Turning A Blind Eye

There has been a lot of noise over the death of Trayvon Martin, a 17 year-old boy from Florida who was shot by 28 year-old George Zimmerman.

The outcry stems from the lack of justice in Martin’s death – Zimmerman is free, no charges have been filed, and he claims he shot Martin in self-defense, when Zimmerman was the one who came out of his home with a loaded gun while Martin was walking home from the store with no weapon on him.

Rallies in major cities across the U.S. have taken place or are being organized.

While the outcry is justified, and deserving of people’s attention, some in Chicago should look no further than their backyard if they want to rally for peace and justice.

Last weekend alone (March 16 – 18) Chicago saw 41 people shot and eight people dead, including a 6 year-old girl who died during a drive-by shooting in the Little Village neighborhood.

I want to take this time to ask everyone in the Chicagoland area who has taken to the streets and social media sites to protest Martin’s death: Where is your outcry for the 41 people shot in 3 days in your own city? (And that number is just the one reported for the weekend.)

On March 20th, a cop was shot in the city.  And a day later, an off-duty cop shot a man and a woman. (The woman was just pronounced dead – a day later.)

Where is the “Million hoodie March” organized for the young people being killed in Chicago regularly.

And don’t kid yourselves – the conceal weapon laws in Florida is probably something everyone should take a closer look at than a debate over race in the death of Trayvon.

Lets not turn a blind eye to the young lives we are loosing every day in our own backyard. Stand in solidarity with your own city, with your own neighbors, with your own Trayvon Martins.

The Power of Words

March 12, 2012. 11pm

Watching “Mi Vida XXL” (My Life XXL) on MTV, something a cast member said hit a nerve .

The show is a reality show following Chelsea – an overweight girl, fresh out of high school, who moved to Los Angeles from the East coast. She faces challenges with her weight and trying to find work in the fashion industry. Chelsea finds a roommate named Jenna. Jenna, at her young age, is a recovering drug addict.

In today’s episode, Jenna is talking to a group of high school kids about her addiction and the seriousness of being involved with drugs. After her speech she is talking to Chelsea about how cathartic it is to speak about her past – “if you talk about it, it helps you prevent it from happening again.”

Jenna’s words hit a nerve thought to have been buried away. It creeps up when you least expect it and I don’t know how to hide those feelings when they happen. “If you talk about it it helps you prevent it from happening again,” are powerful words because they are true.

Have I really benefited by keeping things to myself? Have I subconsciously jeopardized moving forward by burying my past?

I may or may not go to bed and fall asleep only in hopes of not feeling like this tomorrow. Ugh. Thanks, but no thanks, MTV. Ugh.

Shame on New York, Shame on America

There are many things about America and its culture that are notable to Spaniards – one of those being our celebrations. We honor achievements of students with graduations – a concept relatively rare here, but picking up steam thanks to MTV and Hollywood; We celebrate a variety of ethnicities with parades; We have parades honoring a winning team after a “hard-fought” championship; Essentially, we have a celebration for everything. Except, it seems, when it comes to honoring those most deserving.

At the end of 2011, President Obama officially ended the war in Iraq, almost nine years after it commenced. Much to my dismay, there’s been one celebration, one parade, one welcome home party for Iraq war Veterans. The great state of Missouri holds that title.

To the point: I think its despicable that only one city in our country has honored our troops in such a way. What is worse, there are cities, and Mayors, like Michael Bloomberg of New York, NY, who have blatantly opposed a parade for Iraq Veterans.

I am embarrassed for New York. It’s infuriating to have a Mayor like Bloomberg oppose the call to honor the Vets when, two days after the Super Bowl, he throws one of the biggest parties in Manhattan for his favorite football team.

Shame on you New York, shame on you Bloomberg and shame on every American who tries to justify denying our troops a well-deserved welcome home – a group of men and women certainly more deserving than a ridiculous NFL team.

The Beginning of Class

Monday, October 10, 2011.

Yesterday I walked in for lunch at Que Faltaba and didn’t leave until 10pm. Cuchi and Carmen are great people. I ate way too much for lunch, but lunch in Spain is their biggest meal of the day and they don’t mess around. Pablo and Pablo (two of the guys from Saturday night) stopped by for coffee, said hello and took off. The middle-aged couple from Madrid was also there for lunch. We hung out all day untill they left, just before I left.

Today was my first official day teaching. It was short but great. The kids are beautiful and sweet. It was a bit difficult because they don’t know much English. Monday’s kids are 1st and 3rd graders so I found it hard to communicate at times. But I’ll come around, and hopefully they will too. I would still consider today a success. Throughout the week I get older kids up to 6th grade so I expect better communication between us.

I ran out of hot water yesterday (most of Spain doesn’t have natural gas that reaches the homes so you have to buy tanks of gas every month or two). So today my landlord Mate (short for Marta Teresa) came upstairs to help me connect a new tank to get hot water running again. She’s been amazing. She has pretty much made sure I have everything I need in my apartment (toiletries, kitchen wear, furniture, linens, cookbooks, cleaning supplies).

Given that I can’t afford the crazy expensive internet in Spain, I’m at Mate’s apartment using their wifi. Its 9:30pm and their getting ready for dinner. I still have yet to get a hang of their eating schedule here. Breakfast, lunch, nap, snack, dinner. How these people aren’t fat, I do not know. I’m gonna like it here.

Taking Chances

October 9, 2011

Arriving in Santa Marta de Ortigueira on September 28 was fabulous. The day, although wet and cloudy, was great because I knew I was going to finally settle in. The coordinator at my school–Monica–lined up two apartments (piso) for me to see. I fell in love with the first one as soon as I walked in. I went down to her car and got my suitcases to bring in.

