Today I am at the English-speaking school for MKs, Evangelical Christian Academy. The general siz and atmosphere reminds me of my own alma mater, CCS. I´ll be spending the day shadowing Pat Roseman, Assistant Office Adminstrator, while she shows me the way an English school is run in Madrid. I already want to sign up to teach primary school, their classroom is sweet!

Valencia! City by the sea! What a beautiful weekend, I can’t imagine a better place to enjoy the sun!  I saw the Mediterranean Sea for the first time and went wading, but it was very cold and had garbage floating in it. Dan says that’s most likely because of the heavy rain, which tends to wash things out to the ocean. I also had my first Spanish/American hamburger, which was made even MORE delicious by my gut-wrenching hunger at the time.

Ok, a little more in sequence: Valencia is a four hour bus ride east of Madrid. This trip was suggested by my fellow American Katrina, who had a free weekend from work and wanted a travel buddy. Everything was closed or on hold for Semana Santa, so I gladly accepted the invitation!

The two of us made reservations at the Red Nest Hostel, which was very trendy, neat and full of friendly people. It was certainly less boisterous than the hostel in Vancouver! Katrina was waiting for me when I arrived (she came a day earlier) and we immediately went in search of lunch, which meant trekking down to Plaza del la Reina, which was full of other out-of-towners. Men lined the sidewalks, hawking fedoras, sunglasses, jewelry, dvds and other mass-produced trinkets.

In the plaza where we ate, there was a large ornate church called Catedral de Santa Maria de Valencia. For 2 euros, you can climb up a winding stone staircase to the top of a bell tower in the Catedral! Just like the tower of El Alcazar in Segovia! When we reached the top of the tower, we could see the entire city. It was so windy, I was positively quaking while I took pictures, but it was totally worth the view!

We walked all over that afternoon, and for dinner we went searching for Paella, which is a very typical Spanish dish consisting of rice and seafood or chicken. Although it’s typical in Spanish homes, you can’t find paella in most restaurants because it’s considered a tourist dish. The  Spanish restaurants I’ve visited seem to consider traditional foods passe and prefer to serve international foods. My paella Valenciana was delicious, even with the presence of a whole chicken head on my plate. I did not eat the head, I just pushed it to the side and tried to avoid eye contact with it.

After dinner, we went in search of crepes. We split a fresh crepe filled with chocolate, bananas and nata (whipped cream). So delicious! While we waited for it to cook, we were approached by a young couple looking for an Easter procession and discovered, after conversing in Spanish for a bit, that the girl was American and they both spoke English! Funny ol’ world, isn’t it?

Our power breakfast the next morning was churros con chocolate taza and “illy” coffee. Yummmmm. In the plaza the bells were clamoring and pealing in honor of Easter. There was to be a procession later, but our plan was to use our last few hours touring the city on bicycles!  On our leisurely walk to the bike shop, we found an open air market, which was so awesome! There were vendors selling everything imaginable, and I was able to purchase a few unique gifts that you couldn’t find in any store!

We finally got to the bike shop, my purse sagging with weight, at about 1 pm, which gave us roughly 5 hours to ride. The nice man gave us 2 bikes with baskets and the half-day price, which meant saving 5 euros each (thanks guy!). There are gardens lining the main roads, only one level lower, so when you’re in the garden there’s the sensation that the city is far, far away. We pedaled happily along the dirt paths, passing families on picnics, children flying kites and other people out enjoying the sunny day.

The highlight of the ride, for me, was seeing the beautifully designed buildings which comprise El Ciudad de las Artes y las Ciencias. I highly recommend googling images of these buildings, they’re all arches and stripes and curves; the first one we saw strongly resembles the Rocketeer’s helmet. One building had a harp-like piece reaching 10 stories high! The glowing white shapes, in combination with the blue sky and crystal azure pools, made for a breathtaking experience.

After a bit of searching and a lot of pedaling, we found the beach! The water was blue and cold, the sand was soft and toasty, and the shoreline was teeming with people! We took our pictures and reveled for a bit, then went searching for food. I’m afraid we broke every possible rule of international travel by ordering hamburgers, but they sounded so good at the time! And they were delicious! After we ate, we cruised back to our hostel on Calle de Paz to pick up our luggage and ride to the bike shop. The ride back was so nice, it seemed almost effortless to glide over the paved bike path while the sun peeked over the buildings!

After returning the bikes, we had time to rest in a grassy, sunny spot, get horchata and ice cream at the mall & rest stop before finding our bus home. We both collapsed into our seats and dozed for most of the trip. It was a full weekend and a wonderful experience! I feel so privileged to have seen Valencia while I’m here in Spain!

