los vascos

crazy breakers bashing into a jetty during a storm in san sebastian:

i really loved the basque country. what a beautiful region, and great people to boot. i arrived on wednesday, and the weather was absolutely torrent off and on. it could give central oregon a run for its money in temporal weather conditions. one minute huge gusts of wind would sweep through the street, pelting me with rain as i wandered the city looking for a pension, and the next minute the wind would halt, the rain stop, and the sound of songbirds would begin to fill the air. on thursday the conditions were a bit better, but still pretty cloudy and wet. at one point during the day i hunkered under the facade of a building to wait out a little squall, and this older basque gentleman comes buy and starts speaking with me about the weather. then he asks if i want to take a drink with him, i obliged. we went to this cafe and had a coffee and talked about his family and the city and what not. then after the rain stopped we went for a little paseo (walk) around san sebastian. his name was javier, and he was a real nice bloke.

a funky statue thing by the sea in san sebastian:

friday was a pretty nice day, the tempurature was warmer, the sky more clear, and there was no rain, so i enjoyed the city a bit: went up to a castle on top of a mountain overlooking the city, walked barefoot on the beach, almost got swept out to sea while navagating some rocky crags, you know the usual. there was a group of americans studying in vallalodid that were staying at the hostal. we got to talking a bit and turns out they are all christians traveling during their spring break. there were 6 girls and one guy, matt. we talked quite a bit, and that night matt and i actually got to minister to the guy i was sharing a room with, aden. aden is a high school student in a school exchange program in zaragoza. it was really cool to talk about God in english for a change. it has been so long. i can actually somewhat express myself, as opposed to finding the spanish word i know, that can closest relate, in some round about way, to what i really want to say.

this building is some sort of theatre for film festivals and the like, san sebastian:

saturday morning i went with my new friends to bilbao to see the gugenheim museum. it is a really famous museum, although i actually enjoyed the building itself much more than the artwork inside. after a few hours in the museum, my vallalodid bound friends left to catch a bus home. i spent a few more hours enjoying bilbao before catching a bus myself to madrid.

TWO WEEKS UNTIL I LEAVE!!!! AHHHHH!!!!

correction

in the last post i said i was going to "ihop (the prayer house, not the pancake house)." now the current plan, is to go to the prayer house...AND the pancake house. this decision came after a busride from san sebastian to bilbao and a lengthy dicussion i had with a guy about american food we missed. for me, one of the foremost being the pancake, in all it´s glory, slathered with peanut butter and soaking in syrup.

also, rik, i didn´t publically make fun of you, i said the person was to remain anonymous. and still, there is no possible way for spain and portland to be a couple days apart. they are 9 hours apart, which at the very most, can be one day. when it is morning here, it is the night before there. im closing the book on this subject, i´ve said my peace and counted to three.

maybe more on the basque country later today or tonight. xo.

a few random things

firsties: ¡es mi cumple! (it´s my birthday!) Yay!

seconds: i have received a few messages talking about the time change. for example, someone to remain anonymous wrote speaking of my birthday, "i think you celebrate tomorrow, but we dont celebrate it here for a couple of days." so, in light of this confusion i will try to give a few clarifying words. it takes the earth 24 hours to make one revolution. the earth is divided into 24 "time zones" which are correlated to the coordinated universal time (or UTC -or- more commonly referred to as greenwhich mean time, GMT) gmt is the time that it is in london, england. each timezone then is described as gmt +/- #. for example, the time in spain is gmt+1, so when it is 10:00 gmt time (in london) it is 11:00 in spain (+1 hour). make sense? for the pacific time zone (where most of you live...please tell me you know what the pacific time zone is...) the time is gmt-8, so when it is 10:00 gmt, it is 2:00 in portland, or (minus 8 hours). to calculate the the difference in time between two places you need to simply compare the time zones as they relate to the gmt and do some simple math. spain_gmt+1 portland_gmt-8...oh to hell with it, it´s nine hours earlier in portland than in spain! well normally it is, except for the last two weeks, since they have an earlier daylight savings date in the states than in spain, it is currently only 8 hours difference, until this weekend, then back to the normal 9. that was ridiculous, moving on.

third: not actually, try reading the last paragraph in one breath! i´ll give a euro to anyone that can do it.

fourthen: i´m leaving tomorrow to go to bilbao and san sebastian. they are in the north of spain in the basque country. the basque country is famous for rain, the best tapas in spain, having a completely unique language unlike any other in spain, the eta, the town of guernica (wiki it if you dont know)...(by "wiki it" i mean you should look it up on wikipedia.org ...if you didn´t know), and surfing. it is a region that spands from northcentral spain into southwest france. to say the least, i´m a little bit excited. except for the the potential car bomb, that would put a hamper on the trip.

