Life's Circle.

 This past week has been a bit like Rocky Road ice cream, but not as sweet.  There were a couple sweet, creamy and enjoyable events that took place; events that were as miniscule as empanadas and events that were as grand as 300 people.  Intertwined with these sweet and creamy events, however, were a couple events that were not so sweet and not so creamy.  On Saturday our team fell by a hard 28pts to a mighty competitor, UNB Obenasa Navarra from Pamplona.  The next day, Sunday, I was faced with another difficult reality, the death of my grandmother, NanNan, as we liked to call her.  NanNan was one of the most generous people I knew, continuously giving of herself for the benefit of others.  There isn’t anything she wouldn’t have done for a member of her community that she wouldn’t have done for one of her 9 grandchildren or 3 great grandchildren.  She lived a full, admirable and satisfying life, raising 4 children of her own while always finding room for several foreign exchange students, constantly volunteering her time and energy without the slightest hint of remorse or doubt and all the while managing to treat herself as well, by courageously traveling to the corners of the world, all in her later years.  At the fortunate age of 82, NanNan had everything in life that she needed or wanted, which is why she did not have a computer, because she didn’t want one.  So, every week my dad would print out my e-mails, stuff them into an envelope and send them on their merry way, snail mail style to, “The Golden State.”  I am having a difficult time summoning up my usual gusto to write this e-mail, but I know that she enjoyed reading them and would not want me to skip a week, so I would like to dedicate this one to my grandma, Martha Knight.

NanNan, a fine, fine lady.

I’ll start off by describing the first of 2 sweet and creamy events.  Raise your hand if you’ve seen the movie, “Julie and Julia.”  Ok, you can put your hands down.  I laughed and cried over this movie about 2 weeks ago and then sent the link along to Sarah so that she could enjoy it as well.  Amused by the story line of this movie, Sarah and I have decided to follow in Julie and Julia’s floury handprints, dedicating one day each week to cooking something new.  This past weekend was our first in many new dishes to come.  We decided to start with a typical spanish dish, the empanada.  Wikipedia lists a slew of South American countries and the ingredients that are most commonly used in their specific empanadas.  The Spanish empanada is typically filled with peppers, onions, tomatoes and tuna.  Sarah and I used these ingredients and added a few of our own, zucchini, raisins and Sarah’s must have, walnuts.  We also decided to zest it up a bit with several different spices that sit on our countertop.  The dough was plain, simple to make and fit rather nicely into our lone oven trey.  

After approximately 20 minutes in the oven at somewhere around 190 degrees celsius, we crouched down and opened the oven door.  After the blast of hot air had dissipated and my glasses had defogged, my eyes were drawn to a golden brown pillow that sat in the middle of the oven, warm and inviting.  Sarah gently slid the trey out of the oven and placed it on the stove top.  Hands on our hips we stood in giddy silence as we admired our work, praying with all our might that it would taste as good as it looked.  Without another thought we placed 3 healthy slices onto plates and brought them into the salon.  I think Sarah and I were both holding our breaths as we watched one of our spanish roommates, Sara Castrillo, take her fist bite.  The seconds seemed to drag on and on as she chewed, swallowed, stared at the remaining empanada on her plate and then finally shifted her gaze toward her guiris (foreigners).  In her wonderfully cute spanish accent, Sara drawled out “It’s gooooood!”  Right then and there the heavens opened up, the trumpets started playing and the room was bathed in light.  She liked it, she really liked it!  Sarah and I quickly bit into our own pieces and realized that Sara was right, but it wasn’t just good, it was really good.  Our Spanish/North American empanada was the perfect combination of sugar, spice and everything nice.  Week one’s recipe was a definite success.  

The proud chefs!

Our brave taste tester, Sara Castrillo!  ATTENTION!

Our game on the other hand was not such a success, but our coach said that he actually felt better about this loss than he did about our win the week before.  Even though they thumped us by 28, my flame of faith has not been extinguished and I am looking forward with anticipation to our next encounter.  If it weren’t for our terrible first quarter, we would have been right there in the thick of it, but with myself and another one of our starters on the bench with 2 fouls a piece and 7 minutes remaining, Pamplona did what any great team should do, take advantage.  Down by 20pts we fought back and only lost the 2nd quarter by 5pts, the 3rd quarter by 3 and the 4th and final quarter by 2.  Next time we’ll be on our home court and out of foul trouble.  

