Me Mudaré a España

My Final Post

2009-07-08T03:28:00.001+02:00

Since I last posted, well over a month ago, many things have happened, including my return from Spain. That being said, this post will be the last one for this blog. Who knows, maybe my next adventure will be blog-worthy, maybe not…

After San Sebastian, I went to London for a week. My cousin Jenna was there setting up a group of summer abroad students and I had the chance to stay in a hotel for free. London is a wonderful city. I was also floored by the fact that everyone spoke English. Laugh all you want, but after nearly 8 months of being surrounded by non-English speakers it was actually quite jarring to be of the language majority. I reveled in this fact from the moment the plane landed. I had to pass through customs and was probably more chatty than necessary with the guard. Suspicious? Probably. Halfway through blabbing at him about living and teaching in Madrid I realized that I probably sounded like one of those people who had rehearsed a story to get through customs. Luckily he didn’t mind, much.

When I arrived at the hotel my number one goal was to watch TV in English. Thanks to globalization there were plenty of American programs on the British channels. I loved every minute of it. I watched Friends, Cold Case, CSI and so much more. I even caught up on some music videos.

I saw a few of the museums London has to offer, wondered Hyde Park and enjoyed a Pims. All in all, I loved London. If I had moved abroad there, rather than Madrid, I might not have been so desperate to come home after a while. This is probably because it wouldn’t have presented the same challenges and, on the tourist level, seemed way easier to live in.

Upon return from London school was on half days, so I only had to work until 1 each day. I’d love to report that I took advantage of that time and saw more things in Madrid. Honestly, I took naps and taught private lessons. At night my friends and I went out more, mostly because we knew our time was running out.

The first weekend of June our electricity (and eventually hot water) went out. When it went out we didn’t have a massive freak-out, like most people would expect. We decided to eat the ice creams Audrey had in the freezer and wait for the electrician to come. Eventually, Monday night he came and told us that the problem was the hot water heater. It was some problem with the current circulating. Lets be honest here, they don’t teach electrician vocabulary in Spanish class, so he could have said about anything and we’d have gone with it.

Audrey and I were leaving early Thursday morning for Alicante and, after lots of time working on Spanish time, we knew we wouldn’t get a heater anytime before we left. I took chilly showers and dealt with it, since I was leaving on vacation soon.

Thursday came and we boarded our Ryanair flight. After 40 minutes in the air we landed in Alicante. The four days we spent in Alicante went something like this. Wake up. Go to Beach. Home for lunch. Lounge until dinner. Dinner. Lounge until bed. It was a lovely time with seven other wonderful ladies. We prepared our meals in the apartment and ate family style. The weekend was quite relaxing and full of laughs. Basically it was great.

Upon my return to Madrid, my experience started to go south. In May, perhaps April, my Grandpop was diagnosed with cancer. Being 91 years old, we didn’t have the highest hopes for remission, but they decided to give him radiation treatments to try and shrink the ones causing him pain. In early June my mom went to Pennsylvania to be with her family and await my arrival. When she got there Grandpop was still getting up and getting dressed for the day. He would come down stairs and basically be the Grandpop I’d left in September. The Tuesday after I got back from the beach my mom sent me an email saying that, if I wanted to, I should come home early.

Originally we had changed my ticket from July 2nd to June 27th mainly because I would’ve been one of the last few people in Madrid and I was ready to get out sooner. This time we changed it to Saturday the 20th with the hopes that I could get back to Philly in time to say goodbye. This had me leaving my school before the last day of school, which meant I had to tell them.

I’m sure you’ve heard the stereotype that Spanish people are family oriented. I got to experience that first hand on Wednesday morning when I told my director that I was leaving early. I waited for about 45 minutes outside her office. When it was my turn, she asked me what was up and before I could say anything I just started crying. She rushed me into her office and sat me down. The head teacher followed us in. It was rather scary to have these two Spanish ladies trying to get info out of me. I managed to get the words for “Grandfather” and “die” out. I was trying to explain that he was close to dying and I was going to leave early to be with him and my family, but at those two words they knew what was going on.

The offered to do anything I needed. Marisol, the director, told Eduardo and he left his class to rush in and talk to me. It took about another 45 minutes for me to calm down enough to go to class. The people at my school really are the sweetest, kindest group of teachers one could ask for. I lucked out being placed at Rosa Luxemburgo and anyone who gets that school in the future needs to know how lucky they are.

On Friday I was out doing my final gift shopping, mostly as a distraction from the situation in Pennsylvania I could do nothing about, when my mom called with the news. My Grandpop had died early Friday morning. So that was the situation I left Spain under.

I was devastated by his death, sad to be leaving my friends but delighted to be going home to my friends and family whom I had not seen since September. The only word I can come up with to describe the feelings I had were bittersweet. Bitter because I was landing in Philly only to begin preparing for a funeral, but sweet because I was finally going to see my mom and family.

Hopefully this post has given you some insight as to the abrupt end to posts. I didn’t want to leave you all hanging, though I’m sure most of the people who read this knew most of this already. Also, for those of you whom I didn’t call immediately after landing, please don’t take it as a comment on our friendship, but more a representation of my extreme mixed emotions. I promise to pick up the phone soon enough.

San Sebastian

2009-05-30T15:43:00.006+02:00

A few years ago I went to visit a cousin in Boston. To prepare for my arrival she asked my mom for ideas. My mom offered the suggestion that I am usually very happy near bodies of water. Until I heard my mom's observation I was unaware of this fact, I guess I had just never noticed how true it was. I spent the first 12 or so years of my life living on the Oregon Coast (one of the most ruggedly beautiful places on Earth). When I went to college in DC I quickly found that the Jefferson Memorial is my favorite, probably partly because of its location on the tidal basin. Now in Madrid, one of my favorite places to have a coffee is at a cafe next to the fake pond in the middle of Retiro park.

This is important information because I think it explains why I loved San Sebastian so much. To take advantage of my remaining time here I attempted to organize a trip to San Sebastian. Audrey and Eimear also wanted to go, so for the weekend of May 15th we went north. San Sebastian is a small-ish town in the north of Spain located on the Bay of Biscay. Our guide book listed a few sights to see, like the Cathedral, but we spent most of our time just wandering the old narrow streets, walking next to the beach and eating Pinxtos. The touristiness of our trip was minimal.

After taking the 6 hour bus ride from Madrid we took a little nap before exploring the city. Our first stop was the boardwalk, just 3 blocks from the hostel. It was beautiful. There were sandy beaches, clear blue water and tree-covered hills. True to my mom's assessment, as soon as I laid eyes on the bay I was in a happy place. I loved it. We continued on walking the city and found the Cathedral and lots of shopping. Then we paused long enough to make a plan, which was to wander some more then eat Pinxtos.

Pinxtos are little servings of food, typically on bread, that you eat with a drink. In San Sebastian the Pinxto experience goes as follows: go to bar, order a drink, pick up a pinxto from the plates laid out on the bar, eat, repeat until you move to the next place. In our adventure we ended up trying four different places, all with yummy food. I couldn't tell you exactly what I was eating most of the time, but it was good.

Saturday was our only full day in San Sebastian, but we were not worried about sight-seeing. We got a late start to the day and started off with lunch of Pallea at a place recommended by our hostel owner. The hostel owner knows what he is talking about. The Pallea was fabulous. We then went shopping/wandering. Then it started to rain, so we hid out in the hostel, watching a movie until it was time for a repeat of our Pinxto adventure. Just as delicious as the first night.

On Sunday we had a few hours before the bus, so we decided to try and walk up to a very large Jesus statue that offered good views of the city. After fueling up with ice-cream we found that the hike up there was a little more than we wanted to do, so we walked around a cape and took in some fantastic views of the water. On our walk back to the hostel to collect our things we took off our shoes and walked with the waves brushing over our feet. Finally, it was time to make some sandwiches and get back on the bus for a 6 hour ride back.

San Sebastian was amazing. I'm not at all upset by the fact that we didn't see any "sights" nor did we really "do" anything. I think we successfully completed my goal of setting aside my American idea of conquering locations and really did "aprovechar" my time away from Madrid and next to the sea.

If a Cat Has Kittens in an Oven are they Biscuits?

2009-05-22T22:30:00.008+02:00

PREFACE: I've been debating for a while if I should tackle this post or not. Yes, I did study issues of Nationalism while at American University, but if anything that has taught be just how complicated these issues can be. With that being said I've decided to go for it, but please take this only as an exercise in applying my studies to a real life situation and not a definition of my stance on issues of citizenship or related topics.

A few weeks back I went to an Irish themed bar in Madrid. These things are popular everywhere, but there is one in particular that we frequented when I was studying abroad. At Dubliner's one can speak English with most of the patrons, watch American sports like basketball and for an evening forget that you are in Spain. This particular time our group ended up talking to an individual named Pepe.

Pepe is from Barcelona but he has an American passport. Pepe's parents were studying Medicine at John's Hopkins when he was born and they lived in the US until Pepe was about five years old. Throughout the night Pepe continually told us that he was American too. I'm certain that he was saying it with the best of intentions; probably as a way of showing us that we had common ground and not in that he was claiming to be as American as us. But really, are there degrees to being American?

The way that US law is written means that anyone born on US soil is eligible for citizenship, but what does that mean in practice? I know that America is the great melting-pot (or some in the cross-cultural communications world prefer the salad-bowl analogy because the individual pieces can maintain their original forms rather than melting away in a pot...) and we are able to accept all types of people. Even though intellectually I knew Pepe was right I still found myself put-off by his claims to be American.

Never before have I struggled with a thought in the same way as that one. But honestly, he lived there for 5 years and then moved back to Spain with his Spanish family. I'm not certain that he had the common cultural experiences that define American life. Did he go trick-or-treating? Did he make hand turkeys for Thanksgiving? Does he know the basic rules to baseball or kickball?

When discussing issues of nationality and definitions of national heritage one has to consider the question of where do we get our nationality from. Does one belong to certain group because they were born in the "right" geographical location or do they belong because they inherited the "right" set of genes? Or does your belonging come from a shared heritage of experiences? Personally, I can't say if one definition is better than another. When twisted, any criteria can be used for good purposes or bad.

My experience with Pepe has forced me to evaluate just what I think it means to be an American. Technically, yes he can call himself American. But as someone who spent 23 years living in America and learning the subtle nuances of the culture I have a hard time seeing him equally as American as me. This probably has to do with the fact that he lived the majority of his formative years in Spain and inherently knows more about what it means to be Spanish than what it does to be American.

