On Our Way

Well, we said goodbye to our host families today and headed off at 6:35am. We got to Malaga by use of GoogleEarth's helpful pictures, and got tickets on the AVE (a super fast train) to Madrid. The trip was long and we saw mountains and olive trees fly past in a blur. When the sun came up there was a beautiful sunrise on the mountains. We paused in Cordoba, and then came into Madrid around 10:40am. We went and got in line to buy tickets for a sleeper train, but it was full. Instead we got tickets that will allow us to take a train to Barcelona at 11:45 tomorrow morning.
We took a metro and bus to a suburb called Saint Augustine and wandered around for a few hours trying to find Rachel's brother-in-law's uncle's house. :D
Elizabeth, Suzanne and I finally sat down in a park while Dan and Rachel went and found a cybercafe to look up their number. Then we called the Eichelman's and Mrs. Eichelman picked us up at the bus stop. We found out that this town is very different from other parts of Spain because of the vast urbanizaiton. It helps the missionaries fit in because people aren't well established (with generations living int he same house). The family was very kinda nd generous, adpoting us into their home for the night and sharing two meals with us. They are also going out of their way to make some conections for us with Mennonite Your Way in the cities where we are traveling to so that we can save money on hostels and be able to live with some of our brothers and sisters.
If you are reading this, please pray for team unity, as we have been having some problems with personality clashes. We are sorting it out, but we always appreciate your prayers and God's help.
Dios vos bendiga.
Mark

Modern Málaga and some Old Stuff

This past Saturday (our last in this town) Eliel invited us and the Allensville group to tour some of the places in Málaga which we hadn't seen yet. First we went and saw the Málaga Picasso Museum which had a number of great Picasso works and pictures of him as an old man. Then we went to the Picasso homestead museum which had pictures of Picasso as a little boy—the little boy pictures were much nicer than the old ones. In the end, most of us declared that when Picasso was painting clothed people he was a pretty cool painter. Not all of us admitted this, but I´m sure everyone was thinking it in their heart of hearts.
Later that day we went and visited the Agricultural and Cultural Museum of Málaga. Mainly it was really old things all displayed very nicely. It was pretty awesome, I thought. There was even a chicken egg incubator made by the Buckeye company of Springfield, OH. Go Bucks! Anyway, moment of state pride there. The Allensville folks seemed to like this museum better than the Picasso ones because a number of them are farmers or mechanics or construction people and they enjoyed seeing the differences and similarities between the tools they use and the ones used back in the day in Málaga.
Later on we had some free time and a few of us went and saw the Málaga Cathedral which is a rather interesting building because it was built to have two steeples in the front but one was not finished. Interestingly enough, and here´s the interesting part, the steeple was not finished because the Spanish government decided to take the money and send it to the United States to fund the revolutionary war.
Anyway, the United States had an impact even here and today we´re continuing that impact, just in a slightly less violent and disruptive way.
- Daniel

There are some more "estadounidenses" (USAers) here. A group from Pennsylvania has dropped in to help finish building the church. It is a very large building, but the 2nd and 3rd floors haven't been done. There is nothing on the floor, or walls- just cement, and there are also some rooms on the main floor that are the same.
Today there were more Americans in the church than there have probably ever been. Six American students, two American professors, two American missionaries (with their two children), and the group of twelve Mennonites from Allensville Mennonite Church.
We're about to have some paella for lunch so I have to run, but I'll get another video uploaded for you while I'm eating the delicious rice, shrimp, chicken, and calamari. :D
Mark



Ok, so the movie didn't upload so I restarted it and now it is done, as is the meal. I just finished my desert about 15 minutes ago- at 4:35pm (that is desert from lunch). Just to give you and idea about the different mealtimes here in Spain. And I probably won't eat supper until 10-11pm. Pues, espero Dios vos bendiga, y que vuestros tieneis un dia divertido. :D

One of the most significantly contrasting factors about our "lives" here in España as opposed to those in the EEUU, is our daily struggle to communicate. While I can assure you that every single one of us is significantly improving in our Spanish vocabulary and pronunciation, we still have a long way to go before we are truely comfortable with it. We devote two hours daily to studying the (very complicated) grammar and some vocabulary. Rosa, our teacher, is extremely energetic (and almost 9 months pregnant!!), and also very "typical Spanish" in her attitudes about time and the importance of relationships. We end up talking and telling stories for at least the first half hour of class before we actually "start." She lived in Miami for 2 years, and has a fairly good grasp of English. Every now and then we have trouble trying to understand some of the more complicated rules of grammar because we are so used to the English grammar terms, and she soely uses the Spanish terms.

