Learn some Spanish and dress like the Spaniards do were two of the biggest pieces of advice I found on the internet before going to the fair in Sevilla this weekend. I knew there would be tents set up and in another area there would be rides and games. But other than that little bit of information, I really didn't know what to expect. [Aprender a hablar un poquito de español y vestir como los Españoles eran los dos partes de consejo mas grande que encontré en Internet antes de asistir a la Feria de Sevilla ayer. Sabia que habría casetas y en otra parte las atracciones. Otro que esas cosas, no sabia que encontraría.]
A Ferris Wheel and other rides
at the Grant County Fair, 2011
These are some of the prizes visitors can
win while playing games at the Grant
County Fair, 2011.
Another common ride at fairs in the United States.
In the United States the fair consists of concerts, junk food, rides, games and livestock shows. So, overall, a lot was actually the same. In the photo to the left, people are riding horses down the main street in Sheridan, Arkansas in 2011. Even in Sevilla there were people on horse back, all over the city. There were really only about two main differences: the livestock shows are replaced by family and friends getting together. It is like a big party. [En los Estados Unidos, las ferias son construidos de conciertos, comida frita, atracciones y animales. De todos modos, muchas cosas eran el mismo. En la foto a la izquierda, la gente monta en caballos en la calle principal de Sheridan, Arkansas en 2011. También, en Sevilla había gente quien monta los caballos en toda la ciudad. Solo había como dos cosas de diferencia: la enseñanza de animales no existe; en su lugar hay familias y amigos reuniendo juntos. Era como una gran fiesta.]
It was around 8 p.m. when we finally arrived and found my friend who is from Sevilla. He invited us to join him, his family and some of his friends. There was music, live at times, dancing (mostly traditional Spanish), and an overall good time. It was about 3:45 in the morning when we left from that part and went to see the "attractions" and eat Churros with Chocolate. And finally we arrived at the hotel around 5 a.m. [Era 20 h, mas o menos, cuando por fin lleguemos y nos encontramos con mi amigo de Sevilla. Nos invito con su familia y amigos. Había música, aveces en viva, bailando (bailes típicas de España por lo general) y sobre todo un buen tiempo. Era 3:45 cuando salíamos para ver las atracciones y para comer churros con chocolate. Por fin lleguemos al hostal a las 5.]
When I came to Spain for the first time in 2006, I told myself that I had to try things at least one time. During that first time I didn't eat too many strange foods, but I did manage to eat little shrimp that still had eyes. It was part of the paella that I had in Madrid.
Five years later, in 2011, when I came to Spain again, I had the same standards. Even if the food was strange, if they ate it, I had to try it at least once. I have had several foods I had never had before during the past seven months. Altramuces, which are seeds from a certain type of Lupins (a flower), were some of the first. At first I didn't like them but I have grown to like them.
Most recently is something that I never really thought of as Spanish. I knew that if I ever went to Paris I would have to try it but didn't expect to be eating in Huelva, Spain. But Tuesday night I went there. For the first time in my life I ate snail. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't my favorite. I am not a huge beef jerky fan and that is what the taste reminded me of. These snails are referred to as Caracoles. They were small. Now I need to try Cabrillas, which are a larger variety. And then I need to head to France for Escargo!
I had heard that getting medicine in Spain was much easier. In the fifty-something page booklet of information Auxiliars read before even being accepted to the Auxiliares de Conversacion program, healthcare is mentioned. We are provided insurance through our work which means we do not have to pay anything to see the doctor. However, medicine is not included. According to the book, medicine in Spain is cheap and it is like buying it in the United States with insurance.
So it may be free to see the doctor and cheap to get medicine, but that didn't make me want to need that service any more. It is mid-April 2012. I have been in Huelva since mid-September 2011. I only have a month and a half left of this grant. So I thought I was home free. Spring is here so I shouldn't be catching the cold or flu. So I shouldn't need to visit the doctor. That was great. I don't like to go to the doctor even in the United States where I can easily speak the language.