Quick geography lesson, Pamplona is located in the north of Spain in the Navarre community and has an oceanic climate.  The city is famous for its San Fermin Festival that takes place from July 7th through the 14th.  A well known, world wide event that takes place during this festival is the running of the bulls.  

A couple facts about the event:

Running of the Bulls, Pamplona

The length of the run is about 840 meters

It’s over in less than 5 minutes

200-300 people are injured each year

15 people have died in Pamplona since the tradition began in 1910

You have to be over 18 years of age to participate

Traditional dress=white shirt and trousers, red waist band and neckerchief 

The herd consists of 6 bulls and 6 steers

Average speed of the herd is 15 mph

With the economic slide, this tradition has experienced some adversity.  The bulls that are used are not as impressive as they once were, some weighing as much as 200 pounds less than previous years.  Culture and the power of tradition still stand, however, and the run must go on.

Moving on to the last topic of today’s e-mail is the 2nd sweet and creamy event.  This past Friday a large presentation was held in our gym.  Every basketball team in Club Alcobendas showed up at 6:30pm to be introduced and gather on the gym floor for a group photo.  Between the male and female teams, I was told that about 300 athletes were present.  Ages ranged from little tykes of 6 years old all the way up to the oldest male player, around 40.  

Before the event commenced I sat in the locker-room listening to the friendly banter of my teammates when all of a sudden the door opened and a male voice sliced through the mezzo-soprano sound waves.  “Leslieeeeeee, venga porfavor (Leslieeeeee, come here please)”  I exited the locker-room, feeling all 20 sets of eyes watching me as I went.  Upon closing the door I was introduced to an excited young man who was holding a video camera.  I was then asked if I wouldn’t mind filming the event.  The film would then by cut and edited for the use of an english television channel.  I was given free reign to film what I wanted, who I wanted, for however long I wanted AND I could say anything I wanted as well.  I embraced the camera, turned on my heels and strode confidently back into the locker-room where I immediately started filming my teammates.  Ha, their faces were that of surprise and confusion as I recorded their every move.  As we lined up outside the gym and waited to be introduced, my camera and I took a sneak peak into the venue.  Within seconds, the eyes of everyone sitting in the stands quickly turned to the tall, light haired Americana with the cam-er-a.  I scanned over the crowd slowly and found myself looking back at a number of happy faces.  People started waving, smiling, cheering and laughing.  I can’t help but imagine that many of them thought that the American was just filming for her own personal pleasure and not for an actual t.v show. 

I proceeded to film each team as they proudly walked and rolled, out onto the court.  I say rolled because Alcobendas also has a wheel chair basketball team, which was news to my ears.  My team and the men’s team were the two last teams to be introduced.  I happily gave the camera over to Pablo, our team doctor, and lined up with my teammates.  Each one of us walked out onto the court holding the hands of two young ballers;)  The presentation was lively and exciting.  I feel very fortunate to be a part of such a well supported organization.  

Leslie’s Loose Ends:

What do you call a Canadian winter hat? Answer: a Toque

I had english class yesterday and my student taught me more than I taught him! Drawing a map of spain on the white board and telling me of all the places I need to visit.

Played that fun kids game, “Guess Who” on Wednesday with Alvaro and Mario.  “Does he have glasses?!” “Is he Roberto?!”

 I ate Cuajada for the first time this weekend.  I got home and looked it up online and discovered that Cuajada means curdled milk.  I don’t think I would ever knowingly offer to eat curdled milk, but it was quite tasty especially when mixed with the honey that came along with it. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Coalhada 

Cuajada with honey.

Alright, we made it through the e-mail.  Thanks for coming with me.  I’ll leave you with this quote,

What greater thing is there for human souls than to feel that they are joined for life - to be with each other in silent unspeakable memories.  ~George Eliot

Love always,

Leslie

Yellow, whale, egypt, tower...get it?

I am not in the best of moods this morning.  Hopefully my frustrations will roll right off my balcony and not right onto this keyboard.  Why am I frustrated? Because I woke up at 6:40 to walk out into the chilly morning just to arrive at school and sit there for 20 minutes waiting for my student who never showed up.  I am not mad at him though, no, I am frustrated with my boss, pepper hair Georges Edouard.  Today is a holiday in Madrid, but not in Alcobendas so I figured I would still have class.  Well, I didn’t and it must have just slipped the mind of my incredibly disorganized boss.  Why do I continue to work for this man?  Easy, I enjoy my student, and I was all excited today to teach him about the differences between the words Still, Yet and Already, but I guess I’ll just have to wait until next week.

