Day 6 Bilbao to Castro Urdiales

In the morning on day 6, Becky, Manolo, our new friend Asia bid farewell to our friend Lordes who wanted to walk every step of the Camino.  We did as well, but many of the people we wanted to walk with had taken the metro the night before to Portugalete and were walking from there.  So, in order to catch up to them, we woke up early, got on the metro and rode to Portugalete as well, before continuing on to Castro Urdiales.

When we arrived in Portugalete the four of us were walking as we saw some fascinating sites including the "floating bus" that takes people from one side of the river to the other (see picture below) and several of the people movers (like escalators that are flat instead of having the steps) that helped people up the steep hill in the city.  Some of the people movers made sense, as it was a steep hill, but a few of the people movers did not travel more than 20 meters and I felt extremely lazy riding them, but I figured why not, I´d only be there once, and I was still going to be walking 27,2 km (16mi) even though we took the 17.7km (11.1mi) metro ride out of the industrialized city.

Floating bus of Portugalete

On the way out of Portugalete we walked about 11km on a bike trail alongside Route 634, who would become a good friend (or nemesis, depending on your opinion) over the trek through Cantabria, as most days required walking more on the side of the road than in the woods and hills as we had grown accustomed to in the Basque Country.


The days journey took us through some beautiful countryside views of the Bay of Biscay.  I eventually started walking faster than the others in my group and I arrived in the town of Pobeña and stopped for a second breakfast.  Right as I was about to leave, Asia joined me and I stayed a little bit longer.  As I was about to leave the second time, Becky joined us and then Manolo.  We stayed for a while before I continued on my way towards Castro Urdiales.

Castro Urdiales was the first stop we had outside of the Basque Country and in the region and province of Cantabria.  I was particularly excited about this, because Cantabria was one of the six regions of Spain I had not been to at that point (That list is now down to three, Navarra-with Pamplona, the university I was originally supposed to study abroad at, and the two island chains: the Canary and Balaeric Islands.).  The boarder between the regions was marked by a tunnel that resembles the old mine shafts, with many signs warning us about the danger of the tunnel, particularly with explosives.  I went through the tunnel and took the picture above once reaching the other side.

Once on the other side, I started to descend the other side of the hill and into the town, where I had to ask for directions to find the albergue.  I knew that the place did not have many beds left because my friends ahead of me sent me a text urging me on.  I arrived and was told by the hospitalero that I was lucky as there were only two beds left, and I was able to sleep in a room with most of the crew I had known, and a girl named Michelle who joined us for the next week of the Camino.  

The hospitalero was a very nice, person, but he seemed particularly nice to me and Tabitha, insisting that I had been there before and we had known each other, although I had never been to the town before.  When I told him that a friend was coming behind me, he held a bed for Becky for a while (despite this being against the unwritten Camino rules) and when the beds filled up, he pulled out mattresses for people to sleep in, including a couple that divided and each slept in opposite halves of the bathrooms, tents for people outside and my favourite, our friend Manolo sleeping on a mattress on top of the dining room table! 

Once I had been reunited with my friends we went in search of pharmacies, food for the next day and dinner.  Barbara caught up with me and told me that Becky had not recovered from her massive blisters and had elected to stay in Pobeña rather than adding a few extra hours to  catch up to me.  As it was Día de San Fermín (7th of July) we saw videos from that days Running of the Bulls and bull fights in Pamplona, but many of us non-spaniards were not able to watch during the bloody bullfights.

Day 5 Morga to Bilbao

Day 5 was another long day. According to our book it should have been a day and a half walk, but we opted to walk the 31.7km (19.9mi, 52.8Vtn) in one day so that we could stop in Bilboa, the largest and most industrialized city of the Basque Country.

