When you can't buy it... Make it!

While in Haiti, one of the souvenirs that you could buy (but I didn't due to lack of time) was a custom-made bracelet. They had pre-made "Haiti" ones, but you could also have them write your name or the date or what-have-you on the bracelet. I wanted to get one, but didn't. However, after inspecting a friend's, I figured it was something I could manage. And I was right! All you need is curved thick plastic (I used an almond butter container) and embroidery floss.

Here's the process:

1) Wash out empty almond butter container. Try to get as much of the label off as possible (it might show through), but any label fuzz or goo left on the plastic actually helps keep the floss in place.

3) Remove rim and bottom of container with scissors. (I actually broke a pair doing this so be careful - a razor blade would probably work better)

4) Cut container into strips around 1/2" wide. At the ends of the strips, cut small notches on either side to help hold the floss when you start and end wrapping.

5) Cut seven strands of your letter color and one strand of main color. The letter color strands should be able to wrap around your wrist twice and the main color should be 18" long.

6) Make a knot at one end of the strands and braid them together for 2". Finish with a knot.

7) Start wrapping the main color around the strip and the letter colors. Make sure the seven letter strands lie flat and close to one another. Secure the main color in the notches. Wrap five or six times with the main color before starting your letters.

8) When making letters, flip back the strands that will be needed for each vertical stripe of that letter. For the beginning of an "A," you would flip back all strands.

For the inside of an "A," you would flip back just the top and the fourth strands.

I did three wraps of the main color for the insides of letters, one wrap between each letter, and two wraps between words.

***IMPORTANT NOTE!!!*** Always wrap as tightly as possible and keep the letter strands as close as possible without overlapping or twisting.

9) After finishing your words, wrap with the main color the same number of times you wrapped it at the beginning of the strip. If there's extra uncovered plastic, cut it off, leaving enough space for notches.

10) Secure the main strand in the notches and tie a knot with all the strands.

11) Braid another 2" with all eight strands and finish with a knot.

Enjoy your new commemorative bracelet!

I Wanna Go Back . . .

sung to the tune of "Slinga de Ink"
- if you don't know it, go ask a Union College student/faculty/alumnus

I wanna go back to Haiti again, the island to the south.
Back to EGO once more, the mountains and the seaside shore.
I wanna go back to Haiti again, Annette's food in my mouth.
I wanna go back, I gotta go back, to Haiti again!

At Eden Garden, northwest of Port-au-Prince,
We play wit' orphans and live de Gospel Word.
At Eden Garden, northwest of Port-au-Prince,
We play wit' orphans and live de Gospel Word.

Play wit' orphans, play wit' orphans,
Live the Gospel, live de Gospel,
Play wit' orphans and live de Gospel Word!
At Eden Garden, northwest of Port-au-Prince
We play wit' orphans and live de Gospel Word!

Someday I'll Appreciate It

"Are you in grade 12?"

"Sorry, Ms. Giem, I thought you were a student."

"You can drive?!?!"

Good, good, my life is good. Just the way I like it; my life is good.

And the 1st through the 31st were the first month . . . and Joni saw that it was good.*

And the Lord spoke unto Joni and said, “This month shall be unto you the continuing of months: it shall be the second month of the first year in Mississippi.”

The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want.
He makes me to rise at 6am:
He prompts me to go running at night.
He keeps me sane:
He reminds me to maintain my heavenly connection for my soul’s sake.
Yea though my students take tests, I shall not fear:
For extra study and review are with them, their books and papers guide them.
He prepares a table for me in the cafeteria:
But I can eat in my room if I want; I have a toaster oven.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me while in Mississippi
And I will not live in the dorm forever.

Then said Joni, “O my Lord, what shall my permanent plans be?” And He said, “Go thy way, Joni; for those plans are closed up and sealed till the time of hiring in spring. . . . Blessed is she that waits and comes to the hundred and three days. But go your way till graduation. For you shall teach, and stand at the front until the end of the days.”

Go ye therefore on Spring Break, and preach to all Haitians, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost; playing with the orphans and doing construction and clinics: and lo, I am with you always, even unto the island of Hispaniola.


