Kindergarden

To my online diary. First, the S key, doe not work well... see!

Hm. Well it is almost 6 on my first full day. I find myself laughing at myself sometimes, when I do not fully know what I get myself into. And then, I{m there, committed.

I like this. Im learning spanish and I will have enough spanish when I return to make choppy speech with people and understand choppily. Thats the goal, thats the plan, thats the course of action.

I woke early, with the question in my head, did I actually sleep? How many people were born on Monday the 7th of December, or is this many firecrackers normal?

Anyways, my day, was, as follows¨

my host mom put out a grey and banana gruel, as i am calling it. it was tasty, but weirdly gruel like. Coffee (which, I am not filled with negativity towards my family or this country) which tasted like lightly coffee flavored socks and two sweet crackers, which were super tasty in the sock coffee.

I got my prepacked backpack, and headed out the door in my pre layed out outfit. In the cool fog on a morning in the highlands, myself and enough car exhaust to knock out a cow (I´m not sure why I made that comparison) headed to school.

The first to arrive... like california, 8am doesn´t really mean 8am... it means 8:15. But, I wanted to be on time (unlike me). Anyways, I entered the school, got better coffee and tried to make friendss with the students who had been there longer than I. The students (an older quaker couple from Oregon) that were also new did not want to speak english that much (I don´t blame them) so they were off my list of friends to have outside school. I did however, proceed to realize that just south of them, in teh great sstate of California, a huge production of Xela bound people dwelled. It was my luck that they were bound for Xela the same time as me.

After the morning meetin and greetin I sat down to my first class. I felt like I was five... only minus those awesome fat crayons and the apple juice that I assocation with Mrs. Zanawick´s pm kindergarden class. My prof, Alberto, was cool. And I think that word describes our class and his chill demanor. I struggled with a desire for structure, for him to TEACH me in a sstructured, yet free and integrated and yes and creative way. No, Christine, you are learning a language, letter by letter and word by word without blocks, pictures and playdough (although I do have some).

Anyways, after class I went to lunch with my family. WOW meals can be akward when you really can´t respond or interact effectivly. Rice and peas and tortillas, and I was back out the door. I wandered the town for the first time, a description needed for a different time when my words, spanish or english have ripened a bit more into perfection for the colors, smells and sights (which, I must say... I have not given justice to those thing in Morocco, which are stronger and stranger than this). After not being able to find the suggested La Luna of Laura Reardon and every other visitor, I hurried back to school to watch the film Men with Guns in spanish.

The noise of the street made reading the subtitles my only option, but, honestly what with english being pretty forefront in my mind, I was coooool with that. It was a sad film, really sad... but interesting, telling and vivid. I left not really knowing how to feel or think about the story of a latin american country experiencing guerilla warfare and genocides and the discovery of a committed citizen doctor that all his students have been killed in the attempt to help. It was a lot, and I decided to leave the emotion in the room, and take the knowledge with me.

I started this entry and then headed home, in the dark... a warning I have been given repeatedly not to do... but, it seems I can´t heed them all. However, it was still early, and I know not to go out past 7 by myself... I´ve heard the stories from the students... enough to scare me into compliance.

A late dinner of a store bought tamales, yum, a bit of some movie I´ve seen in the states, but with terrible spanish dubbing, my forced ritual of my ´tile exercises´and i read myself to... yes... wow, a quiet sleep.

Day one of kindergarden. Success.