fiff: i have some plane tickets for when i get back to the states. before, i only had a ticket from madrid back to philadelphia. now, i have a ticket on the 14th of april from philly to kansas city. i´ve been wanting to spend some time at ihop (not the pancakke house, the prayer house) and what better time than when i have no job, no money, and have been outside of my comfort zone for 3 months. afterwards, i have a ticket from kc to portland on the 23 of april. i hope that appeases some of y´all´s quandry into my post spain plans.

six: it´s not my birthday anymore, buenas noches from spain, buenas tardes to you (eight, but normally nine hours, back)

furthermore

i continued writing on the subject of dying in my journal during an easter mass this morning. i actually just wanted to check the church out, because it is pretty famous, but everytime i try to visit it´s closed. today was my lucky day, but as i sat down to start writing a bit the mass started, so i just kept writing on and off whilst i stood, did the cross thing with my hand, gave peace to those around me, and all those things you do in mass. anyway, if you haven´t yet read the blog from yesterday, it might be beneficial to read that one first, or maybe not, tough to say...



Lord, i cant pretend to understand Your sacrifice. i cant pretend to understand Your pain. i know i am far from You, but i want to be close--I want to be intimate--i certainly cant understand Your tolerance of my rebelion, Your gentle care for this rogue child.

i´ve searched for answers but am left wanting. wanting desire. wanting fulfillment. wanting Love. it´s there, but i cant fully take hold of it. i see it, but like a painting. i hear it, but like a poem. i feel it, but like a man. take me up. no, first destroy this earthly dwelling, that i can truly taste the heavenly, the real.

is this a service of my mouth or do i truly wish this? how can i justify my constant turning on You? how can You be set toward me, for me? can i yet rise? am i justified in Youe eyes? am i pleasant in Your gaze? You say i´ve ravaged Your heart with a glance from my eyes, but how can that be when through these eyes You see my inmost? Yet a slant of the eyes from You destroys me. it sets me shaking, shaking and weeping. its too real, too far above.

shaking and weeping. its not much, but maybe these tears can speak better than words. at least grant me this honor: to wipe the dust of Your feet with the water of my eyes. i wont rise past Your knees, i wont grab Your hands, i dare not look to Your face.

later, once this life has been poured out, maybe i will know Your sacrifice, Your pain. if this body can yet be broken, and this blood yet be shed, so be it. then i may know the grave, know the sorrows.

i´ll try to fix my eyes on You, the finish, the glory, the beginning. i´ll try to understand this death, to know this life.

losing

last night we went to watch some procesions and then met up with a fellow i met in lisbon to go to a sangria bar. sangria, if you don´t know, is maybe one of the most amazing drinks invented on the face of the planet; it´s a mixture of red wine and and fruit juies (more or less). as they say here in spain, "it´s typical espanish." the bar was really great, with live piano music and everything. ANYwho...there were a number of quotes on the walls, and one imparticular stuck out to me: noy hay paraiso hasta que se lo ha perdido. which means, if i translate it correctly, there is no paradise until one has lost it. or in other words, he who tries to gain his life will lose it; but he who looses his life for Me will gain it.

i want to learn what that means more practically. i do desire paradise. everyone desires it in one way or another. to some paradise is a mansion with a three car garage; to others it is having a clean earth where no animals are ever harmed and we only eat raw vegetables. i think the longing beneath most of our ideals of paradise is peace. when i was talking with mona and navid (the baha´i followers i met in lisbon) they said that every religion strives to bring peace between the spirits of humankind and our maker. i agreed, to an extent. the difference i have to make is that i know that i can´t do anything at all to make steps toward that peace. i recognize the barrier that is between me and my maker, and i know that my efforts to overcome it are entirely fruitless. so i´m left to ponder. what can i do?

i have thought a lot since studying at multnomah about whether man is intrinsically good or bad. of course i want to believe that man is good, at his core. but my experience, and my theology have come to know quite firmly that it is the converse. i need not travel outside my own skin to realize the horror of the mind and actions of man. furthermore, to say man is good, makes it possible for him to take steps toward that paradise, towards life. but the Flesh Himself said that he who tries to gain his life will lose it.

but he who loses his life for me...

i dont know how it is done exactly, but i want the life the He promises me.

that´s my paradise.

mouth of the inferno!!!!!!