My view of issues of identity was also called into question when I had to referee a debate among some of my 4th graders. Many of the kids were ganging up on the new kids, Nicholas, saying that he wasn't really Madrileño because he was born outside of Spain and his dad is from Holland. I tried to explain to them that it is possible (especially in the European Union, with its fluid borders and all...) for someone to be born in one place but rightfully claim to be from another place.

I guess the bottom line is that my time here has challenged me to think about issues I'd never considered before. If anything, I will go home with more questions than answers but I think that is a good sign.

Helsinki

2009-04-19T19:22:00.002+02:00

The day before I left for Finland I ran into the Portero of my building, Antonio, while walking out to run an errand. We had a quick conversation about what we would respectively be doing for the Semana Santa holidays. When I told him that I was going to Finland he sighed and asked how long I was going, because he thought I would need at least fifteen days. I responded that I would be there for five, but elaborated that I knew it was a short trip, but it was a trip at least.

Antonio’s comment highlights the way Americans and Spaniards look at vacations. I’ve noticed that Spaniards (undoubtedly, Europe’s reigning experts on relaxation) are more prone to take month long holidays rather than a weekend here or there. While, Americans (a group of people who work more than any other nation) are apt to jet off for a weekend at a time and charge around doing things. When I booked my trip I thought five days we a good enough amount of time, I could go and see the museums an other sights but still have time not to rush through it. Oh, how wrong I was. I should learn to silence that American voice that tells me to “do” locations (for example one American tourist may say to another, “Tomorrow we can do the Prado Museum” as though the Prado were a thing to be conquered…) and start listening to the Spanish voice that says I should go and “aprovechar” (basically a verb meaning to make the most of an opportunity, but not in the exploitive way you Americans might be thinking…).

I would like to think by now that I am an excellent traveler. In the States I would hop from Washington DC to Portland with no problems, I would also catch a train from DC to Philly like it was my every day commute. And now that I have been living in Europe for a while, I can add various metro and bus systems to my list of conquests. This ability to travel well also has given me the appearance that I am from many different locations. Knowing what you are doings seems to be the key part to being assumed a local, it probably doesn’t hurt that I have fairly generic “white” features and globalization has made it more difficult to pin-point what it physically means to be from certain places….

While waiting for my first flight, from Madrid to Frankfurt I had to help a troop of Germans understand the overhead announcements. Mind you, I don’t speak German (aside from the words I learned in December: Bitte, Danke, Halo, Chus, Eine…) but these people looked at me and assumed me one of them. I did my best to explain in simple English and hand-gesture what was going on and thankfully we all got on the plane. The assumption that I from Germany continued while I was waiting in the Frankfurt Airport. Buying a sandwich, being asked to fill out a survey and boarding the plane all took place in German for me.

Once we were on the plane announcements were made in German, English and a pre-recorded tape with the Finnish announcements was played. Also aboard this plane the Finns were passing around a Finnish language newspaper that someone had found/brought with them. The gentleman next to me read it intently, while I glanced over trying to figure out how all those vowels made words. When he had finished, my neighbor offered me the newspaper and I politely declined.

We landed in Helsinki at about 10:30 in the evening and I was bombarded by the fact that I had no idea what was going on around me. None. Announcements made in Finnish over the intercom only served to cement this idea. I found a taxi stand and asked to go to the address of my hotel. Because this particular service does a ride-sharing business where they put several passengers in one van and make several stops we all walked as a herd to the van. The driver was putting luggage in the van according to how far into the route it would go, starting with the last person to be dropped off. I stood around and waited for him to take my bag. While waiting, a man turned to me an in Finnish explained the driver’s logic. I gave him a blank stare and said “Sorry?” in English. In equally clear English he said to me, “Oh, you don’t speak Finnish?” like I had just told him that the world was flat. He didn’t seem to believe that I wasn’t a Finn.

The next morning I woke up in the hotel and got going. The hotel served breakfast, which I assume was in some ways traditional Finnish food. There was porridge, sausages, sliced lunchmeats, cucumber, tomatoes and bread, coffee and juice. Growing up I remember my Grandpop telling me about how his in-laws would drink coffee like it was nothing, occasionally through a sugar cube. These stories were usually in conjunction with chiding my mom about her coffee snobbery and how she must have inherited that from her Finnish side. Knowing this, I decided to try Finnish coffee. It was gross. There is no other word for it. I thought I was drinking mud with some coffee flavoring. No wonder the Finns load their cups with sugar!

After breakfast I was off to see Helsinki. I caught a tram to the center of the city and began walking around the Senate Square where the Lutheran Cathedral is. Unfortunately, I didn’t really know what I was looking at so I quickly surveyed the square and moved on to the Helsinki City Museum. In this museum you can find all sorts of artifacts about the history of Helsinki, from being the home to nomadic tribes up to being a metropolitan melting pot. Along the way Helsinki was a port city for the Swedish, taken over by the Russians, had a run in with Napoleon and finally was part of independent Finland in the early 20th century. The Helsinki City Museum also has many satellite museums around the city with more specific focus. I decided to pop into one that focused on celebrations in Finish culture. This is where I got the idea that Helsinki, and possibly Finland in general, just wants to blend in with Europe. The celebration exhibit focused on how there isn’t anything super-duper special about how Finns celebrate things, for example they wear nice clothes for fancy events, they follow traditional Lutheran practice for weddings and they eat nice meals at Christmas time. Though I was hoping for some fun/strange way Finns celebrate things, I still found the museum interesting.

Then it became time for lunch. After hours of wandering around the city looking for these two museums and taking pictures of the Cathedral I was hungry. I had read previously about how Finns favor international cuisine and that traditional Finnish food is traditionally expensive, so I was prepared to eat whatever I found that looked good, regardless of nationality. My first stop was a Tex-Mex restaurant near the National Theater. In getting there, I passed up on several pizza buffets and fast food chains. If I wanted to eat at McDonalds I could’ve stayed in Madrid. Madrid, and Spain in general, aren’t big on international foods. They love Spanish food and prefer to eat that over most other things. I decided I would take my trip to Finland as a chance to eat all the things that I had a hard time finding in Madrid.

Yet again I was assumed Finnish. The waitress looked befuddled when I asked for things in English and clearly had no idea how to eat in a Finnish restaurant. In Helsinki you just sit down and wait. They don’t tell you where to sit, you just pick. This seemed kind of odd to me, but I went with it. They also give you water for free, which hasn’t happened to me since September when I was last in the States. Finns are also big on lunch buffets/ salad bars, sweet! Also, to pay you just get up and walk to the register and they magically know where you were sitting and what you ate. While difficult to remember, after a few days I was accustomed to this new approach to eating.

At the end of lunch I was permitted to go up and get some coffee, which I decided might be a good idea, since I don’t want to write off a whole country’s coffee based on one cup. Oh, what a bad idea. This was also mud in a cup, but this time it had some cinnamon in it. Ick. Once I had finished eating, and drank enough of the mud coffee to not offend the wait staff, it was time to continue exploring the city. I walked to the South Harbor where there is supposed to be an outdoor market. It turns out that in April when it is super chilly not many people want to set up stands or shop at the outdoor market. According to the postcard pictures, this is supposed to be a happening place, but alas no. I then went into the old market hall to have a look around. Basically you could buy salmon smoked in any way you wanted. Then you could sit in a café and eat more salmon. In some places you could also buy beans to make the Finnish mud coffee, but I passed.

I next went to see the Russian Orthodox Cathedral that stands high on a hill and can’t be missed when looking at the Helsinki cityscape. It was rather intricate and ornate, the complete opposite of the Lutheran one from earlier in the day. The Orthodox Cathedral had filled every space with glittery figures, frescos and mosaics. The Lutheran one opted for a more simplified decoration that called your attention only towards alter and the cross. In the Orthodox one I couldn’t find a place to focus my eyes for more than ten or fifteen seconds.

After dinner of some Thai food, I made my way back to the hotel and settled in for the night. Unfortunately, Helsinki closes around 6 o’clock, so doing anything aside from eating or drinking wasn’t going to happen. This fact made me miss Madrid a little, where the Prado is open until 8. I also had no desire to go out drinking alone in a city where I don’t speak the language so I went to bed to get ready for the next day. Before going to bed I did say a little prayer for good weather, but that would not be answered.

On Saturday I woke up and repeated my breakfast in the hostel before going to the National History Museum. Helsinki has a wonderful tram system so you can travel around while looking out the windows. This would’ve been even better if there wasn’t a thick layer of drizzle covering the city; nonetheless I enjoyed the 20-minute ride to the museum. When I arrived at the museum it was practically deserted save for a small family of four and a giant tour of senior citizens.

Typically I like museums. Call me nerdy, but I think they are fun. So I started this museum at the pre-history stage and made my way around to a small collection about more modern Finland. The general lesson I learned in the museum was that Finland has always been really good at adapting to changes. The ancient people adapted to freezing weather, then the settled societies adapted to being part of Sweden then to being taken over by Russian and finally they settled into independence rather nicely.

After spending a few hours soaking up knowledge about one of my many homelands I went to the gift shop. I wanted to pick up a guidebook so that I can show people what I learned. I picked out the one in English and took it up to the register. The woman began speaking to me in Finnish and when she looked at my book she said in an accusatory tone, “In English?” like I was betraying Finland by buying this book in English. I politely responded with, “yes.” I think she too assumed I was Finnish and was disappointed when I turned out to be a foreigner.

I later found lunch at an Indian place and went back to the hotel for a nap. After my nap I braved the drizzly, overcast, sad weather for an attempt at a walking tour. I went to see some of the sights around the Olympic Stadium. In 1952 Helsinki hosted the Olympics, which is when the city earned its reputation for being a welcoming place to foreigners. I think it was also the point when Helsinki, and Finland in general, started to cultivate the idea of being a truly metropolitan city full of diversity. In its past, Finland had been the intersection of the West and East with the clash of traditionally European styles against influences from Russia. In the past, I think, it was just assumed that is how Finland would be and no one made a huge fuss about it. But when the Olympics came and people saw how wonderful a city Helsinki was a light bulb moment occurred and this harmonious mixing could be a selling point.

I also tried to take a walk around one of the many lakes in Helsinki, but it was raining and the dirt path was basically a minefield of puddles, so again, I gave up and went for dinner.

On Sunday morning I woke up relatively early to go to Soumenlinna. Soumenlinna is an island that was developed into a military fortress in the 18th century and was eventually ceded to the Russians when they came to take over. The island has some buildings from the original design and some of Russian construction. The guidebooks say to set aside about 3 hours to see this island, which was about how long I spent wandering around.