Anyway, this week wasn’t nearly as action packed as last week.  We did have a game, though, and managed to sneak by our opponent by a small margin of 2pts.  Nothing too exciting happened during the game, but once again we built ourselves a respectable lead and then successfully destroyed it during the 2nd half.  Perhaps it doesn’t sound like it, but I really do enjoy playing with these girls and they are all very talented players.  For some reason, however, we consistently string together couple minute segments during the 2nd half of every game that are just enough to give our opponents hope and our coach a heart attack.  We play away next Saturday against the best team in the league which will give us a better understanding as to where we stand in our conference.  As of right now our record is 4-1.  

Oh wait, there was a funny moment during this weeks game.  So, with about 30 seconds left it was our ball on the sideline at mid court and I jogged out of the huddle feeling a bit confused.  I had seen on the white board with my own two eyes where Charly wanted me to be on the court for the following play, but it just didn’t make any sense to me.  As I entered the court I started running down towards our basket, since we were on offense, when all of a sudden I could hear Charly’s accented english reverberating throughout the gym “Leslieeeee, Leslieeeeee, you are here, hereeeee!”  I quickly jerked my head around and saw where he was pointing, but I didn’t understand.  We were on offense and he had everyone scattered around on the defensive end.  I honestly thought that he was just confused and didn’t realize that we were in-fact, on offense.  I continued to stand rooted to the ground, bewildered at his request.  I managed to stutter out in spanish “estamos en ataque (we’re on offense)” and upon saying this he quickly retorted in english “I KNOW!” meanwhile several of my teammates who were watching this fiasco from the bench started laughing, they obviously knew something that I did not.  Our opponents finally took the floor and immediately the lightbulb went off.  Charly wanted all of us in the back court so that each of us could help the in-bounder if need be.  I happened to be the one to catch the inbound pass.  Good job, Charly.  Leslie, don’t doubt, just do. 

Our game on Saturday was at 7:30pm, so with the free time I had in the morning I met up with one of our team’s physical therapists for coffee and an English/Spanish speaking exchange.  Juan is yet another person in Spain whose work does not require him to know English, but because he has the personal desire to learn he takes class twice a week at the british council.  I figured that a weekly meeting would benefit the both of us, so for 2 hours I listened to Juan speak to me in English about his family, his job and his hobbies.  I asked questions in Spanish, corrected him when he made mistakes and then told him similar things about my life as well, but in Spanish.  It’s a nice little compromise and is allowing me to expand my small circle of friends here in Spain.

Little Luis wearing a shower cap and myself.

Here we are, Maria, Juan, Mario and Alvaro.

Wednesday was another fun day at Pablo’s house.  I taught Juan and Maria how to play  Simon Says and I Spy With My Little Eye.  They loved running around the room and using their english, “Is it this?! Is it this!?”  Later, in the house of Alvaro and Mario we played a game that was a bit more advanced.  I would say a word like “Yellow” and then they would have to determine what the last letter of the word was and then think of a new word that started with that letter, so in this case a word that started with W.  Both of these young boys came up with several vocabulary words that took me by surprise.  After our little word game we plopped down on Mario’s bedroom floor and began to play an intense game of UNO!

“Leslie’s Loose Ends”

Whenever I tell someone where I am from each and every person always thinks that I am saying “Venezuela.”  I guess they both have the same number of syllables, they both end in A, but really?

European basketball is a bit more flashy than the type of basketball that I found myself playing in the Midwest.  I would imagine that people might call me a fundamentally sound player who gets the job done.  Well, watch out world because Europe is starting to rub off on this cookie cutter player from MN.  Every Thursday, Sarah and I shoot with Charly.  Many times we work on high post/low post combinations.  Charly is always telling us that we are on a string, when one dives the other goes up and vice versa, and if the post with the ball has their back to their partner they should trust that they can pass the ball over their head and know that their teammate will be there to catch it.  So, after Thursday’s session of one handed, no look, over the head, between the legs passes to each other, I spontaneously decided to bust one of my new passes out in practice.  I was on the left block, spun to the baseline and dribbled twice towards the sideline.  For once I wasn’t doubting I was just doing, so out of no where I whipped the ball up over my head and sent it screaming to the opposite block where I had just come from.  I turned around to see what had become of my incredibly uncharacteristic Leslie Knight pass to find that my partner in crime, Sheila Magnadas, was in the process of completing my assist!  Charly exploded with excitement on the sideline while my teammates all hooted and hollered and I just smiled in utter disbelief and shock. Where in the world did that come from and did I really just do that? Ha;)  Perhaps this story should’ve been in the above paragraphs, a bit long for a loose end...