* (see Gen 1:31; Ex 12:2; Ps 23; Dan 12:8,9,12,13; Mt 28:19,20)

Déjà Vu

I’m playing in an academy bell choir again.
I’m looking for a spot in the café again.
I’m dealing with dorm noises again.
I’m checking school e-mail again.
I’m playing in an academy band again.
I’m stocking a dorm fridge again.
I’m going to vespers again.

But I’m doing it all from the other side of the desk. :)

Firsts

“First day of school! First day of school! First day of school!” The enthusiastic words of Nemo jumping through my head prevented me from sleeping just as they did Marlin. Sighing, I glanced at the clock. 11:53pm. Apparently my sleeping habits didn’t have as much to fear from noisy teenage girls across the hall as much as they did from my overactive brain.

What would the students be like?
How many students would I have?
Would I like them?
Would they respect me?
Would I oversleep and be late on the first day of school?

Speaking of firsts, let me list them all:

First time to hear a tornado siren while driving.
First day of 2011.
First time to attend church on New Year’s Day with the A/C on.
First “real” teaching job.
First Mississippi caf food.
First set of classroom keys.
First office.
First time locking myself OUT of my classroom.
First faculty meeting.

Last words from a student as he left my first class of the morning:
"You’re a good teacher.”

Inspiration

Inspiration comes in all forms. For me, it comes in the form of an ugly, 70's-inspired, Red Heart acrylic, well-used, and well-loved afghan.

Although my mom will argue that it's not "ugly" due to her love of all colors autumnal, it's hard to deny that a orange, gold, yellow, and green zig zag afghan is not that pretty. However, this afghan is one of those items that makes home what it is. Given to my parents as a wedding present from a group of elderly ladies at the St. Louis Central Church, this afghan has been through a lot.

It kept sick kids warm as they huddled on the couch with a large mixing bowl for company.

It ended up in a snow drift one night after Dad unceremoniously dumped Jacque over the porch railing outside after she stole his spot on the couch.

Kids snuggled under it as they listened to familiar Uncle Arthur's stories at worship.

It probably has fruit stains on it somewhere from when I would stretch out and read a book, accompanied by a bowl of frozen blueberries or apples.

In short, this afghan represents what every home should have - comfort, humor, and love.

Thus, I have taken it upon myself to create "ugly" afghans for my friends as wedding presents. After dealing with two indecisive sisters regarding desired colors, these afghans are now done in their respective wedding colors. Although only two have been finished by the actual wedding date, so far eight afghans have come from my hook with another one currently in progress. I guess my sappy self dreams that, with an ugly afghan, a home is complete and will be filled with all that it has brought for me - comfort, humor, and love.

How many digits can you name?

March 14 was Pi Day, and as such, I decided that it would be appropriate for me to bake a pie. Armed with my mom's copy of Joy of Cooking (must buy me a copy of that some day) and a quart of her frozen raspberries from last summer, I tackled the project. I also included one mango for some extra jazz. It turned out rather nice, don't you think?



I managed to make it back to Union with another quart of raspberries, although they have a different form. While they started out frozen in Idaho, due to an unexpected overnight layover in Denver and a Double Tree hotel with no fridge or freezer, it was a somewhat dubious TSA agent that let me through security Monday morning with a rather juicy bag of raspberries. And I quote: "They're so liquidy...."

Idaho

Although United's handling of their flights does not fall into this category, many items fill the list of reasons why I love Idaho. As I fill in the hours waiting for my flight, permit me to list a few of those here (in no particular order) as noted during Spring Break.

1) The Boise airport offers free wifi courtesy of University of Idaho; this is particularly nice as it allows me to write posts and amuse myself while waiting for late flights.

2) My parents live here. Although my week wasn't chock full of activities and goings-on, it was still nice to chill at home with the parents, knowing that all was right in my corner of the world.

3) Where else does a state trooper pass you on the freeway, on the right, when you yourself are already over the speed limit? Enough said.

4) The first official day of spring actually FEELS like spring, which is more than I can say for the "lovely" state of Nebraska where it snowed Saturday.

5) Somewhat related to the previous item, a person can take a blanket, a couple pillows, and a good book outside to the backyard in March and relax all afternoon without fear of frostbite, soggy grass, or snowmen-not that I'm normally afraid of snowmen, it just kinda typed itself. :)

6) Although I didn't have the funds to do it myself, Idaho presents the opportunity of skiing or snowboarding during Spring Break.