this picture is from a little town outside of lisbon called caixcas (pronounced kinda like cash-cash) there are trains that go from lisbon out to caixcas ever twenty minutes or so, and after a quick 40 minute ride you feel like you´re in a whole new world. it´s a small town, but has a lot of lovely buildings and a fantastic coastline. there were a bunch of boats anchored in the bay by the docks, and for the life of me i couldn´t figure out how these people boarded their boats without simming out to them--mystery of the ages my friends, mystery of the ages. i walked out of town down the coast a bit to a place called "BOCA DI INFERNO!!! MWAH HA Ha Ha ha heee.....yeah." not that is wasn´t a nice site or anything, but i suppose i had slightly higher expectations with a name like that. by the time i walked back to town the sun was starting to set, and that was the night that i wrote about the sunset. i have a picture, but it is such a terrible depiction of what it truly looked like that i´m not going to bother sharing it.

short and sweet. happy holy thursday.

yeh.

so i think i am just going to start randomly posting pictures every couple days or so and telling stories behind them. nothing incredible, but at least something you can see and i can look back fondly upon. :)

so to set this story david and i are in prague. we´re both pretty exhausted from traveling one place to the next, and the spaniard has started becoming a little testy. we were walking down the river, and what lay before our eyes but a lovely island. there was a bridge that crossed over at that point, so i coerce my traveling companion to go out to the island. upon setting foot to the island we quickly spied out a nice little park bench to sit and take in the view from. and in true-blue spanish fashion, david realized the opportunity for a quick siesta was knocking at his door...he answered the call, and easily managed to fall asleep as seen here:

(maybe one of the greatest benefit of being spanish is a keen ability to take a nap, anywhere, any time. what i would give to master this ability)

i, then took the first chance in about a week to have some time alone. whoa was it neccesary. i just meandered around the island park and enjoyed the life, the smell, the sun, the beauty. it was so refreshing. it was a beautiful day, and i really couldn´t have asked for anything more. i walked about the island for half an hour or so and went back to david at his bench. from there we carried on. i took this picture from one end of the island. it is of the old town at charles bridge. what a nice day!

tomorrow, david, lidia and i are going to go to salamanca for a day. it is supposed to have some famous semana santa celebrations. by-the-way, in spain, semana santa is kinda a big deal. the week between palm sunday and resurrection sunday everyone has the week off from school, and most jobs. most people do some traveling with their family or friends. in the cities, there are these things called processions. a number of people from the church are dressed in robes, and they carry these massive parade like floats through the cities. i will write more about it later, when i actually know more... hehe.

today is elijah´s birthday :( i really wish i could be there :( :( :( i may try to all anyway, but when i called justin for his birthday, the telephone company rolled me. holy man! i just called the number that was posted on all of the telephones in venice, and i knew that it wasn´t going to be cheap, but i seriously was charged more than $5 per minute. making my 10-15 minute call come to a total of $68. when i saw that on my bank account i culd hardly believe it. today i will look for an international calling card. so i dont get robbed again.

yesterday we went to palm sunday mass. there were some gypsies in the front selling little bundles of olive branches. i know it sounds harsh when i just say some gypsies, but seriously, they were gypsies, for real. well david and i were waiting for lidia to get there, and two young girls came up to us and started trying to sell us the branches. both of us politely said no thank you. but they would not stop. they kept at us, and were relentless, "oh come on, it´s palm sunday...we´ve been here for hours...you have to buy one." as though it isn´t annoying enough to be hasseled by a sales person, the fact that we were literally two steps outside the door of the church made me so frustrated. i don´t contest too much here in spain, because i really can´t express myself very well in spanish, and if i just start talking in english then i´ve accomplished nothing. but i really couldn´t take it anymore so i said to one of them, "este no es un mercado, es una iglesia!" meaning: this is not a market, this is a church!

i dont care that they are selling olive branches that they probably took from a local park. i don´t care that much that they are probably living here in spain illegally. i don´t care that much that they are persistent in making a sell, and don´t take no for an answer. but i do care, with an incredible amount of respect, that they are using the church soley for a means of their own gain. that they are preying upon religion and religious tradition to make money. palm sunday marks the triumphal entry of Jesus into jerusalem, and upon entering the city, the first thing he did was drive out the merchants using the temple for their gain. My house will be a house of prayer; but you have turned it into a den of robbers. oh God wash our hands and keep us from greed. let us not use You for our gain. purify Your church, and drive out those who abuse her for money.

i think i am done, time for comida. much love!

this one´s for ricky

for tarface, for barfhead, for the dip in the road, for ricky rae rae, for erika.

three days in a row!!! woohoo! that´s all.