I walked into the weight room the other day and was greeted with a familiar tune, but where was it from? My teammates were humming the words to the Sesame Street theme song. Ha, this quickly turned into a conversation of questions like “how do you say Big Bird in Spanish” or “What’s the name of the guy who lives in the garbage can?”

Alright, the first week of November has come and gone.  Congrats to my ballers on their win over UMD yesterday!  And nice work on the halloween video as well, ha;)  Make it a great week, everyone!

love,

Leslie

      

Ciao, Venice!

5 people sat around a table meant for 4 one week ago yesterday.  Amongst these 5 people, 3 different countries were represented and 5 different birth years, ranging from 1978-1986.  The oven clock blinked 22:50 as they all sat down to enjoy their meal.  Practically every inch of the wooden, oval table was hidden by a plate, serving dish or a bottle of Coca-Cola.  Bowls of lettuce, tomatoes, caramelized onions, shredded cheese, kidney beans and taco meat were systematically arranged, each in his very own spot.  3 sets of dark brown eyes looked on as the North Americans selected their tortillas and began to fill them with precise spoonfuls of each ingredient.  Once everyone understood how the process worked it didn’t take long before the “ting, ting, ting” sound of a spoon signaled an empty serving bowl.  My 2 spanish roommates and 1 spanish friend had never experienced a make-your-own taco bar before.  On this night, my dark featured friends would experience not one but two new north american favorites.

Feliz Cumpleanos, Marta!!!

An oversized monster cookie was brought out for dessert, complete with M&Ms in the shape of a heart.  The cookie was cut up into pie slices and served with a scoop of vanilla ice cream on top.  As the cookie quickly disappeared, so did the icecream.  Sizing up my glass of coke, Sarah said to me “Leslie, why don’t you make a coke float with the rest of the ice cream.” I had never actually had a coke float, since I always make them with root beer, but I figured it would turn out nicely just the same.  I scooped up the last remains of the ice cream and dropped them into my glass, all the while completely oblivious to the facial expressions sitting across from me.  After savoring a sweet spoonful of my coke float, I looked up and realized that I was being watched very closely.  Sarah Castrillo and Marta Cobian looked back and forth from Sarah Crooks to me and back again.  Almost simultaneously they both exclaimed in exasperated tones, “Es una broma, no? Es una broma!”  Both girls were sure that the two North Americans were taking them for a ride and playing some type of broma (joke) on them.  After Sarah and I gave our most sincere explanations, the cup was passed around the table so that each girl had a chance to taste her first coke float.  I tried to explain that root beer was a more common beverage of choice to pair with ice cream, but of course they had no concept of what root beer tasted like.  All three girls seemed to think that the mixture tasted alright, but I believe Marta’s exact words were, “This is why america is so fat.  They mix ice cream with everything!”

I honestly don’t think that cultural differences will ever cease to provide me with hours of precious entertainment.  The practice schedule of this past week was a bit different than usual because we had a buy this past weekend.  So, Charly decided to conduct practice from Monday until Wednesday and then proceeded to give us Thursday until Monday night at 7pm, off.  Charly had told Sarah and I about this little break a few weeks back, so both of us had already planned our trips.  At first we had thought about going to Paris, but then Sarah said that she really wanted to see Rome.  Well, since I had been to Rome just last year I started to think about other travel destinations.  I knew that at some point this year I wanted to go back to Switzerland and after talking it over with Cinthia and Lucas I decided that now was as good a time as any.  

I felt very much at home as I strolled through the familiar Malpensa, airport in Italy.  It was 9:45am and I had one hour to kill before my bus left for Chiasso, Switzerland.  The strong aroma of Italian coffee floated towards me as I sat outside the easyjet terminal, inviting me to come in and indulge in its richness.  Thick foam and one packet of sugar later, I sat contentedly in the cafe listening to the sing song sound of the Italians around me.  Every stereotype you have ever heard about Italians and how they talk is true, 100%.  From their intonation, to the speed in which they speak, to the loudness of their speech and right down to the hand gestures that fit their prose perfectly like a Rawlings Gold Glove.  One hour passed quickly and I dragged myself out of the cafe’s gravitational pull, boarded the shuttle bus and cursed my phone for playing tricks on me.  

