Student: "Miss Wahlstrom, I had the best breakfast this morning. You were right...breakfast really does make a difference."
Me: "Oh, really? What did you have?"
Student: "Chicken Flakes, an orange, toast, milk, and yogurt."
Me: Long pause..."Chicken Flakes?"
Student: "Yeah...they're really good."
Me: "What exactly are Chicken Flakes?"
Student: "It's cereal...you know...with a chicken on the box."
Me: "You mean.. Corn Flakes?"
Student: "Yeah, that's it...Corn Flakes. So...why do they have a chicken on the box?"
Me: "Good question."
I love my students. :)
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Sunday, May 15, 2011
The Journey to the Center of Portugal... :)
Yesterday was quite possibly the second longest day of my life. (The first one being the day I left to come to Portugal.)
I went on my first "Passeio" with my church. Anytime I've gone to an activity with my church, I've had to mentally prepare myself to just relax and plan to have no plan. This is partially because things just move at a different pace, but it's also because I don't always understand the plan even if they explain it.
We arrived at the church at 8:00 in the morning and loaded the bus up. Somehow, Laura and I found ourselves surrounded by all the children on the bus. This seemed like a good idea at the beginning...
About thirty minutes into the bus ride, it was announced that we would be stopping for a coffee. :) It was then that I realized once again how much I love this culture. We all hopped off the bus, walked into the rest stop/cafe, drank the coffee and got back on the bus to once again "start" the trip. During the drive, someone broke out a guitar and everyone began singing praise and worship songs in Portuguese. That's when the children around us began to realize we do not, in fact, speak Portuguese...or understand everything said. Two African boys began to watch us trying to sing along, started laughing, and then proceeded to spend the rest of the trip taking pictures of Laura and me. I'm pretty sure they have about 100 photos of us... at least.
We finally arrived at our first part of the journey (which for the record I thought was the only part to the journey). We stepped out of the bus and walked to the "exact center of Portugal." It's called "Ground Zero." We saw it, and then...as with any trip...I needed to the use the restroom. Now, as an American, I'm used to just taking care of myself...apparently, this trip was planned as a "group" event... and that somehow didn't get communicated to me. I walked off into the building to use the restroom. While I was waiting in line (because it doesn't matter where in the world you are, there will always be a line for the women's restroom), apparently the church thought we were lost. They were looking everywhere for us (which I don't really understand because it was a very small place...the only place we could have gone was rolling off the side of a cliff...which perhaps is where they were looking). When I finally stepped out of the restroom, I heard, "There she is!" in Portuguese. Mistake number one of the day. Lesson learned: Don't wander off without the group...even if you feel like you may pee your pants.
After we finished our time there, we loaded back into the bus. Once we were in, my pastor precedes to say, "Are we missing anyone? Are all the children here? Are the Americans here?" Laura and I about died. All TWO of the Americans were indeed on the bus... :) We realized then that we were about equivalent to the children...at least in their minds. Which, I do understand...that's about how we communicate and how much we understand.
We arrived at the next spot to have our lunch. As Laura and I pulled out our PB&J sandwiches, I watched in amazement as the older woman next to me reached into her purse and began pulling out a tablecloth. She set her section of the table with her china that was also mysteriously able to fit in her purse. Just when I thought surely nothing else could possibly come out of the bag, she proceeded to pull out a cooking pot full of meat she had made that morning. I felt in some way that my childhood dream of meeting Mary Poppins was finally a reality... and almost asked her if she had anything else in that bag... like a lamp. :)
Once we finished lunch, we realized we would have to wait a solid two hours to take a boat to a castle on an island. We stood. We sat. We walked. We perspired. We laughed. We tried to converse. We waited.
