Back to Basques...

So I'm back in the Basque country. As you can see from my very detailled last post, I had a great time here when I came last time. There were between 8 and 12 of us here for 4 days, basically we swam and surfed during the day, sat around talking, watching movies and just chilling at night. It was a great vacation.
After that there was a training for teachers of pre-youth in Lliria, which I had volunteered for. It was an adventure getting there, involving a long bus ride, arriving in valencia at 2:30 a.m. and some random other happenings, but overall not too bad. The weekend was great. I joined forces with Amanecer in cooking for the vegetarians. They didn't die, and actually by the end of the weekend there were twice as many people claiming to be vegetarian than at the beginning, so I guess that's a good thing.
In the course of the weekend, Amanecer (which, by the way, is Dawn in English, which is my middle name) and I became even better friends... in the summer school a few weeks before, we had been roommates. I convinced her to join me in going to Zaragoza following the training. She came, and we hung out for a couple of days with Antonio and Hector and Farida. Then we came up north to Bilbao. She has never been to Pais Vasco before. It was wonderful seeing her reactions to everything. Apparently, in Cordoba, where she's from, it reaches temperatures of about 45 degrees celsius in the heat of the day and goes down to the low 30s at night. No Cordoba for me then... not in the summer anyway. She was amazed that we could still be in spain and have to wear long sleeves at night and a blanket to bed! She was also entranced by the fact that in the middle of the city, or anywhere in the city, you could still see mountains and forests and sometimes riveers.... I love that about this place too. We visited the Guggenheim Museum - well the outside. Apparently the inside is a ripoff, but the outside is absolutely beautiful. Very calming....
Bilbao as a city is very enchanting. I fell in love with the old city right away. And being surrounded by mountains and forests is definitely an experience. What's the real sell for me is the cool weather. And the proximity to the beach.... and the nearby Pyrenees.... I really like it here :o)

"Basque"ing in the Sun

So I spent the last 4 days up in Bilbao with a bunch of youth. Bilbao is a city in Basque country. And I have absolutely no time to blog it now. Watch this space.....

Blogs, Gitanos and lost clothing.

I like Mara's Blog.
Violetta's is my favourite blog in the world.
I'm at the Gitano Summer school and I spent the last couple of hours in a conversation with some Gitano women who arrived early. There will be about 90-100 people here this weekend, surpassing the initial estimates of 50-60. This is the first time this is being done. THe fact that there will be a whole summer school dedicated to addressing the needs of the Gitano people is absolutely wonderful. My interest in it was sparked when I had a conversation with Antonio (a 25 year old Gitano guy who I first saw performing at the Terrace opening in 2001) a couple of weeks ago about the Gitanos here. I immediately noticed some parallels with black people in the west. A similar experience of slavery, having their own culture removed, banned and stigmatized and the resulting alternative forms of expression and struggle to remove themselves from the situation connects us. It would be interesting if there could be some kind of meeting of minds between Baha'i communities of Blacks in diaspora and Gitanos. I am really looking forward to the rest of the weekend.
Gerard from France also returned to be a volunteer for this. It turns out, Sebastien left behind a polo shirt and 3 pairs of underwear. How does one leave underwear behind? It kind of reminds me of the shoes you see by the side of the road and wonder how someone actually lost a shoe, and what was on their foot when they took the next step and why didn't they realise that they were missing a shoe....

A quick note of interest for travellers in Europe

I consider myself fairly well travelled. There are a lot of places I haven't been, and most of the places I've been are in the Western Hemisphere. The past couple of months I've been in Europe, and although it's not my first encounter with them, I thought I would check and see if I was doing it right. I checked out this site - and thankfully I am. It's as basic as it looks. Those of us who were born and spent most of our lives on the other side of the Atlantic will mostly have had limited exposure to these, and many, like me, have avoided them in the rare occasions when I have encountered them. Recently though, with some difficulties due to change in diet, I thought I'd try it out, and now I'm hooked. I can't see how so-called civilised countries make do without them. In Turkey they had the built-in ones mostly, and once you got used to the initial surprise of it being there, it was very helpful. This is my first close encounter with so many free-standing types. They're in every facility.
I'm a convert.

