Avila, a Disney Dream.

When I was around eight years old, Friday nights often started out with my dad asking me, “Sport, which movie would you like to rent tonight?”  I would look up at his 6 foot 6 inch frame and shout out, “Robin Hooooooood!”  Now, I am not talking about Kevin Reynold’s film, Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves, no.  I am referring to the cartoon version that was released way back in 1973, where Robin Hood and Maiden Marian are played by two well groomed foxes.  My little heart practically exploded with anticipation as I raced down the aisles of blockbuster video and found the video cassette sitting on it’s shelf, looking at me as if to say, “I’ve been waiting for you, Leslie, now let’s go and out smart that scoundrel, Prince John!”

I think that way back in the almost invincible crevices of the brain, every human being has at one point in their lives imagined themselves living in a grand old castle with sweeping staircases, plush velvet pillows, mile long dinner tables and beds with enchanting canopies.  As a young girl who grew up with two older brothers, I also dreamt of dawning armor like King Arthur, riding horse back through the woods and of course saving the towns people from the bad guys.  Oh, how I loved the dramatically funny story of Robin Hood and all his friends. 

Living in Europe over the past several years has given me the opportunity to see several castles, some of them have been quite impressive, for example the Chillon Castle in Switzerland.  This past  Monday, however,  I saw the structurally sound remains of something quite unlike anything I have ever seen before.  Something altogether magical that brought me as close as I have ever been to living out my childhood dream of being, Robin Hood.   The town is called, Avila, with an accent over the the first A.  Lying just an hour or so north west of Madrid, Avila claims its home atop a barren hill, making it the highest provincial capital in Spain.  Driving along the highways outside of Madrid I am surrounded by dry, arid farm land.  Cows and bulls graze lazily in pastures, while the mountains grow in size with each passing kilometer.  As we are approaching the outskirts of Avila I notice the signs of life; there are more buildings, more people and more trees.  Everything seems to appear rather normal; Avila is just another spanish town with people going about their daily lives and then, I see it.  

Our quaint restaurant.

Enjoying a wonderful meal on the way to Avila.

The castle wall.

closeup.

Atop the hill that is stretching along side of the car is a wall, but not just any wall.  This wall is thick and sturdy, like your neighbors pound cake at Christmas.  Made of brown granite, it glows in the afternoon sun like a perfectly toasted marshmallow.  Even from afar I can tell that it was made with paramount precision, not one brick out of place.  As the wall reaches towards the sky, the surrounding plants and shrubs are sheltered by a  cool shadow.  The car continues to move forward, but the wall matches us car length for car length.  Still standing and living in all its splendor, this tangible chunk of history continued for quite a ways across the plateau of the hill.  The wall boasts eighty-eight towers and nine entrances.  The city that sits protected inside the medieval walls is known as the “old town” while the surrounding area makes up the rest of Avila. 

A view of the cathedral from the hotel window.

I felt like I was experiencing something out of a fairy tale as I walked along side the beast, tracing my finger along its rough edges and smooth faces.  He was even so kind as to let me climb up on his back and walk along his spine.  I could see for miles from the tops of the towers.  How many other Robin Hoods had looked out upon these lands from these same towers that were constructed all the way back in 1090?

To accompany this wondrous wall there is a large Gothic cathedral a Gothic Monastery, several lovely plazas and enough cafes to keep the world awake. If you’re ever on vacation in Madrid and have time for a day trip, I would highly recommend seeing what this quiet little town has to offer.

Sitting on the back of the beast.

The next big event that took place this past week was the opening day ceremonies of the Womens World Hockey Championships.  I don’t think that I explained this real well last week, but I am talking about roller hockey, not ice hockey.  Saturday evening after our friendly game against Ibiza (we lost by 6) I road with Vicente to the sports complex, Jose Caballero, where the ceremonies were set to start at 8pm.  I was given a lanyard that said I was part of the Prensa or Press and then was whisked away to the court.   I had already gone through a practice run on Thursday night, but now the gym was filled with spectators, there were cameras positioned all over and people were asking me “estas lista?!” (are you ready)?  I felt ready.  I had my black pants on and a collared shirt.  I had even swiped on a coat of mascara in honor of the event.  The only part that gave me a bit of the heebee jeebees was when I had to say “Welcome ladies and gentlemen” in German and Japanese, other than that I didn’t think I needed to reapply any more of my antiperspirant deodorant. 

The program followed a bit like this; a spanish man named, Luis, would speak to the crowd, welcoming everyone to the show, talking about the nights events, introducing the teams and so on.  Immediately following each one of his segments, I would translate what he had said into English. This was not too difficult because earlier in the week I had been given the program which I then translated all of my parts into English, so all I had to do was read my pre-typed script and smile for the camera.

Luis and I at the World Championships

Claudia and Elena came to support me as well!

I thoroughly enjoyed the whole ceremony.  I was overwhelmed with emotion as I watched each team skate out onto the floor, their faces radiating a palate of emotions, pride, happiness, excitement and at the center of it all was the look of desire, the desire to compete.  Along with each team came the sound of their National Anthem and their flag.  We announced each team as they took the floor, Germany, Argentina, Australia, Brazil, Chile, Colombia, The United States of America, Spain, France, India, England, Japan, Mexico, Portugal, South Africa and Switzerland.  After the teams had exited the floor, another group of skaters took their place, the OLOT Artistic Skating Club.  Each woman was dressed in a silver outfit that had an upper body which resembled a robot.  Their faces were painted silver with black paint outlining their eyes.  They moved as one across the floor, everybody in sync with one and other.  The idea was that their movements were to reflect water running through pipes that intertwined and separated, in the end remaining united.  I had never before seen such a performance.  To say that I enjoyed their 5 minutes of show time is an extreme understatement.  I was left speechless.  One of the most entertaining spectaculars I have ever witnessed in my life.  Top notch, 5 stars, 10 out of 10, two thumbs up. 

About an hour later the program had come to an end and it was time to watch the first game, Spain vs. Japan.  I had never seen a game of roller hockey before, but it was good.  Spain went on to clean house, beating Japan 12-0. 

What an honor it was to be a part of this grand event.  Something that I will not be forgetting anytime soon, that’s for sure.  Here’s the website for those who are interested, www.alcobendas2010mundialhockey.org

Besides visiting Avila and helping out with the WWHC, I started teaching english to a 14 year old girl twice a week, we had two games (we lost one and won one), we dined at a delicious Indian restaurant in Madrid, I had my first experience going to an Arabic Bath and we visited the Caixa museum which is now one of my favorites in the city.  Busy week, but I could not be more thankful for everything that continues to unfold. 

Leslie’s Loose Ends:

“Leslie, did Ooosah win last night?” 
“Who?”
“Ooosah.”
“Who?!”
“The U.S.A.!”
When referring to the U.S.A. during times of competition, Spaniards pronounce U.S.A. as Ooo-sah.  To me it sounds more like a yoga phrase than a country. 

In Spain, the middle finger is called, Corazon, the translation being, Heart.  Nobody seems to know why, it just is.  The thumb is also informally called, Dedo Gordo, or Fat finger, which I find to be absolutely hilarious.  In Bulgarian the name of the index finger is, pokazalec (poke-a-zahl-ets).  I just thought that this word was great and wanted to share it with all of you.  As you can tell, we do a lot of comparing between the three different cultures. 

We have a new teammate from Croatia.  Her name is Tanja, pronounced Tan-ya.  She spent two years of high school in the USA and went to college at Rhode Island.  She speaks perfect English, Croatian, Serbian, and is now learning Spanish.  Wow.

ciaaaoooooo,
love,
Leslie