But last Friday (which just happened to be the 13th) after taking a nap, I woke up with lower back pain. I dealt with it for several hours and then finally went to bed just to sleep it off. Unfortunately, the next morning I woke up with the same pain. That was odd, I can usually sleep stuff away. Later Saturday I noticed that I would scratch an area on my side and it would feel better, or other times if I added some pressure it felt better. On Sunday I began noticing a few spots and so I started researching what it could be and determined it was shingles. I had the back pain, the itchy feeling, I had experienced a few headaches, and some of the other symptoms.
Of course, I am no doctor so I mentioned it to some family and friends. Their first impressions was also shingles. But my case was minor. There was no rash, just a few bumps here and there and the pain. My pain was only minor so there was no need to get the doctor involved, I would just let it run its course. Then Monday a small rash began to form; it still didn't concern me. Until Tuesday night when it began to hurt me to breathe and I finally decided to go to the doctor the following day after work.
I was nervous. I had heard several people complain about having to go to go to several doctors until one would finally admit they had a sinus infection and give them a prescription. But I prepared for the doctor by writing out some words such as "rash," "shingles," and "chicken pox." The work paid off. The receptionist asked what I wanted to see the doctor for and I told her I thought I had Herpes Zoster. I was soon called into a small office.
Inside the office the doctor sat at his computer. When I entered the room he asked me what the problem was. I hesitated a little, not knowing whether to tell him the whole story from Friday to Wednesday or what. I decided to give the brief story: My back hurts and itches on my left side. There are also some outbreaks on my stomach and left side. He asked me to show him my back and I did so. Then he wrote a prescription. He never touched me. He never took my temperature or blood pressure. I never had to tell anyone my height or weight. I was in and out in less than 30 minutes and it was completely free.
Unfortunately free didn't last for long. I went to the pharmacy and expected to get maybe two medicines based on the report he gave me. But it turns out its four. But even at four I don't expect to pay more than 30 euros. A pain medicine that dissolves in water, a herpes antiviral pill, a cream to put on the rash and a rusty-colored liquid ended up setting me back about 150 euros. That isn't what I expected.
On the bright side, it doesn't seem to be anything serious. And I am able to go about life normally with the exception of having to medicate every eight hours. Luckily, although it is the same virus as chicken pox, shingles is not contagious. Life shall be fairly normal.
It is really interesting that I can often travel outside of Andalucia and be able to talk or meet someone wherever I am traveling and without being told, recognize, "Hey, they're from Andalusia." It is a lot like being able to identify someone who is from 'The South' in the United States. Us southerners say y'all. Andalucianas don't say a lot of the letters. For example, "pescado," which means fish, becomes "pescao," in andaluz. And let's not forget southern hospitality.
Something I have noticed here in Huelva is when people come in to a cafe they greet everyone. When they leave, they tell everyone bye. These greetings aren't just for their friends or the staff. People in Andalucia are generally very friendly. In Barcelona, when we went into cafes and said hello to the staff we were lucky to get any response. Much less from the people inside. But one day when we greeted them another person inside returned the greeting. When he left he told us goodbye. Immediately I said, "He is from Andalucía." I could tell by the speech and the manerisms. Don't get me wrong, I didn't confirm this fact, but I am positive I am right.
The people in Andalucia seem much more open, even than in the United States. On a bus ride between work (Corrales) and Huelva the other day, I witnessed something that I don't fully understand but I definately enjoyed. In the United States it would be considered rude and called "butting in" to someone elses conversation. Here, it was a community joke of some sort. My spanish isn't great so I didn't understand most of it. But first a few girls were talking loudly and laughing. Soon another lady joined in. Soon it was a large crowd of people throwing jokes around and laughing. The bus was loud but no one cared. Even the bus driver was laughing and joining in. For some reason I just don't see this happening in the United States where its taboo to talk in an elevator.
Coming from small towns and city, I don't know a whole lot about the city life in the United States. I experienced living in Washington, D.C. for two months. I grew up in the Little Rock Metropolitan Area. And I went to university in Jonesboro, Arkansas. And I have lived in a small Spanish city for the past six months.