As the twenty-five people from church stood on the deck watching the boat finally arrive, I realized...I'm so ridiculously American. As I watched the sad-looking boat sag its way toward the dock, I thought, "I'm not stepping foot in that thing if they think we're all going to squeeze into that in one trip. No way. I'll see the castle from here, thank you very much." Thankfully, we did it in two trips. And as I was still having doubts about the safety of the boat, one of the guys from my church leans over and says, "Oh stop being so American and just get in the boat." :)
When we finished that part of the trip, I figured we would be on our way back home. Somehow, I had missed that we were going to another city after this as well. We walked around the city, went into a beautiful church where I'm pretty sure I, once again, upset some people (the workers of the church). Apparently before I walked into the church the director told everyone not to walk through the middle of the church. Apparently, it's a sacred thing (I have NO idea why...). I walked right down the middle, looked at the tombs, turned around and walked back up the middle aisle. One of the African boys looked at me with wide eyes and said, "You're not supposed to go down the middle!!!" One of the church members apologized for me on the way out...stating that I wasn't there when they had explained it. Woops.
We walked some more and arrived at a beautiful park. I thought the park was the destination we were wanting so I started walking around taking pictures and doing my own thing. Once again...it was the wrong thing. Apparently we were not there to see the park. Instead we were there to see a very small museum with Portuguese artifacts.
All in all, it was a great trip. Exhausting, hilarious, embarrassing...but lots of fun.
I went on my first "Passeio" with my church. Anytime I've gone to an activity with my church, I've had to mentally prepare myself to just relax and plan to have no plan. This is partially because things just move at a different pace, but it's also because I don't always understand the plan even if they explain it.
We arrived at the church at 8:00 in the morning and loaded the bus up. Somehow, Laura and I found ourselves surrounded by all the children on the bus. This seemed like a good idea at the beginning...
About thirty minutes into the bus ride, it was announced that we would be stopping for a coffee. :) It was then that I realized once again how much I love this culture. We all hopped off the bus, walked into the rest stop/cafe, drank the coffee and got back on the bus to once again "start" the trip. During the drive, someone broke out a guitar and everyone began singing praise and worship songs in Portuguese. That's when the children around us began to realize we do not, in fact, speak Portuguese...or understand everything said. Two African boys began to watch us trying to sing along, started laughing, and then proceeded to spend the rest of the trip taking pictures of Laura and me. I'm pretty sure they have about 100 photos of us... at least.
We finally arrived at our first part of the journey (which for the record I thought was the only part to the journey). We stepped out of the bus and walked to the "exact center of Portugal." It's called "Ground Zero." We saw it, and then...as with any trip...I needed to the use the restroom. Now, as an American, I'm used to just taking care of myself...apparently, this trip was planned as a "group" event... and that somehow didn't get communicated to me. I walked off into the building to use the restroom. While I was waiting in line (because it doesn't matter where in the world you are, there will always be a line for the women's restroom), apparently the church thought we were lost. They were looking everywhere for us (which I don't really understand because it was a very small place...the only place we could have gone was rolling off the side of a cliff...which perhaps is where they were looking). When I finally stepped out of the restroom, I heard, "There she is!" in Portuguese. Mistake number one of the day. Lesson learned: Don't wander off without the group...even if you feel like you may pee your pants.
After we finished our time there, we loaded back into the bus. Once we were in, my pastor precedes to say, "Are we missing anyone? Are all the children here? Are the Americans here?" Laura and I about died. All TWO of the Americans were indeed on the bus... :) We realized then that we were about equivalent to the children...at least in their minds. Which, I do understand...that's about how we communicate and how much we understand.
We arrived at the next spot to have our lunch. As Laura and I pulled out our PB&J sandwiches, I watched in amazement as the older woman next to me reached into her purse and began pulling out a tablecloth. She set her section of the table with her china that was also mysteriously able to fit in her purse. Just when I thought surely nothing else could possibly come out of the bag, she proceeded to pull out a cooking pot full of meat she had made that morning. I felt in some way that my childhood dream of meeting Mary Poppins was finally a reality... and almost asked her if she had anything else in that bag... like a lamp. :)
Once we finished lunch, we realized we would have to wait a solid two hours to take a boat to a castle on an island. We stood. We sat. We walked. We perspired. We laughed. We tried to converse. We waited.