well not really, maybe some of those siblings of mine, whom have children (i think you know who you are, i dont want to have to name names) should eamil a picture of two of mis sobrinos. i would like that very much. :)

santiago

yesterday i arrived to santiago. i was going to get that ride from humberto, the guy in the coffee shop, but i messed up. it was sunday, so i didn´t really think about the fact that there would be lighter bus service than other days, because believe it or not, some cultures actually slow down on the weekends, and recognize a day of relaxation...away from work -- so there i was waiting for about 20 minutes at the bus stop, starting to freak out a bit because i was really cutting it close for my meeting time. then, to my joy, a bus comes around the corner. i wait for all the elderly, and ladies to get on, then i step in and find a spot where my bags wont be in the way too much. the bus is already going. i would never claim to know the city of porto, but i knew that we were headed generally in the right direction. but after a number of stops, i was thinking to myself, "at some point this bus is going to need to turn off its current course and start making for the city center." finally, and much too late, i looked at one of the bus stops we came to checking which bus numbers stop there, and mine wasn´t posted at that stop...yeah, i was on the wrong bus.

at this point i got off the bus, went to the nearby park, with a killer lion-topped monument, and ate a bocadillo (sandwich). then i made my way to the bus station, and waited to take the ridiculously long bus to get here, in santiago.

i really like this city. it is raining today, and i really need to do my laundry, so it almost feels like portland, almost like home. however...i am alone, and my family and friends aren´t here, so not too much like home actually.

much love to everyone.

ps. can someone give me grandma lola´s address, i think she would really appreciate a card or something. and if anyone else really wants a card, you should just tell me, i will send one.

mmmkay

so i am in porto right now. it´s in the north of portugal. i spent a few days in lisbon, and part of me wanted to stay another day, certainly there were more things to do there, but something else in me really felt like moving on. i have to be to santiago de compostela by tuesday (it´s in northwest spain). i have a flight from there to barcelona. and then i will stay in barcelona until next saturday or sunday before i jump on a bus back to madrid. then i can be in madrid during semana santa with david (since he has the week off from classes).

today i have been especially uninspired. i fell asleep, still fully clothed, at about 9 last night, and this morning, after breakfast and showering and all, i laid back down and fell asleep for another hour. i dont know what´s going on, but i feel spent. so i walked into town, and i was sitting on a park bench on the main strip, trying to motivate myself to go somewhere. i decided to stop into a little cafe and grab a coffee, and then i thought i better try and reserve a hostal in santiago, because i didn´t have one for porto and i ended up having to stay in a place way outside the center. so here i am, paying to use the internet in this cafe, and then this guy comes in and starts using the computer next to me. and he is asking me something, and so i say, "no, no faro portuguese." and he replies, "do you speak english?" so then we talk for a second, and come to find out he lives in northwestern spain, and he is driving home tomorrow. he offered me a ride, i dont know if i will take it or not, but i can meet him here at the coffee shop at 12:30 tomorrow if i want to.

anyway, that´s kinda what is going on presently. i feel quite exhuasted, and im not really sure why exactly. the other night in lisbon i wrote something in my journal that i would like to share:

...as i watch the beauty of Your creation tonight, the glory of light and seascapes, i cannot help but desire You, maker of all things great and small, more. the west is exploding in rays of pink and yellow over the masses of ships resting in the harbor. but my eyes have turned to the east, where the deeply red painted horizon is covering the houses as their lights begin to dot the shoreline.

my hands--cold, my feet--hurting and filthy, and the nearby construction site--clanging with drilling and machinery are all begging for my attention. but to see the scarlet of the sky wonderfully reflected off the water of the bay steals it back. You are jealous of my love, my eyes, my heart, and you have them oh Lord.

it takes waters so fresh, and waters so still to cast such a captivating reflection. so i petition that You would purify my heart and calm my mind that i may too echo such beauty...breath...

create in me a clean heart oh God, and renew a steadfast spirit in me. oh how i desire to reflect the crimson heavens like the tranquil sea below...

