto the street and apply what I've learned in class right away. Amazing!

Las Guitarristas (Parte Dos)

Here is a video of my roommate and I playing guitar on our terrace. He's good and is soloing. I am playing rhythm and can't keep time.

Gini's School for Wives who can't Cook Good and Wanna Learn to do Other Things Good Too.

I know, I know, long time no blog, but I've been really busy and tired. A lot has been going on lately, though nothing really huge. Last weekend I went to a national park called Cazorla to spend four days with my people here, getting to know each other and what not. It was a lot of fun and I actually did learn a lot about everybody. For example, if I ever get married, I hope that my wife would be willing to attend Gini's School for Wives who can't Cook Good and Wanna Learn to do Other Things Good Too..

I'm still in language school, and I'm still making progress, though at times very slowly. On some days I can just tell that it is going to be hard to speak. I just feel it while walking to class. Very frustrating. But, I guess as long as I am learning new things, eventually it will all come pouring out.

Anyway, I'm having trouble thinking, a common thing these days, so here are a few pictures to feed your lust for...pictures.
This first one is a picture of the Alhambra from the Mirador de San Nicolas, a lookout place. Beautiful.


This one is of the street that I walk down everyday to leave or return to my apartment. At any given moment it is filled with tourists. Your hear a lot of German on this street, and the buses can go by pretty fast. You definitely want to hug the wall sometimes.


A couple weeks ago, a few of us went on a hike after church. It was a nice little jaunt to a rural park, where we threw a frisbee and enjoyed the nice weather. Plus, it almost felt like we were sitting on real grass, a rarety here. There is a little grass in one of the parks in town, but you aren't supposed to sit on it, and I'm not a lawbreaker.


This is a picture from our retreat. While driving there I saw more olive trees than ever before in my life, which isn't saying a lot, except that there really were a ton of olive trees. I guess that's why olive oil is so cheap here. Anyway, it was beautiful.


In ending this post I would say that I'm thankful for the nap I took this afternoon. Yesterday, I went hiking again with friends and it was a long day, mostly because of the company. Just kidding. It was actually because I left my house a little before ten, went hiking until 6:30, then hung out with the hiking crew until I had to meet some people for tapas at 8:30. I finally went to bed a little after midnight, so the nap was just what I needed. Plus, when I was meeting with my program director this week he asked me how he could pray for me. I told him that I was still really tired, a common theme lately, and he responded with something along the lines of, "this sounds like a recurring problem, what are you going to do about it." And nap I did.

Thankful Part 2

Once again, I forgot to end my last post with something I'm thankful for. It seems this is becoming a habit. Anyway, today I'm thankful for...well, honestly, it's a bit hard to think of something, so I'll have to get back to you. I guess I could say something like, I'm thankful for my iPod because it facilitates one of my favorite activites, listening to music. Or something about getting better at Spanish, which I am thankful for, but that string has already been plucked. Maybe I should just be thankful that this blog has forced me to evaluate my life and work hard to think of all the meaningful ways that God has blessed me. I'll think about it before going to bed early tonight.

Reefer Madness!

So, here are the plain facts. A good percentage of Holland is currently studying Spanish at my language school. In Fact, half of my class are Dutch girls. And they speak English very well. But what if I didn't speak English? What would it feel like if this common language were taken away? Such is the position of the Italian guy in class. He is there to learn Spanish and doesn't speak English, so not many people talk with him during the breaks. So I took it upon myself to speak with him, and apparently he has taken a liking to me.

Yesterday, when I left my keys, wallet, mobile phone, and money locked in my apartment, he offered to buy me a pastry at a bakery down the street. I enjoyed speaking with him about music, Italy, the mafia, and food, even though it was all in broken Spanish. Today, I returned the favor, and after finishing my Berliner, he asked me an interesting question. "Do you enjoy smoking?" You have to be careful answering questions like this in Spain, because you may end up communicating something false. I quickly assessed the situation. I never see him smoking with the other students during breaks, but he mentioned in class that he doesn't ever get drunk. So, I offered a safe reply, "sometimes, I like to smoke a pipe with my friends." His response, "I like to smoke marijuana."