Most of our language learning, though, comes from outside the classroom. From the checkout process at a store to trying (unsuccessfully) to get the bus to stop at the right place, we are perpetually gaining vocabulary! We read everything -- political posters, advertisements, graffiti -- and try to identify words or figure them out from the context. We´ve even started a game of sorts, where any one of us can indiscriminately give out an unidentified number of points, stars, credits, kudos, thumbs up, etc. to any person in our group that correctly identifies or translates a word/phrase first. So, it´s not the most sophisticated game, but it keeps us entertained.

As we are learning, everything comes "poco a poco," little by little. Last week, I felt so accomplished to have a conversation with someone at the bus stop! (okay, so it doesn´t really count as a conversation if she asked what time the bus typically comes, and I responded with one sentence, but still! i knew what she asked!) This week, I told my host parents about our time in Morocoo and they understood me. Next week, I´ll be giving dissertations on the key concepts of metaphysics at the university in Córdoba. (okay, maybe not.)

A frustration for me right now is that I want to be able to talk at an adult level, but am still babytalking my way through life. I have the vocabulary of a 3 or 4 year old, and the grammatical prowess of a first grader, but my mind is still thinking like it always does! Now I know what it would feel like to be a child genius :)

Here are a few funny mistakes or, what I choose to call "alternative linguistic choices" that have been said in this learning process:

Estamos bicicletas. - Morgan
We are bikes.

Cuantos años tiene tu abuelo? - Rosa
How old is your grandpa?
El tiene setenta y Dios. - Rachel
He is 70 and God.

(Las ventanas abrierto o cerrado?) Are the windows opened or closed? - Rosa
(Si.) Yes. - Morgan

(Como se llama tu abuelo?) What's your grandpa's name?" - Rosa
"Rosemary." -Morgan

(Nosotros somos mujeres.) We are women. - Mark

Even though there are still many times when we have no idea what is being said, we take encouragement that the times when we DO know are becoming more and more frequent!

- Elizabeth (para todos)

A Trip to Morocco

The trip began at 10.00, Friday morning with all of us piling into the Yamaha Popular Music School minibus—which is owned by a fellow from the church—for the hour and a half drive to the port of Algeciras (near Tarifa for those who like surfing). The hour-long ferry ride was really not very bad, although we weren't allowed outside, which was a bit of a bummer. The day was a bit chilly and misty so we didn´t actually get to see Morocco until we were just about to land in Tanger.

Morocco is a land of dust, street-peddlers, poverty, culture, colour, and action. For Morgan, this was his first visit to a third-world country—or developing nation, if you prefer—and one of his first comments was that he felt out of place. In a way, we were all out of place, especially when compared to how at home we had come to feel in Spain during our few short weeks there. For [Mark]—who tried to look on the bright side by finding a cool mountain and palm tree—the experience was not entirely enjoyable.
[Mark]'s difficulties began within a few hours of our arrival, after we were settled into Hotel Solazur, and we sat down on a short wall overlooking the beach and began to enjoy our hard-won spoils, namely, cool Moroccan bread, a little tub of Nutella—ah... delicious... did you know that Hasselnuss is German for Hazelnut? I did—and some Laughing Cow Cheese—you should all try it, it is spectacular, especially with saltine crackers. No sooner had we sat when a man who had introduced himself to us earlier that day as Muhommad came and began to discuss our names, intentions in Morocco, country of origin, and other platitudes with us. He offered to show us the way to the Souk and Medina or anything else we wanted to see. We politely refused. Soon thereafter, a man arrive peddling a small leathern wallet for only one Euro! One Euro! Well, [Mark] took the deal, but no sooner had the man exchanged the wallet for the one Euro coin than the man claimed it would be better for [Mark] to pay in smaller coins but, searching through [Mark]´s handful of change, could find no better option and eventually handed back the Euro and, taking his wallet and one or two of [Mark]´s coins, walked off.

Not the best introduction for poor [Mark] and when Muhommad returned soon thereafter and asked us for a donation for helping us around town and [Mark] was guilted into giving him the Euro... well... that pretty well cemented his opinion of the majority of Moroccan people. Others of us were dealing with other things, however, in the form of the scrutiny of many pairs of eyes.

