14 Weeks Down, 27 to Go!

We meet again, and again I feel compelled to apologize for my tardy posting. I really have no excuse; spent the past 4 days relishing in some alone time. Both my roommates went away for Christmas and I stayed in the apartment by myself. Let me stop you right there. Stop feeling sorry for me or giving the computer a crumpled face of pity. I liked it that way. If I had wanted to I could have found somewhere to go and be with people on Christmas, but I didn't want to just tag along to someone else's celebrations. I preferred to be alone and not thrust into an awkward situation. I preferred to be near the my computer so I could contact my family and not sitting around wishing I could leave some other family's party.

For Christmas eve I rode the bus around Madrid and looked at the lights. Then on Christmas I opened my box of gifts from home and made a "fancy" dinner. Fancy is in quotes because I really didn't do much, but since typical dinners around here are salads or eggs or cereal the steak I made is considered fancy. I also called home a half dozen times and tried to transport myself to Oregon Christmas by listening to the live stream of KINK 101.9 on the internet. They always play tons of Christmas music, but not just standards; they play all kinds of Christmas-y music by the same artists the radio plays. I liked it very much.

Then I just spent the next couple of days lounging about and reading and taking occasional
walks around my neighborhood. What I was preparing for was the invasion of Americans.

Let me total it up for you...
Meagan has 3 friends from home coming to visit (clearly, they are staying in her apartment, not mine).
Melanie has 1 friend from home.
Audrey has 3 friends from home.
Last, Alicia came into Madrid the morning of the 27th. She is staying at Meagan and Theresa's.

Between the two places there are EIGHT friends here. My apartment is hardly big enough to hold the three who live here on a regular basis, so doubling that number could be considered a sign of mental instability on my roommate's parts. Obviously, this is the time for many people to travel given the holidays and time off from various commitments but still...

I'm really excited to see Alicia, since she is awesome. Today we met up and walked around Madrid for a few hours, just looking at things and talking. Our wandering lead us into a bar for some Sangria and then a restaurant near my apartment for some dinner. It was a truly enjoyable evening. She also mentioned an overnight trip to Sevilla, so that will probably be a blast. Good thing I took advantage of my chance to rest up and am now prepared for entertaining and putting up with the population growth of my apartment.

Berlin!

Tuesday I returned from a weekend adventure in Berlin. Meagan and I took off Friday night and spent Saturday, Sunday and Monday soaking up all things Christmas and German.

Saturday morning we woke up early and went to the Reichstag building. This is the building where Parliament meets and has a giant glass dome on top. They allow people up to take a look at the panoramic view of the city and to look down into the Parliament's meetings. Because it was a Saturday there weren't any official meetings and because we got there at 10 am there wasn't much of a line. Last time I went to Berlin, Heather and I stood outside for what felt like forever then gave up because it was too cold and rainy. I'm glad Meagan and I made it through the 20 minute wait and up to the top. The view was gorgeous!

After we looked over the city we walked to the train station to meet up with Leo and his friend. Leo is the German student my mom hosted for about six months last year. He spent the 2007-2008 school year as a student at Forest Grove High, and in November had a housing crisis; that is when my mom stepped in and offered Jen's old room. He seemed to really like our family and we got a kick out of him being there, so it seemed natural that if one of us ended up in his homeland we should meet up.

The train station was huge and thus made finding him rather difficult. One would think that a nearly 7-foot tall German would be easy to spot. No true. By German standards Leo was tall, but not freakishly tall the way he would have been in Spain. We spent about a half hour looking and waiting. Finally Meagan spotted a second entrance (we thought we were perched at the only one) on the other side of the station. We walked over and found them. Apparently they had us paged, but let's be honest I don't speak German and really couldn't tell what any of the announcements over the loudspeaker were about.

With Leo and Heiko we wandered around town. Neither of them were experts on Berlin by any standards, so we all got to be tourists for the afternoon. We walked through a memorial dedicated to the Holocaust that was utterly creepy. The design was a series of cement pillars of various heights and the ground was uneven so as one walked through you became lost in the maze. The four of us stuck pretty close together, but I can see how if you got lost in there it would be a terrifying experience.

We also visited the Sony Center, which is basically a giant shopping mall. It was nice to see the Christmas market set-up in the central plaza. The Sony Center is right next to a few chunks of the Berlin Wall that have been turned into an educational installation. There were alternating panels of wall and information about the wall and its impact/history. We also visited the largest store in Berlin, the KaDeWe. "KaDeWe" is an acronym for something but I couldn't tell you what; what I can tell you is that it is a mad-house on the Saturday before Christmas! It was packed with Germans and tourists alike trying to find a last minute gift or looking at the lavish decorations. To be honest, it was a little overwhelming.

After the KaDeWe we had some thing to eat. I can't remember the name of it, but Leo had suggested a particular type of sandwich to us. Basically it was ham on bread with the tastiest mustard I've ever had. Simple but delightful. The Germans know how to make hearty and delicious food, which is something I've missed here in Spain. We then went to the Kaiser Wilhelm Memorial Church. It had been bombed in 1943, but still managed to stand. Most of the building is gone, save for the bell-tower and some of the original hall. It has been transformed into a location that calls for people to reflect on the futility of war and the consequences thereof.


Finally, after a few more stops, it was time for the Germans to go home. Before we parted ways, Leo and I took a picture in front of the giant Christmas tree at the Reichstag.





On Sunday Meagan and I went on a tour to visit Sachsenhausen Concentration Camp that has been turned in to be both a memorial and museum. There were no pictures taken here, sorry. But I really couldn't bring myself to think of that as a touristy event. To me, it was more something that had to be done so that I could connect all the information I had been feed with something tangible. The tour started at the train station in Oranienberg, which is a little town that literally backs up to the camp. While we walked from the station to the entrance I couldn't get one thought out of my head "What was it like to live in this town?" I'd heard about what, generally, went on inside the camp, but what about right outside? Unfortunately I never got a decent answer to this question; we were told that propaganda had basically brainwashed the townspeople. While I believe that, I can't help but think there were some who just didn't buy the films of healthy people playing sports as truth.

We walked through the main gate, into one of the barracks where Jewish prisoners were "housed", then we saw the "prison within the prison" where high-profile people were tortured. After that we went to the camp kitchen, then on to the site of the extermination building and finally the "hospital barracks" which were the site of medical experiments rather than medial treatments. The whole experience was horrifying. The weather was cold and dank and fitting for the kinds of things that went on there. Though it was an emotionally draining afternoon, it was worth it. I don't know if I can put into words exactly why, but I think it has something to do with remembrance for those that died there, along with my belief that once you have seen a place like that (even for an afternoon) you can't let something equally horrible happen again.

After the tour Meagan and I took a few minutes to rest in the hostel then went out to the huge Christmas market we passed earlier in the day. The market was filled with ornaments and various gifts, but what we were mainly interested in was the food. This weekend taught me that the Germans know two things: Christmas and Food. Our first food stop was a potato stand. They were basically deep fried potato pancakes with some delicious herb mashed in to the potatoes. Wonderful. Next was Bratwurst with more of that amazing mustard. Then some Gluwien, hot wine with spices. We also bought a "cupcake" but this was more of a ball of almond flavored pastry that had some kind of fruit preserve between the layers and was iced. For dessert we had fruit, covered in chocolate. That was one fabulous Christmas feast!

On Monday we went to museums. Initially we were under the impression that the museums would be closed Monday, but not so. Before our tour on Sunday we swung by the museums to ask if they would be open and both of the ones we wanted to go in would be. Thank God! The way Meagan put it was that she "really wanted to go to the Concentration Camp tour but really, really, wanted to go to the museums". It would have been awful to have to choose between the two things, and luckily we didn't have to.

We visited the Pergamon Museum and the Ancient History/Egyptian History Museum. The Pergamon had pieces of ancient buildings and sculpture from Ancient Greece. The building I was most interested in was the Ishtar Gate. Don't ask why, but in high school Humanities class I really took a liking to ancient, pre-Egyptian cultures and this gate was one of their most famous items.

Our last major stop was the Berliner Dome, which was at the top of a rather large church. The Church was beautiful and was decorated for the holiday season. We had to climb several large staircases to get to the very top and while I enjoyed the view the height was making me a little nervous. I quickly circled the deck and began my descent. On the way down I popped into a small seating area on the upper level of the church to listen to a choir practice some Christmas songs. It was probably one of the most peaceful moments of the trip.