I told Cinthia that I would be arriving at the Chiasso train station at 11am and that I would call her when I was on my way.  However, little did I know that my spanish phone requires that I type in a pin number whenever I turn it back on and since this was the first time that I had turned my phone off I had absolutely no idea what my pin number was.  I was also running 30 minutes late since I had just missed the previous bus to Chiasso by 10 minutes.  The bus rolled to a stop in Chiasso about 10 seconds after crossing the border.  I got off the bus and before looking for Cinthia took a moment to relish in my surroundings.  My big, colorful and inviting friends, the Swiss Alps, sprawled out all around me, waiting faithfully for my return.  Cinthia was not at the bus stop, as I had assumed she wouldn’t be since I was 30 minutes late.  So I started walking to the train station hoping that I might see her on my way, at the same time desperately hoping that I wouldn’t run into anyone else I might know since my arrival was a secret that only 2 people knew, Cinthia and Lucas.  I rounded the corner to the Train Station and at the exact time just 70 meters or so ahead of me, Cinthia rounded her corner as well.  The joy that bubbled up inside of me upon seeing her remained with me during the 4 days and is still sticking willfully to my insides now.  Never in my wildest dreams did I ever imagine that I would, some day, be taking multiple trips to Switzerland.  

The next 4 days were full of everything that is beautiful, precious, priceless and pure.  The first stop on our list was home to Caneggio for lunch with my favorite Swiss Grandma, Rosilde.  The drive to Caneggio alone, brought tears to my eyes.  The mountains are covered in the bold colors of fall, looking like a warm, soft, flowing quilt that my grandma would make.  The surprise arrival to Rosilde’s house wasn’t exactly what I had imagined.  I walked in the door and found her talking in dialect on the phone.  She took one glance at me and continued right along with her conversation, all physiological responses performing at the same even rate.  Once she was done talking, she looked at me a bit more closely and after a few speedy sentences from Cinthia the recognition appeared on her soft face.  She pushed herself up from the couch, held my face between her weathered hands and kissed me 3 times, just like I knew she would.  The table was set and ready but we were still waiting for two more unsuspecting guests so I ran upstairs to drop off my bags.  I reentered the dining room and gazed at the woman who was sitting nonchalantly on the coach reading the morning newspaper.  “Ciao” I said and upon hearing an unsuspecting voice her head turned and stared at me in a look of utter confusion and elation.  Onorina was speechless;) 

After a wonderfully delicious lunch of pizzoccheri, I accompanied Cinthia to her school where she teaches physical education.  This was the first time that I had been to this particular school and boy oh boy was it stunning.  Carved right into the mountain side, surrounded by trees and mountain mist is the place in which this school calls home.  There are no noisy trucks, cars or passerby's, only the serene sound of mother earth mixed in with the laughs and shouts of children playing soccer during their recess.  After school I went with Onorina to surprise her daughter, Anja.  From there I went with Cinthia to her cousin’s house, Lisa Mazzocchi, who is also my former teammate.  Witnessing first hand the look of someone who is thoroughly shocked and surprised is one of life’s little pleasures.  The next stop was Cinthia’s mom’s house.  We arrived at the house before Liliana did, so when I heard her coming up the front steps I went to welcome her into her own home.  “Ciao” I said once again and Liliana stopped dead in her tracks, looking at me as if I was an illusion and after 5 long seconds or so of numbness she let out a long and excited, “ciiiiaaaaaaooooo!”

The next day was spent enjoying another wonderful meal, homemade gnocchi with Rosilde, then a bike ride with Onorina and Lucas, followed by hot tea, watching Riva practice and diner at Picolo Mondo, the same restaurant where I sat with Cinthia and her family for Easter lunch last April.  Cinthia and I watched practice from a balcony where several player’s let their eyes drift up towards us, many of them taking double takes not believing what they were seeing.  Dinner was divine but what was even more incredible was the company in which I was sharing it with.  Sitting to my left was a girl that I had formerly met during the summer of 2006 when I had the opportunity to play on the Big Ten Foreign Tour Team.  Her name is Megan Skouby, she played for the University of Iowa and now she is playing for Riva! Having the opportunity to catch up with her and compare stories about playing in Europe was quite entertaining.  Cinthia and I headed home after dinner since the next morning was about to arrive rather quickly.

