Well, the weather's a-changin', and it's time for jackets, scarves and... a brasero to come home to. Luckily, my piso has one. A brasero is a heater that is placed under a tall table. The long tablecloth over said table is used to cover your legs and trap in the heat from the brasero. At first I was skeptical, mainly because I wondered why in the heck there was such a tall table in my living room. I can never really reach my plate without sitting on a pillow. But as Autumn presses on, I have a newfound respect for the table and the brasero beneath it that warms my toes.

So, what else is new. This week I am on a mission to try the myriad of fruit that Granada has to offer... and believe me, there's a lot and it's all delicious. The apples are amazing. The figs, in season and to die for. Yesterday I tried a Caqui- which I now know is a persimmon, only a lot bigger and without any seeds. You really have to use a spoon, though, because Caquis are eaten when very, very soft.

Next up to try, and currently ripening in the fruit basket: a Chirimoya.

May I also add, people, that I learned how to carve an Iberian Ham. As I mentioned earlier, we have an entire leg in our kitchen that the roommates alternate on purchasing. Translation: I will soon find myself in a carnicería full of hanging ham legs trying to choose which one to bring home. Anyway, it's well worth it. The leg lasts about a month and tastes delicious, whether eaten in slices straight from the leg or planchado (cooked in the frying pan).

As this post, and many others, mainly centers around food I'll also say that Rebeca's mom and younger sister came to stay one night and we were all fed very well. Croquetas, pumpkin soup, fish that at first freaked me out because of the spine in the middle, and... dun dun dun: her mom made me try morcilla (BLOOD sausage). I hid it in a piece of bread and called it a day. Not my cup of tea, but I tried it. This, however, led to a conversation on how much they liked organs (the heart and all) and, among other freaky things, chicken blood ("¡que rico!"). Blurg!

I can't find a pumpkin to carve, but they do celebrate Halloween here. Just today, I gave a lesson on Halloween where they kids played Pictionary drawing different Halloween characters (actually, two had to sit out due to religious reasons). I have seen one calabasa de Halloween, but if bought will have to be carried about a mile home. I'm game.

New phrases:

"No tengo ni un chavo" -- "I'm broke"

"Estoy a dos velas" (**Use gesture: index and middle finger, moving from eyes to nose) -- Use when you are lacking in either money or love. "How's it going with your boyfriend" "Muy mal. Estoy a dos velas."

"Borracha como una cuba" -- Rough translation... "Wasted!" Don't ask how I learned this.

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Urgent News Update: My first night out with all Spaniards!

I successfully stayed up until 6am without getting sleepy AND had a great time with my roommate Rebeca and her friends. We went to a traditional (típico) bodega for some chilled glasses of vermut (wine, vermuth and lime) and jamón ibérico. Next, to a pub full of Spaniards... that's how I knew it was legit. None of those all-English-speaking pubs. Derick, you'd appreciate this- we had Fosters! In good company and good conversation (granted, I got lost in a few of those conversations), the hours passed by. Then onto Blondie, a discoteca that mainly played Indie Pop... pretty neat. Overall, a great night:

Discoteca Blondie

One of the things I love about having Spanish roommates is you get the inside scoop on the good spots in Granada. For instance, I don't think I would have ever found that pub. It was tucked away on a side street and basically underground. Example #2: The frutería I've been going to is actually overcharging me. Who knew, it seemed cheap to me. There's a tetería (teahouse) right down the street that Rebeca says is the best in town, and she would know. I went there with Rebeca and her friend Mari Carmen and ordered a batido. I wouldn't have known what they were, but now I know they're delicious. I guess the best description is a milkshake but with more milk.

My roommate Rebeca and I

Last night was also filled with English/Spanish lessons. I told them what a keg stand was, and they taught me the Spanish version of quarters. I also got a pretty extensive lesson on palabrotas (curse words) to use or not use at my leisure. Curious? Okay, I'll give you one: gilipollas. Basically translates to "asshole." Rebeca's last name is "Sola" (In English, "alone") which we make fun of her for. Only now that she knows that "Marsh" translates to ciénega in Spanish, she thinks my last name is worse.

Rebeca's friend Rubén is a huge fan of Indie music (Iron & Wine, Arcade Fire) and told me that Fleet Foxes is playing in Madrid November 25. One reason to make a trip up to the capital- that, and El Rey León (Broadway's The Lion King) is playing in Madrid up through March. That would be completely amazing.