Add it to the lists of firsts here in Spain. First place I've visited outside of Texas where a mullet was socially acceptable, first time eating churros con chocolate, first Dutch friend, and first implicit invite to take part in illegal activities. What's next, driving a scooter? Hopefully not. I hate scooters.

By the way, I turned down the invitiation and now have one more reason to learn this language--to turn down drugs.

Thankful

So, I just realized that my last two posts were lacking in the thankfulness department. Remember when I promised to end every post with some form of thanksgiving? No? Oh, that's right, you don't care. Just kidding, I know you do. Right?

Anyway, today I'm thankful for my new cajón. For those of you who don't know what that is, it's basically a wooden box that you sit on and play like a djembe. For those of you who don't know what a djembe is, it's a drum you play with your hands. So, a cajón is a wooden box that you play with your hands. It's one of the coolest percussion instruments I've ever heard, and I pretty much suck at it right now, but hopefully I'll improve to "kind of doesn't suck."

Also, I'm thankful for the care package I received in the mail yesterday. Not only did I learn how to pick up a package from the Post Office, but the package I picked up contained Easter candy! For those of you who have never eaten Cadbury Mini-Eggs, you don't know what you're missing. Although, if you haven't tried them, I'm assuming that it is because you are dead, probably the result of a very good personal choice (read my Fashion Faux Pas post about choosing death over a Mullet).

My thanks for this post would have to be the time I've spent hanging out with people from school these past few days, and the fact that my singing voice, not that it was ever anything spectacular, is coming back. Oh yeah, and I found out that a café here has an Open Mic night every Tuesday. We'll see how that goes.

Tired

Six weeks down. It's amazing how the time flies. It's also amazing how tired you can get from doing nothing. For example, today, I woke up tired, went to class and then came home for lunch. After lunch, I started to do my homework and study...and fell asleep. Right now, I just returned from a meeting and I'm getting ready to study some more...and probably fall asleep.

Why am I so tired? I haven't been running, playing volleyball, or any of the other things I used to do to stay active. Personally, I think it is just from living in a strange place and constantly listening to a strange language. Strange, huh? Well, unfortunately I'm not a master at Spanish yet, but I've had some great conversations with some of my classmates in English. They are very European in their views of religion and Christianity, and find it a bit odd that I am so young and still go to church, read the Bible, and pray. No young people do that here, so I feel like a hamster in one of those clear exercise balls--everybody's watching to see what I'll do and where I'll go. Anyway, it has made for some very thought provoking discussions.

Also, the weather has warmed up a bit, which has made playing the guitar a bit easier, and thus restored one of my favorite relaxation tools. And, I bought a cajon this week. It has to be one of the coolest things ever. Now, I just need to learn how to play it. It is becoming increasingly hard to concentrate, so I'm ending abruptly.

Ben Brown went to the aquarium...

Last night I had a great conversation with some friends back home, and it was just what I needed. There is something comforting about talking to the people who are closest to you. I can't explain it, there just is. They speak to your heart without saying a word. Just knowing that they are on the other end allows you to picture yourself sitting at the table with them again. It also helps when one of those people has been through the same feelings and trials that you are currently facing. I've been a bit homesick this past few days, and frustrated with my Spanish, mostly because my roommates are gone and I didn't have school, so I called Jeff and Sheila.