7) Small churches are established here where they don't mind if two slightly out-of-tune clarinets and one French horn stumble through the hymns Sabbath morning during congregational singing. Also, the greeter (whose name I didn't know) remembered me from Christmas and asked if I had brought my flute along (sadly I had forgotten this Sabbath).

8) Cheap, two-dollar theater still exist instead of being torn down to provide more parking space.

9) Boise is home to the Northwest's most challenging half-marathon: Race to Robie Creek.

10) Residents have multiple reasons to own four-wheel drive pickup trucks.

11) On my flight in, I sat next to the chief-of-staff for Senator Risch, who not only chatted politely with me about my future plans, but also expressed genuine interest in my knitting and asked me to show him, slowly, how I do it.

And eleven seems like a good number to end with; after all, it's prime.

I Know an Old Lady...

Here's a little ditty written during Abstract Algebra. Even us math majors become bored at times. The meter might be a tad off at times, but I think it still works.

I know an old lady who took MATH 351.
I don't know why she took MATH 351, perhaps for fun.

I know an old lady who tried some proofs
That mocked and sneered and made her feel like a doof.
She did some proofs because she took MATH 351.
I don't know why she took MATH 351, perhaps for fun.

I know an old lady who blew a fuse.
She blew a fuse? Yep, 'cause she was confused.
She blew a fuse because she did some proofs
That mocked and sneered and made her feel like a doof.
She did some proofs because she took MATH 351.
I don't know why she took MATH 351, perhaps for fun.

... or a Woman

Here's a poem brought to my attention by today's Sabbath School lesson on self-control. Me thinks I like it.

If by Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on";

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run -
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!

Good Things Come in Threes

The Knitting Olympics were successful! Although I'm not sure that I quite followed the rules on "challenging enough," I did indeed finish my scarf within the time-limits. Admist pressure to instead work on my senior education portfolio due the next day, I finished the last eight inches of the scarf and cast off on sunday afternoon. The second half of Prairie Home Companion and Thistle and Shamrock accompanied me as my fingers flurried to the finish. I would have preferred to finish while watching the USA/Canada hockey game, but alas, we do not have a TV in the apartment and Jenne never got me her cable info.



The scarf measures in around five feet long and used approximately half a skein of cream while barely denting the skeins of the six colors used for cables. Although it wasn't quite the challenge I expected to do color cables, it was a challenge to finish during the two weeks of the Olympics. Having a portfolio due the next day as well as the project not being transportable with me to the Student Center to watch said Olympics greatly reduced the amount of time available to work on the scarf. So do cooking up yumminess like this red curry:



Recipe is a knock-off of a friends; basically I can't quite remember how she made hers, but mine tastes yummy and that's what truly matters, right? Ingredients are as follows:

1 onion
3 cloves garlic
2 cans diced tomatoes
to taste:
curry powder
coriander
cumin
tumeric
salt

And just what does this yumminess fuel? Well, it fuels my feet as I run in what I now dub my new best friends.



And I'm taking it as a good omen that after my first run in my brand, spankin' new shoes that the distance registered on the treadmill was 3.14 miles. :D

Day 1 aka Day 3

Sadly, I wasn't able to cast on for my cast during the opening ceremonies. However, I did cast on while watching the opening ceremonies two days later.


Here's the first inch of my Persephone scarf. Figuring out how to work the color changes was a bit fiddly at first but now I'm cruising along. Although I haven't taken any more pictures since Sunday, I now have about a foot of scarf. Here's the back of the scarf as well as the pretty line up of yarn skeins. Since I'm a poor college student, I'm using I Love that Yarn from HobbyLobby.



Let's see if I can stay focused...

Running, Knitting, Baking: A Kaleidoscope of Verbs

Although I hate coming upon blogs that begin with these words, here they are anyway: "It's been a long time..."

I have decided to give the blog another try, but this time with a new direction. The blog was originally created with the intent of documenting my travels throughout Spain and Europe during my year of studying abroad. Now I'm back at Union College in NE and finishing up my college career. In an attempt to keep myself accountable, I intend on keeping track of my progress in the following three areas: running, knitting, and baking. Here's why:

1) Running: I've decided that I'm going to take on the challenge of competing in Lincoln's half-marathon on May 1. Even if no one reads this blog, I hope to keep track of hope much I run each week between now and then right here.

