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

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

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