(NB: Apologies for this poorly written post, I have been rather busy with the move and starting school)

Highlights of the day include loosing my group because I decided to start walking with the slower group, but after an hour I realized it hurt me more to walk slower than to speed up. When I sped to catch the other group, I would occasionally ask passer-byers if they had seen a group of about 5 pilgrims. For quite some time (around 2 hours) I was told consistently that they were about half an hour ahead of me. I tried to peek into any places of business so as to not pass them. After a while, people stopped telling me that they were a half-hour ahead, but instead that I was the first pilgrim they had seen that day. Nonetheless, I decided to continue at my fast pace in hopes of catching up with the others, because I did not have their phone numbers and did not know how to meet up with them otherwise. After crossing on an overpass over the national highway, I wound my way up and down a hill. As I began my descent (yes, I had to look up how to spell that word in English) I was again told that there was a group about a half hour ahead of me, but that they only had 4 people, not 5 as I had asked. So, to see if maybe it was just part of my group, I began to describe the 2 girls and 2 or 3 guys walking together. The gentleman told me that there was only one girl in the group, but when I said it must not be the group I´m looking for he insisted it was. He was very adamant that it was my group. Eventually, though he admitted that he had not seen them, only heard their voices.

In the end, I did not find the group, but I did find a WiFi Zone and I e-mailed them my phone number, and they called and we met up the following day. I took the city bus to the hostel, because I had no idea how to get there on foot, and I was later joined by a swedish couple (who did acupuncture while we waited for the hospitalero), Lourdes, Becky and her new friend Asia (pronounces ah-shah)

I spent about 2 hours waiting for the hospitalero, the first half of which I was by myself, so I tried to call home and give my mom instructions for calling me via skype, but unfortunately that did not work.

When we met the hospitalero, he was very nice and hospitable, playing music for us, offering us food and giving us advice for the evening. Later, Becky Asia and I went into the city to check out the Plaza Mayor (first picture), Guggenheim (below) and to get kebabs! All in all, not a terrible day.

Day 4 Markina to Morga

We knew day 4 would be a long day because we stopped early the day before, and we had made a reservation at a private albergue 7km beyond the suggested destination. So even though we were set to walk 31km (20 miles, 51 Vaticans) we did not have to rush, because we had beds waiting for us at the destination.

The first leg of the day was cloudy, not well marked and mostly up a gradual hill through small towns on a national road (similar to US-20 or US-7). One interesting thing about the hill was that it took us through the small town of Bolivar, where the grandparents of Simón Bolivar were from. At the top of the hill we found goats and the beautiful monastery where some of my friends had spent the previous night. On the way back down, we got a break from walking on pavement and got to walk down a trail for a while. After I fell on some wet rocks, my friend Javi lent me one of his walking sticks, which was very helpful. When we got to the bottom of the hill it was raining enough that many of us decided to stop to change socks and take a short break. During the break a fellow traveller gave me a friends towel that was left in the hostel the night before, we shared information about our various blisters and other minor injuries and continued walking.

The next stop of the day was in the town of Gernika (Basque spelling, when the spelling of a proper noun changes I will try to use the name used in the local language, not in Castillian Spanish or English), which has been an import city for the Basque people for centuries. For many years Gernika was the home of their Casa de las Juntas, a precursor for today´s parliament in the Basque Country. Representatives from all over the region would meet at the tree (below) to discuss the issues and come to agreements on how to deal with problems of the area. By the 20th Century, Gernika became less important politically as other cities grew larger, but remained the symbolic center of the Basque region. During the Spanish Civil War, the people of Gernika were supporters of the Republic (anti-Franco). Franco feared an uprising from the Basques and so he asked his ally Hitler (who had new bombs he wanted to test out) to bomb Gernika. Hitler was instructed not to focus on the military headquarters, but instead to focus on communal buildings. It is often said that he specifically target mothers and children. Well more than half of the cities buildings were destroyed over the span of the one attack.