Summer School Pics

Summer school pictures are here. They're not so much summer school pics as they are pictures of people I met during the summer school. Of course, there were lots of other people too, but these are the ones who happened to be around at the times I was taking pictures. And all of the people I was closest to are here in these pics.

Alternative use of toilet paper

Years ago I heard from a friend who had visited a certain country which I'm not going to name, of the way they use paper there for the toilet. It was suitably disturbing and it has stuck in my memory ever since, making that country rank somewhere at the bottom of my list of Places to Visit One Day.

She said that in the bathroom there was a stack of squares of paper, each one about the size of a normal sheet of toilet paper. The paper, however was closer to the texture of newsprint. After trying to use it in the way she was accustomed and experiencing some difficulty, she bravely asked for an explanation. After some embarassed looks, someone showed her.

Basically, the piece of paper is folded in half and then half again, forming a small square. The point at which all the creases line up is then turned to the top, making a diamond shape. This point is carefully ripped off and kept. The square is opened, and using one's left hand, it is put over the index finger so that it looks a little like a hula skirt for the index finger. you then use that finger (yes the FINGER!!!!) to clean yourself off, and once you've finished, gather up the paper, squeezing it as you remove to get rid of the, um, dirt from your finger. You then discard the paper in the bin (not in the toilet). And that little point you ripped off at the beginning? That's for cleaning under your fingernail.

Ugh.

Toilet Blog

Mara's blog had an entry on toilet paper which got me to thinking. It was a pretty popular topic, everyone has pretty strong opinions regarding direction of paper roll flow, responsibility for changing roll etc. I wanted to mention something that it made me think of. Public toilets and methods of avoiding germs. I know I am pretty extreme in this regard, and I was curious to know whether I share this with anyone else. When I step into a public bathroom, these are my basic rules: 1. Some people don't wash their hands, 2. Of those that do wash their hands, some don't use soap, 3. Those that don't use soap make the places that should be clean even more dirty (e.g the paper towel dispenser, or the button that turns on the hand dryer machine), Here's a typical scenario for me in a public toilet. I realise that my behaviour closely resembles Jack Nicholson in As Good As it Gets.... I'm trying to ignore that.

Most of my germ avoidance tactics start after the deed is done. There's not much that can be done to avoid the germs that lurk on the outside door handle, and I imagine those aren't nearly as bad as those on the inside, where no one who touches it has washed their hands. However, upon stepping into the stall, I get a small piece of toilet paper with which to touch the locking bolt mechanism. After using this to lock the door (and also conveniently to ascertain that there is in fact toilet paper available) I throw it in the toilet*. After using the bathroom, being careful not to touch any part of anything on the inside of the stall with anything other than the bottom of my shoe, I flush, either using my foot if it is one of those protruding bar flush mechanisms, or using another piece of toilet paper if it is another kind. Another small piece is then used to unlock the door. This one is always left in the toilet after I leave, which may cause consternation to some when they enter, about why there is a clean little piece of toilet paper in the toilet*.

Now comes the challenging part, washing my hands. It's tricky. It requires a survey of the area. I quickly ascertain the type of drying mechanism, tap type, soap dispenser, and exit route. The worst combination is a push-button soap dispenser, tap that you have to hold down, and paper towel dispenser with some kind of manual button for dispensing, combined with a door that has to be pulled to exit. In this scenario, I first dispense the required amount of paper without ripping it off. I then get some soap and wash the tap. Then I get more soap and wash the soap button. With clean soap button and clean tap, I can then proceed to wash my hands, dry them with the pre-dispensed paper, and use the same paper to open the door to leave (and to turn off the tap in some cases). Worse is when there is a hand dryer, no paper, and a pull door to exit. In a busy place I just wait for someone to come in, then hold the door with my foot as I'm leaving. As a backup, there's always toilet paper, but only if I don't have to actually touch the stall door handle to get it.