Once it was clear I had survived the height we went on to our dinner stop. Doner Kebab. This is something we have in Madrid, but it was "invented" in Berlin. On Saturday Leo told us that we could get Doner from pretty much any restaurant and it would be great, so we stopped in the metro station that was on our way home and had the best Doner of my life. I can't put into words what made it better, perhaps it was the flavor of the beef or maybe the quality of bread or the variety of vegetables, but it was delicious!

We ended our night with a return to the Christmas market. Meagan bought gifts for a few people and I bought pretzels to take back to Madrid and a Chocolate covered apple. In total, this trip was amazing! We did all the things we had set out to do, but didn't wear ourselves out. I told Meagan that if I learned the language Germany was I country I could see myself getting really in to. Perhaps after Spain I have a new destination to conquer...

13 Weeks Down, 28 to Go!

Hello again.

This end of the week update is going to be short and sweet. Two reasons, first there is a school wide Christmas party in a few hours and I have to get ready; second I am leaving for Germany tonight and have to pack before the party.

Like I said, this week is a big week. We are having a big lunch with all the teachers and staff at school to celebrate the beginning of our vacation. I'm excited to see it. When the British teachers visit ended there was also a big lunch, which was hilarious and so much fun, I can only imagine what a Christmas celebration will bring. Everyone at school is still wonderful and still very warm. I couldn't have picked a better group of people to work with!

Second thing, Berlin tonight! Meagan and I are flying out around 7:45 and going to Berlin. I can't wait! I looked up the weather report and it is supposed to be highs in the 40's and around freezing at night. Not terrible, for mid-December. Both Meagan and I spent years living with DC winters, so we know a thing or two about cold. I have bought my mittens and will pack my warmest sweaters! Rest assured, there will be pictures posted of Berlin upon my return.

Overall this week has been decent. I think my only problem with it was that I've been ready for a vacation since last week started, so to have to go through the motions for this week was pretty rough. I love the kids and love their enthusiasim for coloring Christmas papers and their need to tell me "Merry Christmas!" basically every chance they get. Too cute! As much as I love them, I will appreciate a long break from school to do my own thing and rest up before going in for round two.

So NOT Spanish

Two mid-week posts?! It is almost a Christmas Miracle!

A few weeks back (it is quite possible that it was only last week, my sense of time is a little off...) I had finished my lesson and was walking towards the bus stop when I saw the bus rounding the corner. I was still two blocks away and there was really no way I was going to make it, but I tried anyways. I decided that I would come up with an interesting mix of running and walking, running for speed and walking for the appearance that I wasn't desperate to catch the bus. I busted out my run/walk and got across the first street by the time the bus pulled up to the stop. That was when I gave up, it clearly wasn't going to happen.

Junior year, after I came back from Madrid, I lived in the residence hall that faced the shuttle bus stop on campus. The bus stopped in such a place that kids would see it coming from a good distance away and try to run and catch it. Depending on the bus driver's mood, they might catch it otherwise they would do the same thing I did; run until it became obvious they were out of luck then go back to a normal pace. Sometimes my roommate and I would take bets on if kids would make it in time... but I'm on a tangent here, back to the point.

When I arrived at the bus stop there were no other people waiting. There is only one bus that comes by that stop, so when I had just missed it by about 30 seconds I found the stop empty. Out of nowhere I hear the creaks of metal wheels and some guy in a wheel chair pulls up. I swear I had not seen him on any part of the sidewalk before that moment and was thoroughly caught off-guard. Instead of letting me catch my breath from my awkward trip across the street this guy strikes up a conversation about how he watched me running the other block but knew I wasn't going to make it in time. Creepy? Yes.

To be polite, and keep up with cultural norms, I told him that I had to run the last time I was catching that same bus but this time it just wasn't my luck. Then he outright asks me if I was British or American, because he knew from my accent that I wasn't Spanish. Thanks, Buddy. I'm aware of the fact that I don't have a lisp and tend to pronounce all the sylables in my words. I am also aware of the fact that I don't look particularly Spanish, so I think between my accent and appearance he just pieced together that I was an English speaker. In the moment I was, clearly, offended. I don't point out the obvious differences in people. Instead of saying "you're not Spanish" he could have come up with a less abrasive phrase.

Several weeks ago, when I started giving lessons, I was waiting for the bus to go home when a woman came up and asked me how long I had been waiting. The only problem was the way she phrased the question used the verb llevar, which has typically been taught as "to carry". I had to take a few seconds to figure out what she was trying to find out, then I responded in a slightly awkward way. She then asked me where I was from and when I told her I was American and here teaching English she complemented me saying I could "hold my own" very well. I think that is a better way to approach talking to someone from a different country. Please, don't point out that they are non-native! The person is probably well aware of how one of these things is not like the others, there is nothing good that can come from saying it again.

Last night I was told I clearly wasn't Spanish for another reason. When I left my other private lesson one of my lesson's neighbors was in the hall way about to call the elevator when the she and the mom of the girl I give lessons to started chatting. They chatted about a painter coming to do work and a few other things, I stood there and waited for the elevator. When it arrived the conversation was winding down, but not over. I got into the elevator and waited for a few seconds for the neighbor to come in. When the doors closed she remarked that I wasn't Spanish because most Spaniards wouldn't wait for someone to stop talking and that the live in such a rush. I had to laugh out loud at this idea. I spent four years living in Washington DC, a place where people are perpetually in a rush to get from one place to the other. I find Spain to be a nice change of pace!

Now on to things, other than me, that aren't Spanish. Today when Anna and I were coming back to school after having a soda across the street we ran into a large group of teachers as they left. They told us they were going out for lunch and asked if we wanted to join. After a little discussion we decided to go. As we go into the car Eduardo told me that we were going to Foster's of Hollywood an "American" restaurant. Great. They took the token American to an "American" restaurant.

When we got there, there was an uproar from our crowd because the restaurant does not offer a menú del día (remember that the menú del día is the typical restaurant lunch offering of two courses, dessert and a drink). People, this is an American style restaurant. WE DON'T DO THAT... well unless it is TGIFridays and it that amazing special they occasionally do where you get the three courses for $9.99... back to the point! American resturant, you can't expect a Spanish dining experience.

After they had chilled out about the menú crisis they began to look at the menu. Clearly, most of them were out of their element and turned to the one person they thought could help. No. Not Eduardo, the one who had been to this place before but me, the American. I have actively avoided going into any of the ubiquitous Foster's locations, seeing as I am in Spain I want to eat at Spanish places. Many of them asked if I had recommendations, but to be honest I had to try and remind myself I wasn't at home and I had no idea how the Spanish interpretation of a Philly Cheesesteak would turn out (my guess was pretty bad, but that I just because I've spent time around some delicious Cheesesteaks...).

Personally, I settled on a chili-burger. Bad move. First of all, it came out looking like a normal burger with a little side of chili. I don't know about most of you, but in my experience a chili-burger is supposed to be rather messy and come with a heaping scoop of chili. I poured the whole cup onto my burger and prayed for the best. The flavor was basically that of a canned chili onto a rather bland burger. Quite depressing. The major upside was that there were free refills involved. I drank my fill of Pepsi-Light and then some, just because I could.

Worst. Day. Ever.

Ok. This is going to be a complaining blog entry. I'm sure the title tipped you off.
Here is what happened today:

• I missed the kids' Christmas show
• I "lost" my passport and went to the embassy to replace it
• I found my old passport, which means I wasted a bunch of time and complicated my life for no reason
  
• I missed my appointment about my residency card
• My private lesson canceled on me, so I'm out 30 euro before my trip to Berlin

First, the Christmas show. I've posted a few times about the kids putting on a typical Christmas pageant at school. A few weeks back the branch of the city government in charge of my program called and told me I had an appointment to get fingerprinted for my residency card on the 16th of December. I didn't know it at the time, but that was going to be the same day as the 3rd & 4th grade Christmas performances. Eduardo told me this at the end of last week. Needless to say I was bummed.