The first few days were an adventure. Pedro and I looked up plans for internet and decided that going to a bar everyday to use their wifi would be cheaper than 60 euros a month. And one thing to always watch out for in Europe is the degrees in Celsius. Pedro and I found out the hard way. We put our close to wash not noticing the water temperature was at 90 degrees celsius, which is about 215 degrees farenheit. All of our clothes came out grey and about 4 sizes smaller than when they first went in to the washer.

I toured the town with Pedro and then by myself once he took off to Madrid the following Saturday morning. If A Coruna is beautiful, Ortigueira is only THAT much more beautiful. The people I’ve come across are very nice, weather has been sunny and warm, and the landscape is gorgeous.

Unfortunately, many have described the town as an “older town” because older folk tend to reside here. There are not many young people. Ferrol is a city relatively small but is a college town with a University. It’s about an hour and half bus trip away from Ortigueira.

There is not much happening in this town. I have no internet nor television so my entertainment is limited. There are several bars, however. The bars on my street (Avenida da Penela) are usually full of patrons. Across the street there is Bar Rio Sor, named after the Ria (river) that divides the provinces of A Coruna and Lugo in northern Galicia. Old folk gather at Rio Sor daily to have wine, beer and play the very popular game of Dominos.

Last night I came to a restaurant next door to me called O’ Que Faltaba?” I came, sat on a table and plugged in my ordenador (computer/laptop) – the same thing I do at any bar I’ve been to in Ortigueira. Expecting to be any other night in the town, I was getting ready to head upstairs to my piso when a group of young guys walked in. One of them approached me and asked me if i was the English professor in town. I said yes. He offered to get me a drink but I declined.

He proceeded to get me a shot of something. I took this chance to finally make some friends and ran with it. I closed my ordenador and got up and ordered a drink. There were four guys and two girls, a middle-aged couple visiting from Madrid, and the bar owner Antonio (who everyone calls Cuchi) and his wife Carmen. After two rum and cokes, the bar was closing and I went upstairs.

After two quiet and lonely weeks here, there is hope of meeting people my age and a chance for my experience in a small town to change for the better.

I’m back to Que Faltaba this afternoon for their wifi.

First Five Days In Spain: A Coruna

October 1, 2011.

I’ve been in Spain for just over a week. I arrived on 9/23 and stayed at a hostel in A Coruna called La Alianza. The hostel a night was 20 euros – about $30 dollars a night. A small room, full bathroom and a shelf to place my things at night was my home for five days. I was lucky enough to have had my friend Pedro come visit me from Madrid and show me the ropes (He’s lived in Madrid before and he is back in Madrid doing the same Auxiliar Program I am doing in Ortigueira).

The first few days in A Coruna were the most beautiful and the most stressful. I had never seen the ocean and it was everything I imagined it would be. The waves, the wind, the rocks, the people, the sun, the breeze; It’s remarkable.

The people seem nice, overall even though Pedro and I got gay-bashed several times by men. I don’t know why. Is not like we wear skirts, or makeup or high heels. But it is what it is – it’s happened since time immemorial back home.

The prices are obviously higher than in the U.S. But if you look carefully you can find a bargain here and there. Pedro and I were not able to use the kitchen at the hostel so we were forced to eat out every day. There’s breakfast 8-10 am, there’s lunch (or “el almuerzo” or “la comida”) from 2-4pm., there’s “la merienda” 6-7pm., which is more or less a snack, and then dinner (“la cena”) from 8-10pm.

A Coruna is alive on the weekends. People walk everywhere, the bars (cervecerias) fill up with what I assume are locals, and you can find anyone from a young adolescent to an older couple having anything from yogurt or tapas to a glass of wine or “cana” (draft beer).

There were  two things that stood out to me immediately reaching A Coruna: the only advertisements I saw in the city were of Johnnie Walker liquor and Tommy Hilfiger clothing; and the side streets are all covered in graffiti. Not the murals we tend to find throughout Pilsen, in Chicago; graffiti of taggers vandalizing others’ property.

Regardless, I imagine it would have been fun having been placed in A Coruna to do my teaching.

I checked out of La Alianza on Wednesday the 28th of September and arrived in Santa Marta de Ortigueira later that afternoon.

Vale! Spain is Finally Happening

It’s 15 to midnight on September 21, 2011.

I’m sitting in a hospital room next to my dear mother as she sleeps peacefully. Sitting here for two weeks straight has been draining but I quickly got used to it. There is no where I would have rather been these last two weeks than here with her.

Tomorrow morning (September 22) I will be heading out on a great trip to Spain for a year. I will depart, leaving mumsy behind in the hospital. Although I struggled to be OK with it, I now find great solace knowing that when I’m on an airplane at 12 p.m. to my first layover in Washington D.C. she will be preparing to finally leave the hospital.

It has been a roller coaster of emotions the last 3 weeks. My initial flight was scheduled for September 12. A week before I could not control my excitement – packing and preparing for my going-away dinner party. There was going to be catering, a live band, party favors and every close friend and family member attending. The morning before the big day mumsy suffered a stoke; she had an aneurysm and then began hemorrhaging. Needless to say, everything was cancelled – from the music band to the flight to Spain.

Fast forward 2 weeks: I am hours away from my departure and I hope I am as calm as I am now (I fear getting emotional). I leave to Spain having mom’s blessing. She is recuperating well and she wants me to leave and follow through with my plans.