In my head, the ideal public bathroom has the following elements (all of which I've seen in various places, but never all together):

A curved or overlapping wall entrance not requiring a door but still private.Toilet stall doors that open out and not in.

Door lock and unlock mechanisms that are foot operated (I've only seen this once and was duly impressed).

Automatic flush or foot pedal on the ground.

Toilet paper dispenser that doesn't involve sticking your hand up in it and digging for paper.

Low enough seats to squat comfortably without touching the edge of the seat with your leg or any other body part.

Automatic taps that are motion activated.

Soap dispenser in which the dispensed soap runs over the button that you press, therefore keeping it self-cleaning.

Motion activated hand dryer.

Paper dispenser that dispenses the sheets one at a time without pressing anything.

Is this too much to ask?

I miss John Hicks

The last time we I was in Spain (and the first time for me) was with the band on tour last year. It's interesting to think about how things have changed for me since then. I just ran into someone who knew us from the tour and who knew John from his pre-tour sojourn here. Seconds later John himself came online. There are some people who you meet and become friends with and your friendship seems like the most natural thing in the world. I had no idea when I first met John that that would be the case. But only a few weeks later, he was a regular visitor to my flat, company in the kitchen and, along with the band, a big part of my life. I think when you create something with people it creates a special bond. I feel a connection to John and David and Gappy that I don't feel with other people. It started when we started writing music together, or maybe before that, when we decided to. We've done so many things together, that I can't believe that it was such a short time that we were all together. Visiting the Shrines, ordering takeout, exploring (John and I had a superb trip to Tzephat one weekend!), and of course the music.
Now I'm here in Spain and they treat me like Insight is some sort of superstar group! It's so funny, last week I was signing autographs hahahhahaha! Where's John now to revel in the fame he always dreamed of for us? :o) love you Hicks!

Zapatos (y ropas)

I don't even know if that is the right word. I'm learning Spanish by
osmosis. That means I'm trying not to have to look up words. When I
don't understand something I have someone explain it to me in Spanish
and not English, and I try to learn by looking at things around me.
Hence, I think the word Zapatos means shoes, but I'm not sure until I
use it and see how it works. At any rate.... I think shoes say a lot
about people. I had a conversation a couple of months ago about guys
and clothes and shoes. Someone was of the opinion that guys should be
well-dressed and shod, otherwise they aren't worth the effort. I was
of the opinion that what a guy wears is really not important to me at
all. I prefer someone who is wearing the basics and replaces them when
needed, as opposed to a guy with a closet full of clothes and shoes of
various brand names and cutting edge style. I'm not that kind of
person. That guy needs someone who appreciates high-maintenance and
that's surely not me. What made me think of this? I bought a pair of
flip flops today in a discount store. They were 5 euros. I'm very
happy with them. The straps are orange and the sole of my foot is
multicoloured stripes. I like the idea of having a pattern on the part
of the shoe that no one sees when I'm wearing it. I take off my shoes
a lot, and I like that they look nice when they're off my foot.
My thoughts are unduly preoccupied with guys, and for now I'm not
going to try and do anything about it.
A few days ago, a guy I was just getting to know came and showed me
the shoes he was wearing. They were a strange corduroy type shoe with
a leather wing tip. I would not be surprised if they were the kind of
shoe that Bert wears on Sesame Street. They were beige and brown.
Somehow, though, he managed to pull the look off. He wore them happily
and confidently. So he shoes me the shoes and says "guess how much I
paid for these!" and so I guessed and eventually guessed the right
figure, I can't remember now, but somewhere about 20 euros. He was so
excited about his shoes. We then moved on to his funky striped shirt
in various shades of brown and beige, a perfect match for the vintage
style shoes, the shirt was about the same price. He was so proud of
his outfit. I like him for that. I feel the same way when I find a
bargain. Not so much that the clothing needs to be gorgeous and
outstanding, but that the price is right for it. He was happy and he
wore it well.
I think it's good that not everyone is like that. But I think those of
us who are, should be left alone to do our own shopping.
I went home for 2 months to be with my parents. My mom and I are very
different, and as a gift for me in the 2 months that I was there, she
bought a bunch of fabric of my choosing, and had some clothing made
for me. I got to design the stuff myself so that at least it was
somewhat my style. She felt that my wardrobe was inadequate. Left on
my own, I would have spent the money on a couple of pairs of khakis,
some secondhand jeans to cut and make shorts, and a bunch of t-shirts
direct from the seconds shop at the factory, looking carefully to make
sure the fault that caused the price to be reduced wasn't obvious.
For the past week and the next week I'm going to be here at the summer
school, and every day I look at my clothes and realise that I have
nothing appropriate for volunteering at a summer school. Tailored
summer pants and beautiful tops are not what I need. I really want a
comfy pair of cut off jeans and some more Eilat pants, and about 6
t-shirts. Then I'd be good to go. I'm going camping next week. I have
nothing to wear.