The "lost" passport. For this residency card appointment I was supposed to bring my passport, 2 photos and 10 euro. I had 10 euro in my wallet and the photos left over from the first meeting about the card. I just assumed that my passport was in the drawer where I always put it. This morning when I went to pick it up before heading out the door it was missing. I tore my room apart looking for it. Every item was picked up and searched; I looked under the bed, in drawers and closets. I sifted through every paper and bag I own. No where to be found. So I went to the Embassy, hoping I could get in and out in time to make it to the 11 o'clock fingerprinting and explain it to the representative from the city education division.

The Embassy was rather painless. They did take my cellphone, so that made calling the person I was supposed to meet impossible. The people were friendly and I didn't have to wait that long to begin the process. I filled out the forms, had to take a new set of pictures (since the ones I had left over were acceptable for European ID cards but not US passports!) and pay $100. Now I have a passport that is good for one year. The only problem is it is a new passport number and the one I had before is invalid.

When I got home I was determined to find the old passport. I don't know why, that was probably a stupid idea. I, again, tore apart my room. I emptied the hamper, I re-sifted through all my papers. Finally, I decided it had to be in the dresser. But in the morning I thought I had looked though the whole thing, so where could it be? I'll tell you where. It was behind the bottom drawer between the drawer and the composite board that acts like the back of the dresser. I had to take the furniture apart to find my freaking original passport.

I missed my NIE (residency card) appointment because I spent 2 hours in the embassy, mostly waiting for them to print my new passport. When I got to the police station there was no one there. I was too flustered to try and explain it to someone inside, so I continued to call the person from the city who I was supposed to meet. She never answered. I sent an email to the program director, but she has developed a reputation for being less than helpful. I'm praying that I can either get a hold of someone in the education division or take a step back long enough to figure out how to explain this to the NIE people directly. (The problem is that an application for the NIE was started under my name and old passport number and now that passport is not valid, I don't know what to do about this...)

For my own sanity, I would like this to be the one time we talk about the passport issue, condolences will be accepted, but lets not try and have a conversation. Not only am I a little embarrassed but I am also quite pissed at myself and it probably isn't a great idea to keep bringing it up. Don't worry, I can still go on my trip to Berlin and travel about for the next 6 months, that isn't going to be affected.

Now the private lesson. While I was trying to recover from my horrible morning I received a text message from my private lesson that her kids are sick and not to come. The only problem is that she pays me on Tuesdays. I went yesterday, and we had arranged at the beginning that I would just collect 30 euros on Tuesdays rather than 15 each day. While that seemed simple, now it is bitting me in the ass. Not only does her cancellation take 15 euro out of my pocket, since it was today and not yesterday I won't even get the other 15 until January.

UPDATE (6:30 PM): I have talked to my mom about this and I'm feeling slightly better. The stupidity of my situation still bugs me (ALOT), but she made a good point that there was really no way of knowing about the passport/dresser debacle until I needed it. With that in mind she pointed out that it is better that I had to go through all of this business today rather than discover Friday afternoon (when the embassy is closed) that my passport was missing and not be able to go on my trip to Germany. That would have cost more in lost bookings and been a much worse bummer.

I have also decided to try again tomorrow to call the person I was supposed to meet, but if that doesn't work I will have to call the NIE office and explain the situation to them...

What has also helped me feel better is a box I picked up at the post office today. It was full of the items on my care package list and lovely cards. It even included a cookie starter mix, so when I opened it is smelled like Christmas. Seriously. Best friends ever!

UPDATE 2 (7:05 PM): I just received an email from the program people (which, by Spanish standards is a small miracle) basically telling me that everything on the NIE end is going to be alright. The worry is over. Now I can travel and eventually become legal in Spain. Hooray!

Also, now that the issue has been pretty much resolved we can talk about it. I'm still slightly embarrassed at the stupidity of it all, but since there are no serious repercussions it stings a little less.

12 Weeks Down, 29 to Go!

We meet again faithful readers. I have thoroughly enjoyed this past week. At school it was a ridiculously short week; I only worked Tuesday through Thursday. While at school I had to teach one class on my own, which was really fun. The rest of the time I helped the kids get ready for the Christmas production taking place next Tuesday. Sadly, I will probably miss the Christmas production since I have an appointment about my immigration status that morning, the same time as the show for the parents. With a little luck I can be back at school in time for the afternoon show, which is the one the kids to for each other.

Aside from school this week has been particularly fun. I finished my Christmas shopping to mail to my parents and sister and was surprisingly successful. My goal was to find small, light-weight, things to send back and I ended up with some choice items. Since they are still in the mail I don't want to tell you what they are just yet, but I think I picked good stuff.

This weekend I also made up for my lazy weekends past. On Friday we celebrated Anna's birthday with a British themed party in her apartment. She invited a bunch of people over and served some British treats. A few hours into the party a group of Spaniards arrived with one of the guests. This was a good test of my Spanish skills. I spent about an hour talking to a guy about a range of topics, from US politics to Spain to God knows what else. In hindsight, this would have been a good chance to make a Spanish friend, but I kind of fumbled that one (along with a ridiculous set of events...)

Last night Eimear, Anna and I went to dinner with three of the younger teachers at school. From what we could figure out there wasn't a plan for a Christmas party, outside of a lunch at school this Friday, and Elena wanted to go out and celebrate. It was lots of fun! I'm always happy to see the teachers in a more natural state. Not that they are vastly different at school, but it is a little awkward to talk about boys or going out when there is a room full of children around. After dinner we went and danced a little and that was also fun. All in all a great night.

I did have to laugh when at the end of the evening the Elena and Lucia turned back into teachers and had to make sure everyone was getting home safely and knew how to. Eimear and Anna walked back to Anna's place, Elena, Lucia and their roommate Ivana took the bus and I walked to the night bus pick-up plaza. It was about a 10 minute walk, but Elena seemed very concerned about me. I told her it was fine and that I knew exactly where I was going, but I'm sure I will have to check in with her tomorrow at school and tell her just how uneventful my walk was.

Now I am procrastinating on cleaning my room. I should start the week on a clean note, so that when I want to clean it before my Berlin trip it won't be insurmountable. To procrastinate I did most of the usual things, emailed friends, checked facebook and went shopping. I originally was just going to go for a walk, but then I realized that in December shops are open on Sundays.

During the rest of the year Spain pretty much closes on Sundays; shops are closed and the only things open are some restaurants and the movie theaters. This is what I expected to find when I went out; what I actually found was a bustling neighborhood full of shoppers. I became one of them, buying mittens and a book for my trip and a few other things just because they were cute. I also mentally picked out my birthday presents to myself...

My Cover is Blown!

If I remember elementary school correctly, the weeks leading up to winter vacation were pretty much a waste of time. We never really learned anything, and anything the teacher covered had to be retaught in January. As a kid, I loved this time of year. It was always super fun to go into class almost guaranteed not to work very hard. Thankfully, as a language assistant I can feel the same way!

In 4th grade the kids are preparing poems to preform for the Christmas pageant, so this means that I listen to them and tell them how to pronounce the words. Today I spent an hour working with a 16 line poem about packages. Many of the kids practiced at home, so they knew their lines very well. The only problem is they memorized several words incorrectly. For example, one pair of students has a line about the "postman's knock upon the door at 8 o'clock", they are pronouncing "upon" as "open" which makes little sense. It does make sense for them to say "open" because they hear the phrase "open the door" frequently, but rarely do they hear the word "upon". Therefore, I spent several minutes making them say "upon" correctly... of course I said it several times in between so they could hear the correct pronunciation. Since the difference is very slight I don't know if it will stick, but I hope so!

Aside from the Christmas pageant, I taught a whole 3rd grade class today. Elena was at a medical appointment this morning and I had to be in charge. At our school, when a teacher is absent instead of bringing in an outside sub, a staff member with a free period comes to fill in. For the first hour Lucia, who teaches 5th and 6th grade English, was there but she didn't teach. Technically, the language assistants aren't supposed to be left with the kids without a licensed teacher, but I could teach the class since I knew what they were working on. For the first hour we did English. We corrected their homework, and read a few paragraphs in their textbook, then did some exercises in their workbooks.

At 10 o'clock Lucia had to leave, but another teacher was coming. This other teacher was Matias, the PE teacher. Matias does not speak a word of English. When he came in the room the children got super excited because they thought they were going to PE. Not the case. Matias and I had to discuss what was going on. I explained that I wasn't allowed to be left with the kids alone, but that I would teach the class. This whole conversation took place in Spanish, and in plain sight of the kids. I could then see groups of kids pointing and saying "She speaks Spanish!!"