Naturally, I had grand plans of studying my brains out this weekend, going back to school on Monday with everything nailed down, and being able to converse with people all of a sudden. With season one of Alias and House behind me, not to mention a few trips to eat shawarma, here I sit, with almost no studying done, lonely, and still a little homesick. But while I'm lonely, I don't want to be around the people here in Granada, I want to be with all my friends back in Wyoming, Louisville, and North Carolina. This morning after church, when everyone stood up and started talking, I just had to go outside. I was overwhelmed by all the voices, and not being able to communicate, so I stood outside. I stood there with all these people readily accessible, but I felt lonely. I walked part of the way home with a friend, but just wanted to be alone, because I'm the only person I really know here. I'm longing for the familiar. When I brush my teeth I picture my bathroom at home, where everything is, what the faucet and water felt like, the lighting, the floor. I miss it all.

But God hasn't called us to the familiar. He has called us to acknowledge that we are strangers and exiles on the earth (Heb 11:13). "For people who speak thus make it clear that they are seeking a homeland. If they had been thinking of that land from which they had gone out, they would have had opportunity to return. But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared for them a city." (Hebrews 11:14-16)

God has been teaching me this for a long time, but I'm stubborn. And I expect He will continue to teach it to me the rest of my life, because I'm stubborn. His call for us to be sojourners isn't an external one. It's internal, and that is difficult. Moving across the world is easy, but letting God be your all in all--not your family, friends, stuff, and location--that is hard. Especially when all of those things are at your disposal. I pray that God would peel my clenched fingers away from all these things so that I can see them the way they deserve to be seen, through the lens of God's love, not my comfort. So I can touch them with God's hands, not selfishly with my own. In the end, it will bring God, others, and me, so much more joy.

Yes, I'm stubborn. But thank God that I'm loved.

Fashion Faux Pas

I haven't posted for awhile, so here is a list of some things I have learned here in Granada. The subject--fashion.

First, I have never seen so many mullets before in my life. Everyday, I step out of my apartment and into a Billy Ray Cyrus video. Lesson #1: NEVER HAVE A MULLET FOR ANY REASON WHATSOEVER. This rules out the mini-mullet, the dreadlock mullet, the mullet hawk (mohawk mullet combo), the she-mullet, all of them. Given the choice between death and getting a mullet, always choose death.

Second, girls care not for comfort. They walk on cobblestone streets wearing heels, all the time. Do yourself a favor and put on some tennis shoes for an afternoon. It's OK.

Third, girls tend to be really skinny here. So, if you are a Spanish girl, EAT SOMETHING.

Fourth, everybody smokes everywhere. I might as well just take up smoking. Who cares if the package says something like, SMOKING KILLS YOU?

There you go, short list of things not to do. I guess I could throw a quick shout out to piercing your face too. Don't do it.

Today, I'm thankful that I learned something very useful in class.

The View

As promised, here are some pictures from the terrace of my apartment. The view is incredible, and unfortunately the pictures don't do it justice. They were all taken from terrace.

This is my view of the backside of the Alhambra.


Just off to the left are the remains of the first hospital in in Europe.


This is a picture of a street behind the terrace.


Again, sorry the pictures don't do justice to the Alhambra's beauty, but you have now seen things the way I do every morning. Oh, and I forgot to take a picture of the historic Arab Baths. And my roommates. But I'll save that for another day.

I almost forgot, today the weather warmed up and I got to wear sandals, which makes my foot feel a lot better. I'm definitely thankful for that.

Las Guitarristas

Language school. Mine is called Mester. I go for two hours in the morning, then have a Spanish 15 minute break (25 minutes) where I go buy bread with Molly, then go back for another two hour session with a different teacher. Right now it is really basic, but I have learned a few new things, which is nice, cause, you know, I live in Spain. Or Something.

My class consists of my friend Molly, three 18-19 year old Dutch girls, and a guy from France named Jean. Oh yeah, and me. I pretty much rule the class. Except in guitar skills. The other day Jean came over to my apartment (pictures coming soon) to play guitars, and he schooled me. He's been playing for five years and loves French gypsy music and is great at improvisation. But my guitar is better than his. Ha! In your face Jean! My guitar was bought with money, you couldn't even buy your skills? He also speaks English, French, German, and Japanese. He'll learn Spanish in no time. He is already really good.