Today, Gernika is famous because of the painting of the same name made by Pablo Picasso depicting the effects of war on the people of his country (despite what many people have told me, Pablo Diego José Francisco de Paula Juan Nepomuceno María de los Remedios Cipriano de la Santísima Trinidad Riuz y Picasso (his full name). The Gernika painting can be found in Reina Sofia Museum in Madrid. A replica can be found in a plaza in Gernika, along with many student-made posters promoting peace, as Gernika is now known as the Ciudad de la Paz (City of Peace).

Because of Gernika´s importance, I decided that when many of my friends continued walking, I would stay back in Gernika and take myself on a tour after having a Menú del Día (3 course meal with beverages for 10€, approx $13US) with my friends as they walked on ahead to Morga. While on my tour, I ran into the same group of pilgrims walking without backpacks (sin mochilleros) that we saw the night before. I asked were they were headed, because we were hoping to not be staying in the same hostel as them and thus racing for beds the next day. They told me they would be walking to Bilbao, another 30+ kms away. It was at this point that I realized that they were not walking the whole way either. It was very hard for me and my friends to not judge them, but by the end of the Camino, we all realized that we all are doing what our bodies and our calendars allow, we cannot do more, and we should assume the same of everyone else. With that in mind I would like to send a belated apology towards the sin mochilleros of the Camino.

(Oak tree where meetings were traditionally held)

(Casa de Las Juntas)

Around 5 o´clock I started to walk towards Morga with my friend Lourdes as a few of our friends who were fighting particularly nasty blisters rested in Gernika in hopes of recovering and catching up with us later. Lourdes and I bought cookies and bread for the walk. It did not take long for Lourdes to insist that I walk at my own pace and leave her behind. I tried insisting that I walk with her, but I can only say no to a spanish woman (and a friend) so many times before I give in. So I left Lourdes behind for a few hours.

At the top of a hill, I had not seen any other pilgrims for some time, so I asked a woman in her garden how far to Morga. She insisted that at most I had 2kms left. This motivated me and I started to walk a little bit faster. Shortly after, the arrow pointed left at a fork in the road, so I turned to be greeted by a barbed wire fence that I had to go under. I was tempted to limbo under, because the only line of barbs was about 1 meter off the ground. Instead, I decided to side crawl underneath. Shortly after the barbed wire, I was confronted by 3 camino dogs who were not on leashes, and decided to block my path. Earlier that day I had been talking to my friend Barbara about what to do in such events. So, I mentally cursed the owners who refused to leash or fence their dogs despite knowing that thirty or so people pass by there on foot EVERY DAY and continued walking without making eye-contact with the dogs. At the bottom of another hill I went through a tunnel beneath a highway which lead me to another house with a garden and a couple in their field. I also found arrows pointing in two different directions and asked them if they knew which way to the albergue. They informed me that there were two. One, apparently was very close, and the other they said that if I wanted to go there I would die because it was so far away. They offered to call the number I had to see which one had my reservation. Luckily for me, it was the nearer one, so I turned left and walked up the next hill. On the hill a few of the signs for the albergue were mislabeled, so I had to resort to pulling over 2 bikers, 3 cars (one told me the albergue I was looking for was at least 20kms/12 miles away) and 2 women walking with their children. I got lost for at least half an hour (apparently on the correct path the entire time) and was tempted to just lay down and sleep on the side of the road in the woods, but eventually after about 2 hours I saw a sign that said "Albergue 250m" on the road. It wound up being closer to 1km and 10 minutes, but I made it to the albergue. Ten minutes later, I got the first of two phone calls from Lourdes insisting she was lost. Luckily, I knew where she was and gave her instructions, and eventually put on my sandals and walked back to her. Once we were both in the albergue and showered, we sat down for the dinner provided for us by the hospitaleros (the couple running the albergue) as the blind man and his wife arrived, finally we were all there.

During dinner we were graced with a song by a swiss friend of ours as his form of a fair well, as he was going to abandonar the Camino due to his injuries and return home.

After dinner, there was nothing left but to get some well deserved sleep.