2) Knitting: I've also recently decided to join up with the Knitting Olympics, both the Harlot-sponsored ones and the Ravelympics (via Team uKNITversity). This blog will be a great spot to keep track of my progress and see how it all turns out. I'll be casting on tomorrow night during the opening ceremonies for a multi-colored cabled scarf based on the pattern from Smariek's Persephone Mitts.

3) Baking (and cooking too I suppose): I've been experimenting in the kitchen recently (I'm starting to get sick of that word), and I've decided that I should share the yumminess with whoever might happen to drop by. So I'll be posting pictures and commentary regarding how recipes do, or don't, turn out.

Here's to diverse verbage! :)

Those Crazy Spaniards . . .

Among the words that I will never forget after my year in Spain (which include "¡bandejas!" and "¡vamos chicos!") are the words "¡Valencia en Fallas!" These words belong to Valencia's biggest fiesta and are the beginning of the chorus to a song with the same title. What are "Las Fallas"? Bascially, an excuse to stay up late and light firecrackers and burn things. Yay! A pyromaniac's paradise! Seriously though, las Fallas technically start March 1 although there's preparations for them all year long. A "falla" itself is actually a wood/cardboard/wax/paper construction that can be up to 3-4 stories tall that they burn the night of the 19th. The fallas normally poke fun at different politicians and controversial events. The only person that they can't make fun of is the king. Oh, and there are Fallas Infantiles (little ones normally kid-friendly) and Fallas Mayores (bigger ones that can be x-rated). Every afternoon at 2pm there's a "mascleta," which is a 5-10 minute fireworks show with the objective of making the most noise possible.

It gets so loud towards the end that it's deafening even with your ears plugged and you feel like you're in the middle of WWII.

The school took us to one on March 4 and I took a short video before I couldn't stand not covering my ears anymore. I know it doesn't sound that loud over the computer, but trust me, it was crazy. After that, we went to the Ninot Exposition. This is where each fallero group picks one of their ninots (dolls/statues) from their falla that they think is emblematic of their falla and enter it in a competition. After the competition, the winning Ninot Infantil and the winning Ninot Mayor are kept aside to save in a museum and all the rest are put out with their falla to be burned later. Yep, all that work every year and EVERYTHING gets burned except for two small statues such as these

My next event to experience with las Fallas was a free, outdoor concert in a city park Saturday night the 15th. I'd never heard of the artist before but Cristian and his friends had invited me along, so heck, why not?

The opening acts were crum but the main band, M-CLAN was actually pretty good. My only problem with them was they played "Maggie May" by Rod Stewart and it drove me nuts that they were singing it in Spanish because then I couldn't sing along in Spanish (since I obviously don't know the Spanish lyrics) nor could I sing along in English because the Spanish input was driving all memory of English lyrics out of my head. Great music but just a little bit frustrating, but I still had a great time. After that, was a fireworks show and then we all wandered around the streets meeting up with different random people and looking at fallas.

Cristian, Jennifer (friend of Elias that had been in Spain that summer and now is studying in Italy), and I crashed at Elias and his brother's apartment around 4am and then got up at noon the next day to go into Valencia again for more. After the mascleta, I decided to go back to the school for some much needed rest since I'm not used to the whole Fallas schedule like all the Spaniards.

Tuesday evening I headed back in with Sasha, another ACA student here, and we watched the Ofrenda de Flores and took many pictures of pretty costumes and cute kids and the monument to the Virgen.

I liked the Fallas' Virgen better than the Virgen de Pilar in Zaragoza because the flower-covered structure actually ended up looking like a woman at the end and had the correct dimensions.

Then we went and sat in Starbucks reading (Sasha) and people-watching (me) for a couple hours before it was time to head off to fight our way through the crowds to get a good spot to watch the Nit de Foc (Valenciano for "Noche de Fuego" [castellano] or "Night of Fire" [english]). It all went well until we tried to get around a corner. Then we were squished beyond belief in what I thought was the worst manner possible until I experienced worse the next night. But we made it through and sat ourselves down in the street to wait for the show.