Huelva is by no means a tiny "pueblo" or village. It probably takes a little over an hour to walk from the east side of town to the west side. And I don't run in to people I know on the streets very often (although if I lived here long enough that would be very likely). The populations is probably around 150,000 people from what I have heard.
But life in a small city here in Spain is much different from life in a small city or town in the United States. I feel like the people are much more lively here. It is much more social. There is a bar that I frequently visit and I have noticed that when people come in they greet the whole bar with a "Buenas." The complete phrase is "Buenas dias," or "Buenas tardes," but they shorten it. It is similar to how we will say, "morning," or "evening" and leave off the good. But instead they just say good. (I really like this when it comes to writing emails; it doesn't matter when someone reads it.) And upon leaving a bar, "Hasta luego," which roughly translates to "see you later."
Even in this small city, midnight is early. Dinner is around, what Americans would call late, 9 p.m. or so. And then people go out after dinner. Many pubs don't even open until midnight or later. And the people still get up and go to work the next day. Well, most of the time. That brings me to something else I have seen a lot of since coming here. Protests.
Even in the larger cities I have lived, I have not seen more than one or two protests. I am sure there were some in D.C. since it is the capital but I don't remember ever witnessing one in Little Rock, much less Jonesboro. But since being in Huelva, for only six months, I have witnessed at least five protests. Most recently, I saw a small group of people protesting outside the local newspaper. And tomorrow is the General Strike (Huelga General) in Spain.
Practice may make perfect but some things take more practice than others. Learning a new language is something that takes a lot of time, patience, practice and immersion. I think every university student should be required to live abroad for at least four to five months, whether they are learning a new language or not.
Living opens up a new way of looking at the world and the people living in it. For four years I sat in a classroom, listening to teachers talk about history and culture. In September 2011, I began living it. In the classroom it was apparent there were some differences but more or less everything was the same with a different name. When I arrived I couldn't even find milk because it was boxed in a different way and sold off a non-refrigerated shelf. It was a lot more different than I had ever realized. I was dealing with culture shock and almost left the country after only four days.
Three months later the culture shock wore off. It just became "natural," or as natural as it could be for a foreigner. It was time to really focus on the practicing part. In October I began attending a weekly "Intercambio," or language exchange. It helped a lot and I began to be able to understand people a lot better. And then came Christmas break when I went back to the United States for two weeks. I expected to lose a lot during that time.
When I arrived back in Spain I was surprised that I still could speak and listen about as well as when I left Spain. I continued going to the language tandems. Of course, the teachers at the schools where I work are all very helpful and supportive as well. Several times the other assistant and I have talked to the bilingual coordinator about her experiences when she moved to Spain as a child. Both of us have noticed we will have a hard time coming up with words even in English sometimes.
A friend I made from the Intercambio who is from Whales and I went to Cadiz on Saturday. We generally speak Spanish together, with a few words in English if we don't know how to say something. Both of us feel awkward speaking a lot of English in the streets of Spain. On Saturday we began our journey at 6:30 in the morning. We checked in to a hostel in Sevilla at about 11 that night after missing the bus back to Huelva. During that time we spoke Spanish. Even by 3 p.m. when we met some Americans at the top of Torre Tavira I had a hard time speaking English to them. By the time we were in for the night I was pretty much thinking in Spanish.
My Spanish is far from perfect. That will require years and years of more practice. But it is definitely improving, even if I have a serious problem with prices. Nevertheless, I at least have something specific I know I need to work on. I need to go places just to ask the prices of items. Hopefully I can solve this problem soon. Yes, it is a problem. I am quite sure no one be so unreasonable as to say a soda costs 1,000 euros.
Living in Spain provides me the opportunity to experience a different culture and improve my language skills.
Movies can be found probably in almost any culture. Often times they are translated into two or more languages. Today, I saw my second movie on the big screen translated into Spanish. Although the story and words were a huge disappointment.
The first time I went to the theater was in Huelva and I saw "Golpe de Altura" or "Tower Heist." I wasn't sure what to expect, it could be in English with Spanish subtitles, or simply dubbed in Spanish. Option two was the case, which was completely fine with me. It helps me to practice understanding Spanish.