Dia 3 Deba-Markina 12 miles, 19.2km, 32 Vtc

We knew at the beginning of the day that the third stage of our journey was going to be a long and difficult one.  Because the day was going to be filled by a hike of 26,5km (16.5mi) with and a hill of just shy of 500m (1600ft) and only the Zenarruza Monastery with 8 beds to stay at at the end of the journey, many of us opted to stop earlier in the town of Markina-Xemein just 19,2km (12miles) instead.  We had also been told that along the way between Deba and Markina we would not find any place to stop and get food.  With this in mind, most of the pilgrims I knew opted to take the elevators down the hill to a cafe when it opened at 7am before starting our hike. 

 

While walking up the 500m hill I crossed paths with a Slovenian couple.  Even though I met them several times throughout the next few weeks, our language barriers stopped us from learning much about each other.  The wife and I were able to share that we are both teachers (she teaches something related to libraries, but I am not sure what) and that my sister and I enjoyed our trip to Slovenia back in 2010.  Around the same time I also met a few Spanish men who were walking their dog.  They were kind enough to inform me that I was near the top of the hill.  A Spanish woman who I had seen before at the hostel helped me find a walking stick that I took with me for the last couple of hours of the day.  Unfortunately, because I held the stick the same way the whole time, it left a couple of blisters on my hand to match the one on my toe from the day before. 

View of Markina from the hill

 

 When I arrived at the albergue with a few others from the group, we saw that there was only one other person there before us, and that the hostel would not be open for another three hours.  We took off our bags and started to eat whatever food had made it to the end of the journey.  After sitting on the sidewalk for a hour or two, I decided to walk around the town a bit.  I got some chocolate to share with the others as we waited some more.  Finally, the hospitalero (volunteer who runs the hostel) arrived.  He started to write down our information (name, age, profession, country of origin, passport or ID number, place and date we started the Camino, whether we were traveling by foot, bike or horse) as required by the Guardia Civil (Spanish Police).  We noticed after a few minutes that the process was talking a while because he would give each person who arrived individually a separate tour of the hostel to show them the room, the bathroom, and the other facilities.  After a couple people went though, I decided to help speed things up by suggesting we all give him our Credentials (a sort of passport for the Camino) and say that we were walking together, so that he would only have to give us one tour total.

After checking-in and starting a load of laundry (3 euro split 5 ways) I decided to walk backwards on the trail a little bit to find my friends Becky and Lourdes who I thought might use a little encouragement.  On my way I found some pilgrims who were walking without backpacks.  They told me that they had hired someone else to drive in a van with their bags.  This made me nervous, because I knew there were not many spots left in the albergue and Becky and Lourdes had not yet arrived.  When I found them, I offered to take their bag for the last couple hundred meters.  When we arrived, the group that had been walking without their bags had found their bags and made their entrance.  They tried reserving beds for their group members who were walking further behind them, however, that is not allowed on the Camino, because then you could just have someone take the bus and reserve beds for everyone.  In their confusing, Becky and Lourdes were able to get beds.  The hospitalero then informed the other group that there were only 2 beds left, and since they were a group of 10, they would have to decide what to do. Immediately, the youngest in their group said she would take one of the beds and let the retirees decide who got the second.  After this, the day was rather quiet, everyone trying to get food, wash and dry clothes and sleep as much as possible before the next day.

 

 

 

Marker saying that I am officially in Markina, a good hour before reaching the town centre.

Etapa 2 Zarautz a Deba (23km, 14,3 mi)

Today we left earlier, around 7:20 in the morning. We passed by the church of Santa Maria La Real and then we walked by the beach until we got the town Getaria which we all called Rat Island, because of its shape. Up until there is the walk was flat and easy. Then we stopped in to Getaria for tea and breakfast with a few of the other pilgrims. As we left the town we started to go up hill and we had to choose between two routes. One route one along the beach while the other one went into the hills a bit further. I chose the hillier route without knowing I had made a decision. I walked by the Ermita de Santa Barbara. From there I passed through Askizu and Zumaia with a few fellow peregrinos I had met previously. I went up and down several hills, many of which reminded me of reviews that I could see in Vermont and New York with farms, paths and the smell of cows. After a while when I had passed some time without seeing other travelers I asked for directions from a few men who offered me a ride, because the map was giving information that contradicted the signs I saw I declined the ride and two hours later I arrived on the road towards Elorriaga and Itziar. Finally, I arrived in Deba around noon.