It was kind of strange to wander around because about 800 citizens of Helsinki inhabit the island, so I was basically strolling their neighborhood. At one point I had gotten decently lost and had to march through someone’s drive way to get back to the main road. Awkward…

This was the kind of Finland I wanted to see, as it was probably the closest thing to how Finland was when my great-grandparents left. As I mentioned earlier, 1952 was kind of a turning point for Helsinki so the things that were considered sights now all pretty much date from then on. I went to Finland with the idea of connecting to my family roots, but sadly the Finland most connected to my family had been replaced by a new, dynamic modern Helsinki. The new Helsinki wants you to see all the new, revolutionary architecture and appreciate their love of international cuisine, but I wanted to see the old stuff. I’m sure if I had actually gone to the village my great-grandfather was from I would have seen a completely different side of Finland. This isn’t to say that new Helsinki was bad, I loved the city and didn’t want to leave, but it didn’t satisfy my desire to learn more about my particular history.

While on Soumenlinna I went to a restaurant/brewery hoping to find some traditional Finnish food. What I found was local beer and Swedish meatballs. Good enough, I guess. The beer was actually a bit of a let down, kind of tasteless and had a bitter finish. Perhaps being born in the Microbrewery capital of the world makes me a little biased, but that is my opinion…

After Soumenlinna I tried yet another walking tour of the city and quickly gave up when I couldn’t feel my nose anymore. At this point, it was about 5:30 in the afternoon on a Sunday and nothing was open, so I went back to the hotel and had some dinner and plotted my attack for the last day.

Monday morning I woke up to partly cloudy skies, which was an upgrade from the previous days of drizzle and fog. I took advantage of this and successfully completed a walking tour. This tour took me past several churches, along a stretch of shore and past many examples of Finnish design. I wanted to go to the Finnish Design Museum and the Finnish Architecture Museum, but they were both closed on Monday!

Once I had recovered from the disappointment of the museums being closed I began the hardest part of my trip, gift shopping. Since everyone in my family was so excited about my trip to Finland I had to bring them all back something. I surveyed my mom and cousin Jenna for ideas because they are the best sources of info on this topic. I had passed a gift shop on my way to the National History Museum and decided to go back. Again, the shopkeeper assumed I was Finnish and acted surprised when it turned out I wasn’t. She did teach me how to say “thank you”, Kiitos, which I later tried to use when purchasing lunch.

Side note: the next time I go somewhere fantastic all my family and friends need to declare a collection in advance so I can easily pick something out for you. This especially applies to my Dad. Thank you.

Once I had started the gift shopping I couldn’t stop. I paused briefly for lunch and then continued on to check people off the list. This is what I get for putting it all off to the last day. I did try to tie it into a walking tour that took me past a market noted for selling handicrafts, but again loss of sensation in my hands prevented me from carrying on too long. I took my haul back to the hotel and double-checked that I had found something for every person on my list. Then I carefully packed all my goods into my backpack and went downstairs for dinner and a beer.

While eating dinner I overheard a rather fabulous conversation by some Spanish guys. Actually, they were from Madrid and I knew that immediately. I guess I’m at a point where I can pick out Madrileños from regular Spanish people… Ok, back to the point… they were talking about how some races are just inferior to other and cited the example of black people in the US. One of them corrected his friend, black people in the US are not physically inferior only mentally. At the end of my meal I asked where they were from and had my hypothesis confirmed. I was then asked where I was from and when I said the US the look I got back was priceless.

Finally it was time to go. Tuesday morning I left Helsinki and was rather sad about it. I would love to go back again, but the next time it will have to be in the summer when the weather will be better. Also, when I go back I will follow Antonio’s advice and stay for much longer than five days.

Excuses, Excuses...

2009-04-13T03:21:00.002+02:00

Hi everyone,
I'm back from Finland and have been meaning to post about it, but since this week I have a visitor in town I'm spending even less time on my blog. Next weekend I will have time to write. In fact, I promise to have a post done, with pictures, by Monday the 20th. Deal?

¿Te Vas o Te Quedas?

2009-03-24T20:15:00.003+01:00

The topic for this post was inspired by one little girl in the 3rd grade. On Wednesday last week the 3rd grade went to the circus. While we were sitting in the auditorium waiting for the other schools to file in one of the students around me, Paula, began asking if I understand Spanish. I told her that since I had lived in Spain for six months I ought to know some of the language by now. This made perfect sense to her, so she decided to test me. She began speaking simple sentences to me in Spanish, but I continued to respond in English. Perhaps I take my role a little too seriously, but oh well...

One of her comments was "Yo no quiero que te vayas" which translates to "I don't want you to go," adorable, right? Well, I had to explain to Paula that I had to go back to see my family and to do some things. She responded with "Pues, puedes volver para visitarnos por algunas meses?" or "Well, you can come back and visit us for a couple months, right?" Again, really cute but probably not going to happen. In a way I do feel bad for these kids, people like me come in every year and form bonds with them and then just as quickly we are gone. But the reality is the program only allows for a maximum stay of two years and, for me, Spain is wicked far from the United States.

Now that the weather is warming up and I walk home bathed in typical Spanish sun my conviction to leaving is weakening, but the reality is I know I won't be able to do a second year. It has been hard enough to be this far from my family and friends for this long, who knows what might happen in year two. I'm torn because I love Madrid. I love walking the streets and through Retiro park. I love the people (most of the time) and I love the lifestyle and culture of Spain. I ultimately would love to have an apartment here when I grow up so that I can come and feel like a part of the city any time I want. Madrid, and Spain in general, will always have a piece of my heart,but a much, much, bigger one belongs to my homeland. Noting about my wanting to go home is anti-Spain, just pro-other things, sabes?

Previous versions of myself would scoff at the idea of calling the US my homeland. I'd never been particularly proud of being American; in fact as a child I had often wondered what exciting lives children in other countries were leading. This time away from my country of birth gave me a new perspective on what it means to be American and how important America is for me. Perhaps some of this new found patriotism goes hand in hand with the election of a president who fits my views better than George W. Bush.

As for what I will do upon returning to the states, your guess is as good as mine. I have this feeling I will end up on the East Coast somewhere, hopefully working for an internationally focused organization... maybe even the government?!

Aqueducto! (no, it is not a Harry Potter spell...)

2009-03-20T20:34:00.003+01:00

Since yesterday was Father's Day in Spain we had a day off. I love days off, you would think that a 3-day weekend is enough for me, but you'd be wrong. I'm actually quite lazy and like to have as many free days as possible. If a 3-day weekend is nice a 4-day weekend is better, right? Right. Glad we cleared that up.

Contrary to my lazy tendencies, I used my free day to go on a little trip. Emphasis on the "little." Audrey, Eimear, Blair and I all took the bus an hour and half north east to the touristy town of Segovia. I had been to Segovia last time I was in Spain, but it is truly adorable, so I didn't mind going again. Segovia is known for two things, the Roman Aqueduct and the Alcazar. We disembarked at the bus station and walked to the aqueduct. It was an enjoyable walk along some narrow streets to the plaza at the base of the aqueduct. The aqueduct was built around 50 BC by the Romans and uses no mortar at all, only gravity and geometry are holding the stones together.

After the aqueduct we made our way to the Plaza Mayor. Every Spanish town has a Plaza Mayor; this is because that is where victims of the Inquisition professed the Autos de Fé (basically Oaths of Faith) and if their performance was deemed unsatisfactory by the powers that be they would be killed. Legend has it that if you look hard enough in the Plaza Mayor in Madrid you can find antique blood splatter; I have yet to see any.

From the Plaza we toured the Cathedral, which to be honest wasn't all that impressive. I've seen my fair share for Churches and Cathedrals since coming to Europe and this one didn't wow me. It was nice, but it wasn't jaw-dropping.

The next few hours of the trip were eaten up by Audrey and my search for lunch. We wanted to eat in a restaurant, as we were on mini-vacation and she wanted to try the traditional Cochinillo, or baby pig. We spent at least an hour walking around trying to find a restaurant with a menú del día. We tried two places just off of the plaza, but one had an hour wait for a table and the other didn't have a menú. Finally we ended up at a nice, but a little expensive, place on the plaza. Unfortunately, Segovia is built up around promoting its cuteness as a tourist town and there are few restaurants outside of the plaza or main tourist paths. Nonetheless we enjoyed out lunches and conversation while Blair and Eimear had a picnic in the sun. Suckers.

After lunch Audrey and I walked passed the Antonio Machado Casa-Museo, which is basically a room the poet rented for a while in Segovia. Sadly the building was under construction and thus looked a little sad. Also, we couldn't find anyone working there, so any hope of going on the half-hour tour was shot to hell.

At the end of the day we walked to the Alcazar to see about going in, but the wait was long and I had been on the tour two years ago so we bailed on that and went in search of the traditional Segovian pastry, ponche. When we got to the bakery, Eimear and I noticed that ponche was the same thing Ana the school secretary had brought to a school party a few weeks ago. Since we had already tried the traditional pastry we opted for something else. I had a delicious, chocolaty brownie in honor of my dear friend Maja.

Then we went to walk a section of the aqueduct and returned to the bus station for our ride back. It was an enjoyable day in an adorable little town.

I am the Proud Owner of One Economy Class Ticket to Helsinki

2009-03-01T19:11:00.008+01:00

For those of us from the States, countries in Europe seem fairly close together. I can get from Madrid in the most western extreme of Europe to Germany, a country arguably in the middle, in about two hours. In the States two hours would get you from Portland OR to, perhaps, Denver or Salt Lake City. Sadly, I've not taken advantage of this relative proximity since returning to Spain. I did make it over to Germany, but not much else. Come Easter weekend that will change. I am going to Helsinki, Finland.

When I found out that I would move back to Madrid I set a personal goal of seeing Finland. Those of you not related to me may be wondering "why Finland?" The answer is simple, my Grandmom. My great-grandparents on her side were immigrants from Finland, Vimpeli, Finland to be exact. That being said, Finnish culture hasn't driven my life by any stretch of the imagination; growing up my Grandmom tried to assimilate as much as possible, going so far as to NOT teach her kids the language (which bugs me because I love languages and would love to know that one!). That doesn't mean I don't take special notice when Finland come up or know how to make two traditional foods.

Even though I had set the goal of going to Finland, that doesn't make flights cheaper or Finland closer to Spain. When I initially looked into it flights were around 300 euros, not to mention another 200 for a hotel, plus Scandinavia has earned rep for being expensive. Early on I floated the idea to my mom, which she seemed to like but I never booked anything because the prices were too high. Out of seemingly nowhere she brings back up the Finland idea and I re-explain the cost issue. She sends me back an email basically saying that my parents, and probably my Grandpop, would help pay for it. I know this is true because I know how important my Grandmom was to everyone and thus, by association, how important Finland is. Now I have no excuse not to go, only good reasons to make the trip.