Tonight I went to the IMAX in Barcelona and saw a 3D film called "Castillo Encantado," or "Haunted Castle." Despite the title, based on all of the other films at this IMAX I expected a somewhat educational film. Most of them were about aquatic life or Egypt. I expected this one to talk about historic castles and "haunted" in the sense maybe they would have "ghosts" telling about the castles or actors playing out lives of people that lived there. But that was not the case. Not only was the storyline wierd, there really wasn't all that much speaking. The film only lasted 30 minutes. (Luckily when there was speaking, it was in Spanish. At this theater I didn't know whether to expect English (being a tourist destination), Catalan (being in Cataluña, or Spanish.)
On the other hand, the graphics were great. I love 3D films that really come off the screen. This one did. Most of the story was told in a point-of-view perspective. The audience becomes the character in most of the scenes. And almost the entire film was like I was sitting with the screen two feet in front of my face. I was in the middle row.
I actually started closer to the back but then I realized it was the Spanish theater system. In both theaters I have been to, there is no selecting a seat. Each ticket has a row and a seat number printed on it. The ticket counter never asks for a preference. I am not sure if it is random or not, but I really don't like the system. I think it should be first come first serve, as it is in the United States. If they sell me a ticket in the first couple of rows I think I would probably ask for a different ticket.
Most of my blogs the past two months have been about cultural differences between the United States and Spain. There are a lot of things that are really different, but as I have settled in over the last two months I have also noticed some things that are the same.
The biggest example of this is children. By children I am referring to what the Spanish call "jovenes" or young people. That includes teenagers all the way up into the mid to late twenties. The ages I am really talking about are 14-18.
In the first month working, a couple of students asked if we had a lighter. Neither the other auxiliar nor I smoke, so of course neither one of us did. But they were also too young to be smoking.
Last night I was walking, just to get out of the apartment. Not too long after leaving I had some 'jovenes' ask me something which I never quite understood. They were asking if I had something. After two times I didn't understand and I gave up. I just answered, "No, sorry." I think they may have been asking about a lighter or something.
And finally, when I was returning I ended up going to the market instead of going to a cafeteria. I bought a few items, but not long after I got there, three or four kids came up to me and tried to get me to buy alcohol or them. They were probably 15 or 16 years old. The legal drinking age in Spain is 18. My first response was simply no. Then they asked why not. So I told them I was a foreigner and pretended not to understand. They tried in English and actually did a pretty good job. Then I told them that I didn't have my I.D. with me either and couldn't buy any. With that they finally got the point I wasn't going to aid in underage drinking and left me alone.
They stayed in the store staying close to the alcohol isle to try and get other shoppers to buy. I am thinking if something like this happens again what I might do. I can go with the simple answer of no and I don't need any other reason. Or, maybe I should say I am a cop just to see the looks on their faces. Maybe I will go try that one on April Fools Day--I'm not sure if they know what that is.
There are so many things that are different in cultures. I have been blogging about many of those differences that I have noticed between Spain and the southern United States. Student life is another one of those differences I have seen.
When I first arrived, I expected the system to be much better than our own. I expected students to be better behaved. After looking at the schedule I thought the students had to be more committed to their education. But some things transcend cultural boundaries.Students here try to find ways to delay tests (or parts of a test). Students like to talk to each other. Honestly, what I have seen turns out to be even more lax than in the United States.
On Thursday, the local police came to give a presentation to level one and two students. It was in the gym so the level four class I was with that hour also attended. There were not enough chairs for everyone so some students sat in the floor in the back, others stood along the edges of the gym. Many of those students were talking to each other ignoring the police. Others were rolling around in the floor.
Something else we have noticed is how the students address the teachers. In the United States we refer to our teachers (and elders) as Mr. or Ms. (last name). Here that is not the case. Students call teachers by their first names. The first time I heard it I wasn’t sure if I had heard correctly. But later I realized I did.
A student who calls a teacher by his or her first name in the United States would probably have a quick trip to the principals office after a warning or two. It is considered disrespectful. Instead students refer to their teachers as Mr. or Ms. (last name).
