friendship fusion

Brett had a birthday recently.
(you know Brett, right? - - part of our Christian community - - doctoral student in a local Spanish university?)
Brett runs in a cool, university crowd - - these architecture students spend their birthdays weaving through the labyrinth of Pamplona's old town streets - - picking out their favorite pinchos at every bar along the way, a different friend taking turns paying for the selection of food and drinks . . .

we run in a different sort of crowd.
we run in the "make a birthday cake and invite some friends over to play some silly games and then relight the candle three times so that we can sing happy birthday in English, Spanish, and Euskera (it keeps the kids happy and refines their language skills, you know?)" sort of crowd

Brett invited us along to his birthday celebration anyways (partying differences be darned!), because we're his church family, and he believes that neither he, nor we, (nor you for that matter) should compartmentalize our friendships and gatherings into "Christian" and "other".
we agree with Brett - - and he's our family; and so, with this kind, purposeful invitation, out we went, at 9pm with our three sweet ones in tow - - toys and snacks packed in the stroller,

and ate good food
and met and re-met some of Brett's friends (some who now, in fact qualify as our friends)
and had some good conversations - - some trivial, some significant
and were glad that Brett had invited us
and glad that we had said yes
We made it home by 2 am - - very early by Spanish standards.
(we're kind of new at this)

(mullet - - bottom right corner)

Pamplona rocks the mullets.
it's true.
we giggled a lot about it when we first got here, but, quite honestly, over the years we stopped noticing. In fact, I -- the Smith family hairdresser -- have plenty to do around the house and am quite willing to overlook my boy's hair as it starts growing over their collars. ("when in spain . . . . " if you know what I'm saying . . . )

So when my brother Noah came to visit this summer, his fresh eyes reminded us of the startling quantity, quality, and variety of mullets in Pamplona; and we all had a good chuckle at the expense of Pamplona's hair tendencies.

Malachai approached me today - - concerned that he had a mullet (indeed he did)
I snipped that bad boy off in a heartbeat
Thanks, Noah, for keeping us in the know about appropriate fashion across the great blue sea.
p.s. what about temporary tattoos? are those cool or not, because Malachai got one, and he said that he thought that you would say "I liiiiike that"

out and about

we have been having some interesting dialogue lately with a priest studying at a seminary here in Pamplona. Yesterday he invited our family out on an excursion - - a favorite Spanish activity which usually involves getting into your car and driving for a while, finding a field, or a castle, or an old pueblo (which exist in abundance around these parts), walking around for a few hours, then finding a local family friendly bar in which to drink a cafe con leche or each some pinchos and to talk for a couple more hours before you head back to your car and drive back home.
The way our excursion fate would have it, we ended up at the ancient city of SOS (the birthplace of Spain's famous king Ferdinand) where we were actually delighted to find ourselves in the middle of this pueblo's yearly fiesta (you know the running of the bulls festival that Pamplona is so well known for? well, that is Pamplona's fiesta; pretty much every city or pueblo here in Spain has their own - - not all as ellaborate or as famous as Pamplona's, but crucial to the pueblos' existence nonetheless)and so we were treated to the locals dressed in Renaissance garb, banners hanging from the terraces, a reenactment of the queen giving birth to sweet baby Ferdinand, and, of course - - the pueblo's beloved (and just a little bit creepy) gigantes parading through the narrow, cobblestone streets, stopping in the larger plazas to dance to the music of the musicians playing ancient, typical instruments;and after all the parading we went (along with most of the other paraders, it seemed) in search of an empty table to sit and sip a hot coffee. we did find a table, and had some more good conversation - - when we weren't dragging Selma and Josu away from the glowing lights of the gambling machines.
and then we got in our car and drove home. excursion complete.

wash day (has to be pretty much every day in Spain)

the average load capacity of a Spanish washing machine is (in my humble volume evaluating opinion) about half of the average load capacity of a typical American washing machine.
this used to drive me a bit mad. but really, it all makes sense
this is how I see it all fitting together:
Spanish living spaces are small
the typical installation point for a washing machine is in the kitchen. the kitchens are small.
people just. don't. own. dryers. (I'll reserve my thoughts on that for my exciting "drying clothes in Spain" blog entry - - yer excited, aren't you?)
the most common location for your laundry line is on the teeny tiny porch just off your kitchen
there isn't much space on your tiny line (on your tiny porch) to hang many clothes
so really, it wouldn't make sense to be able to wash a large load anyway.

I didn't understand a word they were saying, but boy were they cute!

Joshua and Rachel were reviewing the vocabulary from their Euskera class over lunch today.
wait.
there is something you need to know . . . when we moved to Pamplona 6, almost 7 years ago we had no clue how heavily influenced the city was by its Basque heritage. So recently, in an attempt to understand our city (and our neighbors) just a little bit better, Joshua and Rachel have nobly signed themselves up for Euskera classes.
right, so, I was saying . . .

Brave Rachel reviewing Euskera vocabulary.
Dreamy Joshua reviewing vocabulary (oh baby, he makes my heart flutter when he speaks in a different language!).

Well, as I sat and chewed happily on my rice and lentils (it's what we've been eating around here in between thanksgiving leftovers) and listened to the super cool, culturally adept Joshua and Rachel hashing out their Euskera, Malachai piped in with some helpful Euskera suggestions.
and I was so proud of them.
then Josu started singing the days of the week song.
in Euskera.
cute kid.
and then Selma gave a little Euskera baby babble. I'm sure that it was just like the little Basque babies do it.
sigh. I love my family.

on becoming Spanish

remember this?
this bonnet (along with its matching sweater) was one of the treats we pulled out of the bag.
look at my little Spanish baby girl!

on becoming Spanish

Four years ago, when I was pregnant with Malachai, I signed up for birthing classes because - - well, I'm not really sure why - - that's what pregnant ladies are supposed to do, right? besides, I figured I would meet a few pregnant ladies along the way, and that's always nice (they are a pleasant lot to be around!) So in this class, along with meeting other pregnant women, I spent many hours absorbing all sorts of really wonderful, helpful birthing tips (things like - - "breathe out as if you are blowing out a candle" - - I think), but to tell you the truth, what has stuck with me most clearly over the years is this:

"if you are having a baby girl, MAKE SURE to bring the earrings with you when you come in for your labor and delivery, so that the doctors can pierce her ears before you are discharged"

so look what we bought today
they were a wee bit more than I had purposed to spend (oh, but did like them more than the solid gold balls!), and then Joshua, my ever prudent and money savvy husband gently encouraged me to pick the ones I liked most. sweet Joshua.