Two down, two to go. Tomorrow I'm starting two new lessons with 7th and 8th. In 7th, we're going to make realistic food sculptures from clay and in 8th we're doing super heroes and villains in plasticine and plaster. Both are a bit crafty but hey, the food is going to make a great display, and I know the boys in my 8th grade are going to go nuts with the action figure thing. Plus, the 8th grade is the only grade that totally loves me, so they get the fun lessons for being cool.

9th is getting Expressionism because I hate them (not really) and because my co-op loves Expressionism. 10th grade is getting Conceptual art because they're the only ones that can handle it, I hope. I'll post some pictures from their (FINALLY) completed postcard project as soon as I can. In the meantime, here is them working on it!

And this is the paper we made with 8th grade. The glitter was not my idea, trust me.

8th grade boy.

8th grade girl. Isn't puberty great?

It's been a rough week, and as I said, we're being observed tomorrow so no big trip this weekend. Instead Friday night we went to Casco Viejo to finally reunite with Adorta (I've been spelling it wrong) and Ashu. We hung out for the hostel and then went out to a bar and a really cool nightclub. I'm irritated we've found it so late in the game. It's when things like that happen, and we go, "Oh! We have to come back!" and then realize we only have two more weekends left. Two months seemed like so much time about a month ago. Now all of a sudden, I'm halfway through my time here and it's not enough.

Regardless, Adorta was souped to play Kings again, here is everyone playing with some even stranger rules.

Lord only knows.

Saturday we wrote lessons and then went to a city called Vitoria, because it seemed like a good idea. Naturally, it was not. Our approach to sightseeing has been based on which city has the biggest Wikipedia page, and a tourist website in English. Vitoria had both, it seemed promising. So we hopped on a bus and 40 minutes later, the bus stops and we think it must be the first stop because there is no way this boring city is Vitoria! Alas, it was. Nothing to do there except go to El Corte Ingles, which is this massive department store that resembles Target and Macy's Spanish lovechild, on steroids.

Luckily we stumbled upon Vitoria's only claim to fame, Artium, a fabulous contemporary art museum, which had both the weirdest and the best exhibitions ever. There was a whole gallery of this Basque painter, José Luis Zumeta, that pretty much convinced me that painting is cool again, at least around here.

Gernika, part II

There was also a massive show by a Guatemalan artist named Regina José Galindo, and we happened to be there opening night. It was very unsettling but very well done. She's hard to explain, but her work is about the body, torture, abuse, exploitation, etc. Check it out if you have some time and a strong stomach: http://www.reginajosegalindo.com/es/index.htm

Sunday was more successful, though equally uneventful. After our disappointing adventure to Vitoria, we apprehensively boarded a train to Bermeo, another "Excellent tourist destination! Not to miss!" Except this one had actually been recommended to us by another teacher. The hour trip was through the absolute, middle of nowhere farmlands of the Basque country. At every stop, Dana and I would look at each other and say, "If this is Bermeo, I'm staying on the train."

TripAdvisor recommended sitting on the right hand of the train for some lovely views, which consisted of mostly chickens and weird shanty towns in the middle of farms.

Empty train = Bad omen.

Beautiful landscape, please don't be Bermeo!

There's the beach!! All the way in the back!!

Bermeo was actually pretty poppin', especially for a Sunday afternoon. And it was absolutely stunning. I think I was the calmest I've been this entire trip, standing on the Old Port and listening to the waves, not feeling the freezing wind on my numb face.

This miserable overcast happened about five minutes later.

That was about all there was to do there. The main tourist destination, a chapel and island called San Juan de Gaztelugatxe, was closed, of course. We went to a few bars, which were filled with old people. All of the old Basque men wear berets and it is just adorable. But we were the only dweebs under 55 going from bar to bar, having a glass of wine and pintxo at each. The pintxo lifestyle is challenging in that one pintxo is never enough food, and I never have a clue as to what is in them. My strategy is looking for anything not covered in bacon-ish ham that has been peeled off of the aforementioned leg on the counter. This usually means I get a tortilla (AGAIN) by pointing and saying, "Uno de este!" Otherwise, it's a Russian roulette that occasionally ends in with a liver sandwich. Today I ended up with a mussel somehow that was actually delicious and fish that was probably bacalao, also very satisfying. 

Then, the arctic climate reared its ugly head yet again. It actually began to hail, which was shocking considering we were told it didn't even snow here even though it was only zero degrees Celsius (only!). And we are talking vicious, icy pebbles of doom that persuaded all of the bars to close. 

Are you bored yet? We were. So we left, and stopped by our real Bilbao family's house to deliver some baked goods (their (grand)father passed last week). They are just so incredibly welcoming and wonderful, all of the time. We've made plans to make cookies, visit Gernika, and watch "Waiting for Superman," together, because Edurne is researching implementing standards in the Spanish public school system. Evidently, they have none, and she was full of questions regarding NCLB. I'll expound upon this subject later, because it's almost one here and I have 40% of my student teaching grade being determined tomorrow.

This is a lie, we actually only get internet connection in the doorway.

Adios!