The past three weeks though, I have heard just that. Students call teachers by their first names, no Mr. or Ms. attached to even that. It caught me by surprise at first. As I think about it, I have realized I don't even know a lot of the teacher's last names. The ones I do know are because of email addresses.
Another thing I have noticed is while walking in town people will cut you off or sometimes just stand in large groups blocking the sidewalks. On more than one occasion I have had to walk out into traffic to get around groups of people. Again, in the United States (at least the South) this would be considered rude. But even when getting off a bus, people don't even expect you to let them out, much less stop and tell them go ahead. It sometimes gets funny looks because it is unexpected.
In other news, I really need to get a bus card and figure out the LOCAL bus system. That may be one of my weekend tasks coming up.
Hoy, fui a la clase de Educación físico. Para empezar la clase, el maestro enseñó algunas cosas. Entonces los estudiantes prepararon para los ejercicios. La segunda parte de esta preparación fue para tocar alguien. Se a ti tocan, tienes que dejar, hasta alguien puede gatear dentro las piernas.
El juego es muy similar a un juego en los Estados Unidos se llamada, Freeze Tag. En Freeze Tag, alguien tiene que correr y tocar los otros jugadores. Cuando le toca, tienen que dejar. Cuando alguien no esta el uno, puede tocar la persona dejada y esta libre otra vez. Despues de tres dejadas, esa persona es el uno.
Today I was in the P.E. class. To start the class the instructor taught a few things. Then the students prepared for the exercises. The second part of the warm up was a type of tag. If any of the three people who were "it" touched you, you had to stop with your arms in the air until someone could crawl through your legs and then you were free again.
The game was very similar to a game in the United States, what we call Freeze Tag. In Freeze Tag, someone has to run and tag the other players. When the person who is "it" tags you, you must stop where you are until another player touches you to unfreeze you. After you are frozen three times you are it.
As I have said several times now, studying a culture and living in it are two very different things. In the United States a handshake suffices when meeting anyone, male or female, friend or acquaintance. In Spain greetings are just a little different.
Guys greet pretty much the same with a handshake of some kind. But two girls or a guy and a girl greet with a kiss on each cheek. It is something I knew they did but I have to say I am still learning. I more often than not forget this little cultural greeting and think I may have offended some people.
It isn't just the well known friends, its on the first greeting. Today was the first day going to the school where I will work. Of course, I forgot it and had to be told twice. The other assistant even said she didn't know whether we, both as Americans, were supposed to greet that way.
It is amazing how some things can be so different. I went to the market today and bought some things which were pretty much the same as in the United States. But some things are very different. For instance, the milk.
In the U.S. you can by 2%, whole, buttermilk, and who knows what other kinds. Here there are three main choices which are the equivalent of whole milk, half, and zero. But that isn't the only difference. We want to get the milk to the refrigerator as fast as possible in the U.S.A. Here, it sits on the shelves next to the cola without refrigeration.
I ended up buying sheeps milk just so I would have something to put on my cereal. It will be something new to me. And I went ahead and put it in the refrigerator because I like my milk cold.
Hopefully no one read the blog I posted earlier. For me it was around 1 p.m. and I embarassed myself. I was litterally in tears after trying to get my NIE and other important documents. The police sent me in circles around the town trying to find the building. The information the consulate gave me is to go to the police. And they sent me to some other government office who in turn have just confused me more.
Before that I had breakfast and it almost made me sick. I won't lie, I am not a big fan of the breakfast here. It wasn't one of those things that doesn't set well, I just didn't like the taste. After the first quarter was gone I was able to eat most of the rest by force. I ordered COLD milk and was served hot milk. I don't think I will order milk out again--I want to stick to my non-whole milk. At least they brought me a water, which I did not ask for.
I don't particularly want to cook a whole lot. But I may not have a choice-- there aren't a lot of foods like we have in the United States. I am hoping I can at least find boxes of cereal if not pop-tarts for breakfast. But that is a little off subject.
I guess it must be God's will that I be here in Spain. I had bought a ticket home for tomorrow.. I would have been boarding a bus to Madrid in about three hours. But my debit card was rejected. So I am still in Spain, thanks to the encouragement of my roomate and some friends and family.