I know that my Grandmom always wanted to visit. Once, in the 1950s her parents had the chance to go back on a trip and see how things had changed in the 30 or so years since they left, but my Grandmom never got to make the trip. Now, I have the chance to go as a representative of our family. I know myself and I know that this trip is going to be an emotional adventure as well as an adventure in the traditional sense. To me, it seems like a chance to learn something about my Grandmom and where she comes from.

In 2002 my Grandmom passed away. Since she lived in Pennsylvania it was difficult for us to see much of each other. To my recollection we probably saw that side of the family once every few years while I was growing up. Because of this I, regrettably, don't have a lot of memories of certain members of my family. Unfortunately, my Grandmom is a member of this group.

In contrast, I spent my four years at American University going up to Pennsylvania to spend Thanksgiving and random weekends with my Grandpop, two Uncles and my Aunt's family, I even spent one summer living in his house. That time was a wonderful opportunity to get to know the members of my family who for a while had seemed detached from my "normal" life. At times I can't help but wonder what it would have been like if all the members of my family had been alive when I had the chance to live so close.

Alas, that question will never be answered, but I look at this trip as an opportunity to forge a unique bond with my Grandmom. My Grandpop and I share a joke about my laundry (which I always brought to his house) and my Aunt outfits me with GIANT bags of Swedish Fish candies from BJ's; now my Grandmom and I can share Finland.

Back by Popular Demand

2009-02-15T22:29:00.004+01:00

I thought I could get away with posting only when something interesting happened. I was wrong. Sorry. In the past week I've received several comments on my lack of blogging, some wondering if everything was alright. I am fine, just in a routine with school that I don't find particularly thrilling...

Before I begin this post I have to remind you all that I love Spain. Love it. But just like family members that we love, Spain has it's faults. Yes, Spain functions slower than most of the Western World. And they do love their ham products. But these quirks are at times lovable or teach us something. The one fault I'm going to talk about isn't all that lovable. Spain is racist.

I would venture to guess that most of this stems from their 45 years under a dictatorship that valued sameness. For example, Franco insisted that everyone in Spain speak Castellano, even though there are other major dialects like Catalan and Gallego. The goal was to paint everyone the same and have a homogeneous population. Clearly that was not going to happen, but he would sure try! Still after 34 years of democracy the effects of dictatorship influence the people.

Now one of the main problems I see in Spain is racism. Perhaps I'm more prone to notice it because the United States is almost hyper-sensitive to racial issues. At no point will I ever argue that the United States has it all figured out on any issue, especially race relations. But Spain has a lot of learning to do. In 2007 I did a short report for my Spanish class about an incident in Spain where an immigrant woman was beaten in the Barcelona metro simply for being an immigrant. I commented that I didn't know how the attacker knew she was from Latin America and my professor, who is Spanish, said "Oh, Spaniards just know" as to imply that they have a national 6th sense about "others". Side note, the kid was charged and there were anti-racist and pro-immigrant protests; it is not like these types of things go unpunished.

Things that shock Americans pass for acceptable behavior here. Early in my time at Rosa Luxemburgo one of the teachers was talking about a student of mine, Joe, who is from the Philippines. To make sure the people in the conversation knew exactly which student we were talking about he put his index fingers to the outside corners of his eyes and pulled the skin back. This same gesture has recently put pop-star Miley Cyrus on the proverbial firing line in the States, but it was acceptable lunch time humor in a Spanish elementary school.

Last week the 3rd and 4th grades of Rosa Luxemburgo were invited to a concert put on by the Social Works of the Caja Madrid Bank. The title was "Sonidos de la Tierra" or "Sounds of the Earth". The purpose of the show was to teach children, through music, that in the end we are all human. For about an hour the group preformed songs from various regions in the world. The first two numbers didn't bother me, but when we got to Mexico I began to feel uncomfortable. As Jose Luis and his mates played Cielito Lindo images of Speedy Gonzales and people sleeping against cacti were projected behind them. It started to feel like they were doing it in jest, slightly to poke fun at Mexicans.

Eastern Europe passed with little controversy; yes they had grouped together anything west of Germany and all of former Yugoslavia together but it wasn't particularly offensive. Perhaps they were saving the offense for their song from the heart of Africa. It was a call and answer song, so they tried to teach it to us. When I looked to my program for the words I was disgusted with the image on the page, then I looked up to see the title "Black Africa" above pictures of tribal people in Africa. To add to my disorientation the presentation of the song almost seemed like their comedic interpretation of a traditional African song. I'm not sure if their attempt to make learning fun just backfired into them making fun of other people, either way I was nervous for what was coming next. Who knew what culture we were going to offend and belittle next!

To close the show they played a song from a very young country that has invented lots of things, including many musical styles like Jazz and Gospel. The song they chose to play from the United States was a "country" song. I put country in quotes because the actual style of music was more along the lines of Bluegrass, but actually could have been Oh Susanna. This time the screen behind the band showed pictures of toothless men in overalls, but no shirts. The kinds of images Americans associate with mid-century cartoons about the gold rush. Lucky for us, kids in Spain are learning that is what America is like. Excellent.

After the concert two of the Spanish speaking teachers and I got into an excellent conversation about how that wasn't even a "Country" song, nor was it representative of my country. That lead us to talking about Oregon and how I do and don't want to go back (more on that in another post). These two women had previously seen rather stand-offish to me, but that was probably because they didn't know how to communicate with me. Unfortunately, when every we had crossed paths the kids were around so I didn't want to speak tons of Spanish in front of them. This time they were telling me to get a cup for some coffee and I responded to them in front of one of my 4th graders, Daniela. She promptly freaked out and wanted me to speak Spanish with her. I explained that I would if we saw each other in the grocery store or outside of school, but when I come to school I am there to speak English. She accepted my answer and went off to play. Pilar and Maribel, the two Spanish teachers looked on almost in awe and laughed when I explained the situation to them. I'm really glad we had our little talk; now I know they aren't as scary as I thought and they know we can chat in Spanish... but only when the coast is clear.

Now on to the truly disturbing portion of my racism post. The play that will be going on at school tomorrow. It is the only English language activity that the school will be hosting or really participating in. For a city that publicly praises its bilingual program, Madrid offers few activities outside of the classroom for kids to do in English. The group is bringing the play "Tarzan" to the multi-purpose room of Rosa Luxemburgo. "Tarzan" is also a musical. One of the songs is entitled Jungle Fever. I don't know about you, but I learned "Jungle Fever" as a derogatory term for people in an interracial relationship; for example one might say that a white man dating a black woman has Jungle Fever.

The words to this Jungle Fever song go as follows:

We've got Jungle Fever,
We've got Jungle Fever, we're in love.
I've just found my baby,
We've just found our baby, we're in love.

This might sound familiar to anyone who has seen the 1991 Spike Lee movie, or heard the Stevie Wonder song associated with it.

Now my boggle is what to do. I didn't get a look at the lyrics until maybe Wednesday, clearly too late for them to cancel the show. But these kids can't learn a song that repeats this phrase over and over again without knowing that they really ought not to use it. I've informally polled many English speakers and, with one exception, everyone instantly recognized it as derogatory. But really, how do you tell a group of 3rd and 4th graders in a generally racist country not to use a catchy phrase from the song in the play because it is mean to interracial relationships?

Obviously I will let you know how tomorrow goes. If nothing else, we can all laugh at my discomfort in this situation!

18 Weeks Down, 24 to Go!

2009-01-26T13:23:00.004+01:00

What to say, what to say...
This week had been business as usual. School had become fairly routine; I show up, I speak some English then I go on to private lessons. The kids seem to like the substitute for Elena, and I enjoy her too. She is a really nice woman and is well prepared to take on the class. I think she was a little shocked at their bad behavior, but is developing ways to work with them on that. I am mostly in charge of the English lessons because Carolina's English isn't as good as Elena's, but Carolina takes over the Science class. We work pretty well together.

On Tuesday I lectured one class of 3rd graders about being disrespectful and not taking advantage of the opportunity they are given. I recognize that it is easy for me to look at it from a grown-up perspective and know that they are in an amazing position to be bilingual, while they just see it as another subject they are forced to take. I can't stress to them enough how wonderful it is for them to be able to speak two languages, possibly more. They all talk about wanting to visit NYC and America, but honestly they would have a better time if they spoke the language and didn't wander around with half a clue. I've tried explaining that I would have loved for my elementary school to force me to be bilingual, but that just flew over their heads. Maybe, one day, when they are struggling to order a sandwich in a real New York Deli they will realize that I was right and they should have paid attention.

Also in school related news, Thursday this week is Peace Day. This means that the kids will be learning to sing Micheal Jackson's Heal the World, complete with actions. When I was younger I liked Micheal Jackson, mostly the Thriller album. This particular song now drives me nuts. It is fair to say I hate it. Now I get to listen to it over and over and over. It is like Eduardo knew and has selected it jus to torture me!! Thankfuly it will all be over Thursday afternoon.

I've also been working with my private lessons. They are all going along well, but I think I have to start challenging the older kids. Both Carlota and Fidel have good vocabularies, but they need to practice using them. Carlota is by far my most advanced student, which makes her class easy and difficult at the same time. Her questions are usually more technical or complicated than Fidel's. Also she will complete an activity in half the time I plan for it to take, leaving me to cook something up on the spot. Fidel's little sister, Miriam, is bright also, but she speaks very little English (mostly because she is 7 years old) and I have to work very hard to be clear and repeat things several times. I try to use very little Spanish, but there are times when there is no other way. With her I try to read books I've borrowed from school or play games. I think next week we will work on cloths and dress paper dolls. This will test my artistic skills.

I could close with promises to write more often, but that would be pointless. I've resigned myself to the fact that some weeks there just isn't much to write about. When something interesting happens, rest assured I will let you know!

17 Weeks Down, 25 to Go!

2009-01-20T21:37:00.003+01:00

Laziness has taken over. What else can I say? Lets try and update you, but as I said before I'm in a lazy streak and might just cut this post short...

Well, last week we got a permanent substitute for Elena (the 3rd Grade teacher who had surgery). The only catch is Carolina didn't arrive until Wednesday. Tuesday I basically taught all of third grade. At the end of the day my voice was dying. These kids were awful. Terrible. Horrible. I was down right disgusted with their behavior. It was the worst I had seen since starting this job. It is entirely possible that I spent more time telling them to be quiet then I spent explaining English grammar or Science.