Thanks to everyone who sent me notes about my feet. I've got multiple options for treatment, including my Dad sending me my old shoes that are perfectly molded to my feet. Another option is staying off of my feet for a few days by posing as a street performer. Maybe I'd get a little extra cash too.

I was trying to think of something I could do on the blog to connect all these thoughts. I thought about keeping a running tally of how many times I've stepped in dog poop at the end of each post, but a better one just happened upon me. Inspired by Molly, who was inspired by Oprah, who I can't talk bad about because she probably owns the interweb and everything else, I've decided to end each post with something that I'm thankful for.

Today I'm thankful for the unsolicited chocolate I received from Stevo, Sarah, Nina, Daci, and Marko. I'm not even homesick yet and I've been spoiled by Reese's Pieces. I'm not soliciting for more stuff, it was just a great reminder that people care about me and are praying for me. I'm also thankful for the emails I've received. Please, don't stop communicating with me.

God Bless and Good Night (Day)

¡Mumbler!

Last night was very interesting. Let me give you a little run through. I decided to attend my new roommate's girlfriend's birthday party at what will be my apartment come Monday. Being the overconfident navigator I am, I tried to take the quick, back road way to the apartment, but I got lost right away. How's that, you ask? Well, I was following a narrow, cobblestone street between tall white buildings, but apparently that is what all the streets and buildings look like in Albaicin. Actually, I just got really lost, because I didn't know where the heck I was going (that's twice this week). So I ended up at a lookout place, finally pulled out my map but couldn't find where I was at, then broke down and asked some nice people for directions. They responded with "tan lejos" (very far) and were surprised that I had was walking there. They must be lazy.

Anyway, I finally made it to the party. As soon as I walked in, I was paralyzed by the thought of having to kiss that many people on the cheek. In Spain, when you enter a room, you are supposed to greet everyone in the room, shaking hands with the men and fake kissing the girls on each cheek. Some of you may be saying, "what is his deal, he doesn't want to kiss cute girls?" But what you don't understand is that I don't even like to sit next to someone in a theater, unless I know them really well, because our shoulders might touch, let alone kissing a bunch of strangers. If I could sum up the evening in three words, it would be these:

1) Awkward. Not only did I have to kiss the one stranger who was closest to me upon entrance, but I was the dumb American who couldn't speak much Spanish.

2) Challenging. Not only was I the dumb American who couldn't speak much Spanish, but I talked with a local guy who seemingly said more random vowel sounds than actual words. He was a nice guy, but I found it hard to concentrate on our conversation when I was thinking, "he isn't saying real words, he's just mumbling, how did this guy get into college?" Again, nice guy, but a thick accent.

3) Fun. Not only was I the non-kissing, dumb American, but at some point in time I became the guy playing guitar with another guy. I kind of felt like I was on display at a zoo, or a street performer's monkey. Everybody gathered round and shouted, "DANCE MONKEY, DANCE!" while I tried to play along. The good news. One of my new roommates said he would teach me some Flamenco songs.

I'll post again in a few days to let you know how language school and my apartment are going.

coche fantastico

Yes, David Hasselhof has used his brand of Miami beach voodoo to witch his way into the hearts of Spaniards. In fact, so much so that Knight rider reruns are on TV here. It's called Coche Fantastico--Fantastic Car (how true). Surely this is a sign that postmillenialism is utterly false, because if the world were getting better David Hasselhof would not still be on TV.

So here I sit, waiting to go check out an apartment that I'm pretty sure David (the other guy here with me) will take. But I have some promising leads, and if none of them work out I can always scotch guard a big screen TV box from the electronics store. That is a pretty big need. So is language. I need to learn Spanish. It seems that no matter how hard I try, these people won't speak english. Like when we went to buy mobile phones and the lady wouldn't speak english. Actually, she gave us our phones in "spanish language" mode because she said, "you need to learn." What? Who is she to tell me I can't speak English? I thought there was some kind of world law that says everybody in the world needs to speak English, but I guess she hadn't heard of it. Seriously, they are like cavemen here.