It is day number... I've lost count... Day number four in Spain. Things are getting a little better but I am still dealing with culture shock. You can learn about the culture and know some of these things but it doesn't mean anything until you live in it.
Last night I didn't eat dinner. There is a bar on every corner and I wasn't really in the mood for bar food again. I wanted a restaurant, even if it wasn't typical Spanish food. So I went to the Chinese restaurant. When I went in I got the equivalent of an ugly, "What do you want?" Although the doors were open and it was within the posted hours, they evidently weren't open for business. So I went back to my hotel.
This morning I woke up at 9:30 and began moving at 10:15. About an hour later I arrived (It should only be a 10-15 minute walk but I get lost all the time.) at the flat. Then I went back for my backpack, laptop bag and to check out of the hotel. On the way I stoped by a "cafeteria" and asked for a menu. They looked at me funny so I said, "la comida?" Translation: Food? He then told me they didn't serve lunch until 1:30. So I continued on my way to the hotel and saw that most of the shops and cafes were closed.
I stayed in my hotel for a little longer and rested. When I left my room and went to the counter and not knowing exactly how to say I want to check out, I explained the situation-- I have found a flat and won't be returning. When she saw my check in record and that I was from the USA she spoke a little English. I continued to speak in Spanish; we had a short conversation.
Then when I walked back some shops were open. I bought some postcards and then just to have something to eat, mainly because I haven't eaten well since getting here, I got a cup of icecream. The icecream here is different than in the United States. The large here is the same size as in the United States but I guess it is more dense and felt more like an entire gallon. Or my stomache shrunk; which is quite possible too.
I am not sure what time lunch and dinner normally are. I can't seem to figure out when the stores are open and close.
But that said, things are getting better. I made it to the appartment in only 30-45 minutes this time, with some stops. Hopefully I can actually find my way around the town here soon.
I have had the privilege to be the driver for a friend and her mom (both from Japan) during the first days of Spring Break. My friend speaks English very well. Her mom knows minimal English and it has challenged me to slow down more when I speak. She knows a little bit of English and can somewhat understand some phrases and even speak some.
Of course, with time, it all gets better. I always say that I learned more the ten days I was in Spain than I did three years of Spanish classes. I am sure her English improved the past three days. But tonight, well its after midnight so yesterday, I was cooking Spaghetti. I cooked most of it before they arrived. However, her mom arrived about five or ten minutes before. Amazingly, we did just fine communicating.
Later my friend arrived and commented about how I was breaking the noodles. She also commented on portions, etc. It is amazing how different cultures can be, even when it comes to the ways we cook some of the same foods.
The end of the semester. That means Christmas break is just around the corner and only a single week remains of classes. That should be good right? But the thing is, we have a week and a day after Thanksgiving Break before Finals. Everything ends up being due when there is only a week left of class to work on it. I ended up spending 14 hours on Sunday to finish the following video/documentary for my Culture and Civilization: Americas class.
It did not come out exactly the way I would like. I didn't get the interviews I had planned on. There just wasn't enough time. I sent the emails to them and didn't get a response for two weeks, 3 days before the due date of the project. So I ended up having to do all of the narration. I am disappointed in the project but I did put a LOT of time into it still. On top of the 14 hours on Sunday, I probably put an equal amount or more of time into the research and gathering process in the weeks previous.
I’ve been having a rough time this semester. Emotionally I have been pretty low lately and there are several reasons why, I think. One is I am having to spend so much time in the library studying for all of my Spanish that I very rarely see my friends. The other is that I am supposed to graduate in May.
I don’t regret double majoring in Spanish. I think it is a good decision and will open doors down the road. The thing is, I am a slow reader in English. When I have to switch over and read in Spanish it takes me hours to get through a page or two. Most of the time I have to study alone to get anything done. Other times I study with a friend and classmate who pushes me to work harder, but it is still too much time in the library.