As the twenty-five people from church stood on the deck watching the boat finally arrive, I realized...I'm so ridiculously American. As I watched the sad-looking boat sag its way toward the dock, I thought, "I'm not stepping foot in that thing if they think we're all going to squeeze into that in one trip. No way. I'll see the castle from here, thank you very much." Thankfully, we did it in two trips. And as I was still having doubts about the safety of the boat, one of the guys from my church leans over and says, "Oh stop being so American and just get in the boat." :)
When we finished that part of the trip, I figured we would be on our way back home. Somehow, I had missed that we were going to another city after this as well. We walked around the city, went into a beautiful church where I'm pretty sure I, once again, upset some people (the workers of the church). Apparently before I walked into the church the director told everyone not to walk through the middle of the church. Apparently, it's a sacred thing (I have NO idea why...). I walked right down the middle, looked at the tombs, turned around and walked back up the middle aisle. One of the African boys looked at me with wide eyes and said, "You're not supposed to go down the middle!!!" One of the church members apologized for me on the way out...stating that I wasn't there when they had explained it. Woops.
We walked some more and arrived at a beautiful park. I thought the park was the destination we were wanting so I started walking around taking pictures and doing my own thing. Once again...it was the wrong thing. Apparently we were not there to see the park. Instead we were there to see a very small museum with Portuguese artifacts.
All in all, it was a great trip. Exhausting, hilarious, embarrassing...but lots of fun.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
So I've decided that in addition to sitting at occupied tables in the States (see this post)...I'll be bringing back another thing as well... :)
I love that no matter how an item comes packaged, I can tear into it and take out the exact number that I want to purchase. Craving a coke but don't want to purchase the whole twelve-pack? No worries. Just rip into the box and take however many you want... Not up for a six-pack of milk? Go ahead...tear open a package and grab what you crave. (Yes, milk comes in boxes...I thought it would grow on me over time...it hasn't...I have thus concluded that whatever milk you grow up on is the only milk you'll ever really love. What I wouldn't give for a glass of AE....sigh.)
This whole idea of only paying for what you want...It's genius, really.
And I'm bringing it to the States. :)
I love that no matter how an item comes packaged, I can tear into it and take out the exact number that I want to purchase. Craving a coke but don't want to purchase the whole twelve-pack? No worries. Just rip into the box and take however many you want... Not up for a six-pack of milk? Go ahead...tear open a package and grab what you crave. (Yes, milk comes in boxes...I thought it would grow on me over time...it hasn't...I have thus concluded that whatever milk you grow up on is the only milk you'll ever really love. What I wouldn't give for a glass of AE....sigh.)
This whole idea of only paying for what you want...It's genius, really.
And I'm bringing it to the States. :)
Monday, May 9, 2011
What happened to me?
Today, in front of my entire class I wrote the word, "indrotuction" instead of "introduction." As soon as I finished the word, I stepped back, looked at it, apologized, and corrected it. But seriously...what has happened to my mind? It confirmed that something is seriously happening to me.
Yesterday I said to Laura, "Oh, is that in the room of Sarah?" Who speaks like that? Why not, "Is that in Sarah's room?" like any other normal person would say? I'll tell you why...
My brain is overloaded.
From listening to broken English, trying to learn another language, seeing horrendous spelling, and trying to break English down to be more understandable...I think I'm losing MY ability to communicate. I've been making up words like crazy...using Portuguese sentence structure to state things in English...and in general...am a mess of words.
It's bad. Real bad.
I promise I used to be a great speller. I even almost won a spelling bee...
I have a feeling...my glory days are over.