Cinthia, Lucas and I were out the door, in the car and heading to Venice by 7:15 on Saturday morning.  Three hours later we were parking the car, buying a map and crossing a bridge leading us onto the “Queen of the Adriatic.” The New York Times described Venice as “undoubtedly the most beautiful city built by man.”  I haven’t seen every city in the world, but Venice was not one 1/100th short of charming, stunning, alluring, elegant or any other synonym for beautiful.  We spent the next 6 hours or so, gently finding our way through the many archaic streets that make up the floating foundation of Venice.  I panned my video camera across everything while Cinthia and Lucas were in-charge of taking pictures.  We window shopped and marveled at the baroque venetian masks that filled many a shop, as well as exquisite pieces of glass art and posh clothing.  I watched with amusement as Gondolas skimmed across the water being propelled by Gondoliers wearing red and white striped shirts and wide brimmed black hats tied with red ribbons.  One gondolier floated by with his leg propped up on the side of the boat singing in a wonderfully rich baritone voice, a song that I imagined was tender, old, love song. 

Venice!

Preparing the boats.

Taking some time for R and R

Gelato;)

Colorful, Venice.

We stopped in at a quaint restaurant full of character and warmth for lunch.  I scrolled down the options for lunch and saw the typical choices, lasagna, risotto, polenta, but then there was a type of spaghetti that caught my eye.  Squid-ink pasta.  I promptly told the waiter that I had made up my mind, squid-ink pasta it is!  Not only did the delectable squid and pasta warm my belly, but it turned my lips into a wonderful shade of MAC’s Black Knight lipstick.  Besides enjoying our lunch of pasta, bread, select meats and wine we took the liberty of buying gelato later in the day as we walked along the sea and finished off the day with a frothy cappuccino.  The Grand Canal, Piazza San Marco, St Mark’s Basilica and the Ponte dei Sospiri were all sites that we marveled in.  I was a bit sad as we drove across the bridge and the distance increased between our car and Venice, but happy all the while for having the grand fortune of spending the last 6 hours with two great friends in a glorious city.  Furthermore, I couldn’t be too sad since the music we started listening to makes me smile every time.  The music on the car ride home was a combination of American, Brazilian, Spanish, Argentine and Italian.   Here are a couple of my favorites,http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qn9i1Nl2a5s, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1uR9ynRtov0.  Driving through Italy as Lucas and Cinthia sing along to the music and tap out the rhythm on the steering wheel or dashboard fills my soul with a contentedness that is hard to explain.  

Squid ink pasta, surprisingly tasty.

Sunday was another lovely day.  Rosilde had prepared risotto for lunch and Lucas and I had a bike ride planned for the afternoon.  I went into the ride knowing full well that it was going to be a bit harder than the last one, and to be honest, part of me was a little nervous.  Lucas and I took off going out of Caneggio with the sun on our faces and the wind ripping past our windbreakers.  I was so happy I thought I would burst at the seams.  Switzerland is an amazingly gorgeous country, and I just can’t seem to soak enough of it up, even when my body already feels wholly saturated from it’s splendor.  We were making our way tranquilly along the curve of the mountain, admiring the river that was flowing in the ravine below us when all of the sudden with the next curve of the road my mouth dropped open and I managed to breath out an airless “Oh Mamma” and with that Lucas looked over at me and said “Buona fortuna” (good luck). An extremely steep hill stretched out in-front of me and I couldn’t see the end of it.  I gripped my handlebars a bit tighter, dug my feet into my pedals and started the climb.  After a minute or two all I could hear was the sound of my blood beating in my ears and my lungs working to suck in as much oxygen as humanly possible.  At each switchback I glanced anxiously to see the plateau of the hill, but each curve gave way to another endless assent.  When we finally reached the top, I managed to lift my noodle of an arm and give Lucas a high-five.  We did it!  