At the end of each class the Spanish-speaking teacher, who was just filling in for the hour, would leave and yell at them for being so poorly behaved. The teacher also tried to impress upon them that they have a great opportunity to learn two languages and they shouldn't be such little bitches about it. Well, the teachers didn't call them bitches, but I will. Yes, I called a bunch of 8 year-olds bitches. But to be fair, they earned it. The sad part is that they weren't angles before Elena left, so I'm not sure what I was expecting.

The new teacher is very nice, to me. She is tough on the kids, but they honestly need it. She moved their desks out of groups of four into rows. In the groups they did nothing but push pencil cases across the line and annoy the person facing them. It was torturous to watch. Even worse to yell at them the whole time. Now in the rows they fully turn around and talk to the person behind them. RIDICULOUS. Today I had to yell at them again. Normally I keep my voice at a decent volume and just project so the whole class can hear, but it got out of hand. I had to remind them that they were taken out of the groups for a reason, and that was because they didn't listen.

I do like most of the kids, but their behavior is impossible. I also don't what will work with them. Elena chastises in English and Spanish, Eduardo throws pens and tells kids to leave the class, I try to be patient and talk to them. NOTHING seems to work. I don't know about you, but I don't remember being that bad in 3rd grade, or really any grade.

Thursday was my birthday. Typically on birthdays teachers and staff bring in a treat for everyone to share at our mid-morning break. I decided to hold on to the chocolate chips sent to me by my awesome friends Emily & Maja and bring cookies for my birthday. Gathering the ingredients wasn't difficult, if you define going to two grocery stores and eventually grating dry vanilla beans to substitute vanilla extract easy. I also resisted the urge to eat tons of dough, which was more difficult than the vanilla. From this self restraint I learned that they aren't kidding when they say a batch of cookies is 4 dozen. Before I thought it was a joke.

I made the cookies unsure of how the ladies at school would react. The Spanish are not big on sweets, but chocolate chip cookies aren't that bad... Usually people bring ham or other savory dishes to share, but I really would rather eat paste than more ham. I also didn't know what they would do about me baking the cookies. Sometimes I think they think we are babies or incapable for whatever reason, so baking and using the oven might be beyond me. One thing I was sure of was that they would all give me two kisses, one on each cheek and say congratulations. Which is a scary concept; imagine 20 Spanish women flocking to you, grabbing your face and kissing each cheek then making a huge fuss because you are such a baby and you made cookies.

When Thursday morning break rolled around I unwrapped the cookies and placed them in the middle of the table. I have to admit I was waiting for a few people to see me do it, so they would know it was my birthday and help explain to others why there were cookies on the table. And so it began. The kisses and birthday wishes flooded in. Then they started eating.

Every time we've made food or brought food the Spanish staff are hesitant to dive in. The usually pick up the item in question and look at it for a second before taking a bite. This time was no different. They picked up the cookies, clearly not from a package and tasted them. A HIT! No less than five of the women asked me for the recipe and I had to explain that the chocolate chips were imported and it would be difficult for them to reproduce it. Nonetheless I found the recipe on the Nestle website already translated into Spanish and passed it out after lunch. They were super excited to make the cookies at home and I was thrilled to have a reason to talk to them.

One of my favorite birthday moments was the several rounds of "Happy Birthday" sung to me by various groups of 3rd graders. For as much as they can suck in class, outside of class they can be super cute. I expected the hoards of girls who love me to come up and say something. What I didn't expect was little Javier to run up. He had seen several other students come up and say happy birthday, and he wanted to join. He ran up, opened his mouth and realized he didn't know what to say; quickly he ran back to his pal Pablo and asked in a very urgent tone "Como se dice feliz cumple?" Pablo responded, almost exasperated by the fact that Javi hadn't picked up what all the other kids were saying, "Happy Birthday". Then Javi came back and repeated it to me. Adorable.

Until this point I really hadn't engaged with many of the non-English speaking staff. Sure we exchange pleasantries and brief comments about weekends or students but never much more than that. This lead Fatima, the Religion teacher, to say that I frequently look lost when people speak Spanish. Luckily, one of the women obsessed with my cookies was Fatima, so we had a chance to talk about baking and I could prove I'm not always lost!

After school I came back to my neighborhood and took advantage of a coupon to the English book shop. For only 24 euro I bought four books. At the rate I am going this will last a while, but I could easily pick up reading more. When we first moved here I was reading all the time, but since we got the password to the wireless internet I've spent much more time surfing the web, reading perezhilton.com or news articles than real books. I've decided to cut back on the pointless internet, books are probably better for my brain.

My birthday celebration didn't stop with the books. I went to dinner with Melanie, Meagan and Theresa to a Mexican restaurant. It was delicious. They had some of the best guacamole I've ever had. Or maybe I just think it is the best because I can't remember what good guac tastes like... either way I was satisfied. The only downside was when one of the waiters was a jerk to us. He rather quietly announced a plate to give us; it was mine and I was far from him so I didn't hear him. He then gave us flack about not speaking Spanish and reminded us for the billionth time that we are in Spain and should speak Spanish. DUH! We know what country we are in and what language they speak here, get off my back. I wonder if he was a jerk because he heard us speaking English amongst ourselves and assumed we were tourists or imposed some anti-American feelings for no reason. Whatever his motive was, it was uncalled for. Meagan, who was sitting at the other end of the table, heard him and told him where to put the food. No pasa nada, buddy!

Now I am back to the daily grind. Yelling and 3rd graders and talking to kids in English. I'm also back to working my private lessons, I even managed to pick up an extra one. Oh! I forgot to mention that on Tuesday i bought tickets to meet up with my cousin in London. It will be awesome, but it will also be in May...

Note: I know that today is Inauguration Day but I won't be posting on that today. I am too upset about not being there to think about it too long. It could be fair to say that I am more upset about missing today than I was about missing election day...

16 Weeks Down, 26 to Go!

2009-01-09T22:11:00.003+01:00

Yesterday was the first day back at school after our long vacation. I have to say it was difficult to get out of bed, but once I was up and going the day passed quickly. The metro and bus ride to school was oddly familiar, the same way that coming back from Berlin felt like coming home.

My Thursday schedule puts me with Elena for planning first thing. I knew this time was going to be important because before break she told me that she was going to be gone for most of January. Today she had surgery and will be out recovering for the rest of the month. Her absence is complicated by the fact that most of the substitute teachers are in the sub-pool because they didn't pass the exams and there is no way of knowing what level of English this person is going to have. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that they person they bring in will be decent at English, as I'm only there two days a week and the rest of the time there will only be the teacher.

For the afternoon Eduardo had to cover Elena's class (she left at recess to get ready for her surgery) and I had to go with him. While in there he had the kids do the same project that the 4th graders had done earlier in the day, which was simply to write a few sentences about four of the days from break and draw a picture. Victor, the kid who doesn't understand a single word of English was clearly lost. I went over and tried to explain it using as many cognates as possible, still nothing. Sensing the problem Eduardo called Victor up to him at the teacher's desk and tried again, this time slipping in a little Spanish. When I passed his desk again, Victor had one sentence written and looked lost again. This time I broke character, so to speak, and explained it in Spanish to him. I also gave him the Spanish-English dictionary to look up basically every word. I really do try with him, but I'm starting to believe that some kids just don't belong in a bilingual program like this one.

What I noticed about Victor was that he basically could figure out what we were talking about, vacation and the special days, but when it came to the details of the instructions he was lost beyond belief. He figured out how to prepare the paper the way Eduardo showed them, not by listening but watching. When it came to what to do with the paper, nothing. It doesn't help him that his table mates hardly pay attention, so when he asks for help in Spanish they can't explain it. When I finally explained it in Spanish he got the biggest smile on his face. I'm pretty sure up to this point he hated me for not being talking to him in a language he understands. Every other day he would basically glare me down and tell me to go away (the one English phrase he has mastered), hopefully next week he will be less hostile toward me!

Wednesday was the beginning of the big sale season in Spain. Practically everything is marked down. I held my December pay check (because it is the January money) in reserve until yesterday. I decided that today I would go out and shop. Unfortunately, there was a huge snow storm today, so the streets were slushy. I hoped that this would keep shoppers at home, but clearly I misjudged Spaniards' love of mark-downs. With their umbrellas in tow the shoppers crowded as usual. I would like to report that I found tons of things, but apparently in two days the stuff was picked-over. I might try the other shops in our area tomorrow, but today was a bit of a bust. Boo!

15 Weeks Down, 27 to Go!

2009-01-04T21:01:00.007+01:00

Let's see here. I think the two main points in this update are New Years and a short trip to Sevilla.

Since Meagan had her troop of friends visiting and Alicia was also here we had a New Years dinner party. Most restaurants in Madrid charge upwards of 70€ per person for New Years dinner, and we all agreed that was ridiculous. We gathered in Meagan and Theresa's living/dinning room and feasted. The general feeling in the room was really nice; everyone was friendly and chatting freely. The food was amazing. Meagan and Theresa supplied chili and tortilla española, I made cornbread and the guests picked out a nice apple tart for dessert.

Let me pause for a moment for a story about how things in Spain are never as simple as I want them to be. Since I have an oven, the hosts requested that I bake something for the dinner. Not a problem, I actually love to bake back home. I decided that since they were going to make chili I would make cornbread. Before going to the store for ingredients I looked up the word for "corn meal' which was translated to "harina de maiz" (literally, flour from corn). I found the product in the store and bought two boxes.

Later in the day I went to make the corn bread. My butter was melted, my ingredients were lined up and I opened the box of harina de maiz and took a peek inside. Harina de maiz turned out to be corn starch; you know, the very fine powder most people use to thicken stews or pie juices, not make bread. I had to pack away the corn starch, haul myself back to the grocery store and pray they were open and that had actual corn meal. My first clue should have been the ease with which I found the harina de maiz. It was just sitting there, waiting for me. Too easy.

Luckily, I found the right product in the Mexican foods section and proceeded to make a cornbread like food. It didn't turn out right, and I'm still working out why not. Everyone seemed to enjoy it and it tasted alright, the fluffiness was just a little low.

After the feast we went to Puerta del Sol to countdown until 2009. This was basically the Madrid equivalent of going to NYC Time Square. The crowds were huge, there was a security checkpoint so you didn't bring in bottles. Thankfully, the city was smart and passed out huge cups so you could bring in the beverages just not the containers. We figured that it was the danger of carbonated drinks, like Cava (Spanish Champagne) posed to the crowds. Imagine bunches of corks popping into a packed plaza. That sounds like a recipe for disaster.