Until this point, I had maintained that I don't speak Spanish so that the kids thought they had no other option but to speak to me in English. If they were the really little kids I would have spoken Spanish with them, but my 3rd and 4th graders are really bright and can speak to me in English very well; that is, if they want to. I was surprised they hadn't figured out by now that I can speak Spanish, since they constantly run up to me and chatter away in Spanish and I answer them in English. Somehow they did not piece together that if I can understand them speaking in Spanish it means I can speak the language too. Oh how precious!

Once they were settled down and the shock of my amazing language skills had worn off we reviewed science. On average, these kids are pretty awful at science. I think it is because the concepts are difficult and usually require lots of new vocabulary. The combination of the two challenges is too much for many of them and thus they get low grades on the exams. I told them that if they were quiet for one half-hour of science review we would play a game. Sadly, they couldn't be quiet. For some unknown reason the 3rd grade seems incapable of listening or being quiet. Because they weren't quiet we did another activity in their English workbooks, with the promise that if they finished it quickly and quietly we would play. This was probably the only time I have seen them all quietly working and keeping each other in check.

The game we played was a modified version of "Heads Up 7-Up". For those of you who have forgotten, or maybe even escaped elementary school without playing this classic, goes something like this:

• 7 (or in our case 5) students are selected as the "choosers", they wait at the front of the room
  
• The rest of the class puts their head down on the desks with fist giving a thumbs up out on their desk. They are not supposed to be able to see, but peaking runs rampant in this game.
• The "choosers" walk around a tap one of the seated kids on the thumb, once they've selected they return to the front of the room.
  
• After all the "choosers" have selected someone "Heads up!" is called out. This is the cue that the seated kids can put their heads up and look around.
  
• The kids who were tapped on the thumb then have to guess who picked them. If they are right they get to be a "chooser" in the next round.

I would like to say that this simple game went smoothly, but that would be a lie. Not a round went by where someone wasn't accusing the other kids of peaking or cheating. Also, the choosers seemed to have difficulty with the idea of only picking one student. Alex, a kid previously identified as a favorite (a position he is in danger of loosing!) decided he was going to pick 5 people. I had to call a mulligan on that one and do it over. I mostly picked this game because it required them to be quiet, which is something I will now make them practice at any available opportunity.

In other news, I can't wait for winter vacation. The four-day weekend that just passed put me in the mood to never go to work again. I love the kids, and the school is fun, but there is something very delightful about sleeping until I naturally get up and cuddling up in my blankets until I feel like moving. I've never been a morning person, but this week has been especially difficult. This morning it took 3 resets of the alarm before I got out of bed, and entirely out of obligation to the school. I'm sure I'll change my tune when I'm bored or hanging around, just like when I first got here I couldn't wait for school to start.

11 Weeks Down, 30 to Go!

Man, I'm really blowing it here. I used to post about three times a week, now I'm down to the end of the week updates. I would be lying if I promised to post more, part of the problem is that my weeks generally look about the same. This really shouldn't be an excuse because the kids I work with make everyday different from the last. There is always something going on at school, playground drama, classroom chaos and more.

The past week was nice. We went on a field trip to see Robots, which was in Spanish. Since most of the kids still believe that I don't speak Spanish they were concerned that I didn't understand. This was the perfect opportunity to make them practice English. Every time one of them would ask if I understood I would say "No, how about you explain it to me?" On average, the kids would give me a three line plot summary which covered the bare minimum of what happened. The movie tried to press two points, that you shouldn't give up on your dreams and that old things can be repaired and are still valuable. I think those are good values for kids to learn.

I've been meaning to post about this for a while, but never seem to get around to it. My 3rd graders like to make pictures for me. Usually they are just left over drawings from arts & crafts or rainy days when they have to play inside, but sometimes they do them at home. Not to be cynical, but I value the ones they do at home a little more since the ones done at school tend to be a pass-off to the closest adult.

A few weeks ago, one of the girls in 3rd grade told me that she had a picture for me that she had drawn at home. I thought this was precious, especially since I don't feel like I have a connection to many of the students. Yes, I am there and I talk to them, but I wouldn't say that we know each other very well. Until this little girl told me about her picture I could hardly remember her name. When we got back to the classroom Andrea pulled out a piece of paper from her backpack and marched it up to me. She had drawn an American flag, complete with stars and silver glitter pens.

I have two other girls who are pretty much constant drawers. They will hardly pay attention to what Elena says because they are coloring under their desks. These two have drawn portraits of me. No joke, the kids are drawing portraits of me. One is actually quite good, she included my glasses and the earrings I wear pretty regularly. There are some aspects that I'm not so sure about, like a random green hat and a rather small red purse. I've never worn a hat to school and I carry a large green tote bag to school... just kidding! It is still adorable, if inaccurate.

Today is a holiday, the day of the Immaculate Conception so we have an extra day in the weekend. For those of you counting, that means I have had a four day weekend. Unlike many of my fellow Madrid residents, I stayed in the city and relaxed. I went to the movies to see Body of Lies and bought postcards to mail home. Luckily the weather was rather wet and miserable so I could feel alright about staying home most of the weekend.

10 Weeks Down, 31 to Go!

Hello again! I've lasted yet another week here in Spain. The weeks seem to fly by, now that I am a little busier with extra classes and whatnot. This week went especially fast since it was Thanksgiving and I had a few things to prepare.

Some of you may be wondering what we did for Thanksgiving here in Spain. Well on Thursday Meagan, Melanie, Theresa and I went to the American University's Thanksgiving dinner. The abroad program run by AU includes a Thanksgiving dinner, and as alumni of the program we were invited to this years festivities.

It was a little odd, but still wonderful. It made me think of my semester and how much I loved that, but also about how somethings never change. For example, when we were on the abroad trip MariCarmen introduced us to the song Gracias a la Vida which is a Spanish song that basically just gives thanks for all the parts of life, good and bad. We sang it back in 2006 and Thursday night. The song really is fitting with Thanksgiving because, for me, the holiday is a good time to reflect on what life has brought you and to appreciate where you are in life. I can honestly say I am happy in my current situation.

Another wonderful aspect of Thursday night was that we got to take a group photo with MariCarmen. She is probably the nicest person ever and I couldn't imagine living in Spain without her support and the support of the other people connected to her. To give you an example of how wonderful she is on Thursday she spilled salad (which was dressed in oil) all over her dress. I found her in the ladies room trying to wash it off. At a time when most people would have been mortified or angry she just smiled away and we chatted. Later Melanie told me that she spent a long time talking to MC in the Mosaic office. This time included the story about the salad, but MariCarmen cheerfully told Melanie that it was OK because she got a chance to have a nice conversation with me. Talk about perspective!

We had a "traditional" American Thanksgiving on Saturday at Eimear and Blair's apartment. They were in charge of making the bird and a side and our apartment was going to bring mashed potatoes, pie, sweet potatoes and an appetizer. Melanie was responsible for the potatoes, Audrey did the sweet potatoes and appetizer and I elected to do the pie. What was I thinking? Until Friday afternoon I had never made pie crust from scratch! Luckily I had made pumpkin pie filling a few thousand times so that wouldn't be too bad.

I looked up a recipe for pie crust and got to work. It turned out alright, a little gummier than I thought pie crust was supposed to be, but hopefully no one else would know. Then it was on to the filling. I purchased the can of pumpkin puree at the American grocery store. Thankfully it came pre-spiced so I didn't have to buy several jars of spices to mix into pumpkin pie spice. I took the can opener to the can and tried for a few minutes to get it to latch on. No success. I asked Melanie for help, it stumped her too. I then went to buy a can opener.

The only ones available were the kind that punch a hole into the can, like you would use for a can of pineapple juice. I bought this kind thinking that I could just punch several holes around the top and pop the lid off. Nope. The grade of metal was too much for my cheap can opener. It punctured the evaporated milk with ease, but couldn't get to the pumpkin. So then I decided to get in any way possible. I hammered at the top with the cheap opener and finally made a hole big enough to fit the kitchen scissors in. I cut the top of the can as much as I could an scooped out the pumpkin. Next I used the evaporated milk to wash the sides of the can. After the filling was made the pie went into the oven to bake. I was nervous about our conversion from Fahrenheit to Celsius, but everything turned out fine.