The rest of our bike ride was a bit more calm, but still consisted of plenty of hills.  At one point we started going up a path that Lucas had never been on.  The mountain path wound up and around, past small houses and grottos (bars or cafes made of stone), past grazing cows with bells, past donkeys and goats and past a patch of clucking hens.  I came around the corner and saw the rich reds and browns of the hens that were perched on the hill next to the path, when all of a sudden one of them decided to jump from the hill-side and land right in the middle of where I was going.  Upon realizing how fast I was approaching, the decently sized, plump hen started to squawk and cluck as it puffed it’s way down the path.  I let out a high-pitched shriek of surprise and managed to slow my pace as my tires skidded on the fall leaves.  It was a close encounter, but both parties rode and clucked away, unscathed. 

YEA for BIKING!

For as hot as I get while  working my way up the mountain, I get equally as cold as we descend.  Lucas sped along ahead of me, hugging the curves of the road like a pro and even cruising along side the guard rails with no hands.  I on the other hand, used my brakes a bit more frequently but still managed to reach a good clip and feel the cool mountain air as it easily penetrated through my shoes and settled right into all 10 toes.  Nevertheless, I cherish these bike rides with every once of being that I have, thank you for taking me with you.

Sunday evening was spent watching the volleyball match of a few friends and then later dining with the Mazzocchi family over several boxes of pizza.  After every morsel of pizza was taken care of, we filled up the couches and settled down to watch the movie 300 Hundred.  The fact that when I looked over and saw Megan Skouby sitting there, really boggled my mind.  There we were, Big Ten Competitors, sitting in a house in Switzerland and watching a movie.  

Monday morning came and Lucas and I were out the door heading to the Malpensa airport, but not before Rosilde in all her glory and her bathrobe, wrapped me up a piece of her apple tort.  After savoring one more cappuccino and one more croissant with nutella, Lucas and I said our goodbyes and I was off to find my gate.  Saying goodbye this time wasn’t as hard as last year.  I’m telling myself that someday I will own a house or have a time share that will allow me to spend time in Switzerland each and every year.  

Well, since this e-mail was so long I’ll cut you all some slack and skip out on “Leslie’s Loose Ends” ha, and if you don’t respond for the next couple days I will understand since you’ll probably need several days to read it all.

Happy November to you all, I hope everyone had a fun and safe Halloween!

Love,

Leslie

Parks, Games and Birthdays

Me: “Hi George, it’s Leslie”

George: “Oh, hello Leslie”

Me: “So, I am teaching tomorrow, right?”

George: “Oh, I forgot to tell you.  I spoke with the company on Friday and they cancelled their Tuesday and Thursday morning classes.  But, I do have a class for you on Monday mornings.”

Me: “Ok, well I’ll see you on Monday then, adios.”

This conversation took place 2 weeks ago on the 14th.  My oh so professional boss simply forgot to tell me that my 7:30am classes were cancelled.  Thank goodness I called him to double check or else I would’ve found myself in an empty classroom, experiencing a major case of deja vu from freshman year at the U of M, but that’s another story.  Since this phone conversation I have taught 2 monday morning classes.  Contrary to previous beliefs, I am no longer in the hot seat having to brush up on all forms of the english language.  Instead, I prepare for class by browsing through a business textbook, looking for interesting scenarios and relevant topics of conversation.  Roberto is my only student so far, but George has informed me that latecomers are not uncommon.  Roberto is 35 years old, stands eye to eye with me, is always nicely dressed in dress slacks and sport coats, has peppery black hair like George and after today’s session is starting to appear considerably more at ease in my classroom.  His job does not require him to speak english, but like many other students he has the desire to learn english for personal reasons, like travel.  

Thanks to Roberto, I explored a nearby park this past week that he had told me about in our first session.  The park is called Juan Carlos el Primero and is about a 45 minute metro ride away from my apartment.  There are 3 large parks in Madrid, Juan Carlos 1, Retiro and Al Campo.  Juan Carlos is very different from Retiro park and from Al Campo which are more or else both located in downtown Madrid.  Retiro is full of large, old trees, antique sculptures, rose gardens and history while Al Campo is a vast area of land with plenty of room for energetic canines to burn off some energy.  

The large red Fruit Loop, or at least that's what I call it. 

Some interesting sculptures.

Juan Carlos on the other hand is more modern, and is home to some very large pieces of abstract art.  Attached is a picture of me with the big, red Life Savor.  Along with each piece of art was a description of the artists intentions, unfortunately I wasn’t able to properly decipher what this magical, Willy Wonka sized Life Savor actually was.  My confusion quickly turned into excitement as I saw a sign advertising bike rentals.  I approached the rental counter and  with the most polite spanish voice I could conjure, told the young woman that I would like very much to rent one of her bright blue bicycles.  She then asked me for a form of identification upon which I promptly handed her my Minnesota Drivers License since my passport was safely tucked away in my bedroom.  She took one fleeting glance at my I.D. and curtly told me that I was unable to rent a bike, no ifs ands or buts about it.  My chipper mood was quickly dismissed as I swallowed back the rock of frustration in my throat. 