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Unfortunately the only Portuguese I learned from my weekend trip to Lagos, Portugal was, obrigada (thanks). That doesn't mean it wasn't a spectacular trip. I met plenty of Welsh, British, Irish, Australian, New Zealanders and English-speaking Portuguese all enjoying the sun, waves, bars, and relaxed lifestyle that the city of Lagos has to offer. I may not be proficient in the Portuguese language, but I now know a very important Irish cheers (to be used among friends):

"Never above you (Cheers above), Never below you (Cheers below), Always by your side (Interlock arms and drink!)"

Trip: Success.

Lagos is situated on the souther coast of Portugal and looks something like this:

My first photo, taken outside the hotel

Not bad, eh? I went with one other friend, Helene, through a tour group named DiscoverSevilla that organized a bus from Sevilla to Lagos, hotel reservations and other activities along the way. This was really the only option as none of the bus schedules leaving from Granada allowed us to be in Lagos, let alone Portugal, from Friday to Sunday.

The Carvi Hotel was located right on Praia Dona Ana, a breathtaking beach that had rocks to climb and jump from and crystal-clear water to float in and pass the day away. We didn't actually get a chance to enjoy this particular beach, though.... the reason for which I will talk about later.

Day one: Sangria boat cruise. Need I say more? Okay, I will. A sailboat took us onto the the picturesque, blue blue BLUE waters of Portugal's Atlantic coast. We swam- or better yet, floated- off the side of the boat. The water was salty enough that it took no effort at all, which was probably good considering the amount of sangria some were drinking. Oh, not me of course. A smaller boat took us to explore the caves and rocks on the coast, all in different shapes. An elephant, a human face. Oh, and did I mention unlimited sangria? After docking, it was siesta time- then out on the town.

I ate a burrito. It was heaven. It had guacamole AND sour cream. I realize I haven't been without American food for long, and shouldn't be craving it quite yet. But Casa Rosa in downtown Lagos had the best American food, for cheap. The next day, I had a burger. I wanted to try Portuguese fish, but that was a little to steep for me. Well that, and I wanted to go back to Casa Rosa to our favorite waiter, Cintra, and have a humongous burger. So, shoot me for not being cultured for one weekend!

Connect Four, Burritos, and Beer

Cintra, Helene & I at Casa Rosa

The first night was the best night. For those of you who have seen pictures on Facebook, I'm sure you can tell it was filled with plenty of interesting characters. Helene and I spent most of our time at a bar called "The Wolf's Lair." That might be enough description right there. We became best friends with an Irish kid named Michael, 17, and his dad named Pol (P-o-l), 40+. They were both well gone, and a ton of fun. Then in came the 71-year-old owner of the bar, who looked like he crawled out of the grave, but I suppose was nice enough. Definitely creepy, though. This was later confirmed when, the next day, Cintra asked if he "took off his pants" and was surprised when in fact he hadn't. Thank. God. The bartenders were also quickly becoming our bff's, until Helene stepped in an took over bar-tending. I still had to pay for the beer.

Happy family at The Wolf's Lair

People in Lagos were the most friendly bunch of people I've ever met. At first, my creeper-dar would signal an alarm (for those of you who don't know about a creeper-dar, it is usually accurate at detecting creepers/people to stay away from). However, my first impression quickly did a 180 when every person we met was extremely generous and legitimately kind-hearted. Must have something to do with the fact that all they do is surf, drink, and go to their "jobs" where they drink some more. Not much stress right there.

Day two: By day, lying out on beach, steak sandwich in a beach shack and swimming through the refreshing Atlantic waves.

At sunset, going to the "end of the world" at Cape Sagre. Breathtaking.

By night, Casa Rosa for a burger. Then to a small bar owned by a very nice, but very drunk, Welshman who gave us both free shots of whiskey and brandy combined. Later, the Wolf's Lair. Surprised?

Day three: Okay, here comes the downer in this otherwise relaxed and fun-filled weekend. Sunday was a very windy day, and the waves at Praia Dona Ana beach were something to behold. They concealed the rocks below the water and could easily pull one out to sea or under the water. I wasn't about to go in. However, someone (about 40, I heard) did decide to venture in, and didn't come out alive. It was terrible. CPR on the beach for over an hour, to no avail. I didn't watch, and many left the beach. Definitely scarring, and nothing I want to witness again. I think here, Thoreau's sage words are fitting: "It appears to be a law that you cannot have a deep sympathy with both man and nature."