The next day we piled into a cab and went to our late lunch party. When we got there the apartment had about a half dozen Spanish ladies in it. They were all very nice and excited to see what Thanksgiving was all about. One asked if there were any songs, but seemed a little disappointed when we said no. We put out appetizers and sangria and chatted in Spanish.

Next Anna, Morgaine and Fiona showed up. All three are from the UK. For Anna and Morgaine it was their first Thanksgiving. Fiona later told me that she had a roommate at university from New York, so she had participated in a Thanksgiving before. In all we had a total of 13 people, only 5 of which were from America.We squished our party into the table and dished up plates.

There was soooooo much food, but it all looked amazing. If forced to pick a favorite, I'd have to say the sweet potatoes by Audrey (i'm working on getting the link, when I do I will put it up here!). Before chowed down, we went around the table to say what we were most Thankful for. We did this in both English and Spanish.



I almost cried when one of the Spanish girls told us that she was very thankful to have been invited because she missed her family very much and she felt at home with our crowd. I had to agree with her. Thanksgiving is a holiday that I had gotten used to spending with a crowd of at least 10, but usually more and this time was no exception. Everyone at the party was just as wonderful as could be and it really felt like a family Thanksgiving.

P.S. The pie was a hit!

"Do You Cry?!"

Mondays are my longest days of the week. I mean this both literally and figuratively. Literally, I work from 9 am until 9 pm. Nine to four at school, then private lessons from 5 o'clock until 9 o'clock. Figuratively because I usually didn't do enough on Sundays to get ready for the following day. Plus, who loves Mondays? No one, that's who.

This Monday was no exception; I still had trouble mustering the motivation to leave my cozy bed and I still had to teach the extra lessons. This morning I got out of the house relatively on time and caught the 8:45 bus, which drops me off at school about 3 minutes before class. Today Eimear and I talked about how we don't really feel the need to show up 15 minutes early so we can sit around and do nothing; which is mostly true. I don't have to prepare for the day so much as mentally get ready for dealing with the children.

When I arrived at school I began my Monday routine of reading Oxford Reading Tree books with the kids. They each have a book that they take home and practice along with the CD. I've come to notice that many of the children have memorized the sounds of the CD and don't actually know what they are saying to me. I'm supposed to ask them simple questions like, "what is it about?" or "did you like the story?" to check if the understand. Based on the looks I got today one would have thought I had asked them to analyze the impact of Hemingway's interpretation of Spanish culture upon American perceptions, or something equally as difficult. Fully discussing impact of The Sun Also Rises would take a few pages to write, "did you like the book?" takes about three words ("Yes, I did" for example...).

I shouldn't make fun of the kids, but I'm starting to question the social promotion idea at my school. In high school, I was the student representative to the school board. Towards the end of my term we started to talk about advancing kids to high school who hadn't passed middle school. In general, I believe you aren't doing anyone any favors by putting them in a grade for which they are not prepared. But I think this topic gets more complicated in a bilingual school. It is possible that the kids who can't tell me what happens in a story called "Floppy's Bone" (The plot is simple; Floppy has a bone. The bone gets stolen by a bigger dog. Floppy is sad. The end) might be able to discuss complicated topics in Spanish with ease. It is not fair to keep a child back if they are only struggling in one topic; at the same time it is doesn't work for them to flounder through English class and pass their Spanish classes. If only it were possible to have the kids be grouped for each topic, not just into 4A and 4B. We could group the students together based on ability and the groups would change for each subject. I would suggest this to Eduardo, but my plan would require an overhaul of the school system which I do not think anyone wants to do...

Along with listening to stories about the various adventures of Kipper and Biff (no, I did not make the names up, and yes, they are British books.) on Mondays I work with small groups of kids. Eduardo tries to group them according to English level, but sometimes that doesn't work out. Today we worked on interviewing a partner about their television habits. The children were supposed to ask the person their name, their "favourite programme" and why, along with how often they watch, then present this information to the rest of the group. To give them an example, I told them about my mom. The paragraph went something like this "Her name is Kathy. Her favorite program is CSI. She likes it because she thinks it is interesting and exciting. She watches once a week, on Thursdays." The kids did a decent job. Across the board they have trouble adding the "s" to third person singular verbs and keeping gender ('he' vs 'she' & 'his' vs 'her') correct.

When one of my groups had finished and they were waiting in line one of the girls had a question for me. Paula shouted, in Spanish mind you, "How long has it been since you've seen your mother?" Apparently, when I told them that I asked my mother the questions over the weekend they assumed that I had brought my mom to Spain and she lives in my apartment. When I answered that I hadn't seen her in three months they at first didn't get it, until one of the other girls translated it for them. Once she knew my answer, Paula had a follow up question, "Do you cry?!" I lied and said no.

I would be lying if I said it didn't make me sad from time to time, but the trick is to focus on something other than the fact that my friends and family are far away, such as how awesome it is going to be to go home and have free refills on sodas. Also, I like to think about what a cool experience this is; not only do I get to live in one of my favorite cities on earth, but I get to impact the lives on children (hopefully in a positive way)!

9 Weeks Down 32 to Go!

Yet another week has passed here in Madrid. This week was rather uneventful, which probably accounts for the lack of posts. I went to school and to my private lessons, both of which are going pretty well.

The kids at school are still hilarious and I enjoy almost every minute with them. They do test my patience from time to time. For example, in the 4th grade we are working on talking about preferences and the lesson focuses on television programs. The kids are supposed to talk about their favorite programs and why they like them. The only problem with the lesson is that these kids get too excited over talking about television that Eduardo and I spend more time bringing them back to the lesson or reminding them to be quiet. I had small groups again with Eduardo, but it was a disaster. They would not listen, and one group was actually sent back to the main classroom. I tried to explain to them that even though we do fun activities in the other room, it is very important that we stay on task and that they listen. It seemed like they understood what I was saying, but five minutes later they would be chattering away at each other in Spanish. One group was just awful, so I sent them back. In a way I hope that I made an example of them so the other kids learn to behave well.

As for non-school activities, I don't have much time during the week but I did make time to see Tony before he leaves. His semester abroad is about over and that means I will be down a good friend, but what is one Turner's loss is the other's gain. I'm sure Jen is thrilled to have Tony back, but I would like to keep him around. It is great to have someone here outside of my roommates and other Auxiliares. Perhaps this will be just the push I need to get out and meet more people...

Thursday after work a large group of us went to dinner at my favorite Cuban restaurant. The group had a total of 8 people including both the Auxiliares from my school and our roommates, plus a friend of Eimear's and her German friend. I'm pretty sure that the restaurant was not prepared for such a large group to order actual food. They started to bring out the salads which two people had ordered, a little while later came the chicken dishes, and after that came three more plates, but after 7 dishes had come out Anna still did not have her fish. She ended up waiting nearly an hour, and the rest of us had finished eating by the time she got her food. Luckily, it seemed that no one was that put off by the experience. I think next time we should take a smaller group or just order tapas.

This week I also had coffee with my friend Meagan to talk about a trip before Christmas. We decided to head north, to Berlin. It will be rather wintery and there is the promise of soft pretzels, which is a food I have been craving lately. I think this time I will actually make it to some of the sights. When I was there before with my friend Heather we were so ill-prepared for the weather that we spent the majority of the time hanging out in the hostel or on a bus tour. We bailed on our walking tour and gave up standing in line to go to the top of the parliament building. The only successful outings we had were to a football match and to buy lots of German chocolate.

Yesterday, Audrey and I went to IKEA. It was an adventure, to say the least. It took almost an hour to get there, then there was about a 8 minute walk. We had to ask directions because the area surrounding the metro stop was just barren land with a couple of huge brick apartment buildings. It turns out we had to walk through a mall to get to the IKEA entrance. To my knowledge, this was a surprise that none of our friends who had gone before got to experience.

Once inside the mecca of efficient design I was on a mission. I needed to find a thicker blanket, new sheets and a lamp. As anyone who has ever gone to IKEA knows, you have to walk on their set path which forces you past all their designs and show rooms. While I enjoy a good show room every now and again, I really wanted to buy my stuff and go. Audrey and I had decided that we would hit the cafe at the end of our trip, and I was hoping for Swedish meatballs. We got a little lost in the bedding show area, since they had one edredón (comforter in Spanish) on display for 19.95 € but we had been told that there were 6 euro ones somewhere in IKEA. We walked around trying to find them, or someone to ask, but came up empty handed. We decided to move on to the Autoservico section because that was our best guess as to where the hide the types of stuff we were looking for.