I haven’t done the math, but I think I’m about halfway through my time here in Spain. This calls for some reflection and recognition of what I’m learning:

Before I came to Spain, I thought I had a pretty good idea of what “cross-cultural missions” really means. My impression of Missions (capital “M”) has been evolving since I was in grade school, so I thought I had a good grasp on the concept. When I was a youngster and Mrs. McLay read stories about people like Adoniram Judson, Hudson Taylor and Mary Slessor, they seemed to possess superhuman amounts of faith and courage. They lived such amazing lives, they were considered special enough to be commemorated on large color cardboard pages for the delight of awestruck children. They were like….characters from the Bible, which to me meant that they lived a long time ago and their like was not to be found today. Did anyone else feel that awe-filled detachment from “the mission field”? It wasn’t until I was in junior high and heard Andy Byrd share about a missions trip to the Philippines that it hit me: “People TODAY are living for Christ in a big way. People like ME are missionaries!” Boom! Lightening struck my brain!

Fast forward to post-high school. I’m auditing classes at ABI, taking a “Missions” class from Steve Napier. The definition naturally comes into question: “What is a missionary? How would you define a missionary?” As people give their answers, I have to revisit those old preconceived notions: “Are missionaries the long-dead men and women who lived in strange foreign lands? Are the students who spend Spring Break building houses in Mexico missionaries? Am I a missionary in my own hometown?” I settled on something along these lines: a missionary is a person who shares their faith and who often has surreal experiences as a result of their obedience (this was to cover the paranormal stories my friends would bring back from short-term trips. It’s just part of the territory, things are different “in the field”).

So, now I’m in Spain, learning sooooo much more than Spanish. I’ve learned that if you want to be a productive member of the community here, you have to A. know Spanish, B. understand the culture and C. have patience. The last one is hard for me because I’m a firm believer in “act now while you’re enthusiastic”. I can’t help it, I’m an “I”! (that’s a joke for those of you from Glacierview, or anyone who’s taken the DISC test. I joke.) The value of flexibility has been made clear during my time here. The schedule is different, the mindset is different; there’s very little about my own culture that carries into the Spanish. I’m very willing to give my time, but what can I do as an outsider? The people from church and my own Maria Jesus have been very generous and welcoming. I honestly feel like I’ve made some good friends in the last month, which is evidence of God’s direction! He knew who would be here when He first started guiding me toward Madrid last year!

How can I explain what I’ve been doing since I arrived? I’ve been trying to keep you all updated on my comings and goings, but as far as what I DO, I’d have to say: nothing out of the ordinary, aka, nothing worth commemorating in a flip book. I attend youth group on Fridays (which is awesome!), church on Sunday and every other Saturday I attend Bible study with the most patient group of people ever. I went to Prayer Group this week, where I sat silently listening to heartfelt supplication on behalf of believers being martyred. I spend time with Maria Jesus and her family, who have adopted me and extended every kindness possible. Twice a week I practice basic Spanish alongside 11 other eager students from all over the globe. I go to the supermarket, the library, the metro station, anywhere I can humiliate myself by speaking pidgin Spanish. Most importantly, in my opinion, I spend time getting to know the other Americans who have waved goodbye to country and familiarity to come live here. They are the ones who give me a better idea of what “cross-cultural” means. What brings them to Spain? The real question is “What KEEPS them in Spain?”. They don’t stay for the emotional high of “surreal experiences”, that’s for sure, nor for the hope of being immortalized by Sunday School teachers world-wide. Every one of them were called to Spain, whether literally (God made it clear from the get-go) or by chains of events and circumstance. It’s not an easy place to harvest; there isn’t much fruit. It’s emotionally and mentally tiring to put yourself out there day after day and receive very little in return. I’m learning that a missionary has to be a servant as well. If any one of these people were self-serving, they’d be halfway across the Pacific on a plane headed home.

So I have to examine my own heart and mind: what would bring me back overseas for the long-term? My enthusiasm for new places and people would last about a month, on its own. 30 days makes a habit, so they say. Nothing exciting about a habit, is there? Would friendships bring me back? Well, I have some absolutely drop-dead fantastic friends back home too. The food…let’s not go there. I still don’t know, which is inconvenient because my time-line clearly indicates that by age 25, I should have God’s plan for my life figured out. Silly optimistic time-line.

This is becoming the Behemoth of all blog posts, let me explain…no, there is too much. Let me sum up. (I’m tired and quoting Princess Bride)

While I am here in Madrid, I may not be able to lead revival meetings or small groups, or even share my testimony without the help of a Spanish-English dictionary, but I can come alongside as a helper, I can encourage, I can bridge the cultural gap with kindness and that light inside me that I talked about a few weeks ago. And you know what? It feels…right. It feels right to be using whatever resources I have to make someone else’s burden lighter. It feels right to do things like babysit or carry groceries and call it ministry. I’m not a saint and I’m not superhuman. I’m just a displaced Alaskan in a foreign land, bumbling her way though the learning process and trying to be a helper. What I have done here isn’t going to wow the crowd or amaze friends back home. It’s not the kind of experience I would have determined “typical Missions” in years gone by. But it’s the place and the people and the friends and the experiences that God called me to. My cup runneth over!