For the guys, we all shared the impression that we were being looked at suspiciously in not an entirely friendly manner. In Spain we blend in somewhat—some of us more than others—but in Morocco there's no hiding the fact that we're foreigners. For the girls it was different, they received so many leering stares that even us guys, who are often oblivious to the responses of other guys, noticed. The culture is rather apparently chauvinist and while, knowing so little of the culture I cannot pass judgment, women seemed itemised.

Religion was obviously a large part of life in Morocco and, as opposed to Spain—a rather secularised nation—, seemed to have a direct, daily effect on people's lives. Five times a day—including at 05.45—the call to prayer blared from loudspeakers mounted on Minarets. Some of us did not, at that moment, quite agree with the sentiment that "it is better to pray than to sleep," although in saner moments we wholeheartedly agree. However, we did meet a few nominal Muslims and a few strict Muslims and a few Spanish Catholics—including some Sisters of Mercy, Mother Theresa's order—and a few people who work in Granada and knew Kevin and Wendy—please hum "It's a Small World" quietly to yourself. Overall, a great experience.

Anyway, those are just a few of my observations and experiences. The sum is much to much for one post, but I may write a few stories later. Pictures say more, though, than my unskilled scripture so we'll try to get some up pretty soon.
- Daniel

Morocco

Well, the group is heading off to Morocco in about 2 minutes, just thought I'd quickly ask that 'll pray for us. Our host families have been warning us for the past 2 weeks- don't drink the water, say no to monkeys and beware the Moroccans with long fingers.
We'll be visitng Wendy and Carmen, two Rosedale alumni from last year, and hopefully be coming back on Sunday evening to reassure our anxious host families.
¡Bendigas a todos!
Mark

Odds and Ends

I´m actually writing on this thing! It´s amazing considering I have been trying to write on this thing for the past couple of days. So yes. We fineshed with our work for the day around an hour ago. We had our snack and now we are on the computers emailing and chating with home. Ahhh...so nice.

Work has been going well. Although there are some times that it does get intersting. Like the time I got hit in the face...yeppers. I have learned never give a big stick to Daniel. Oh, you want the story? Ok. Well Rachel and Daniel had cut down a lot of sticks (you might call them bamboo...and they had the tendency to be around 10 or more feet tall) the day before and we were cleaning it up the next day. So there I was, minding my own business and doing what I was suppose to do. Cleaning up the sticks! And out of no where...BAM, smack, and boom! A stick right across my nose. There a couple of feet away was Daniel, holding the stick that make all that lovely noice. With my nose pounding, I reached up there to feel it and to see if I could feel the damage. And what do you know? Yeppers, it was bleeding. Not quite gushing...well not really gushing at all but there was blood. There I am with tears in my eyes and blood coming out of the top of my nose, not sure what to do. I finally get the bright idea to go and look in a mirror and see the damage. Well to make a long story short, my nose was turning black and blue but luckally I was able to put ice on it and that stopped the swelling and the lovely colors. My nose has been healing nicely. And that is basically the story of the stick across my nose. Although I have to say that Daniel would probably tell the story different, saying it wasn´t all his fault. He would tag Elizabeth with some of the fault since the stick first got stuck on her and then hit me. But I will leave you to deceide who´s fault it is and I will leave you with that! Well leave this section of the post that is.

I also wanted to talk a little about the food that we have over here. Some of it´s the same as in the U.S. but most of it is different. I have to say the weirdest thing I have eaten is probably some pepers. What´s weird about pepers right? Well green and red peppers that are cooked and then chilled are quite interesting. They wouldn´t have been that bad if they had been warm but cold peppers are a little hard to down. :) But basically the food over here is wonderful! We have had pizza, chicken, ham, pasta, salads, soups, eggs, wonderful bread, and a ton of other things. They make wonderful sandwhiches over here! But one of the best thing is the fresh fruit that they have. Kiwi, bananas, apples, pears, strawberries, and many more. The jucie over here is also wonderful. Zuma de piña y uva is probably my favorite of all. Pineapple and grape. Yummy! Although they have a wonderful drink that is basically liquid yogurt! Although when our host dad tried to say liquid...he says leaky. Which is alway fun to hear. It´s a big joke now at our house. Leaky yogurt! Yummy!