When we got to the bottom floor we found a pile of comforters for 3.99€. Success! Our plan was to each buy two, then double up in the cover. I tried it out last night, and it worked perfectly. Also, when spring rolls back around we can take one out and have a lighter blanket. A genius idea, I think. The self-serve section of IKEA was successful. I found all the things on my list, plus an ice-cube tray that makes ice in the shape of little fishies. Don't judge, plus is was less than one euro.

Audrey and I paid then made a stop at the fast-food stand, not the full cafe, on the opposite side of the cash register. To my shock, there were no meatballs just hot dogs. Luckily, the hot dog and soda combo was only 1.5 €, plus the soda was refillable. I have to admit that I truly miss free refills on soda. That and actual Diet Coke, this Coca-Cola Light business does the job but it is less than satisfying.

After drinking our fill of soda we walked back to the metro and began the 45 minute trek home. I unpacked my goodies and washed the sheets. Next I decided I was going to go buy shoes, since my cheap ballet flats had failed me so miserably last week. I walked around my neighborhood for nearly 2 hours, but couldn't find ones I liked that much. Wait, that is a lie. I found ones that I liked, but after a few shops I knew I had brought my ability to pick out the most expensive item in the store with me from the States. Somehow, whenever I go shopping the things I want are usually the more expensive model/style/design. In my last stop I found a pretty nice pair of boots that I enjoyed, but they were 65€ (while expensive, is half the price of the other pairs I liked...). Reeling a little from the economic impact of my trip to IKEA I decided to go home and review the numbers. I think I will buy them, but I might wait until I get paid on Thursday.

This week is Thanksgiving, but I don't think my school has anything planned. The American University abroad program puts on a big group dinner on Thursday night, which I will probably end up attending. Also, Saturday afternoon Eimear is hosting a Thanksgiving lunch at her place. She and Blair, her roommate, are making a turkey and the rest of the guests are bringing sides. I will be making a pumpkin pie, since I found canned pumpkin in the American grocery store. While at IKEA, Audrey and I decided that everyone has to go into this Thanksgiving knowing that it is modified to fit what is available here. As with everything, it is the thought behind it that counts. It might taste off, but it has the makings of being a great Thanksgiving in spirit.

8 Weeks Down, 33 to Go!

We've reached the end of yet another week. I have survived beginning to teach outside classes and a run-in with glass in the street. Even though this week was a little more challenging than I would like, I'm still excited to be living and working in Madrid. Though I've been forced to take it easy these last couple of weeks I can't wait to get back out there. Once my glass extraction wound heals I want to pick up with touring the city by foot.

Yesterday, after my trip to the emergency department, Melanie and I had dinner at our local Kebab restaurant. Top-notch, I have to say. The prices were excellent and the food was delicious. We both ate and had a beverage for about 5 euro a piece. The restaurant is quite small, from what we could see. There were only about a dozen tables and the bar, but it was full of people chatting and eating. The only trouble with this place is that I can't figure out the hours, once when I was looking for it, it was closed. It is also possible that I was looking in the wrong place, since my failed attempt was at the beginning of this adventure and I didn't exactly know where to look.

Even though I was supposed to rest my foot, I had to go grocery shopping today. This involves about a two-block walk and then touring the grocery isles. When I got there, as per usual on a Saturday afternoon, there were no baskets at the entrance. Before starting my lessons I would go on Monday afternoons, but now that I'm out of the house until close to 10 o'clock this is out of the question. I think I will have to move grocery shopping to Thursday afternoons or Friday mornings. I can't take the hunt for a basket. Luckily, I found a basket near the back of the store, close to the elevator. This particular grocery store is two-stories and most of the heavy items are downstairs.

While waiting to catch the elevator I over heard a woman talking to her five-year old son in American-accented English. When her son began talking to me in Spanish I responded, but then asked the mom where they were from. She put on a fake French accent and told me that he was born in France, she was from Chicago and her husband was from Bilbao, Spain. I realize that her particular situation is a little complicated, but there was no need for the pretentious fake accent. She was American, so was I; no need to pretend otherwise. I know that Americans aren't the most loved people abroad, but when you are talking to another American it is less necessary to hide the fact that you are American. Also, the whole fake accent thing is really ridiculous. I find Madonna's fake British accent annoying, just because you live somewhere doesn't mean you automatically have that accent. I've been living in Spain for two months now and don't accent my English. I probably never will, and I especially won't put on a fake accent when talking to people in the grocery store.

After the groceries were put away I had to go to the farmacia (Pharmacy in Spanish) to get some diabetes supplies, like Humalog insulin and the needles to use the insulin pens. I showed the pharmacist the receta (prescription) that the English speaking doctor had given me, which included the pen model that I buy in the States. He didn't have that exact same model, but showed me what he did have. One was plain Humalog insulin and the other was a Humalog mix with a different long acting one, clearly not the medication I was asking about. I pointed to the correct one, which had someone else's name taped to it.

He pulled off the name and asked if I wanted anything else, I told him I also needed the needles to do the injections. Luckily for me the word for needles is actually kind of hard to pronounce. Agujas is difficult because the "g" has kind of an "h"-like sound, but not really; when combined with the "j" that actually has an h sound it just comes out so wrong when I say it. The pharmacist didn't know what I was asking about and started to read me the storage instructions for the insulin. I stopped him and explained that I needed the "things" to do the injections, which I guess he understood because he went in the back to look for something. When he came back he had a box of pen needles, also with the name of the guy who's insulin I stole taped to it, and asked if that is what I wanted. More or less it is, the needles are a little shorter than the ones I use here, but I can figure out a way to ask him for longer ones next time.

Now I am just wasting time until it is a reasonable hour to call my parents. After I talk to them I think I will go see a movie. It is the best thing I can come up with that both gets me out of the apartment but also keeps me from walking around on my foot too much.

Like I Needed an Excuse to go Shoe Shopping!

warning: this post contains kind tales of blood, the squeamish have been warned!

Yesterday when I got off the bus in Moncloa I had to jump off. The bus couldn't pull up next to the side walk, and I have short legs. This combination made it necessary for me to jump. I should have looked before I leaped because I ended up jumping on to a piece of glass. Yes, street glass teaming with germs and other things. This piece of glass went through my cheap ballet flats and into my foot. It hurt like a bitch.

I hobbled through the metro home and investigated why my foot was killing me. That is when I found the glass and blood in my shoe. I tried to pull it out with tweezers, but it was pointless. I promptly emailed my mom with my boggle. She suggested that I soak it and hope that helped it work its own way out. After 30 minutes in hot water the glass was still there. Twenty emails later my mom agreed that I should go to a doctor in the morning. I went to bed, hoping that the glass would magically jump out of my foot and I wouldn't have to explain to Spanish medical professionals that I had glass stuck in my foot.

My dream did not come true. I woke up at 11:30 and the glass was still there. I went back to bed and again woke up with glass in my foot at 2 o'clock. I decided that I was going to go to the doctor across the street because I had to hobble there, and didn't want to hobble around looking for another place if this guy was just across the street. The only flaw in my plan was that he doesn't open until 4:30. In the meantime I ate lunch, watched some Simpsons dubbed in Spanish.

When 4:30 rolled around I packed my insurance card and the list of vocabulary I thought I would need to explain myself and walked the half block to the doctor. The number of people also waiting surprised me; there were about a half dozen people in front of me. I hoped that some of them were just waiting with another person because I had to be back to meet the plumber who was going to fix our sink and hot water heater at 6 o'clock.

Finally my turn came, about 45 minutes later. I told the doctor that there was glass in my foot and that I couldn't get it out. He took a look and told me that he couldn't do anything and that I would have to go to a clinica, which I think is kind of like a mini-hospital. He wrote down what was wrong and what I needed and told me where the clinica was. I took my note and left to meet the plumber.

After the plumber left I walked the 3 blocks to the clinica. I went to the reception desk and explained that I had glass in my foot and that when I went to the doctor on my street he told me to go there, but I didn't know who to see or where to go. I showed her the paper and hoped that she would piece my explanation together with the information provided by the doctor. Not so.