Yesterday I said to Laura, "Oh, is that in the room of Sarah?" Who speaks like that? Why not, "Is that in Sarah's room?" like any other normal person would say? I'll tell you why...
My brain is overloaded.
From listening to broken English, trying to learn another language, seeing horrendous spelling, and trying to break English down to be more understandable...I think I'm losing MY ability to communicate. I've been making up words like crazy...using Portuguese sentence structure to state things in English...and in general...am a mess of words.
It's bad. Real bad.
I promise I used to be a great speller. I even almost won a spelling bee...
I have a feeling...my glory days are over.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Life in a foreign country can at times be laughable. There are so many moments when all I can think is, "Seriously...where am I?"
For example....
I walked into the cafe last weekend with Laura. We looked around and realized it was pretty full, and we wouldn't find an empty table. So, we did what is completely and socially acceptable here. We sat down at an occupied table that had two chairs still available for use. We continued on, un-bothered by what would have felt incredibly awkward four months ago, given my natural propensity to a large bubble of personal space...and the European sizes of the tables. We ordered our coffee and began talking when another person joined our small table. I looked up and realized, here we were- two American girls- sharing a small table with two older Portuguese gentleman. We were sipping coffee. They were enjoying their wine and watching the soccer game. That's when I turned to Laura and said, "Seriously...look at us. It's looks like we're on a date with these guys. Can you imagine if we took a picture and tried to explain this to people back home?" That's when we both completely and totally lost it. I was completely fine with everything, until it dawned on me how odd it was that it felt fine. We both were crying we were laughing so hard... I know those old men probably thought we were crazy. I told Laura that when I go back to the States I'd love to just try walking into Starbucks and joining someone's table. I'd love to just act as if it was a completely normal thing to do and watch their reactions. I think I just may... :)
Then tonight....oh tonight. Where do I begin? Honestly...I can't even begin. It wouldn't make sense. I'm just thankful there were three other American sitting beside me...laughing...and crying tears of hilarity at everything that happened. All the things that make me wonder, "Seriously...where am I?"
I am in a Portugal.
A land that I love...but don't always understand. :)
For example....
I walked into the cafe last weekend with Laura. We looked around and realized it was pretty full, and we wouldn't find an empty table. So, we did what is completely and socially acceptable here. We sat down at an occupied table that had two chairs still available for use. We continued on, un-bothered by what would have felt incredibly awkward four months ago, given my natural propensity to a large bubble of personal space...and the European sizes of the tables. We ordered our coffee and began talking when another person joined our small table. I looked up and realized, here we were- two American girls- sharing a small table with two older Portuguese gentleman. We were sipping coffee. They were enjoying their wine and watching the soccer game. That's when I turned to Laura and said, "Seriously...look at us. It's looks like we're on a date with these guys. Can you imagine if we took a picture and tried to explain this to people back home?" That's when we both completely and totally lost it. I was completely fine with everything, until it dawned on me how odd it was that it felt fine. We both were crying we were laughing so hard... I know those old men probably thought we were crazy. I told Laura that when I go back to the States I'd love to just try walking into Starbucks and joining someone's table. I'd love to just act as if it was a completely normal thing to do and watch their reactions. I think I just may... :)
Then tonight....oh tonight. Where do I begin? Honestly...I can't even begin. It wouldn't make sense. I'm just thankful there were three other American sitting beside me...laughing...and crying tears of hilarity at everything that happened. All the things that make me wonder, "Seriously...where am I?"
I am in a Portugal.
A land that I love...but don't always understand. :)
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
White-Knuckled
I never knew the power of my grip until I was ten.
It was a simple video game. Concept: the harder you grip the steering wheel, the faster your car would go. Naturally, I squeezed as tightly as my fat and stumpy hands possibly could.
After I had played a couple rounds, I was told it was time to leave and let the other kids play. As I began to take my hands off the steering wheel, the strangest thing happened: my hands had a mind of their own. I was trying to open my fist and release my grip, but it was physically impossible. My hands were stuck to the wheel. I began to panic slightly. Why weren't my hands opening?