We found a spot and hunkered down for about an hour, maybe a little more and waited. While we were waiting a slide show of pictures of the city played, as did some pop music. Finally it was time. The Spanish countdown from 12 because you are supposed to eat one grape per second to bring good luck into the next 12 months. I managed to finish my grapes, but many did not. We got a little bit of a late start and had to play catch-up. We struggled not to laugh our half-chewed grapes out onto the side walk, as the idea of herds of people forcing down grapes seemed comical.

I'm not sure what kind of luck the grapes will bring this year, as shortly after finishing them I got punched in the head. It was a total accident and it wasn't that hard. What happened was one of Meagan's friends tried to put his hand in a picture and in doing so reached over me. When the picture subjects realized what was going on they pushed his fist out of the frame and into my forehead. It mostly startled me and I'm fine now. I just hope it was the manifestation of all of 2008's bad luck leaving!

On New Years day Theresa, Alicia and I went on a trip to Sevilla. We took the bus that left at 11 pm and arrived in Sevilla the following morning. It was kind of difficult to sleep on the bus, but I made it work. When we arrived at the bus station it was way too early for any sightseeing, as the sun wouldn't be up for three more hours and the sights wouldn't open for four more. We camped out in the Cafe and fueled up on Churros and warm beverages.

Sadly, our trip was basically rained on the whole time. We had a nice stretch in the afternoon, but most of the morning, including the walk to the sights from the bus station was rainy. We started with the Royal Palace. This was constructed on top of a former Moorish building. Back in the day, and I mean way back, like 900's, the Moors invaded Spain and held on for a few hundred years (until somewhere around 1492, I think). Even though the original building was removed the new castle had many Islamic influences, such as water features, courtyards and arches upon arches. The Royal Gardens also produced enough oranges to prevent scurvy in all of Spain, but the fruit was sadly falling to rot. The building was gorgeous.

Across the plaza was the Cathedral. It is the second largest Cathedral, after Saint Peter's in Rome and Saint Paul's in London. Now I have been to two of the three, and I hope to check Saint Paul's off before crossing back over the Atlantic. One can't help but be impressed by things like that. They were designed to impress and show power. I just can't wrap my brain around why Churches would spend so much money on golden tapestries or HUGE statues when the funds could be put to helping people. I'm sure this is a lesson they learned in time, as these types of churches were constructed long ago, but still I have to wonder if somewhere in the planning stages others found it silly also.

After those two big sites we ate lunch and went on a walking tour in our brief period of sunshine.

We closed the night with a few drink in a "Tapas" bar recommended by the guide book, but actually does not serve food. We were a little bummed, as we like to sample local foods whenever possible. But we had a nice drink then moved on to our last item. The Flamenco show.

I don't know if there are words to describe Flamenco. I really think you have to see a show, if you get the chance. (If you end up in Sevilla, I can recommend a good cultural center with cheap tickets!) I have to admit, I didn't catch many words in the singing, but I did catch the elevated levels of emotion. I also was enthralled by the dancing. Both the man and the woman were stomping and stepping with such precision and passion that I couldn't take my eyes off them.

After the action packed day we walked back to the bus station in a monsoon. I kid you not, it POURED to the point that there were currents of water rushing through the streets. Theresa and Alicia popped into a store to buy a change of socks (I had packed one in a moment of temporary genius) and a towel to dry our feet with. We made it almost back to the bus station when the rain proved too much and we hid out in a Pizza Hut to eat and wait it out.

When we got on the bus I removed my soaking shoes and put on the dry socks and settled in for a 6 hour ride back. We jam-packed our day in Sevilla, but it was nice. I would love to go back sometime when it isn't raining and stay for a few days. On our walking tour we ended up in the labyrinth of the Barrio Santa Cruz. Thank God Theresa is an expert map-reader, because I would have ended up so lost in that maze. What I did notice while she lead the way was there were hostels abound there. I would love to stay in one and really explore the city and that neighborhood in particular.

Now I have three more days of vacation left and to be honest I haven't thought about school once. I should probably crack open my teacher's editions and see what I will be getting back into, but for now I will continue to rejoice in doing nothing.

14 Weeks Down, 27 to Go!

2008-12-30T01:21:00.002+01:00

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!

2008-12-25T16:20:00.006+01:00

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!

2008-12-19T10:01:00.002+01:00

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

2008-12-18T23:39:00.003+01:00

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.

2008-12-16T16:22:00.008+01:00

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!

2008-12-14T16:44:00.003+01:00

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!

2008-12-10T21:07:00.006+01:00

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!

2008-12-08T12:25:00.005+01:00

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!

2008-11-30T23:39:00.003+01:00

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?!"

2008-11-25T00:00:00.005+01:00

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!

2008-11-23T13:39:00.003+01:00

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!

2008-11-15T16:13:00.003+01:00

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!

2008-11-14T20:09:00.006+01:00

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!

2008-11-13T12:59:00.003+01:00

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!

2008-11-08T19:29:00.002+01:00

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

2008-11-05T19:49:00.007+01:00

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.

The British are Coming! The British are Coming!

2008-11-03T18:57:00.002+01:00

I couldn't help myself. Today six teachers from our twin school in Worksop, England, began a week long visit to our school. Oddly enough, when I missed the 8:30 bus I ended up in the right place at the right time. While sitting on the 8:45 bus, I overheard a troop of Brits wondering if they were on the right bus. Naturally, I asked where they were from, and when they said England I asked if they were going to Rosa Luxemburgo. The leader of the group, John, said yes. Of course I told him I worked there and that they were on the right bus. We chatted for the 15 minute bus ride, mostly about getting in last night and the need to practice language in a country where it is spoken.

When we arrived at school Eduardo came to meet the English teachers and told me to take the 4A class inside, and that I would have them alone for the morning. The morning chunk of time is two solid hours. We started by talking about their weekends and then we went over what day was it. I had the brilliant idea to ask them what day tomorrow is. They responded "Tomorrow is Tuesday, the 4th of November 2008," which is correct. When I told them it was a very important day for me they asked if it was my birthday, which it is not. Next they asked if it was my Saint Day, which I don't really know when/if I have one, so I said no. Then they were lost.

I explained that tomorrow the citizens of the United States are going to select a new president, and this is very exciting for me. They began to chatter about Obama and asked which candidate I wanted to win. Even though it is kind of taboo to ask someone outright, "who did you vote for?" I answered them, Obama. This excited the kids to no end, they really seem to like him. SO, for what it is worth, Barack Obama has the support of the 4th grade class of Rosa Luxemburgo.

After our discussion of the election, we had to prepare questions to ask the British teachers when they came to visit. We went through and made a list of 21 questions. Many of them were very simple, so I tried very hard to get them to ask questions that would require more than a one word answer, like when they said "What is your birthday?" I offered "How do you celebrate your birthday in England?" as a follow-up question. These kids are smart, I just don't think they've had a chance to think very hard. Most of what they do is memorization, for example when you ask them how they are they respond like little robots with "I am fine, thank you. How are you?" To this I like to answer with various things, from great to super to tired. They need to know it is acceptable to be something other than fine.

Oddly enough, the afternoon was a repeat of the morning, just with group 4B. I picked them up from the playground. They asked where Eduardo was. I explained about the British teachers. We talked about the election, and they too support Obama. They quizzed one of the British teachers about herself and her class. Then it was time to go home.

For the most part, the kids behaved very well, but at times they were trying to play Sink the Sub. The only flaw in their plan was that I am not a sub, I'm there all the time and I know the rules. I think I had them under control most of the time, but I see where Eduardo is coming from when he gets angry. It felt like any pause in action, such as time for me to call on someone new, they would erupt in chatter, then take several minutes to get back to normal. This made correcting the two workbook activities really difficult. At the end of they day, I kind of stretched the truth and told Eduardo that they were mostly well behaved. I know he would be much harder on them than was really necessary, and I think I got the point across how that they need to behave, even if he isn't in class.

Tomorrow I have class with Elena and one of the Brits. I don't really know what I will be doing, but I know that afterwards Tony, Audrey, Eimear, Blair and I will be going to a party thrown by the Overseas Branch of the Democratic Party. This should be interesting, expect a post about it!

6 Weeks Down, 35 to Go!

2008-11-01T11:22:00.003+01:00

Well, I must first apologize for not posting anything after my Week 5 update. I don't have an excuse, I just got a little lazy. Don't fear, this post will be action-packed, and hopefully make up for my laziness earlier in the week.

First we'll talk about school. Monday I spent in Eduardo's class with the 4th graders. I don't remember any funny stories from that day, probably because I spent the whole time going over what the kids did during the weekend and reading Oxford Reading Tree books with the kids. They are these little books about some kids who have a magic key that takes them on adventures. Some of the kids read really well, others need lots of help. What I have noticed as a common problem is the pronunciation of past tense verbs, liked becomes like-ed, with a clear difference in syllables and not the smoothness we native English speakers have.

Tuesday was a much more challenging day. I was supposed to read one of the 3rd grade classes a story about feelings. As they finished a work sheet they were supposed to come sit on the floor and listen. This turned into chaos. Four of the boys were pushing, shoving and climbing all over each other, a few of the girls were just chatting in the back and few of them were listening. A few times I closed the book and told then that it was time to listen and if they weren't ready to listen they could go back to their desks. This worked for all of 3 pages, when I would repeat the whole speech. When I was close to finishing the book things had gone too far, so I closed it and told them I would wait for the group to be quiet. In a few minutes I knew that wasn't going to happen. While we were waiting one of the nicest, most quiet and generally good kids in the class, Miguel, asked if he could go back to his seat. Like me, he had had enough of their shenanigans. After Miguel left, I got up and gave the book back the Elena. I told her they weren't ready to listen and she made them sit in their desks and practice being quiet for the last 10 minutes of class.

On Wednesday I learned that one of my favorites, Alejandro, had learned and English phrase, "one moment, please" and he likes to use it every chance he gets. Like when I ask him to sit down his response is "one moment, please" or if i tell him it is time to work on the excercises he says "one moment, please." While cute, this new phrase is really quite annoying. It annoys me because the one phrase he uses in English is one to blow me off. I can't fault the kid for using English, but I do have to tell him, "No, now,"

While "one moment, please" is annoying it wasn't near as shocking as what Victor said to me this week. Victor is very low functioning in English. Every time I come over to help him with the exercises he looks at me and says "No entiendo ninguna palabra" ("I don't understand a single word" in Spanish). On this particular day I was walking around the class, because some of the bad kids in the back need a teacher presence in order to behave, when I passed by Victor's desk he was trying to shout a question to Elena. Very simply I told him to be quiet and listen, to which he retorted "No. Be quiet, you!" What I think he was going for was "No, you be quiet" which sounds much nicer than what he actually said. Shocking, right? The one time the kid says anything in English he is basically telling me to shut up. What the hell?

