city mouse, country mouse

Once upon a time …

… in the land of Aesop’s fables the story of these two rodent relatives was created. The posh city mouse comes to visit his country cousin, and teases him about his simple life. The city mouse invites his cousin to his home in the big city to show him how life is bigger, better, brighter in comparison. Over dinner they run into a problem with the neighbors (dogs) and they have to hide to save their lives. The moral of the story is revealed when the country cousin goes home to his country comforts, declaring he would rather live a simple life than live in fear.

Terrible portrayal of the city! What – is the mouse living in Camden? There have been many variations on the story since it was first created. I always thought the story had to do with two people leading separate lives differently but happily. The moral of my version: One size does not fit all.

Well I’m the city mouse. Now masquerading as the country mouse, I set up shop in a one bedroom apartment in a small Midwestern town and I am slowly fading away, far from city comforts. I do have my fair share of noisy neighbors .. although they aren’t dogs, they act like them.

I am plagued by cravings. I crave noise and people and twenty-four hour stores. Mom and pop restaurants, my favorite coffee shop and the people. Where did all the people go?

My students give me the eyebrow of disbelief when I tell them that I am an expert on culture shock. It’s not that they question my authority on the subject. What they don’t believe is that I gave up another year in Europe for some work experience in the cornfields. There are days when I don’t believe it either.

Moving to the Midwest is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. It beats moving to Europe, going to college, taking the GMAT (twice). It is isolated and flat, empty and quiet. I have to drive over an hour to go somewhere like Target, Bed Bath & Beyond, Barnes & Noble. While we do not close for siesta, we are closed on Sundays for religion and rest and inconvenience.

photo courtesy of anormallife-amyemilia.blogspot.com

There are things I do like: the cheap rent, the absence of a highway speed limit. I’ve never been somewhere where I can see for miles and miles over the same terrain. Perched on a mountaintop, sure. Standing in a field, never. The sun rises and sets in the most brilliant colors that blow out the landscape for endless minutes. As a result of this unobstructed view, a sunset can consume you. Literally swallow you and pull down the day with a gulp, and you with it.

I see things in photographs, eyelids like shutters. Red barn and a silo – click. Single naked tree – click. Long empty roads – click. When I see the skyline of Chicago, I could weep. My eyes aren’t open wide enough to catch the lights, the colors, the people. As though I need to stock up on the stimulus before I head back to the stillness. The train ride home is the longest, with the city receding behind me as we move along the tracks.

Being the country mouse has its own luxuries. Uninterrupted cooking and a kitchen to myself. No need to roll up the yoga mat or turn down the stereo. Do laundry at weird hours, walk around in my underwear. Plenty of time to write, read and reflect. I am an only child after all, solitude is important to me.

But .. wow.

the madness of multitasking

This is never something I thought I would say out loud, never mind broadcast it to the wide world via my blog. But here it is, folks, write it down: I have discovered that I don’t like multitasking.

Bogus, right? Let’s think about this. Where is the #1 place you see the words “ability to multitask,” “must be able to multitask“? Job posts, that’s where. All of those potential employers work long and hard on their wish lists for the almighty position description and each one wants you to be able to juggle projects, people and paperclips like a street performer. Here’s the funny thing – this used to reign supreme in my cover letters and job applications. I worked in a fast-paced, higher education institution for four years and multitasked with the best of them. I had to, if I wanted to survive.

In fact, in my former life I used to THRIVE on fast-paced, highly charged situations. Out of necessity? Yes. Did I want to live this way? I think so. I have always said I prefer being busy, rather than idle. This is still true today, I haven’t totally shed my American ways. But here are some of the ways that multitasking is really flipping me out:

1. driving. I love driving. I love my car. I don’t love traffic. I don’t love other drivers. I have had some moments in the last few weeks where I have been in complete disbelief about the drivers around me. Everyone is in a big, fat hurry and they’re all on their cell phones. For the love of the road people, focus. I don’t care who you are, you’re probably not that important. If you are, get a damn chauffeur. See #2.

photo credit: davesblogcentral.com

2. cell phones. A new addition to my automotive world is the big red stop sign car magnet that reads: STOP TEXTING. Here’s what I recently discovered and confirmed: talking on your cell phone is NOT illegal in Pennsylvania. Fact! A year ago I would absolutely be guilty of this, but now that I am not using a cell phone I am fully conscious of how often I used to reach for my phone while driving. What an idiot!  I’ll be the car driving in between the painted lines, at the prescribed speed, without my phone in my ear, dodging everyone else.

On a local note, I’d like to applaud the Lehigh Valley Health Network for their recent collaboration with Coca-Cola to get the Stop Texting sign on 20 of our local trucks in the area. Do I think it will solve the problem? No, but I thank you for efforts. Now build us a railway system!

3. eating. The average duration of a meal in the country of Spain is approximately 3 to 4 hours (or 12, if it’s a first communion). How many times have I watched tourists freak out about their waiter ignoring them or having to wait an extra 30 minutes for their check? Where’s the fire? This is Spain – we don’t rush anywhere unless it’s to 100 Montaditos on a Wednesday or to the stadium for a fútbol match. And our waiters don’t work for tips. Sabes? Once you get over the initial panic you might realize there IS no rush. Enjoy your glass of wine, eat a bit slower and actually taste your food. Just don’t try it in America. I have no problem with the To Go culture, but I’ve learned to say no to To Go. Coffee tastes so much better when you’re standing still.