Once in Deba, I was about to go down the elevator that they had outside to help people down the hill, when a man from Catalunya stopped me and decided to help me by talking to me for 20 to 30 minutes about his family and people and in Andalucia that I should meet and how Barcelona plays much better football than Madrid because Barcelona place with an artform where as Madrid plays by brute force. Finally he let me walk down to the tourist office where I was given a key to the hostel. I spent the rest of the afternoon washing my laundry in a mixed load with other people, trying to find Becky, eating lunch, walking down to the beach, wandering around the small town, and hanging out on the patio is Becky played music.

Etapa Uno: Donostia - Zarautz 22 km, 13.8 mi.

Today was out first day on the Camino de Santiago. We woke up after a poor nights sleep with many people making noise with their devices and the man below us snoring all night. We left the albergue (hostel) after leaving a donation of 5€. We turned down the road to find a frutería (fruit stand) where I bought a banana and an apple for 0,49€ for breakfast.

This was all I ate until I arrived in Zarautz about 4 hours and 22km (15.7 mi.) later. There were a few places along the way where I could have stopped and got some food but I preferred to keep going. Even though we were the last pair to leave the hostel I believe I was among the first to reach Zarautz. Although I walked quickly, I was able to take in the sights as I crossed over the hills, along the highway, by beaches and through the woods of the valley. A few of my favorite sights of the day include a spring in the woods where I filled my water bottle and a small stand by a wall on the side of the street that allowed us to stamp our credentials if we wanted, but we both opted not to because we might not have enough space in the booklet.

The entire way was marked by little yellow arrows and shell markers like the one above. In the woods there are a few stretches where I started to think I made a wrong turn because I hadn't seen a marker in a while, and each time I turned a corner and saw a yellow arrow showing the way.

As I passed through the town of Orio met a man named Manuel from Sevilla and we finished today's etapa (stage) together. We eventually arrived in Zarautz, found the hostel and a three course lunch of paella, chicken, wine and ice cream for 10€. After we checked into the hostel Becky and I went to the beach where I napped, we explored the town, ate some pintos and came back in time for the 10pm lights out in the albergue.

Valencia

We arrived at the hostel (the same one I stayed at for Las Falles in 2010) around 2pm and quickly decided to walk to the beach as it was another day above 90•F. We knew it wasn't going to be a short walk, but neither of us expected to walk about five miles. On the way there we passed by many monuments including the Grand Prix, City of the Arts and Sciences towers and the "river." We stayed at the beach for a while because the water was nice and warm, but on our way out we found a lot of garbage along the edge of the water. We were told it was from the festival held there last weekend.
. Having learned our lesson, we opted to take a cab back to the hostel, where we got paella for dinner.

The next morning I took the free guided walking tour of the city while Emily went to the beach. On the tour I learned a few local legends and a bit of Spanish history. One story in particular stuck with me.

When Valencia was settled by the Romans it was a small islands surrounded by a river, separating it from the mainland. During the time of the Moors it became a larger city. The river would flood every few years. One year the water rose to a very high level and washed out most of the city. So the city government decided to cut off one of the legs of the river and let all the water go to one side, so that it wouldn't flood. Because of this, Valencia is no longer an island. In the 1980s left with just a dry riverbed, the city decided they wanted to build a highway. Everyday the city workers would try to convert part of the riverbed into a road and every night the citizens of Valencia would come through and plant trees to undo the work done by the city workers that day. After a while the city gave up their highway aspirations. So the riverbed sat empty for another few years until it was eventually converted into a park. This park includes the Ciutat de les Arts i les Ciències (City of Arts and Sciences), which is a group of buildings designed by Santiago Calatrava, a famous Valencian architect who I am told is also currently designing the Ground Zero monument in Manhattan (although some sources say that this is untrue).