After a few friends and adults helped my fingers to release their death grip on the wheel, I walked away wondering, "Who's ridiculous idea was that game? Did they realize that would happen?"
I've been gripping tightly lately. Clinging on to what little security, hopes, and dreams I have and squeezing them as tightly as my still fat and stumpy hands possibly can. I know God has been asking me to just let go...to just walk away...and really, I do want to. But I've found that when I've been clinging so stubbornly, it becomes hard to release my grip. Inwardly, I want to be done with it. But my hands, well...they haven't accepted the message.
I know like most things the Lord has asked me to surrender, years later I may look at these things and think, "Seriously, Erin...you wanted that? Do you realize how unhappy you would have been?"
But for now...well, my knuckles are still a little white.
* Yes, I know. It's absolutely astounding that a 27 year old girl that can't even begin to understand who first thought of eating an egg...or how to change the oil in a car (let alone how to pop the hood of the vehicle...)...or why Pluto can't be a planet any longer...or for that matter, how we ever got to outer-space...should actually think she can make better plans than the Creator of the entire universe...and the egg. :) Yet, somewhere in the deep recesses of my depraved mind, the thought exists...and I stupidly entertain it.
It was a simple video game. Concept: the harder you grip the steering wheel, the faster your car would go. Naturally, I squeezed as tightly as my fat and stumpy hands possibly could.
After I had played a couple rounds, I was told it was time to leave and let the other kids play. As I began to take my hands off the steering wheel, the strangest thing happened: my hands had a mind of their own. I was trying to open my fist and release my grip, but it was physically impossible. My hands were stuck to the wheel. I began to panic slightly. Why weren't my hands opening?
After a few friends and adults helped my fingers to release their death grip on the wheel, I walked away wondering, "Who's ridiculous idea was that game? Did they realize that would happen?"
I've been gripping tightly lately. Clinging on to what little security, hopes, and dreams I have and squeezing them as tightly as my still fat and stumpy hands possibly can. I know God has been asking me to just let go...to just walk away...and really, I do want to. But I've found that when I've been clinging so stubbornly, it becomes hard to release my grip. Inwardly, I want to be done with it. But my hands, well...they haven't accepted the message.
I know like most things the Lord has asked me to surrender, years later I may look at these things and think, "Seriously, Erin...you wanted that? Do you realize how unhappy you would have been?"
But for now...well, my knuckles are still a little white.
* Yes, I know. It's absolutely astounding that a 27 year old girl that can't even begin to understand who first thought of eating an egg...or how to change the oil in a car (let alone how to pop the hood of the vehicle...)...or why Pluto can't be a planet any longer...or for that matter, how we ever got to outer-space...should actually think she can make better plans than the Creator of the entire universe...and the egg. :) Yet, somewhere in the deep recesses of my depraved mind, the thought exists...and I stupidly entertain it.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
The Listener...
I feel like that describes my personality here. At least, for now.
I really can carry on a conversation. And I do like to talk. I have opinions. I read and watch the news... But somehow here, my ability to contribute to any conversation, whether it's in English or Portuguese, has been stripped...and all I can do is listen.
I have days where I just feel like I can't go hang out with people, because I'm just exhausted...from listening. Ridiculous, right?
Yeah...I don't get it.
Today I spent seven hours listening. I could probably count on my hands the number of times I spoke or attempted to speak. As I sat at my table at the church fellowship I watched our table joke and kid around with each other, laugh, and plan activities. And there I was, the pink bump on a log (for clarification, I was wearing pink...lots of pink) who couldn't even understand enough to laugh at the jokes and was oblivious to the plans that were being made.
That's when I realized how incredible heaven really will be. I'll be able to sit at the table with all of them when we get to heaven...and I'm going to understand EVERYTHING. There won't be entire sentences that are lost in translation...or communication struggles.