I appear to be a bit more patient, more conscious of my surroundings and a lot happier when I can focus on one thing at a time. Don’t all of these things deserve my undivided attention? Don’t you?

viva la feria

“Soy muy feriante” is a colloquial way of saying, “I love this fair.” Although there are some Sevillanos that don’t get into the hype, I would say the majority of the city participates – and how.

Feria is so visually stimulating, it’s almost overwhelming. Living where we do in Triana we get the overflow from the fairgrounds, and the people watching availability has escalated 100%. Forget fútbol, I will be a competitive people watcher. The streets are a riot of color – dresses, horses, carriages, balloons, toys. When I came back from school on Tuesday and turned the corner into our neighborhood, I spotted a couple on their way to the fairgrounds. The boyfriend driving his moto and the girl on the back, with her flamenco dress spread out behind her. The helmet is the best accessory …

I cannot stress the importance of the horses, or the quantity of them. The horses themselves are shined to perfection and are also dressed to the nines: tails and manes braided or curled, and a variety of decorative bridles and ribbons. Various fair-goers ride in carros or horse-drawn carriages which have their own footmen and drivers. When you hear sleigh bells at this time of year, it does not signal Santa Claus on vacation but the carriages riding up and down our streets. One of the most amusing parts for us is the El Rocio style of horses as a mode transportation. Just yesterday a small group of horses appeared to be in line at my ATM, with their owners greeting friends and having their first rebujito of the night. On Tuesday there was a horseback botellón just outside our house at about 1 am .. we are contemplating charging for horse parking. This week has been a serious of sharp double takes for horses, dresses and revelers .. and side stepping over horse poop.

Women ride side saddle with their heads held high and flowers on top of their heads – you half expect them to burst into song. Men on horseback are wearing the traditional traje corto and the Tio Pepé-esque hats. There are some women dressed in equestrian attire, and they look just as incredible as the ones dressed flamenca. The wealth is evident and the pageantry is incredible.

The fair has taken Sevilla by storm. There is little space for anything else – my roommate can’t get an xray because the doctor is on a festival schedule, and some of our fellow auxiliares only worked on Tuesday this week! The Sevillanos’ dedication to this event is like nothing I’ve ever seen before. Leave the house at 9 pm, come home at 4 am, lay down for 2 hours, shower, go to work, leave at 3 pm, go home, get dressed again, go out again. It is a vicious cycle fueled by fine wine and fiesta DNA. I’m sure the guys downstairs throwing kegs into the back of a truck have something to do with it as well.

A few photos for you here at mid week -

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Greece in photos

semolina & sesame

Temples to the gods

Ancient geometry

Kandylakia, roadside shrines

handmade wonders

views and ruins

churches

bright red poppies

Tsoureki, easter bread

Cappuccino freddo

Greek / Cretan salad

road trip

• From over 600 photos, here are 12 of the most emblematic (for me). Food, religion, nature and ancient history .. Greece in a nutshell, if you will. We ate well, we toured a great deal of ruins, watched a community prepare for an important holiday and sped by beautiful views along the way. A return trip is imminent.

the school store

Remember back in elementary school when you had this little bit of closet space tucked away in some lost corridor that was called “the School Store”? We did. It smelled like erasers and it was in a back room of the library. I don’t know about you but I loved it. It was a big deal if you got to work at the store in the afternoons. Almost as big a deal as staying in from recess to play Oregon Trail .. almost.

The school store doesn’t exist here in our instituto, but we do in fact have a store of sorts. Instead of erasers, pencils and notebooks you can buy organic eggs, oranges and chicken. While photocopying your worksheets for the day, you can request a dozen eggs or a bag of oranges and they will be delivered to you the following day. If you remember, this is how we got our Thanksgiving turkey from the nearby town of Chucena. Our portero (doorman) owns some land and sells his produce and poultry while working here at school. Imagine my surprise when I discovered I could have a bag full of softball-sized oranges with my name on it for a mere €2.50.

I have always been a supporter of the slogan: Buy Green, Buy Local. And why not? So much of the food here goes directly from farm to table with very little outside interaction, that I am hard pressed to even consider buying it somewhere else. My holiday turkey came in a plastic bag and my eggs come in a cone of newspaper with the feathers still clinging to them. For someone who grew up in the suburbs, this is pure genius. We have a local farm down the road that provides us with delicious summer corn, squash and pumpkins. Last year I participated in a community garden at my university, and previously in a CSA. While the garden was rewarding for its physical benefits and personal connection (our eggplants! I’m so proud!), I found the CSA left me wanting. There was little choice of what we received and sometimes our boxes held so much of one product that I had to give it away. Here in Spain I am making my purchases from a local fruteria whose owner happily weighs my produce and charges me next to nothing for perfect potatoes and beautiful bananas. You should see the size of the strawberries!

Buying local is easy here in Spain (specifically, Sevilla) .. is it easier because of our location? Because of the emphasis on agriculture? Because of the importance of food and fresh meals for the family? Regardless of the cause, I’m grateful.. and so is my wallet!