the sun has set, night has come, i must move on


later that night i met these two people in the hostel that were baha´i. it is a middle eastern based religion that pretty much attempts to merge all religions and beliefs into one. the 411 is that the source of all religions is God, and all the prophets were speaking the truth of God, within their own time. we talked quite a bit, their names were mona and navid. a lot of what they said was actually right on, but a lie that is close to the truth, is stil a lie, and often even more deceiving. i asked mona how Jesus can be right in proclaiming that He is the very Son of God, the Way, the Truth, the Light--yet at the same time any other prophet or teaching that doesn´t affirm those things be truth. both of them said that they believed all of what Christ speaks about Himself, that they believed He came as the Son of God and gave His life for sinners. i dont understand why there is any need for anything beyond that. i asked if the founder of baha´i, bahá'u'lláh, claimed to be God. and they said no. they said that all of the prophets: abraham, moses, buddha, Jesus, muhammad, and bahá'u'lláh all came to reflect, like a mirror, the true intentions of God to mankind. then i asked if you affirm that Jesus is God, then why would you want a reflection. It´s like settling for for a audio track through a set of headphones when the live band is playing the music right outside your door (i didn´t say that, i´m not that quick on the draw). anyway, it wasn´t really going anywhere, there was hardly a disagreement because everything i believe they said they believe (more or less). they said there is a vibrant baha´i community in portland, so for those of you in portland don´t be alarmed if you begin to hear more and more from them. i have many more thoughts on the discussion, but i think i have written long enough. thanks for stopping by.

no more pictures

just for now. for whatever reason, on david´s computer, i am unable to load pictures to the site. so if i want to do it, i have to go to reme´s house (david´s mom). but i just bought a ticket for the night train to lisbon, portugal, and i leave in 3 hours, so i probably wont be able to post any pictures for a while.

for this trip i really dont have any plan. i dont even have a hostal reservation in lisbon yet. most likely i will head north from lisbon to porto, then on up to northern spain. there are a few cities that i would really like to see, so i will just go with the flow and do what i can--while i can.

buenas noches,
antonio

mustachio bashio

so i still haven´t retrieved the pictures from pedro and alberto, so today i thought i would give you all a lesson in facial hair management. i have been going to the university during the day to spend time with lidia and eduardo and practice my spanish, and then we usually meet up with david somewhere to take comida. a few days back the weather here in madrid was glorious. probably a good 70 degrees outside, sunny...perfect. i realized at that point that the function of my beard, which was all but necessary to prevent frostbite of the cheeks in northern europe, has become a near hindrance in sunny, warm southern europe. the hair obviously doesn´t allow for proper facial ventilation, thus handicapping the body´s natural response to an increase in body heat by sending blood to the outer extremities (cheeks being one of these). so the next day i took to the rat nest residing on my face with some clippers and tried out a few new looks.

when i started i had this kind of fidel castro, reckless communist look going on. the first stop on the facial hair design train is a mixture of a look i have sported before and a new element. i like to call it the "soul king" it is a blend of a standard imperial stache with the added soul patch. this style is popular among members of hell´s angels and anyone who wants to spend their days getting odd stares and having children rushed away from them by their mothers to the other side of the street.




this style i like to call the "cage fighter" (notice the fist pump). it is a close variation of the soul king, but with a cleaner look on the jaw. this helps slip some of the quick jabs and round-house kicks to the face when in the ring. obvioulsy by its name you can deduce that it is a popluar style amongst cage fighters, but it also a common fashion to those deemed as rednecks.



a standard "musketeer." the musketeer is recognizable by an upturned mustache accompanied with a soul patch. this is a classic stache style that has origens from the early middle ages. there´s not much to be said about this look, but if you see a really good one someday out there on the streets or in a magazine, it will probably shortly take your breath away.



"70´s" what else do you need to know. the 70´s ushered in a period of mustache tolerance that probably won´t ever be reached in my lifetime. it was the deal to have an upper lip warmer in that decade, it´s just what you did. this style is often accomanied by bountiful sideburns, know as chops, which really only add to the disco flavor. staying alive! (the 70´s stache is essentialy the same style as your average mexi-stache, unfortuanately, i lack the melatonin and origen to call mine a mexi stache)


this is a "styled stache." pretty much what you do is take a standard 70´s mustache and clean it up. you should frame the upper lip with the bottom of the stache, and pull down the top of the stache form a slim lip belt. this style is seen less frequently probably because of the constant upkeep, but when done well, it is a lovely site. it is a common style with circus ringleaders (if they dont go with the conventional handlebar mustache) and hosts in really fancy restaurants.

i really dont think i need to name this stache. we all know who wore this style and made it neigh impossible for your avrage joe to wear it in this day of political correctness. the point of this stache is merely to show that you have the ability to grow a stache. it serves no real function beyond that, and it only proves as a hinderance in nasal hygiene. this style is popular amongst power hungry dictators who don´t have the balls to face their just recompense, and amongst silent movie stars (i know, it is almost humorously ironic how different those two are)

"clean" -ish "shaven" it really does feel nice to let the wind touch the face once again, and to actually know whats going on with the skin on my face. i suppose at this point i will probably slowly let the beast grow again until i have another vision-like experience prompting me to hack her down.

thanks fo playing.