Well I do believe I will leave you with that.
Blessings,
Suzanne

The familia

Sooo....where do i start? Suzanne and i(Rachel) (AH!!!!I hate these keyboards so bad!) are staying with pretty much the nicest family ever. The padre (that´s what i call the dad) works in Málaga, which is only about a 10 min. drive from where we are. He cuts hair, and Rachel Ashcraft told me he´s one of the best and most well know hair cutter in the area. His name is Migel Angel (which is basicly like Micheal Angelo in english) and he has two daughters. Their names are Malisa(15) and Paula(12). Their mom died last year of cancer. :( Our house is about a 7 min. walk from the church, and as cliché as this sounds it´s up hill both ways. The house is on the top of a hill so coming from the church we have to climb 81 steps to get home, but going to the church we have to climb up another hill. Sigh....strong legs, baby. Speaking of the church, it´s amazing. It´s really big, but still unfinished. The church has a lot of outreach opportunities that they´ve started with their facilities. They have an excersize room downstairs that people can pay to use. They also offer music classes and english classes. On Sunday mornings the Sunday School starts at 11 o´clock and the service starts at 12. The worship style is pretty much all contempory choruses and worship songs. My family is in charge of the worship and they are really into "Hillsong" so they like to sing their songs for worship....in spanish of course. Juan Carlos, the pastor does a really good job of preaching. I know this because the kind-hearted A.J. Day translates the sermon for us. Good man. One Sunday we had a typical meal of Piaia after church, which is mostly rice with some other little stuff thrown in there. It was good. We´re supposed to have it again next Sunday to celebrate with a group of people who are coming to work on finishing the cafeteria area.

Well, today for work we cleaned out the really discusting kitchen. It was so greasy! Nasty! And i´m not exagerating, you can ask anybody in the group and they´ll tell you how vomitrosious it was. Working around the church has been really satisfying because we can see a big difference when we´re done. That´s always encouraging. We normaly cut and trim a ton of trees around the church grounds, but our pile of tree branches was so big that the police came and said we couldn´t cut anymore until the city came and took it away.

Funny story time with Rachel! So, the first night that we arrived at our host home, i went to the bathroom and could not figure out for soooooo long how to flush it because there was no flushy thing on the side like NORMAL toilets. There was this little blue doohicky on the wall beside the toilet so i desided to try pushing that. I quickly discovered it wasn´t the flusher. It sprayed a nice aroma into the air, though. I figured out that you have to pull very hard on this little nobby-like thing that´s on the top. Crazy spanish toilets.

Coming to Spain

Entry from Mark

We left Rosedale after lunch on Tuesday, January 8th after lunch. We were grateful for the prayers offered up before we left. I hope everyone who reads this blog will continue to prayer for us- team unity, language skills, cultural skills, and learning to reach out to nominal or notional Christians are our biggest needs right now, I think.

Our first plane took us to Chicago (behind one hour) where we had a large layover. The girls and guys split up to find food. The guys ended up in a little food court that had chinese food. Yum! Later we reunited at our gate, made final calls home to say goodbye and waited for The Big One.

Some of us tried to sleep (the smart ones) or read, but I think most of us just watched the movies that were available. We arrived at Frankfurt, Germany around breakfast time (9am?) on the 9th. With four hours to waste until take-off, we wondered around the airport complex, and then outside in the brisk, chilly morning air.

Around 2 we left for Malaga, Spain. I was very excited, but very tired, so I slept most of the way. I woke up for a small breakfast, and to look out the window and take some shots of the landing, which can be seen in the movie above.

When we got to the airport we searched for our luggage in the special glass-enclosed area where non-EU luggage is placed. We got it, sent it through a security scanner, and then found our valets.

Elizabeth Rivas is the wife of Juan Carlos Rivas who visited RBC during the fall term, she and her husband moved with their three children to La Cala to pastor the Comunidad Cristiana Evangelica, where we Rosedale students meet for classes.

Raquel (her name is Rachel, but this makes it easier to distinguish from Rachel Sommers) is a local missionary who lives with her husband, Matt, and two children in the lower part of the church. Raquel is our local contact who found us families and makes sure that everything runs smoothly with that side of things.

Maretta was also there, and her husband, Phil Barr (RBC professor) arrived a few minutes later.

They drove us all to the church where we sat around and waited for our parents to arrive. Dan's family was gone for the first week of school, so he ended up staying with some single guys. Matt drove Dan to his house, and then dropped off Morgan and I at our Argentinian home, underneath a huge bridge. (It's technically in the shadow of the bridge)

The next day we all met at the church for orientation. Raquel told us about culture, rules for interaction with our host families and basic Spanish manners. Then she showed us around the facility. The church doubles as a multi-use center during the week. It has an impressive fitness center in the basement (I think people buy memberships there, because there are a lot of non-church members around through the week). There is also a music room, and a room with a punching bag- though I have not had a chance to use it. Upstairs there are several meeting rooms, a large gym with a stage for Sunday church meetings. This floor also includes the kitchen and some unfinished rooms. There are two stories above the first floor that are not finished, we looked at them and walked out on the terrace to see a great view of La Cala del Moral, and the Mediterranean Sea.