She looked at me and asked if I needed and X-ray or what. It was at this point that I was beginning to loose all hope of ever getting the glass out of my foot, so I began to tear up and almost cry. I told her "No. There is a piece of glass in my foot and I can't get it out." Next she asked if I wanted to make and appointment to get it taken out or see someone right now. As nicely as I could manage I told her right now, if possible. She then entered all my information into the computer and escorted me up the stairs to the emergency guy.

I waited for him for about five minutes. When I went in he tried to speak English with me, by asking "what is your name?" and when I told him he said "ah... la americana" as if he had heard my lame attempts at explaining my situation downstairs and knew I was not Spanish. He had me lay on the table and took a look. Then he pulled out some huge tweezers and tried to pull the glass out. If that was going to work I wouldn't be on his table. When I realized I couldn't watch this whole thing go down, I layed down and closed my eyes and plugged my ears (the sound of metal tweezers on glass shards in your foot is actually quite traumatizing).

He dug around for a few minutes, which felt like forever. Finally he had the chunk of glass out. I lost a few giant drops of blood in the process and my wound was bleeding pretty profusely. I can't stand the sight of blood, especially when it is mine and not inside my body. Over the summer I had to get several blood tests done, and one time I fully passed out in the chair. Each and every time I made my mother go with me to hold my hand and distract me. The last time, when the woman had to draw several vials of blood I got light headed at the sight of the number of vials she had pulled out.

This time my mom couldn't come with me and I had to distract myself. Because the doctor doesn't speak English and my Spanish decreases relative to the amount of stress I am under there was no hope for conversation. After the extraction, he cleaned up my foot and bandaged it. Once the wound (which is about the size of a pencil eraser) was covered he asked how I was. To be honest, I was light headed and a little queasy. I answered that I was much better than when the glass was in my foot, but as soon as the sentence was over I threw up in my mouth a little. The pain, or the sight of my own blood on the floor, or the stress of the situation or possibly the combination of it all made me sick.

After I spit out my vomit and drank a little water, the really nice doctor made a little insert for my shoe out of a sponge so that I wouldn't put any pressure on it while walking home. He also gave me bandages to put on it and told me what to ask the pharmacist for to disinfect it. What sucks the most is that he told me to rest it for the weekend. So last weekend got eaten up by my cold and this one is sacrificed to the glass wound.

Next weekend I will be going shoe shopping. I want to buy better quality shoes so that I never have to go through this business again. I also just like shoes.

Speaking English Hardly Qualifies One to Teach it!

This week I began teaching side classes after school and this has forced the realization that just because I speak English on a regular basis does not mean that I am qualified to teach it. For me, English just is, I don't remember most of the rules about grammar and sentence structure I just go with what sounds right. Sometimes what sounds right is technically wrong, but I'm slowly working on that point. Lucky for me, one of the classes I teach is through Mosaic, the language school run by Maite. This means that they have a collection of books and activities that I can use, most of which explain the rational behind what is right and what is wrong.

Yesterday while I was preparing for Carlota's class I read through the directions to many activities; this was eye-opening because it was the first time in a while that I had to think about why we speak the way we do. She specifically needed to work on the words yet, already and since. I just know when to use yet or already, so it was difficult to explain how we use them. Thankfully the sheet had some examples and I could make up a few more on my own. I think Carlota understood me, but that is probably because she speaks a good amount of English. My next lesson was not as easy.

I also teach a family in their home. This family consists of a 12 year old boy, a seven year old girl and their mother. The boy has been taking English for a while, but he speaks about as well as my 4th graders here at school. The girl also takes classes in school, but since they are little kids it is mostly playing games and a little bit of vocabulary. The mom took English 20 years ago and wants to re-learn the parts she needs to travel. She told me, in Spanish, about how she has ideas but doesn't know how to express them. She also told me that when she was in NYC she went shopping and thought a shirt was on sale, but when they rang it up the mark-down wasn't included and she had no idea how to ask about that.

This is a situation I can totally understand, seeing as my Spanish is functional, but no where near my level of English. It frustrates me that I can't be as articulate in Spanish as I am in English. I fancy myself quite funny and charming in English, but in Spanish I am reduced to simple tenses and facts, not jokes. I thought about what I would do if faced with a situation like hers, and I realized that I would probably end up paying more because I don't know how to argue that point. Maybe Maribel (the mom) can teach me how in Spanish, just in case I need to claim a discount!

I plan to spend some time on Friday in the Mosaic office plotting out the course of my lessons. Since they are after school I have to run from school to the office and only have enough time to really think about that afternoon's activities. I'm not sure how many of you knew about my near-meticulous planning for Boys & Girls Club, but I had activities planned for the whole six weeks by the start of week one. They gave us an empty calendar with the spaces we had for the different hours and I filled in those boxes with games and crafts and other things. I liked having a plan, flying by the seat of my pants did occur if someone suggested a good idea or activity, but I liked to have an idea what I was going to be doing. This time I want to make photocopies of pages, for not just Monday's lesson but maybe for the rest of the month. I also want to chart out what I am going to do with Maribel and her family. When are we going to talk about certain topics and what games am I going to play with her daughter.

7 Weeks Down, 34 to Go!

Here we are again, the end of the week update. Though I feel that I have posted on the two main events of this week I will uphold the tradition.

I still wish I were home in the States for this time of year. Between the election and the upcoming holidays it feels strange to be so far from home. In typical lazy American style, I would love to turn on CNN and passively absorb the latest on the Obama Administration, but I can't. I have to use my brain and read things. I also would just love to be surrounded by people who share me excitement. Oh well, I guess when I am asked in 20 years, "where were you when Obama was elected?" I will have a pretty sweet answer.

Another thing driving my desire to be home this week was the British teachers. Yesterday we had a big good-bye lunch/party for them at the school. Over plates of ham and olives they asked how long I would be working at the school, when I told them 'til the end of the year, without skipping a beat, they asked if I was going back to the States for Christmas. I had to say "No, I will be here until the end of June" and then accept their looks of pity. I think if people hadn't kept asking me about going home it wouldn't be on my mind so much. I am having a great time here, but when you are constantly reminded that it is difficult to be far from home over the holidays you can't help but agree.

Aside from causing me a little bit of homesickness, the British teachers were quite wonderful. After we moved on from my being stranded here, we talked about the school and how warm everyone was towards them. It is true, the people at our school are pretty fabulous. They provided a vast spread of food for the lunch, they gave the teachers each lithographs of famous streets in Madrid and sang them a good-bye song that brought tears to both British and Spanish eyes. In the matter of one week the six British teachers became an extension of the Rosa Luxemburgo family. Towards the end the other Auxiliares and I joked about what our good-bye would be like, to be honest I'm sure there will be lots of crying and probably more wine.

I spent all of Saturday in my bed. I have some mystery cold that has morphed from simple sinus congestion to a sore throat, to a cough and congestion and now we are just at the cough stage. On Thursday, I went to the doctor across the street, not the English speaking one I went to about insulin. My visit with him lasted all of a minute. It was almost closing time, so I think he was in a a hurry. Before I could tell him what was wrong I started to cough. He pulled out the stethoscope and took a quick listen. Then he asked if I had a fever, to which I told him "maybe, but I don't know" (since I don't have a thermometer here I really couldn't say for sure). After this brief conversation he prescribed two pills and sent me on my way.

I, of course, did some internet research and found that he had given me Amoxicillin and an OTC pain/fever medication in the Tylenol family. I'm not one to rely on pills, but in this case I have seen some improvement in the past 2 days of use. If that is the pills or the fact that I have been sick for about a week, I can't say. I just need this to go away.

Sí Se Puede

Yesterday, November 4th 2008, the American people loudly and clearly decided it is time for change. When I woke up on November 4th here in Madrid, my friends and family were either sleeping or hadn't even gone to bed yet. Aside from my roommates, I woke up feeling a little isolated about the election. Yes, there was plenty of hype on television and an article in the daily newspapers handed out at metro stations, but it didn't carry the same sense of excitement one probably found in the US air.

I boarded the metro, but no one else seemed to know just how important yesterday was. The people around me flipped past stories about Obama and McCain with the same care that they checked the scores of previous football matches. Part of me really wanted to stop them and make them read the simple article about the election, to me they needed to know just how monumental this day was going to be. But I restrained myself, and let them continue on as they were; the Spanish news was going to have several hours of programing devoted to the election, they would find out soon enough.