While waiting we alternately chatted with some French girls in Valencia studying Spanish and a middle-aged man that practiced his English with us while we practiced our Spanish with him. Yay for random conversations! And then there were the fireworks. I had already seen one of the fallas' "castellos" (what they call fireworks in Valenciano) the night of the concert and since we had been a ways away (think 3-5 second delay on the sound of the bangs) and it had been so long that I had started to get a little bored, I was a tiny bit skeptical about this show. But it did NOT disappoint.

I have never seen such good fireworks in my life. It's like New Year's Eve, the Fourth of July, and the end of the world all rolled into one. We were just one bridge down from where they were setting them off and it felt like we were directly underneath them.

The show went for about 14 minutes or so and it seemed as if there were four or five different fireworks shows all rolled into one, each with their own finale. And the actual finale itself had to have lasted for 4 minutes solid. Absolutely amazing. I will never be satisfied with another show.

Unless of course I get to come back to Spain for las Fallas sometime. Keeping the fingers crossed. Right after the fireworks show ended, Sasha and I muscled our way back around the corner, got called "chicas agresivas," and ran our way back to the train station to catch the last train back to Sagunto.

Oh, one other fun point to the show. You know how in the States they'll start the fireworks as soon as it's dark so that you can get the kiddies to bed at a decent hour, 10ish or so? Well, the Valencians have a different perspective. The fireworks didn't START until 1:30am. Woohoo! Which is why we were worried about catching our 2:20am train. But we made it just fine. The next day was spent sleeping really late and then we headed back into Valencia at 7pm for "la Crema" or more descriptively put, the pyromaniacs' paradise.

We wandered around the streets looking at fallas and shopping in the street markets until 10pm when we got to see our first falla burn. Even for a little falla, it still made quite the bonfire.

Afterwards there was more wandering during which we sampled "bunyoles" (a donut that's kinda like a churro)

and looked at other fallas, such as the 2nd place one (my favorite),

until around midnight when we watched a falla mayor burn. This one was a little hotter than expected and it was great fun to watch the crowds try to push their way back.

Here's the burning schedule more or less: fallas infantiles: 10pm, first place and the town plaza one: 11pm; fallas mayores: 12am, first place and the town plaza one: 1am. Yay for staying up late! Then it was push and shove and be carried by the crowd as we tried to situate ourselves in a good spot to watch the falla from the town plaza burn.

At one point we stayed in the same spot for a good 10-15 minutes without being able to move. Completely dangerous as you never know who's going to elbow you or throw up near you (yep, that happened to me . . . stupid drunk got a speck of it on my sleeve, too, grrrr). I don't know how the really short ones survived.

After being shoved and pushed for more than 45 minutes and doing some shoving and pushing of our own, Chris, Shaun, Sasha, Brittany, and I landed ourselves in a decent viewing spot where some Basque guys promptly started to hit on Sasha after Chris' yells of exuberance for las Fallas had alerted them to the fact that we were Americans. Quite funny actually to listen to them offer us (and specifically Sasha) a place to stay at their apartment that night. Unfortunately they were smoking pot and second-hand pot is NOT a favorite of mine. But the falla from the plaza did not disappoint and it was great to watch it burn while they set off another mascleta-type fireworks show from the plaza at the same time.

Once again, the Spaniards come up with some crazy ways to have fun but it's amazing!!! And basically I would love to come back to Spain every year after this for las Fallas. And then stay another week down in Andalucia for Semana Santa. Why Andalucia? Because we went there after las Fallas on a 9-day school trip there and it was b-e-a-utiful. Tell you about that next time. Chau chau!

The Land of the Dutch!!

I'd have to say that one of my favorite parts of being in Europe and getting to travel is visiting the countries that I KNOW I have ancestors from. Being in Germany brought out the German roots just a little more (along with being mistaken for a German in Rome) and being in Holland had almost the exact same effect. The only problem was that I wasn't able to visit the Dutch cousins due to some technical difficulties. But next time! Next time I will find them. Our visit started with a train ride from Eindhoven up to Groningen.

Why were we visiting the virtually unheard-of city of Groningen? (Which, by the way, is pronouced with a hawkingish h-sound at the beginning) Well, that would be because Southern Adventist University was doing an orchestra tour through Belgium and Holland and their concerts in Groningen were the ones that Brittany and I could make it to. And we wanted to see Emily.

