Salsa Night

I had heard about Wednesday night salsa dancing at this place in Estes Park last summer, but I never went. I imagined that there would be people there teaching the clueless ones. I wound up going not knowing it was part of the post pizza dinner plans.
I’ve always wondered what Gainesville clubs are like, and I’m sure this was probably pretty close, not exactly beginner-friendly. I’m not entirely sure that most of the dancers on the crowded floor, including myself, were actually salsa dancing. I kind of just tried to follow everyone else. My semester of foxtrot, swing, line dancing, and waltz seemed to be worthless here. The worst part, which last the majority of the two and a half hours, was when virtually everyone on the floor paired up. If it were swing dancing, asking a random girl to dance probably would not have been that hard. Some of the couples were dancing kind of close, but it was not too bad. I know I’ve seen much worse dancing than that. I guess the darker club atmosphere had a negative effect on me. It wasn’t so much the kind of dancing. I was just way out of my comfort zone.
This was one of those times when alcohol did not seem to be such a bad idea. I mean, could these guys act this way without some kind of help? It was only a fleeting thought- you tend to think of some crazy stuff when you’re bored. Besides, I had the problem of two big bold red X’s on both of my hands. They didn’t fade one bit after washing my hands normally and did not disappear completely until today. I guess anyone who plans to drink underage should bring some really powerful soap in their pockets.
Overall I was glad that I went. The complete boredom of the last hour was at least worth tolerating to tell this story. I got more exposure to Spanish too. I could actually pick up some words here and there. But from now on I think I’ll stick with swing or something that does not force you to choose between boredom and kind of hitting on a girl or two in a bar.

Wake up, Dirk!

Angie, Dirk, and I were planning to go hiking on Friday morning before work. We looked for Dirk on Thursday night around 11:30 to finalize our plans. There were three Asian guys talking right outside his door. I asked them, "Have you seen anyone walk in this door recently?" They seemed to think I was asking them to leave. Actually, I wanted to know if he was in his room. If I already knew he was sleeping, I would have left a note instead of knocking. "Dirk... tall blond guy... do you know where he is?" I asked. Then one of them had a sudden revelation and said, "Oh, yes, Dirk!" Before I could say anything he threw the door open revealing a dark room and a confused Y worker. "There's Dirk!" Angie and I could hardly control our laughter. I shut the door, not knowing what else to do. Angie slapped me on the arm and told me in an encouraging, cheerful tone of voice, "Go talk to him." Dirk did not seem to be too upset. I told him of our plans to meet at 6:30 in the Pondo. He told me the next morning it was a miracle he got up in time because he could have slept late or completely forgotten that we told him the plan when he was half conscious.
I guess I have this kind of language barrier to look forward to in a few months. I wonder if people in Asia have no qualms about waking people up. Most of all, I hope Spain will not be like that.

Shining before men...or trying to

I went to my first small group meeting with Dirk and a few other Christians who are not in LT this year on Monday night. He named the group Living transparently after Matthew 5:16, "In the same way let your light shine before men that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven." While discussing this verse, Dirk asked me if knew one of the supervisors in the kitchen. I sort of laughed, through my pen on the table, and leaned in my chair because I already knew that he knew the answer to that question.
I got the impression that this supervisor disliked me from the beginning. On my first day, she would not talk to me. Instead she gave instructions to the girl I was working with. Her low voice and Eastern European accent did not help. I would have to keep asking, "What did she say?" She was also one of the more strict supervisors so I just avoided her as much as possible for the rest of the summer.
At lunch on Monday, we discussed our "grudges." My supervisor immediately came to mind. I did not want to have that conversation all over again during small group, but that is what it took for Dirk to get the point across. Somebody mentioned that my supervisor seemed depressed last summer so maybe I should have been a little more sensitive to that. I will not get to see her very much this summer, but nevertheless I know I should make a conscious effort to be nice this time.
"Shining before men" as a whole did not get much easier in the following days. Yesterday whoever was responsible for making the veggie tray I was scheduled to deliver did not do it. I had to make it myself. My supervisor was actually a livesaver in this situation because she knew how to do it. I was still half an hour late for two deliveries because preparing the veggie tray left me little time to make the drinks. I missed a break and was very frustrated for a couple hours. I certainly was not shining very bright.
Perhaps my attitude at work will change after committing this verse to memory and lots of prayer. Food service may seem like a mindless field, but I think it is far more stressful than most people think. I want to encourage everyone reading this to remember to "shine before men" no matter what, especially my home group as they reach out to new and experienced students on campus.