Another fun fact about Valencia is that it was the last refuge for the Republicans during the Spanish Civil War.

He vuelto a España, first 3 days back in Spain

Bueno, I am back in Spain, this time only for two months. I got to Becky's place on Tuesday morning while she was at work. So, I did my best to lay low but stay awake til she got home to help me with jet lag. It was only 10am (4am on the East Coast). I managed to only stay awake about an hour since I had only slept an hour at the beginning of the flight. So, I slept for a few hours until Becky got home.

On Wednesday my roommate Emily joined us and I tried to keep her active to get her used the time difference. We tooka few walks around Madrid, going to the Paseo del Prado, El Parque del Retiro and even running into a teacher strike, even though it is summer vacation. We each bought a shirt to support the cause. Finally we want for dinner and crashed Becky's living room for good night sleep.


On Thursday morning Emily and I went towards the centre and we tried to see the Palacio Real but it was closed to the public because there were some ambassadors from South America visiting however, we got to see a nice possession of horses soldiers, guards and a royal carriage. After visiting the Palacio Real we went to the Catedral, Plaza de Sol and Plaza Mayor before heading home for a home-cooked meal thanks to Becky.

After lunch we met up with a friend of Emilys who's teaching here in Madrid. Then we tried to go to an Egyptian temple but it was closed, so we went to a Chileno restaurant for dinner and dessert. Finally we went to see our friend La Risa (or Larisa) selling scarves at her house and then came home around 1 AM.

Montreal

Only a day after moving into my new house in Lebanon, New Hampshire, I took off for a trip north of the border, to Montréal.  It was a trip I had been wanting to take for years, to finally see my favourite band, Ace of Base, in concert!  They had not made a trip to North America since their 1995 to promote their second album The Bridge which features their hit song "Beautiful Life."  I didn´t see them in concert then because I was all of nine years old, but even then they were my favourite band.  I tried several times while I was in Europe to see them, but even then, they only performed in Estonia, Lativa and Lithuania.  All three are countries I would like to visit one day, but, they are not serviced by the budget airlines from Western Europe, and so a weekend trip there would have cost me about a month´s pay, which didn´t seem worth it for a concert if I was going by myself.  Of course, they came to Spain about a week after I moved back to the Americas (figures, doesn´t it).

So this time, with the band performing only a few hours drive away, I decided I had to go.  Despite all the build up, my expectations were low.  The two singers who were in the band in my childhood have left.  One left after a fan tried to stab her sister.  The sister (and second singer) left the band a little over a year ago, due to the record companies demands.  So the band hired 2 new singers and I had not been impressed by their new music with the new girls, or with their versions of the songs that made them famous.  Anyway, I decided to go ahead and see the concert because I probably wouldn´t get another chance.

Boy was I pleasantly surprised!

They started off with what is probably their best known song The Sign.  Then they sang their most famous song in Europe, Life is a Flower.  Then they sang Vision in Blue, which is my favourite song from the album with the 2 new singers.  Next up were Lucky Love and Clara singing a cover of Russian Roulette by Rihanna, and another cover song that I did not recognize.  Happy Nation, Black Sea, Cruel Summer and Golden Ratio were their next songs.  After that they had more songs, but since I am posting this months later, I do not remember which they were, sorry.  Very anti-climactic, I know

2011-2012: A year in review, part 1 of 3

Bueno, it´s been quite a while since I have written in here, mostly because I have been travelling a lot less this year than in the past few.  However, I am on summer vacation now!  During vacation I will be going to take a nice journey and should be writing more often again (although I will have limited internet access, so I might not write immediately, but will probably blog about it after the journey has completed).

That said, I wanted to reflect a little bit on the highlights of the 2011-2012 school year.