I am starting language school in a little over a week. This week is devoted to the city itself. I need to learn how to get around, and thankfully we have an assignment to help with that. Taking the bus, going into diferent stores, attending mass, finding all the Plazas, eating shawarma...basic orientation. I'm looking forward to using the little Spanish I know to ask directions and sound stupid.

Well, I'll write a bit more when I get time, but for now I need to eat some Golden Grahams and take a shower.

And Ward said there wouldn't be landmines...

I'm here. In just this 24 hour period of being in Spain I've already had quite a few noteworthy things happen, and since blogs are all about lists, here is my first SpainList.

1. We had a 7 1/2 hour layover in Madrid (the flight there was only, 7) so we took the subway into town, where Molly bought a pair of shoes. I fell asleep on the Subway.

2. I watched "Grosse Pointe Blank" (sic?) on my iPod while everyone else watched the airline movies and heard terrible sounds that made their eardrums burst--something was wrong, don't fly US Airways International.

3. I ate shawarma, the spanish equivalent to kebab.

4. I stepped in dog poop.

5. I realized how much I wished I already knew Spanish.

6. I got a cell phone (bling bling).

7. I started orientation and met almost everybody I will be working with here.

8. I decided to post on my blog.

9. I decided to go to bed.

Good night...or day...or whatever.

Over the River and Through the Woods...

I'm at my Grandparents in New York state, and I am pleasantly surprised to find that they have cable internet. Way to go Gramps. Anyway, this has allowed me to set up my primitive and incomplete email update list, as well as post on my blog at this very moment. It is tough to be in the in between stage right now, but it is great to visit family--even if everything I unpack has to be re-packed, which means I'll probably have to re-pack everything to get it all to fit back in my bag. The slightest of negative consequences for seeing them again.

Only three days left in the country now. I had the chance to speak with Andy Barlow today, and I mentioned that just in the last week I have begun to look at my situation realistically. Before, I looked at moving to Spain through rose colored glasses, anticipating all my difficulties and envisioning myself tackling them head on. But in the last week I have realized they will indeed be genuinely difficult. There will soon come a day when I am so frustrated with not being able to speak the language that I will wonder why I ever came to Spain. When that day comes I will have to look back and see all that God accomplished to send me, and that nothing worthwhile is ever easy. Except for eating ice cream. Now I look forward to these trials in a different sense. Previously, I saw them as occasions for victory and conquest and feeling good about how awesome I am. Now, I see them as opportunities for failure and being humbled and seeing how much I need God. It's not that I don't want to get through these future trials, but I want God to get all the glory for it, because when I am weak, He is shown to be strong.

On Sunday I fly to Philadelphia to meet up with David, Jamie, and Molly, then we'll all fly to Spain on Monday night. The timing is great as we'll arrive in Madrid just in time to sit in the airport for seven hours. The next leg of our flight is a little over and hour long, so I'm sure I'll need the break. Plus, I'm guessing that the Madrid airport is awesome, right? RIGHT!? I imagine that they have mini bullfights all day long. If not, they probably have a food court, which is just as good.

Well, I'm going to bed. Thanks for reading this and praying for me. I'll keep you posted on what is going on in my life and what I need prayer for.

Goodbye

Home. It is something that has eluded me for a long time. When my parents split up, any semblance of the typical idea of home--you know, the kind where the little kid comes in for soup and everything is always ok--disappeared. I learned that my parents have problems just like me. A hard lesson to learn, but a good one, because it made them human for the first time. Since then I have searched for a home in so many different ways. I've tried to find it in other families' homes, or with friends. Or in doing something that I enjoy, no matter where I am. But I've always been left empty. After drinking from each of these wells, I have continued to thirst. It is an insatiable desire, to have a place for total peace and rest. But just as soon as I think that I've found it, it's gone, like waking from a vivid dream, or trying to swat flies. And so I continue to hunger for home and peace and rest. And God has taught me a bit of why we each have this desire.