After orientation we walked to our respective homes for dinner, and met later to walk the beach, a favorite pastime that repeated itself many times that first week.

Trabajando en España

Every day at 4PM we are supposed to meet at the church, but some of us arrive in Spanish time. We've been working on what Matt (the missionary at Parque Victoria) calls the "Rebirth Project." Basically, it means we hack down at least 3/4 of each of the trees that grace the campus. There is much less shade, and to us it looks a little barren, but they say it will all have regrown in two years, and will be much healthier than now. Other tasks include weed whacking and removing debris (rocks, trash, gasoline cans, McDonald's refuse, hoses growing from the ground, etc. etc. etc.). Today, we also started on cleaning a very dirty, greasy, unkempt church kitchen. Mark spent four hours scrubbing about ten feet of a wall. Rachel and Suzanne cleaned out the cupboards, while Elizabeth scrubbed out a fridge. We all got along well, and spent the time talking about complete randomness, and also singing rounds! Daniel and Morgan were banished to the outdoors, whacking down weeds on an endless hillside.

Even though sometimes it seems like just work, we are constantly reminded of its value as a mission tool. First, it puts us in contact with people from the church, and gives them a tangible, evident view of what we're trying to accomplish. Many of them use it as a conversation starter, too! Secondly, Matt keeps reminding us that it's a real boost for the church people to see such positive dramatic changes.

Spain is referred to as "los cementerios de los misionarios" (the graveyard of the missionaries) because it is so resilient to any religious change or missionary approaches. Missionaries and local believers quickly become burned out. In our missions class (taught by Phil Barr), we learned that burn-out and exhaustion are top causes of nominality (spiritual uninvolvement) and of people leaving the church. So, when we come in and act as servants, helping this church's physical appearance, the body of believers here are encouraged. It's exciting to feel appreciated and needed in such a way.

- Elizabeth and Mark

¡Hola, desde España!

Hi everyone, this is Mark writing, I just wanted to write a little somin somin to get our little blog started. I'm sitting in the computer lab at Comunidad Cristiano Evangelica in the multi-use Parque Victoria building in La Cala del Moral, Málaga, Spain. We are about half-way through our time here so there is too much to tell you, too much to write down in one sitting. I will try to do it sometime when I have free time at home.

Home... it is very different here. I like to say that I live under a bridge, though the truth is that I live in the shadow of it. Morgan Schlabach and I are living with an Argentinian family in a small five-room house in a dried river basin right on the outskirts of town. It is a very beautiful place, surrounded by green mountains, horses, mules, dogs, and goats. We are a 15 minute walk from the church, where we go to school every morning.

Classes start at 9 AM. First we have a very simple Spanish class, taught by Rosa, who can speak English, but generally talks in Spanish. After 2 hours of Spanish we are supposed to have a 30 minute break, although that has been a rarity. With Spanish enthusiasm for tardiness, Rosa often takes us 15 minutes into our break. At 12, Phil Barr takes over with our Current Issues and Trends in Missions class. It is quite informal and relaxed, sometimes distractingly so. At about 1 PM we are released.

Sometimes we walk straight home for lunch, other times we come check our emails and Facebooks for news from home. After a late lunch at 2 we siesta. This can incude anythign from a walk on the beach, a nap, climbing a mountain, to chatting witht he family, or writing a paper. After siesta we go back to the church and work from 4-6, trimming greenery, picking up rocks, or hauling away trees. After that we generally sit down to a snack from Elizabeth's host dad, and chat with Rachel and Matt, two missionaries that live in the church. Then sometimes we walk across the street to the Carrefour, a mall, or down to the beach to watch the sunset. The beach is mostly rocky, as opposed to sandy. There are a series of caves that lead through the cliff side by the sea to Rincon de la Victoria, where Elizabeth stays. There are also walkways on the cliff side outside the caves, so that during the day or at dusk you can enjoy the beauty of the Mediterranean.

Well, I'm supposed to be writing a paper on Cordoba right now, so I suppose I better sign off. To those at Rosedale, and to our families in other parts of the U.S., we (the Rosedale Study-Abroad Students) send blessings and our love. Luego, Mark Yoder