To lighten the mood, though -- All in all, wonderful trip with wonderful people. I'm definitely trying to plan a time to visit more of Portugal later in the year.

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So... I don't cook all that often. That's pretty much gotta change. My roommates already make fun of me for eating sandwiches all the time. Anyway, I decided to show them I'm not totally helpless... so I baked an apple pie! Plus, I was feeling sentimental missing Autumn back home while all of my friends are busy apple picking, cider drinking and pumpkin carving.

The adventure in the grocery store was something else... and took almost as much time as it took to bake the damn thing. Spain does not have vanilla extract, the flour is hidden away in the fish section, and I could not think of the word for butter (mantequilla) for the life of me... nor could I describe to the woman working at the grocery store what it was. "Es como aceite de oliva... pero de forma sólida" (¿Cómo?) I also tried, "Voy a cocinar un pastel. Entonces necesito... harina, huevos, azúcar... y ¿qué más?" Got nothing.

However, ingredients in hand (and notebook lost somewhere along the way), I went home. Then I had to buy a pan. Then I realized I have to convert every single measurement into grams or liters. Add an hour onto this endeavor. Oh great, no rolling pin. And hey, how about I spill all of the eggs on the kitchen floor while I'm at it? To top it off, I picked a rather complicated recipe (receta): http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/food-network-kitchens/apple-pie-recipe/index.html.

All I can say is, the final product was well worth the hassle. And thank God for music in the kitchen! In the end, my roommates loved the pie, and I got a kick out of making them say "apple pie." While the recipe seems complicated, I have to admit it's beyond worth cooking the apples down before putting the filling in the crust.

Well... it looked better pre-being-eaten

Now I need a vote for the next cooking-American-food adventure:

1) Fried chicken & mashed potatoes

2) Meatloaf... with mashed potatoes

3) Homemade mac & cheese

4) Chicken casserole

... Or any other suggestions! Also, my cooking isn't a complete disaster. I must say I make a mean pasta with fresh veggies. Vegetables here are so cheap, and yummy!

Update: Just made a ballin' salchicha (sausage), sautéed mushroom, onion and garlic.... sandwich!!!! Call me the sandwich queen. What can I say, gotta stick with what I know best.

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Thus far, I have managed to successfully venture on two day trips to nearby towns in Spain. The first, Antequera- a linda (precious) town situated between Granada and Sevilla. The second, Almuñecar- a beach town on the Mediterranean coast. Both were about an hour and a half’s bus ride from town and well worth the trip.

Along with some other auxiliares, I took the advice of my roommates and went to Antequera rather than Ronda (which I do still want to visit). I immediately fell in love with the town and wanted to spend the night in order to fully take advantage of what the quaint, idyllic Antequera has to offer (including, among others, a medieval fair that supposedly picks up at night). We didn’t stay the night (hostels too caro- expensive), but we still had a great time. We walked until we got to the medieval market below the Alcazaba (castle) that overlooked the entire city. I, of course, had to buy a decorative plate. Couldn't resist something to hang on my wall.

Among the various sausages, beer and crafts at the market was my soon-to-be novio (boyfriend). I’d have to say it was the hair that initially drew me in. That, and he gave me a present: a magic trick. Or should I say, "illusion." As Gob says, "A trick is something a whore does for money."

After a sad farewell from my medieval novio, our group had the entire Alcazaba to ourselves to explore at our leisure.

Then onto “El torcal,” which proved to be an amazing end to the day. Everyone told us that it was worth (vale la pena) going to “El torcal," which was a park roughly 20 minutes by cab from the center of the city. They claimed it was like entering another planet and boy, were they right. The rocks throughout “El torcal” that formed when Spain was below the ocean made the entire park eerily reminiscent of Mars… minus the grass, and oxygen… and people. Clambering around on the rocks and exploring the trail (trying not to stray off the green path- sendero- and missing our bus) is just one of the many reasons to go back to Antequerra.