Deep down, we're all searching for heaven. We long, maybe even unconsciously, for the final redemption of all things, even the concept of home. We are pilgrims in this world (Heb 11), traveling toward the promised land where Christ reigns as King over His people and possessions. We long for the day of restoration, when home will be found both in all places and people and things, because it will all be as it was meant to be--perfect.

So, today I'm leaving Laramie for a long time. I'm leaving my family, friends, church, house, hometown, car, electric guitars; the people, places, and things I love the most. It's exciting and scary all at once, but I know that as God has given me glimpses of home and rest in each of these, He will continue to do so no matter where I live. But you can bet I will miss my family, friends, and guitars...a lot.

"He who testifies to these things says, 'Surely I am coming soon.' Amen. Come, Lord Jesus! The grace of the Lord Jesus be with all. Amen."--Revelation 22:20-21

Transformationpartytime

My transformation is complete. I've gone from being a bearded mountain man who lived off of tree bark and raw meat to an emergent worship leader look alike to a regular at your local bowling alley to a clean cut lotion and cologne wearing metrosexual. Okay maybe that's not all true, but I do look quite a bit different. In fact, a few people didn't recognize me at my own going away party. They just walked right on by. How about that. Anyway, here are some pictures of my amazing metamorphosis (sic?) and my going away party.









Alright, so I lied. The party pictures won't load, which means I'll try to post them again tomorrow. God has been so good to me and I've overlooked and underappreciated that fact so much in the past year and a half that it makes me sick. He surrounds me with Christlike love through my church, even when I take them all for granted, and I'll post pictures of some of that love soon.

Easy like Sunday Mornin'

Church was great today. We were pushed out of our usual meeting place by the high school drama class (boo, drama), but the high school gym was more than willing to accomodate us. Thank you Gymnasium. Anyway, we decided to scale down the 'worship team' to just acoustic guitars, djembe, bass, and vocals, which I love. Playing electric guitar with a full band is great, but there is something grassroots and simplistic about an acoustic band. And I love Hymns, which made me happy as well. We sang 'God be Merciful', 'Poor Sinner Dejected with Fear', and 'How Deep the Father's Love for Us', on top of some other good choruses. So begins my Molly Ruff list of things I love.

But that list will have to wait for a day less manly, as the last two nights have been spent in the Man Room amidst good friends and good conversation. You'll know when that day comes, because the background of this blog will be pink with flowers on it, but for now, I am overflowing with testosterone and exuding manliness. I digress. Tomorrow I will post about something that has been on my mind for awhile, but my pastor's message really brought it into focus today. Also, I spent a little more time with Nate Scott and his wife today, which was awesome. They are straight cool. Plus, he gave me about 10 of his CD's to give away and help get his name out. I'm not a big fan of the Rap music, but I like Nate's a lot. If you want to check out his music, go here. How did we ever survive without MySpace. And cell phones.

Here is a picture of the Scotts that I took in front of my pastor's house. They are awesome and were extremely encouraging.

The Man Room

Some pictures to sum up an evening of testosterone filled fellowship in the Man Room--no chicks allowed. If it were summer, none of these pictures would include shirts, because we're manly...or at least trying to be.

It's called "ambiance."




Men present:
Sam. He owns the Man Room, although some would say that every man owns a portion of it (like Stevo).


Dave. He's the worship leader from...Laramie Valley Chapel. Unfortunately, you can't really see his horns in this picture, but believe me, they're there.


Ben. He just returned from Iraq on Josh Rose's birthday (Feb. 14)


Drew. He likes men...in a completely manly man Man Room sense of the phrase.


Superman. No comment necessary.