Yep, it's pretty big.

When I returned to my apartment I had just a few minutes to spare before Pablo arrived to pick me up for the days english lesson with his kids.  The hour flew by quickly, as always, and left me feeling content about the days progress.  I was also reminded of my invitation to attend lunch with their family on Saturday.  Saturday was Pablo’s birthday and the fact that they wanted me to come and share in that day meant an awful lot to me.  So, when Saturday rolled around I made sure to track down my favorite cookie recipe, round up all the ingredients and get to baking.  The cookie I made is called a Monster cookie, complete with peanut butter, oats and M & M’s.  The recipe also calls for chocolate chips, but I couldn’t find them anywhere!  Showing up with cookies earned me big points with Maria, Juan and Luis, especially since the cookies were dotted with brightly colored M&M’s.  I could see the sparks of curiosity flashing in the adults eyes as they regarded the tin beholding the american treat.  

In Spain, as well as Switzerland, they refer to their meals as first plate, second plate and possibly a third plate.  So, the first plate that was set in-front of me was  full of large, flat mushrooms that were covered in an oil,garlic and almond sauce.  I have never just sat down and eaten a plate of mushrooms and I was nervous that I wasn’t going to like it, but my taste buds were pleasantly surprised and I polished off every last bit.  The 2nd plate was lamb accompanied by a mild salsa of tomatoes, onions and peppers. There was no 3rd plate which allowed us to skip right along to dessert.  The cookies were a huge success!  Everybody loved them and they all requested that I make them again.  

After the coffee was served I spent some time with the children.  Juan inserted a cd into the cd player and the next thing I knew I was singing Old McDonald Had a Farm!  4 year old Luis didn’t know any of the words, but he sat patiently shrugging his shoulders up and down in rhythm to the music waiting for his cue, and then with a loud burst his little mouth would open real wide and the tune of “E-I-E-I-O!” would bellow out of him;)  I danced the Hokey Pokey, taught them Head Shoulders Knees and Toes, the Itsy Bitsy Spider and sang a very merry rendition of Jingle Bells.  Childhood memories rushed at me from all sides and I began to laugh.  There I was, in Spain, singing Old McDonald with 3 young madrilenos.  

Throughout all of lunch Pablo, his wife Blanca and Lucia the mother of Alvaro and Mario, all gave me a hard time about my game later in the evening, saying that I better play well or else they would be to blame for feeding me such a rich lunch.  Luckily, no one had to fess-up for filling my wine glass, insisting that I take seconds and guilting me into eating more cream puffs;)  

We played a team called Irlandesa who had lost all 3 of their previous games, but not by much.  Teams like this always make me nervous because more often than not players overlook them and as a result come mentally unprepared to play, which leads to an upsetting loss.  Thankfully, our coach does enough yelling and screaming that anybody who happened to be off in la la land was quickly and crudely brought back to reality.  My high school friend, Alana, came to the game and afterwards she exclaimed, “Man your coach is intense!”  European basketball is a funny business, one in which coaches yell, shriek and holler a colorful stream of prose that would get them booted out of a U.S. gym so quickly they wouldn’t know what hit them.  The surprising part about all of this is that these vulgar words are completely main stream and the referees could care less.  At the end of the day I know my coach is a great guy and even when he’s ranting and raving about a turnover or a late help on a screen, he’ll give me one quick wink and I’ll remember not to listen to the tone, but to the message behind it.  

Alana and I after the game!

Leslie’s Loose Ends:

I taught Sarah Crooks how to gargle with salt water this week.  25 years old and she was just swishing it around like scope. Too funny.

Our strength coach gave me a gift the other day, it was a U.S. penny that he had found on the street.  He told me it was for good luck;)

Went to the surprise birthday party of my teammate’s boyfriend and found a platter of marshmallows.  They really dress them up over here, all of them were in different shapes and colors.

Ana, Me, Sarah and Charly at the surprise party.

And here is the Marshmallow platter!

Have a wonderful week everyone and a Happy Halloween!

besitos,

Leslie