I don’t mind spending time with my friends in the library, but I miss when I was able to hang out with more than one person there. And I really miss being able to hang out outside of the library. I fear I may lose some friends this semester because I am never around. I miss going to the park. I miss hanging out every night on the weekend. I miss those late night McDonald’s runs. I miss the occasional eating out. I miss movie nights. I miss sitting around the dinner table for an hour and a half.
Then there is the graduation thing. Most people look forward to graduation. They look forward to being done with school and getting started in the “real world.” But I see it a little differently. Don’t get me wrong, I am ready to be done with my studying, but I also see the positive side. I am off on the weekends. I get holidays. I make a lot of friends. And when I graduate I see what I am going to lose. I won’t be able to take classes with my friends anymore. I won’t see my friends very much because we will live in different places, eat in different places and generally be doing other things. Or worse, I will have to move off to find a job. There may not be any opportunities in Jonesboro.
Even if I do stay in Jonesboro to start out, a lot of my friends who are also graduating will move away. The friends who are still in school will eventually graduate and most of them will also move. Many of my friends I fear I will never see again because once they graduate they will probably be on the other side of the world in Africa, Asia, and Europe. I will miss them. I try to tell myself that thanks to technology we will stay in contact, but it doesn’t help. I know from experience that when we go separate ways we begin to lose contact, even with our closest friends. Thinking about not seeing my friends again hurts.
What hurts more is thinking about how many do not know Christ and who I won’t even get to see in heaven. I know the most important thing in the friendship is to share the gospel with them so that they might believe; and pray for them. I want to see them know Jesus.
We are all sinners. There is no one reading this that can say they are not a sinner. Just taking the ten commandments and what Jesus said, I don’t think I’ve kept a single one of them. I have borrowed and not returned (stolen); I have looked at a girl with lust (adultery); I have lied; I have hated (murder), and the list goes on. All it takes to be separated from God is one sin. He is the great, fair, judge. A just judge wouldn’t let someone off the hook when they used the excuse, “I only did it once.” They do the crime, they do the crime.
But God loves us. He wants us to be with him. None of us have done anything that is too bad for him to forgive, through Jesus. He sent him, he lived a perfect life. He was tempted just like any other human, and then sentenced to die on the cross. He died for OUR sins. After they took him of the cross he was in the grave for three days before he was raised from the dead. He conquered death. He died and he rose again! Through faith in Jesus, we too will be raised. We will have eternal life with God, which is good. Being separated from God would be torture enough, the other stuff of Hell I don’t even want to think about. But Jesus paid the price so we didn’t have to. The world needs to know this.
This morning, God showed me another reason why I felt the way I do. He is preparing me. I keep saying that I don’t know what I will do when I graduate. I say I would like to stay in Jonesboro to work for a while so that I can stay where I actually know people. I don’t want to leave and go somewhere I don’t know anyone. But I also have an opportunity to apply to go to Spain for a few years and help teach English, which is only available right after I graduate. I want to do this. Then there is graduate school, seminary and/or working somewhere outside of Jonesboro and maybe Arkansas. I don’t know what to do.
Well, this morning at church God spoke to my heart. Several missionaries from our church that had returned from the field shared their testimony about what God was doing. The first told us about spending two years in the Journeyman program. (I need to look into that a little more.) She was in France for those two years; sometimes there were teams, other times they tried to build relations with those in the area.
That is when God starting bringing some other scriptures to my mind. He reminded me of those who wanted to go back to bury their family member first to which Jesus responded, “Let the dead bury their own dead, but you go and proclaim the kingdom of God,” (Luke 9:60 NIV). He also reminded me of the man who wanted to say by to his family. “Jesus replied, “No one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for service in the kingdom of God.” When I gave him my life, I was giving him my entire life. My life is no longer my own. That means if he calls me to go to a far-off country where I don’t know anyone; I don’t know the culture; I don’t know the language—I am supposed to go. He will go with me. The question is not an if he sends me; it is a where will he send me.
I began studying Spanish so I could use it in missions. It opens up Spain, Central and South America as places I can communicate. But I am willing to go wherever. Through my time at ASU God has placed a lot of East-Asians in my life. We have become friends and I have had the opportunity to get the gospel in many of their hands. There are other opportunities I have missed. But God has really put them on my heart. I wonder if he is not only preparing me to leave all of the familiarity but maybe even calling me to China or Japan.