The beauty of the universal church is astounding. Too think that God is not bound by a five letter acronym (enough said or I'm going to get myself in trouble...) is wonderful. He isn't restricted to call people who will worship like me. He has followers all over the earth. And if I am going to be even the least bit honest...quite frankly, some of them do and say things that would blow your American mentality of "spirituality." And while that has been a tremendous thing for me to process and discover ...right now, being part of the church in another part of the world has also been frustrating.
That's where the beauty of heaven is taking on a new meaning. It means these two worlds that I am coming to love will be joined together. It means no barriers. No pointless differences. No separations. No more goodbyes. No wishing I was there while I'm here...or here while I'm there. But what really makes my heart rejoice more than anything else is just knowing I'll comprehend every single word that's going to be said there. Hebrew, Greek, Aramaic, Italian, Swahili, Spanish, Latin, and yes, Portuguese. :) Now THAT...that's what I can't wait for...
Steven Curtis Chapman penned an entire song about how after experiencing the death of his beautiful daughter, heaven has become to him the face of his little girl. I think that's part of the amazing thing about heaven. It holds in it the answers to all our ache, our hurt, our frustration, our grief. Cancer? Doesn't exist in heaven. Economic crisis? Not in heaven. Singleness? Won't matter in heaven. Can't hold a conversation, understand a conversation, or even begin to start a conversation in Portuguese? No worries...heaven awaits.
Until then...or until I can learn more...I guess I'll be listening. :)
I really can carry on a conversation. And I do like to talk. I have opinions. I read and watch the news... But somehow here, my ability to contribute to any conversation, whether it's in English or Portuguese, has been stripped...and all I can do is listen.
I have days where I just feel like I can't go hang out with people, because I'm just exhausted...from listening. Ridiculous, right?
Yeah...I don't get it.
Today I spent seven hours listening. I could probably count on my hands the number of times I spoke or attempted to speak. As I sat at my table at the church fellowship I watched our table joke and kid around with each other, laugh, and plan activities. And there I was, the pink bump on a log (for clarification, I was wearing pink...lots of pink) who couldn't even understand enough to laugh at the jokes and was oblivious to the plans that were being made.
That's when I realized how incredible heaven really will be. I'll be able to sit at the table with all of them when we get to heaven...and I'm going to understand EVERYTHING. There won't be entire sentences that are lost in translation...or communication struggles.
The beauty of the universal church is astounding. Too think that God is not bound by a five letter acronym (enough said or I'm going to get myself in trouble...) is wonderful. He isn't restricted to call people who will worship like me. He has followers all over the earth. And if I am going to be even the least bit honest...quite frankly, some of them do and say things that would blow your American mentality of "spirituality." And while that has been a tremendous thing for me to process and discover ...right now, being part of the church in another part of the world has also been frustrating.
That's where the beauty of heaven is taking on a new meaning. It means these two worlds that I am coming to love will be joined together. It means no barriers. No pointless differences. No separations. No more goodbyes. No wishing I was there while I'm here...or here while I'm there. But what really makes my heart rejoice more than anything else is just knowing I'll comprehend every single word that's going to be said there. Hebrew, Greek, Aramaic, Italian, Swahili, Spanish, Latin, and yes, Portuguese. :) Now THAT...that's what I can't wait for...
Steven Curtis Chapman penned an entire song about how after experiencing the death of his beautiful daughter, heaven has become to him the face of his little girl. I think that's part of the amazing thing about heaven. It holds in it the answers to all our ache, our hurt, our frustration, our grief. Cancer? Doesn't exist in heaven. Economic crisis? Not in heaven. Singleness? Won't matter in heaven. Can't hold a conversation, understand a conversation, or even begin to start a conversation in Portuguese? No worries...heaven awaits.
Until then...or until I can learn more...I guess I'll be listening. :)
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