Things remembered.

It's interesting the things remembered about events. Sometimes it's
not the significant things or the fantastic things or things that are
noteworthy at all. Of last week I remember coming back from the cafe
in Lliria and passing under a mulberry tree with a few out of season
fruits on it. I remember someone reaching up to gently pick one for me and
hand it to me. I remember the sour, out of season taste of the fruit
was most beautiful thing I've ever tasted, not because of the flavour,
but because it was picked for me.
I remember a water fight and after futile efforts to get past the
hose-wielding madman, I bit the bullet and walked bravely and directly
towards him. Causing him first to point the hose-gun-nozzle thing at
me threateningly, then to quickly drop it and run in fear.
I remember losing my patience at the completely amateur but
enthusiastic gospel choir workshop that i was facilitating because
every time i asked for quiet it only lasted 5 seconds. And completely
wishing that I could hug and apologise to every single person in the
group for raising my voice as soon as the words came out of my mouth.
I wish I was more patient. I wish I thought more quickly than I act. I
wish...
I remember being in the kitchen, talking with a 15-year-old boy and
feeling completely loved and respected as an equal.
I remember holding a 4 month old baby girl with attentive eyes and a
wise smile as I organised the chairs in an obsessive-compulsive manner
and wishing she was mine.
A heart to heart conversation in Spanish with a recently-widowed old
lady while washing lettuce and chopping tomatoes.
I remember games of chess with an equally unskilled partner. Played
with 10-second limits for each move, so that our mutual impatience was
allayed. I was kicked out of the chess club in school. We had to do a
total of 2 extracurricular activities per year, for which we got
credits. I got all 10 extracurricular credits in the first year, but
in second year I still did 12 more. One was chess club. It was on
Mondays at lunch time. I love the idea of chess. The little men with
their own rules. The queen who can do what she wants. etc etc. I hate
the time waiting for my opponent to think of their next move. I hate
the disorderly nature of my thoughts in that time while waiting. I
hate when they make a move that was completely outside of the realm of
my thoughts and expectations. I love chess. I hate playing it with
other people. In school, they lovingly told me that I could have the
credit without finishing off the year's chess games, but please, no
need to come back. They didn't understand that I wanted to play. Last
week, with our special rules, there was no thinking allowed. Moves
were made whimsically and spontaneously, losses of pieces were borne
with goodwill and victory was sweet. I remember these chess games of
last week and wish all my chess games were like that.
That was summer school for me.

This Blogging thing...

So I realise that I gave the address to my blog to some people who
think that here they will find updates on what I'm doing, and I
realise that they may be visiting and leaving feeling unfulfilled. If
that is the case, remove the link now and there's no need to come
back. I'm changing my mind. This blog is not a travelogue. It's not a
journal. It's a place where I can write what I want when I want.... So
there.
If you want to know what I'm doing, e-mail me. [my name]@gmail.com

Here at Summer school

I'm in Lliria right now. It's a place in Spain about half an hour from
Valencia. There's an amazing summer school here. I'm a volunteer here.
There's absolutely no time to blog.... But it's cool. I've met some
wonderful people from many places. I love it!