Last week, on the Dia de la Hispanidad (gotta love those Spanish holidays), we just barely caught the bus to Almuñecar and headed to the beach. The weather in Southern Spain has been unnaturally warm for the time of year, but heck- I’ll take relaxing by the beach in October any day. Apparently Almuñecar is nicer than the closer beach, Motril, but I was still a little disappointed that there wasn’t really “sand”- just small stones. However, my disappointment was immediately alleviated after realizing that virtually all of the rocks were perfect skipping stones. Bruce would have been in Heaven.

Swimming in the Mediterranean is awesome. Perfectly clear blue water. No waves (which I admit I sort of missed). AND the water is salty enough that it takes no effort to float. Amazing. And, a little helado on the way back to top it off. Speaking of food, though… we could NOT find a good, cheap place to eat for the life of us and ended up eating mediocre Mexican food. Spain doesn’t know how to do Mexican food… and rightly so. Apparently the sauce that covers patatas bravas counts as every salsa and/or spicy sauce. I should have splurged on some pescado (fish) being right on the coast.

Michelle & me on the beach

The bilingual teacher I work with, Vanessa, goes kayaking every weekend seeing as the water is getting too chilly for swimming. She offered to take me with her (and is also trying to persuade me to learn how to salsa dance)- so who knows? Next day trip?

All for now!

PS- Update on work: First impressions were a bit skewed. The bilingual teachers are awesome, and we are supposed to go for cheap and huuuge tapas tomorrow night. They're all around my age, and I'm looking forward to getting to know them and getting the inside scoop of Granada and the area. I organized a game today to teach the children the numbers 1-10 (the 6-year-olds). Successful with the "smart" class, not so much with the... other ones. Also, I'm tutoring a 13-year-old girl who lives in the old part of the city- el Albaicín. I have to climb a lot of cuestas (hills- because it "costs" you a lot to climb them, get it?) to get to her, but any extra spending money is well worth the hike! Slowly but surely, I'm getting better at lesson planning. Fingers crossed I don't royally screw up her education. Kidding?

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First day of school. First day of insanity? Not quite, but Reyes Católicos, the elementary school in Santa Fé, is a bit... loco. Let's start with arrival at 10:30:

This can't be right. It's a jail. How do I get in? Wait and follow the man with the keys, good idea.

Oh shoot, it really is a jail. Where the heck is the grass. No wonder so many kids came in with scrapes on their knees, they have to play on a huge gravel patch.

I'm being overdramatic, but my first impression wasn't great. Luckily, once I passed through the doors I breathed a sigh of relief. Kids laughing and colorful posters, fewf! I met my bilingual coordinator, María José, who unfortunately is also new to the school. Right off the bat, María told me some great news: the kids are all troublemakers, the teachers (and children) hardly know English, and many of the children haven't bought the books- and won't buy them. Therefore, the class curriculum is all up in the air. Not that the books are that great to begin with. And they teach British "English"-- notice anything funny?:

After one day (or morning, rather- the kids only have school from 9am to 2pm) I learned that María José's pessimism with regards to the books, children and school was common among the other elementary teachers. I only worked with two teachers today, but I sensed an overwhelming sense of frustration. There were more gritos (shouts), rulers smacking against the chalkboard and disciplining than there was teaching.

However, the children seem to really like me as the "Americana." I can tell that their level of English is quite low- many would respond to a question such as, "can you say 'swimming'?" with "yes." Every response was "yes" or in Spanish (which I have to act like I don't understand- more tough than I realized). Even still, I saw that many of the children (it's true, not all) were eager to learn. I'm no teacher, but I know that I got a few children to say more than "yes" with a little positive reinforcement. While I probably just have to get used to this Spanish way of teaching, I seriously doubt that I can be as harsh on these kids as their maestras. Hey, I did get a few 'I love you''s today... What can I say, I'm a sucker.

Oh yeah, and I prepared a pretty cool interactive slide show about myself for the kids today- too bad there weren't any projectors! Fail. Even though I'm pretty sure they wouldn't have understood anything, they would've gotten a kick out of seeing Sunny in 3 feet of snow outside our old house.

PS- I'm teaching mainly 6 to 8 year-olds.

Goal for tomorrow: Annunciate EVEN MORE in class. Engage the children more & try to teach at least one thing about American culture. Teach a teacher something (the English teachers are very willing to learn). Engage the other teachers more in the break room (this was very intimidating today, but overall they seem friendly enough. One has the most annoyingly loud voice though- I don't think we'll be bff's).

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