First off, I moved back to the US.  Many of my friends and family were thrilled by this.  I was not.  However it has been a decent year, and financially it has been far more rewarding than living in Costa Rica or working part time in Spain.  I movemd to Lebanon, NH, which for those of you who don´t know is the town next to Hanover (or should I say Dartmouth, because Dartmouth College is half the town and owns most of the rest).  I started the Spanish programme at two schools in Vermont.  At Thetford Elementary School I teach Spanish K-6, and at the Newton School I teach Spanish 5-8.  I had my reservations about teaching Spanish as a foreign language.  I really didn´t think it was what I wanted to be doing, but it turns out I really enjoy it!  So, I´ve signed on for a second year!  First time since college I´ll be staying at the same job for two years!  So that´ll bring my total to 5 schools (and one language academy) in 5 years.  So, still not the best average, but at least it´s moving the right direction.  It turns out at work I have one co-worker, Sarah Zack, who I had several classes with at UVM.  I also work with AnMari Kicza, who taught at the CEC/Cloud Forest School in Costa Rica six years before me!  What a small world it is.

Anyway, I moved into a house with three roommates: Emily, Amena and Nate.  Nate didn´t stay very long (thankfully) and a guy named Kyle moved in.  The four of us hung out a lot and would spend most of our free time together.  In September we had an issue where the upstairs shower was leaking into the downstairs shower.  Even though my room was upstairs, I always showered downstairs because the upstairs shower head was only about five-feet four-inches off the ground, making it impossible for me to wash my hair unless I kneeled on the floor.  So, one day after noticing the leak, I was about to shower downstairs when my roommate asked me if I wanted to get groceries, so I decided that was a priority.  When we returned less than an hour later, the ceiling from the downstairs shower had fallen onto the floor.  For a few days the downstairs bathroom was unusable.  However, we shouldn´t have been using the upstairs shower either, because the floor underneath was basically mush, you could easily stick your finger through it.   When the landlords (in India) finally authorized work to be done (five or six weeks later) they had to remove the shower, and along with it most of the insulation on that side of the wall, and the walls between the bathroom and my room and my closet.  From my bed I could see the toilet upstairs, the toilet downstairs and into the shower downstairs!  It made for a very interesting week, especially with Kyle having just moved in.  Some highlights from the week include me yelling to Kyle late at night (jokingly) “Don´t pee in my bedroom”  Anyway, after about a week of making sure I wasn´t in my room and awake if someone was in the bathroom, and having toilets basically set up like bunk-beds where you could hear the other person in the other bathroom, it got fixed and we got a new shower that was tall enough for me!  

View from my bedroom

On a related note, all year we thought we had a laundry chute, but had blocked it off so the cats wouldn´t accidentally fall into it.  However, this past week, I dropped a sponge in to see where it goes, and it did not seem to fall anywhere.  This just adds to the long list of weird things in the house such as a doorbell in the kitchen that seems to ring in the basement.  The hole in the basement, large closets and the “caves” in Emily´s room and my room, hooks on the stairs, indoor wind chimes, the “poop-swastika or poopstika” the light switch on the stairs that shuts off the hot water heater, the TV that is heard best outside the room its in, many light switches that don´t seem to turn anything on, the random chords in the cabinet and, of course, the fact that we´ve never seen a key for the front door.

Simon (left) and Roxy (right) 

As previously mentioned, we (technically Emily) got 2 cats, Simon and Roxy (aka Profe Simone and Profe Foxxy, according to one co-worker).  They are adorable little kittens, but I won´t go into the cutesy cat stories now, although they are a lot of fun.

I started my master´s degree with Jones International University, an online school based in Colorado.  I would prefer not to take courses online, because I learn more socially, and I am still not sold on the credibility of an online degree, but they offer the courses I need to get a full-fledged license to teach Spanish in Vermont, so I´ve taken the first course and I have nine courses left.  I believe I will finish no later than December 2013.