Colorado Take 2

A lot of people here were surprisingly very happy to see me again. I had to relearn many of their names. Few things embarrass me more than when somebody remembers my name, but I do not remember theirs. It happens quite often. One guy I met in the staff dining hall a few days ago called me “Brian,” but I was still impressed because I did not even remember his face. The name badges that the Y makes us wear are like a gift from God.
Driving the delivery van with half a million miles on it is surprisingly fun. I may never get to drive a VW Bus, but I guess this will be enough to tide me over for now. Multiple coffee, lemonade, ice cream, and barbeque sauce spills have stained the back and made it real sticky. The sweet smell is indescribable, and it has not changed a bit since I rode in the back last summer when I helped with cookouts. I feel like Santa Claus whenever I deliver ice cream or something that a group really wants. I spend the majority of my time in the kitchen, where I am usually pretty lost. In the dish room I knew what I was doing, but it’s a little more complicated in the kitchen because the staff is often working on ten different projects simultaneously.
Angie, Dirk, Rachel, Sarah, and I met for a hike up Mount Alice yesterday morning at 3:00. It was pretty uneventful until we reached the mountain itself. A marmot came up to us on the ridge hoping to score some free food. I have never seen a marmot that close. The little bugger was sitting right beside me sniffing my elbow before I knew. I may have never even noticed if one of my fellow hikers had not informed me. Dirk thought though the route up the mountain looked impossible, and even suggested that he would turn back. But he was the first one to reach the summit. That’s Dirk. We completed the hike (about seventeen miles) in about twelve hours. Some pictures are up on facebook. Our next target is Stones, one of the three failed attempts of Dirk, Amy, and I last summer.
Dirk created a small group for those not in Leadership Training this summer called Living Transparently. The second meeting is tonight. The plan is for everyone to share something that struck them as they were reading the Bible or in quiet time. Then we’ll break into our pseudo-life groups. I hope it goes well.
I miss you all and think of you every day. Drop me an email if you have anything exciting to share.

Estes Park Day 1

I think I ate too much pizza at Uno’s on Monday night. My stomach did not allow me to enjoy the flight, and I was pretty tired after rising at 4:00 in the morning for a 6:00 flight. I slept through most of The Last Mimzy, which I would have loved to watch. I can’t remember the last time I was so anxious to get off of an airplane. I just wanted to be in Denver already.
As soon as I got in the car with Angie, Amy, and Dirk at the airport, my stomach ache vanished. I was so happy, like I was floating the clouds. We drove back to the Y, stopping at IHOP at the request of Dirk and I. I did the routine check-in stuff before reporting to my boss. Mike, the food service director, is tall and bald, having the typical motorcyclist look. “He has some plans for you,” Susan, the manager, told me. Mike nodded his head. “Do you have a driver’s license?” he asked. I started to pull it out assuming he was asking for a form of identification. He was actually wondering if I would like to be the new delivery guy and work in the kitchen the rest of the time. It sounded like a step up from the dish room. I asked if I could have Sundays and Mondays off because those are the days Angie and Dirk have off. “I don’t see why not,” he said. “Those are our least delivery days.” Words can’t describe how happy I was then.
Being back at the YMCA of the Rockies. I feel as if nothing that happened over the past year matters any longer. Now that I’m back in this paradise (“like the most beautiful place on the planet” as Alan Moore says) and with some special friends, all my disappointments seem irrelevant. As Amy said, this place has an effect on people. That’s not to say that I did not gain a lot and learn a lot at UF this year because I did, but it’s easy to put everything behind me now.
I went to the LT meeting Tuesday night. I think the speaker made me laugh more than any of the others last year. He was not as funny that night, but his message really got me thinking. He encouraged us to find what we’re passion about, experiment with different jobs. There is no rush, he said, because you’re all going to live to be eighty years old anyway. Sometimes God tells you what he wants you to do and sometimes you find out through trial and error, like he did.
I have a feeling my life is going to be a lot like his- trial and error. That is a fairly accurate description of my life so far. I don’t think I’ll have twenty-one jobs, but maybe three or four. I have no idea what I really want to do for the rest of my life. My mom is pressing me to find a good-paying job while my dad says, “Do what you want.” I like my dad’s advice. I know I love Jesus, traveling, the Rockies, writing, and of course my two majors, Spanish and political science. How you make a living with them, I have no clue, but I don’t really need to know right now. At least, I hope not. If I can jump around jobs like this for a few years, delivering coffee or washing dishes, that’s fine by me.

Blue Like Jazz

My friend Chris Bobek loaned me his copy of Blue Like Jazz a few weeks ago. He said that the author is a "hippie liberal character" that reminded him of me. I just finished it.
A campus preacher at UF this past year told the people listening to "be skeptical of the skeptics" mainly because they endorse the lifestyles of gays, lesbians, bisexuals, and transgenders. Homosexuality is no doubt an immoral lifestyle, but I think it's strange that he used it as his main weapon for discrediting the skeptics. Jesus said that our second greatest commandment, after loving Him, is to "Love your neighbor as yourself." It was not to stop gay marriage. Why couldn't the campus preacher say, "Be skeptical of the skeptics because they don't love you as much as we Christians do"? We might not be able to say that much of the time. He and other campus preachers have probably brought hundreds, if not thousands, of students to Christ. Their work has done far more good than harm. I really admire their courage. I'm only saying that it would be more effective if the focus was solely on Jesus Christ and loving others. Then I wouldn't have to stumble over my words as I explain how Christians feel about gays. It often does not make any sense to a non-Christian.

The last chapters of Blue Like Jazz touch immensely on this theme of what it means to love and not judge other people as Christians. I think something is wrong when we assume that homosexuality or other sin is as appalling to everyone else as it is to us Christians and we use it as our main ammunition. I've never heard anyone say they came to Christ as a result of hearing a pastor lash out against gays, Democrats, hippies, Muslims, stoners, etc. But love converts people all the time. Love should come first, then they will conform to our stances on gay marriage and other issues as they learn more about Jesus. It wouldn't do much good for me to rewrite the book here. I'll only say that everyone should read it. It really spoke to me.

My Blog's Purpose

I know many of you out there are just as excited about my upcoming year in Pamplona as I am so I figured you would all want to read about it. This first post is more of a test so I can see how this works. More updates will follow.