On Thursday Eimear, Anna and I put on a Halloween production of Hansel and Gretel. (I think one of the teachers took pictures, if so I will try to get them emailed to me and posted...) We were told about the play last week, but then also assigned several other tasks to complete so the play kept getting pushed back. Finally, on Wednesday we made a script and assigned characters, I was Hansel. Thursday morning we arrived an hour before our first group and made a little set. We painted windows and a door on to some butcher paper and taped them to the walls on a miniature stage. We practiced once and were trying for a second run through when the first group came in. We put on our production and it lasted less than 10 minutes. The kids heckled us yelling "Muy corto! Muy corto!" meaning "very short" in Spanish. After this epic failure we tried to improvise ways to drag our little play out. We ended up with a solid 10 minutes or play but still felt it was lacking.

When we went to have coffee/brunch, we talked with Elena and she offered us her CD with Halloween songs on it. She suggested that we play the songs and have the kids dance and sing along. So for the second and third shows we played the CD and had the kids sing along first. This worked! Between the singing/dancing and our play it was the 20 minutes we had promised Eduardo. Elena is really a wonderful teacher, she dressed up as a witch for Halloween because she was using the holiday as an excuse for them to practice order of doing things. They made a potion in class with directions using words like first, next, then and finally. She also had a skeleton costume for when the kids sang the skeleton song that went over the parts of the body. I think she is just great.

Yesterday was actually the end of week 6, but I never got around to posting. The weather the last couple of days has been kind of a bummer. It reminds me of Oregon in February. Rainy, cold, cloudy and just gray all the time. Booooo! I spent most of yesterday hanging out in my bed since I think the weather has given me a head cold. Damn wet weather, I thought I left that in Oregon!!!

I also went to see an English speaking doctor about getting more insulin. Before I left the insurance company wouldn't cover a 3 month vacation supply because we were changing companies in one month. When I had asked around the internet groups people said that their parents had just shipped medicines to them without any problem. When Mom went to ship my November supplies UPS, FedEx and the US Mail all told her they couldn't ship the package without an official letter from the Ministry of Health. Thus began me quest for Spanish insulin. A quest that was successful! Luckily in the past few decades insulins have globalized, so just the same way you can buy a Venti white chocolate mocha late at Starbucks in both DC and Madrid, you can also buy U-100 Humalog and Lantus insulins in the States and in Europe (Europe used to do U-40 formulas of other brands... but that is a tangent no one wants to read).

I'm not sure what the rest of the weekend holds. I think it all depends on how long this cold decides to settle in my sinuses. Hopefully I can rest today and do something this evening!

5 Weeks Down, 36 to Go!

2008-10-24T11:29:00.003+02:00

Time flies when you're teaching English! I've now completed my 5th week in Spain; 3 and a half of them working at Rosa Luxemburgo. Time is sure passing by quickly. We are already preparing for Halloween and the arrival of staff from out Twin School, Redlands Primary, in Worksop, Nottinghamshire, England. Because of the visit by the Twin School staff we are downplaying Halloween and planning big stuff for Guy Fawkes Day, which is in the first week of November, possibly the 7th. The really super short version of Guy Fawkes day that I was told is he planned to blow up the Houses of Parliament in the 1600's and was caught and burned at the stake. Now towns and villages all over Britain re-enact the burning at the stake with an effigy which the community creates. This coincides well with the fact that November is fire safety month.

For Halloween, the older kids are going to participate in a pumpkin carving contest and we will award prizes for the best ones. Other than that, the celebration of Halloween is really up to the teachers. I know in Elena's class we are going to do some worksheets and activities that help them with grammar but use Halloween words and themes. Since we are working on feelings I looked around for coloring sheets and found one that has a ridiculous looking monster on it and a caption that says "The monster is mad," I don't know if that is mad like angry or mad like the British word for crazy, maybe both? We talked about making a potion in class so they could work on order words such as first, next, after, last. We threw around things we could use, like ketchup for blood and beans with eyes drawn on them. Then Elena said something about spider legs, but she didn't know what to use. I immediately thought of these little tiny soup noodles that are about an inch long and much skinnier than spaghetti. I told her we could use the noodles and she just gave me a blank stare. I tried to explain soup noodles, I even drew them on the board. She told me in Spanish they call them fideos and asked what the word do we use. So, I think I taught Elena "noodles" along with giving a suggestion for spider legs.

Speaking of Elena... I should share with you the funniest sentence I've heard yet, and it came from her. On Wednesday there was a girl bawling in class because her pencil and eraser were taken away. She was playing with them while I was reading them a book about day and night, and Elena had enough. After 15 or 20 minutes of crying Elena suggested that the girl go splash some water on her face and calm down. When she left the room the other kids asked where she was going and why she was crying. Elena told them that she was "going to wash her face in the toilet." I should point out that Elena didn't misspeak, rather the kids are taught British English, which calls the restroom "the toilet." To me "she is going to wash her face in the toilet" just sounds wrong; and when the kids ask me if they can go to the toilet it sounds vulgar, I don't need to know their exact destination. We've been encouraged not to correct the children when there are differences between the English they have been taught and the English we know, but I think if these kids went to The States and asked for the toilet they would get strange looks. They also call erasers "rubbers" which makes the adolescent boy in me giggle every time.

On a completely unrelated note, I received a wonderful complement on my Spanish skills yesterday. While I was in Eduardo's room working on a poster for the Redlands teachers Ines, the new 4th grade teacher came in just to say hi. She came in a few weeks into the school year because the regular 4th grade teacher took a leave of absence after her son was hit by a car and fell into a coma, he is doing much better but not out of the woods yet. Since Ines teaches the kids in Spanish I have no contact with her outside of the break times. We chatted for a little, I asked how her classes were getting along and she explained that it is much better now that she has been here a few weeks and knows the kids, a point that I totally agreed with. At the end of our conversation she asked how long I had been in Spain, and I told her about a month, she said that my Spanish was very good. I should point out that she is the one who teaches the kids Spanish grammar, so she is well qualified to make this assessment!

I also had the chance to walk home with the portero of our building. A portero is kind of like a doorman, but better. He is in charge of building upkeep, trash, mail deliveries and just being a generally friendly face in the vestibule. On my way home from school yesterday I saw him get on the same metro car as me, though he was talking with some people. When the other people got off one stop before ours he looked over with much surprise and asked if I lived in the building, I said yes. Then he told me about his metro friends, the people he sees each time he rides because he rides at the same time everyday. We chatted about what I was doing and about the weekend. He gave me a restaurant recommendation for our neighborhood. Yet another opportunity to practice Spanish.

All in all things are going well. I like my school, I have a few leads on private lessons and I'm getting the hang of speaking Spanish with native speakers. What else could I ask for?

Double Post Day!

2008-10-21T20:05:00.009+02:00

I didn't want to post these pictures with my story, as the two are really unrelated. I took a couple of snapshots along my route to school.
The first is of Calle de Goya, heading towards the center of town. I leave my apartment a few minutes before 8am. It is still dark outside when I leave.

The next photo is of a metro train heading in the opposite direction. I couldn't stand on the platform long enough to take one of my train, but in this one you get to see the giant screen where Canal Metro is projected. Many metro stops have screens or TVs that play news of varying importance throughout the day. I take the metro from Goya to Moncloa, then a bus from Moncloa to school. In the mornings I am usually seconds away from missing the bus, so I clearly didn't have time to photograph it!

Next is a picture of the green academic fortress, Rosa Luxemburgo. I couldn't get a good shot of it, so most of what you see is the giant fence that surrounds the school. Behind the fence are four buildings. One for Infants, the next for 1st & 2nd grades, after that is my building which houses the 3rd & 4th grades, the cafeteria and the directors office. Last is the new building with the gym, the new computer lab and the 5th & 6th grades.

Here, I have a photo of my Coca Cola Light and some Patatas Bravas. Across the street from school is a small shopping center that includes two cafes. Ana Eimear and I usually walk around this area during the first hour of our lunch break, when the teachers have a meeting and we have free time. Today we stopped for a beverage and it came with potatoes.

On the way home I took a couple shots of Moncloa. The Moncloa area has many Franco-esque buildings, such as the Air Force building. I also took a photo of the metro entrance so you can see what the signs look like. It also includes that giant arch in the background, which to be perfectly honest, I don't know what it is...

Even a Police Officer Can't Keep These Kids In Line!

2008-10-21T19:27:00.004+02:00

Bet that title got your attention! It is true. Today, the 3rd grade had a visit from a very friendly police officer, MariLuz. She and the kids talked about traffic signs and safety in the streets. That is once, the kids were quiet. MariLuz worked with them from 10 until 11 this morning. The kids were busy working in their English workbooks when she came in. As per usual it took forever for them to put away the books, especially since many of them had finished the activity and wanted me or Elena to correct it.

Each week Elena assigns two helpers. These kids to a lot of work! They put up the date and the lunch menu every morning, and they are in charge of passing out and collecting materials. When MariLuz entered, the helpers had to collect the workbooks, then pass out scissors and glue. The passing out of scissors and glue was basically chaos. The kids were supposed to have labeled their scissors and put them in a box for the class. When Guillermo began to pass out the scissors it soon became obvious how few of them were actually labeled. Kids were swarming him grabbing for scissors. Finally Elena got fed up with the chaos and told him just to give a pair to each kid, and that it didn't matter if they were that person's or not. Clearly, this would not go over well with the kids. Though they did sit back down, Guillermo spent 10 minutes criss-crossing the class to pass out the scissors "correctly".

Once they all had supplies, 15 minutes later, it was time to start cutting. These kids do not like to listen to instructions, not from us in English and not from the Police in Spanish. Before she could finish explaining that they were only supposed to cut out the "STOP" sign many kids were snipping away. She tried to talk about each sign as they cut it out, but that was clearly too slow for them. They wanted to destroy things!