And even that was pushing it a little as we were skipping a Friday of classes the weekend before quarter finals. But no worries. I'm pretty sure we both did fine on our tests afterwards. Anywho, back to Holland. We made it safely into Groningen, despite missing one train connection. We just took the next train headed in the same direction and all was fine. After lunch in the train station, we decided that it was time to find the church for the performance that night, before wandering around Groningen, taking in the sights. It was at this point that I realized that I had not remembered to print out directions to the church. Nor did I remember the name of the church. But no worries, we would just find an internet cafe, log onto Myspace, reread e-mails, and Google the place. No problem right? Well, we found an internet cafe and it was even free! But they had Myspace blocked. At this point, it was my random memory skills that remember things like it originally took 27 hours to hand-make a peep (those nasty Easter candies) that allowed me to remember that the name of the church was something along the lines of "Martinkerk." Google helped me to realize that it was actually spelled "Martinikerk" and after checking out their webpage, we confirmed that yes, there was a performance by SAU that night at the church. Score!

So we went our merry little way off into the drizzle to experience Holland. Our first realization was just how much the Dutch use their bikes. Oh my goodness. Death by bike is actually a legitimate worry in Holland. There are so many bikes and you're more likely to see a parking garage like this than parking space for cars.

Unfortunately for us, it was not tulip season yet, the other famous Dutch characteristic. However, the daffodils and crocuses were blooming so we still got flowers.

There were also the canals, of course.

And also, by some magic streak of luck, as we were walking around Martinikerk, getting pictures from all sides, we stumbled across what were probably the only four blooming tulips in all of Holland. Right there, just clumped together for us. Made me happy, it did.

The reunion with Emily was great, the concert was amazing,

the organ stellar, the skull head sticker in the heat vent disconcerting,

the coffee in the department store yummy, and the all around atmosphere that first night great. Brittany and I had booked a room in the same hostel as the orchestra so we just became groupies for the trip and rode with them back to Sneek (pronounced "snake") for the night. There, we talked till 1am or so before going to bed. The next day included a concert for the worship service at the SDA church in Groningen and a soup and sandwich potluck afterwards.

Another great Dutch experience in which we met a little old lady who actually had heard of Idaho, and even Boise since she had relatives there and also got to taste a fake ham that's better than Wham. It was also the first time that in the name of providing translation services I saw TWO headphone splitters used on the same device.

Afterwards, the orchestra packed up again and drove down to the Amsterdam Marriot airport hotel. There, Brittany and I (with permission from the orchestra director) snuck into Emily's room with the intentions of sleeping on the floor. Since Southern was leaving the next morning at 4:45 for the airport, the only logical thing for the three of us to do was party till all hours of the night.

We started off by taking the fast public bus to Haarlem where we saw Corrie Ten Boom's house,

a cheese shop (that unfortunately closed 10 minutes before we got there - no Spanish schedule here folks!),

bought Stroopwafels, and had coffee (with a "k"!) in a restaurant before heading back to the hotel.

Then we headed down to the lobby to talk rather than disturb Emily's three roommates. But we only were there a little while before management kicked us out since I was lounging on their sofas in pajama pants. Oops. So we trekked up to 10th floor and parked ourselves on the floor of the elevator lobby by some chairs where we figured no one else would bother us. And no one else in the form of humans did. However, as we were preparing to head back down to sleep (at 1am of course - Emily could sleep on the plane), when the elevator doors opened, out came a little dog, all by himself.

I still cannot think of a good explanation on how that dog got into the elevator all by himself. However, we picked him up, went down to grab a camera, took some pictures, named him "Brinker," and then delivered him down to the front desk where we relieved a rather worried desk worker.

Then it was off to bed. Sunday morning Brittany and I crawled into bed after the Southern girls and Emily left before actually getting up around 8am. Then it was a never-ending journey by public transport back to Spain. It went like this: public bus, another bus, tram, walk around Amsterdam in the rain for 30 minutes,

train, bus, plane, metro, train, and walk back to the school in the dark. Yay for public transportation!! And that was Holland folks. Here's a foggy/rainy picture of a windmill to round out the Dutch experience.


Oh and the fuzzy slippers at the airport that I really wanted to buy but couldn't cause they were too expensive (stupid euro).