I will be honest: the thought of going to be a long-term missionary in China, a communist country, scares me. Japan scares me simply because of being a different culture and language. But should I start trying to learn those languages from friends right here at ASU? Which one? God definitely showed me that he is preparing me to leave my friends and my family this morning. I don’t know how. I don’t know where. But I want to do it, filled with joy. Life is a journey. Life is an adventure. It is a good thing that I am not supposed to be the pilot.
Please pray for me that God would ease the stress some and that I could enjoy the friendships while we are right here together. Pray that he would give me the opportunities (and that I would take the opportunities) to share the gospel with them. Please pray that God would tear down the walls in their hearts and that he would grow the seeds. Please pray for me, that God would show me exactly where he wants me to go, when, how and all of that good stuff.
I find different cultures to be one of the most interesting things to learn about. And it is a very importing thing everyone should learn in today's world. Culture clashes are a major problem. Possibly one of the biggest examples is in religion: Athiests v. Buddhism v. Christian v. Hindu v. Muslim. I think it is important that we learn about one another beliefs, and ways of life -- not necessarily adopting them as our own, but at least understanding. It all goes back to LOVE.
One of my favorite things about Arkansas State is our international population. I found at the end of last semester, at least half of my friends are international students from all over the world. Students come from Turkey, Pakistan, China, Taiwan, Japan, and many other places.
That is my favorite way to learn about culture: first hand. I like to talk with people from that culture. I like to go to the countries and immerse in it. But today, after touring the white house, I did the next best thing. I went to Makiykumanta. It is a festival put on by the Embassy of Peru, showcasing music, dance, crafts, food, movies and speakers.
I am planning to get my second major in Spanish. This was a perfect opportunity for me. I got to be around a lot of Spanish speakers. I got to learn about culture and I got to see some amazing dancing and hear some amazing music. The scissor dance was probably my favorite, but they had some other performances too.
At the end I was forced to use my Spanish skills. I went to a person working the event and asked if it would be different tomorrow. His response was that he didn't speak English. So I speak Spanish and ask again. He tells me it will change and then I ask if there is a schedule. Not getting the exact answer I wanted, he told me the hours. But I did get to use the language which made me happy.
The video at the top of the page is not the complete dance performed today but it is a lot of it.
In the United States the fair consists of concerts, junk food, rides, games and livestock shows. So, overall, a lot was actually the same. In the photo to the left, people are riding horses down the main street in Sheridan, Arkansas in 2011. Even in Sevilla there were people on horse back, all over the city. There were really only about two main differences: the livestock shows are replaced by family and friends getting together. It is like a big party. [En los Estados Unidos, las ferias son construidos de conciertos, comida frita, atracciones y animales. De todos modos, muchas cosas eran el mismo. En la foto a la izquierda, la gente monta en caballos en la calle principal de Sheridan, Arkansas en 2011. También, en Sevilla había gente quien monta los caballos en toda la ciudad. Solo había como dos cosas de diferencia: la enseñanza de animales no existe; en su lugar hay familias y amigos reuniendo juntos. Era como una gran fiesta.]
In the United States the fair consists of concerts, junk food, rides, games and livestock shows. So, overall, a lot was actually the same. In the photo to the left, people are riding horses down the main street in Sheridan, Arkansas in 2011. Even in Sevilla there were people on horse back, all over the city. There were really only about two main differences: the livestock shows are replaced by family and friends getting together. It is like a big party. [En los Estados Unidos, las ferias son construidos de conciertos, comida frita, atracciones y animales. De todos modos, muchas cosas eran el mismo. En la foto a la izquierda, la gente monta en caballos en la calle principal de Sheridan, Arkansas en 2011. También, en Sevilla había gente quien monta los caballos en toda la ciudad. Solo había como dos cosas de diferencia: la enseñanza de animales no existe; en su lugar hay familias y amigos reuniendo juntos. Era como una gran fiesta.]