When I got to school many of the kids were excited for me. As I told you before, the 4th grade supports Obama and knows that I voted for him. When I arrived, one of the kids asked if I flew home to vote. As much as I wanted to be home for this one, I couldn't fly home so I tried to explain about absentee voting. The simplest way I could find to explain it was that I was sent a letter asking who I wanted to be president and I sent them one back telling them I wanted Obama. This was interpreted as me sending Barack a personal letter of support and that was my way of voting. I tried to correct them and re-explained that the people in charge of the elections sent me the letter and I sent them one back; I'm pretty sure Ines still thinks Barack and I are pen-pals. Oh well.

Throughout the day we had several short conversations about the election. Many of the teachers, both Spanish and British, asked us about it and expressed their support for Obama. Certainly, on one level they are deeply interested in the politics and policies of the United States, but part of me couldn't help thinking that they were just reflecting my own personal excitement. I wonder if they had not had American Auxiliares in their school if these individuals would have been as excited. Perhaps they would have followed the news stories in their free time, but I don't know if there would have been so much discussion. It is hard to escape the influence that the United States has on world politics. Like it or not, we have the power and ability to affect almost any part of the globe. The more I thought at about individual Spanish reactions and collective news coverage the greater our role in the world appeared.

Soon it was time to go home. As we left everyone wished me luck and that my candidate would win. I, of course, thanked them but secretly hoped that all this talk of Obama's victory hadn't jinxed anything. Four years ago I was convinced that the American public couldn't be dumb enough to vote for Bush again; four years ago I was wrong. This is why I approached election season with far more caution than last time. This time I prefaced conversations with words like "hopefully" and "if" rather than last time, when I used words like "when."

Upon arrival home I took a nap in preparation for a long night of election results. Because of the time difference, the first set of election results wouldn't reach Madrid until about 2 o'clock in the morning. The West Coast results wouldn't come in until 5 am. To watch these results come in Tony, Audrey, Eimear, Blair and I went to the Democrats Abroad party in the Bellas Artes center. We pre-bought our tickets over the weekend for 10 euros. I admit, I got a little dressed up, wanting my outfit to reflect the importance of this evening. This was not casual Friday, everyday wear was out of place at a party to celebrate a (peaceful) political revolution. Once gussied-up, Tony and I shared some wine and left with Audrey for the fiesta.

When we arrived at Bellas Artes there was a line well down the block of people waiting to get in. The rumor was that people had been in line for over an hour and a half and no one had been let inside during that time. We continued to wait, and wait. Then we waited some more. Eventually it became obvious that our very American line was a bust and that we would have to crowd the door.

While standing in line it occurred to me that they should have had a line for the Americans and one for everyone else. In my opinion it was my election, not theirs. Therefore they should have to wait and see if there is enough space for them to join our party. For this one night I wanted it to matter that I was an American, and the only way that was going to happen was for them to recognize that many of the Spanish people in line were in line because it was a good party, not because the results of this election were crucial to the rest of their lives. Please don't get me wrong, many of the Spaniards and other various Europeans in line did know about American politics, but more as a passing interest the same way that some people are fans of soccer or British history. They knew the names and lots of information about the parties, but they could not feel the importance of this moment the same way that the US citizens in line felt it. Deep in our bones, we knew this was a make or break moment for our nation.

Finally, after an over hour of waiting in a pathetic attempt at a line, our gang line jumped and joined the crowd gathering by the door. People chanted about getting their money back, and about opening the doors. When the time came to open the doors the rush of people actually carried me forward. There were times when I was not standing by my own power, but rather by the force of people behind me propping me up against those waiting in front of me. We got inside, and found the place was not crowded at all. Several bars dotted the floor and served decently priced drinks to the thirsty crowd. Since I had to be at work in less than 8 hours, I decided not to drink this night. In hindsight, I'm pretty sure the staff at my school would understand a hangover after such an pivotal night.

This is where my frustration with many of the non-US citizens inside the party grew. Not only had they taken up space in the lines, but they were there not to watch the results or participate in a meaningful way, but rather to get drunk and take pictures with a person in a Sarah Palin costume. Yes, I did take one photo of Tony under the red, white and blue balloon arch, but the point of us being there was supposed to be to watch our election results with people (from our country) who really cared about the outcome. For me, it was supposed to be a gathering of like-minded people who wanted to celebrate the new direction the United States was headed. I recognize that I may be taking this party a little too seriously, but there were times when I felt that our election wasn't being taken seriously, rather it was a venue for some to party on a Tuesday night and buy fairly cheap beers.

Again, I am probably misrepresenting the situation by focusing on those who annoyed me. In truth there were many people who genuinely were interested in watching the results. When the announcement that Obama had taken the battleground state of Pennsylvania came in, Tony and I were in a room where you could also hear the CNN commentary, rather than just watch it on a giant screen. This room was smaller, and packed with people. We watched and waited, and once it was projected that he had those electoral votes the room erupted in cheers.

I stayed late enough to watch two time zones report, but by 3 am I had to go home. When I came home I opened CNN.com and saw their interactive electoral college map. By 3 am in Madrid, Obama only needed to win Washington, Oregon, California and Hawaii to win. I went to bed feeling secure in my country's future. He clearly had this in the bag and finally things were going to turn around.

When I woke up, 4 hours later, I rechecked CNN.com, the headline read "Change has come to America" accompanied by a photo of Barack and Michelle Obama. I was thrilled. I went out into the living room and crossed paths with Melanie. We did a very quiet victory dance, full of fist pumping. I'm sure if Audrey had been awake there would have been apartment wide cheering, but we didn't want to wake her. There was one person, however, who I did want to wake. When it is 7:45 am here, it is 10:45 pm in Forest Grove, where my mom is. I had to call her, I needed to talk to someone about what was happening there.

She told me that the election was pretty much called by the time Oregon polls closed and that both Barack Obama and John McCain had given very nice speeches. I didn't have time to google the speeches, so that would have to wait. I finished getting ready and left for school.

Again, the commute to school was a lonely experience. My fellow passengers did not share my enthusiasm for what had happened the night before. This time, Obama's projected victory was on the fronts of the metro newspapers. I managed to snag one off of a seat, hoping to collect the various ones passed out at the Moncola bus terminal. Such was not the case; when I left the bus terminal there were no papers. None. Usually there are four different publications competing for riders attention, but this time you couldn't find a paper if you tried, and I did. I began to wonder if the Spaniards had gobbled up the keepsakes the same way I'm sure copies of the New York Times and Washington Post will be tucked away in acid-free paper for future generations.

When I got on the bus, with only my scavenged copy of 20 Minutos, I ran into Laura, the first grade teacher at my school. She and I were equally excited. She spent several years living in Oakland, so she is familiar with US politics, but what struck me about our conversation was that she felt this was the kind of change not only needed by the US but also the world. The world. Again we are back to the role the United States has in international affairs. Our election wasn't just a turning point for us, but rather one for the rest of the world. I hope that rather than the Bush method of diplomacy, or rather pushing everyone around, Obama can deliver on the promise of rebuilding our place in the international area on a foundation of respect.

At school the teachers, both Spanish and British, congratulated Eimear and me. One lovely woman, Amparo, came up and gave us two kisses, one on each cheek, almost like it was our birthday. They called felicitaciones (congratulations in Spanish) and told us how happy they were for us. Again, it seemed like their excitement was a reflection of ours. But in the end that doesn't matter. What matters is that these people were excited and that they knew, on some level, just how important yesterday was.

After school, I came home to watch those aforementioned speeches on my computer. Luckily they were not hard to find. I watched the Obama one first and only a few minutes in I began to cry. Hearing his victory speech was the moment when this whole process became real again. When he spoke of how he was going to govern and reach out to those who did not vote for him it sank in that things are going to change, and they will be different when I get home. As he closed his speech with a few rounds of "Yes We Can" it hit me that it is true.

I am a citizen of a country where anything is possible. In the 2000 and the 2004 elections a rich white guy with family money and corrupt deals won. Our country was run by liars and cheaters, but the people of America would not stand for it anymore. What is depressing is how bad things had to get before we stood our ground, but when we did it was monumental. We wanted change, and we got change. Change from the status quo and change from our own defeatist attitudes.

For today, and the next couple of days I am going to revel in that fact. I know there are still things wrong with our country, ie Proposition 8 in California, for right now, in this moment, I am choosing to focus on what is right in our country.