I mostly watched this go down, as she was conducting the activity in Spanish and I am, under no circumstances, to speak to the kids in Spanish. I tried to help one boy, Victor, since he is usually lost in every activity we do, but when I started to re-explain in English he looked at me and said "I don't understand what you are saying..." and went back to cutting out the wrong things. When MariLuz turned her back to fill out their participation certificates, and Elena was correcting the workbooks I had to police the class. This included directing them back to their chairs, which apparently the forgot what "Sit down" means the second the teacher started speaking Spanish. It also meant that I got to hold on to a stuffed frog for the rest of the class period. One of the major trouble makers, Javi, tried to throw it to his friend Guillermo, but way over shot and it happened to land at my feet.

At the end of class one really bratty girl tried to rip it out of my hands and return it to Ruben, the owner. I'm starting to think that many of the kids try to pull fast-ones over on me because they think I don't understand Spanish. Oh, I understand, I'm just not allowed to speak it. So when you cop an attitude with me, but think that because it is in Spanish I'm just going to cave I get really annoyed. I also get annoyed when people talk down to me because I don't speak Spanish in front of the kids. At the end of the class, MariLuz was talking to Elena and she was asking about me/ why I wasn't participating. Elena explained that I am a language assistant, and as such only allowed to speak English with the kids. At this point MariLuz gave me a copy of the activity and slowly said something to me, I can't remember if it was "Buenas Dias" or what. But it was clearly slowed down. I know she was trying to be nice, but in doing so it came across as her thinking I'm not capable of speaking Spanish. I am perfectly capable, I'm just not allowed to!

After the adventures in traffic safety, I went to the break room for brunch. Just to remind you, everyday they give us a nice spread of coffee, tea, fruit, yogurt and random pastries. Today was Eduardo's birthday, this means that there was a giant spread of other things to complement the regular breakfast. I don't really know what I was eating, but it was pretty yummy. Ana, Eimear and I were sitting on one side of the table eating and chatting when Eduardo insisted on giving us wine. Yes, wine. Yes it was 11 am. It was delicious white wine, and I was happy to have a little drink after watching a police officer struggle to keep my kids in line! At the end of brunch there was still wine in the bottles, and Eduardo was not going to waste it. Eimear had been drinking red, and insisted that he couldn't put white in the same cup; while that was going on, Ana had stuffed her pastry wrapper into her plastic cup. Next thing I knew my cup was refilled. I told Eduardo I couldn't bring wine to Science class, he told me it was OK if I was late because I had to finish it. I can't imagine an American school that would allow such things, and this is why I love working in Spain.

I truly love working at my school. Everyday is different from the one before it. At times it can be awkward to be thrown into a tight-knit group of people who don't speak your native language, everyone does a great job of helping us feel welcome. I think they are such a close group because they are such nice people. Sure, there are times when it is overwhelming to sit in the break room and be engulfed in the cacophony of various Spanish conversations, but it is never impossible for us to participate. At times they want to help us practice Spanish, other times they want us to help them with English. There are a good number of people who don't speak any English, but last week we got into a debate about the collective abilities of Spaniards to learn languages, and even the monolingual people wanted to hear our opinions and stressed how important it was for them to be exposed to us speaking English.

Ch-Ch-Changes

2008-10-20T18:55:00.005+02:00

Hello Readers!
So, I received some words of concern from a few of you. I see that my last post was not very positive, nor were many of them. I can also see why many of you would be a little worried, I complain too much!

Starting today there will be less complaining. I am not stupid, I recognize that there are going to be times when stuff happens that I will just have to complain about, but for the most part I am going to try and keep it positive. You will notice a change in the blog design. Not only has the content turned a corner, but I thought a design make-over was in order.

While I was too busy complaining about being kind of bored and homesick, I forgot to tell you about my favorite children. As anyone who has worked with kids will tell you, it is impossible not to have favorites. I have a couple of them, mostly in the 3rd grade.

In no particular order they are:

Alejandro from the 3rd grade. Alex does everything ridiculously slow, but he gets it done, eventually. I absolutely love him. Elena tends to call him out for being slow to finish, but he just needs some help. Last week the kids had to finish a list of things before going to computers. First they had to complete a worksheet, then the had to make the science cover page in their notebooks, and finally write the homework in the planners. Clearly this was going to be too much for Alex. As the other kids finished their tasks they went across the hall to the computer lab. Eventually it was just me and Alex. I tried to help him finish faster, but there is just no rushing Alex. Finally we made it to the computer lab, where the kids were listening to a song about the solar system and filling in the missing words on their work sheets. Alex loved the song. As per usual he was the last one to finish. Once all of the other kids had crossed back over to their regular classroom, I shut down the other computers I turned to tell Alex it was time to go. This is when I saw the cutest thing possible. He was bopping along in his chair, quietly singing the song. Adorable. Alex really is a sweet kid, he just needs some help and a little more attention. Luckily I am there on Tuesdays and Wednesdays to help him out!

In keeping with my love of troubled youth, the next on my list is Joe (pronounced Joey, though in neither English nor Spanish does that make sense...). He is also a 3rd grader, and Elena told me he is "special ed", which I think just means he has some problems with social stuff, perhaps Aspergers. He catches on very quickly to English and has some of the best grammar in the class. He does tend to talk to his neighbors, especially one kid named Guillermo. Unlike Alex, Joe gets his work done quickly, and usually with very few mistakes. I think I like him for the simple fact that he is always excited to see me. When I am walking through the playground on my way to or from the bus stop, and he spots me he yells out "Hello, Liz!!"

In the 4th grade I am having a harder time picking favorites. Even though I spend all of Mondays with them I don't feel like I know them very well. There is one kid, Jorge who made my week last week. On Monday I worked with the kids on descriptions by showing them pictures of my family. They all got a big kick out of seeing my parents, and sister and my cousins Jenna and Matthew... They also thought it was hilarious that I am the shortest member of my family. After we talked about my family for a little while, I had them tell me sentences about their families, like who is the tallest or youngest. On Tuesday I was back in 4th grade for Science class when Jorge came up and said "I really like your class." Though he has pretty awful behavior most of the time, and not in a cute way, this moment carved Jorge out a little place in my heart.

Several of the girls are super sweet, like Ines, Berta, Julia, Sara and both of the Martas. But I wouldn't say I have favorites among them. They are all different, Ines and Julia are very quick, and have a decent level of English. Berta is just a little busy-body. I felt awful for her last week when she was acting up and Eduardo took her out of the class and made her work on her assignments in the 3rd grade class. It is typical that the teachers will tell kids they are acting like babies, and ask if they want to go to the infants' classroom, but usually that is an empty threat. This time, Eduardo was for real. The Martas are both sweet girls, and do very well with their assignments, but one of them looks like she is on the verge of tears all the time. I've talked to the other Auxiliares about it, and we just think it is her face, not that she is actually about to start crying. Finally, Sara. She is just the cutest little thing. I say little because she is the shortest girl in the 4th grade, possibly the 3rd too, and we all know how i feel about the vertically challenged. Along with being super short, she is also super quiet and very hesitant to speak in English. I see alot of myself in little Sara, so it is my goal to help her.

Even if the teachers frustrate me, I know the kids are consistently going to be awesome. Sure, they bring toys to class and I have to take them away, or they have really bad moments, but all in all they do make this experience fun. No two days are the same, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

4 Weeks down, 37 to Go!

2008-10-17T20:56:00.003+02:00

So... 4 weeks down, 37 to go. Wow! I've been here for a month, and it is starting to feel much longer. They (who ever "they" are...) say that culture shock comes in waves, but I think the same thing can be said for homesickness. When I first got here the only thing I really missed was my dog, Stella (That's her in the picture. My mom took the photo this weekend. Isn't she precious?). Laugh all you want, but she and I spent a good deal of time together over the summer and I really enjoy her company. Now I am starting to miss the people from home also. Of course my parents are top on the list, next come the friends.

I think most of this homesickness is because of a lot of free time. I only work 4 days a week and am home by 5 pm every night. So I spend a good deal of time entertaining myself. Both of my roommates have other things after school and Tony is in class many evenings. I need to find a second job, not only for monetary reasons, but also as a good distraction. Sure, I would wander the shops around my apartment, but the city of Madrid doesn't pay that well. My neighborhood shops are expensive; I saw a pair of shoes in a window, on sale, for more than my rent!

It is also surprisingly difficult to make Spanish friends. Yes, the people at my school are super nice, but that doesn't mean we are going to hang out... yet. I've heard Elena talk about things she did with her last assistant outside of school, so maybe as time passes we'll become friends. Or at least occasionally hang out. I did make good progress in speaking Spanish the other day. Several of the teachers also take the same bus back to Madrid city center, and Thursday while waiting for the bus I had a brief conversation with Lucia, the 5th & 6th grade English teacher. While she does speak English really well, she also recognizes our need to practice.

You probably noticed that one thing I haven't been doing with my free time is blogging. Honestly, my life hasn't been that thrilling and school is becoming more and more routine. I'm still working on figuring out Eduardo. He seems like a very nice person, outside of the classroom. He will ask how I am doing and seems to honestly care, he even asked if I was having any problems with my apartment or other non-school things. But once class starts he becomes a ridiculous disciplinarian. I sometimes wonder if he thinks I am weak or soft. I can tell he wants the kids to fall in line, and I know he sees that I'm not going to yell at them.

He has talked to me about the importance of pushing them, but I don't know if he has grasped the difference between challenging them and pushing them around. It is probably a cultural difference causing this conflict (one that mostly takes place in my head) since when I worked with kids before we were schooled in guiding children and redirecting bad behavior rather than out and out yelling. Elena did mention that the practice of yelling at kids is from the Franco era. Obviously, during the dictatorship using severe discipline was common, in and outside of schools. I am surprised that this type of classroom control has remained, given that on the streets jovenes (young people) are basically given the run of things. Many of the current parents were very young at the end of the Franco dictatorship, and they ardently believe "kids will be kids".

I would prefer that some of the older generation would regain control of the youth! Today, I went on a walk around my neighborhood, just to get some air. When I returned to my street there were two separate groups of kids hanging out, blocking the sidewalks. These groups of kids were about 10 deep, mixed gender and just really annoying. While they could easily see me coming none of them made an attempt to clear any kind of path, in fact one girl took a step directly in my way. What is weird about this encounter is that it went better than one last week. Last week one group of kids were hanging out directly in front of the local store. They were just sitting on someone's car, drinking out of (more than likely spiked) soda bottles. I went in to the store really quick, and the kids wouldn't move. They also wouldn't move when I came out. When I kind of had to push my way though, while muttering excuse me in Spanish, they began to yell it back at me. I don't know why they were yelling, but I sure didn't like it.

Yeah, so we've reached a rough patch. But I will survive, don't worry. Maybe next time I'll wait 'til I'm not in a funky mood to post... oh well, this whole year is one big learning process!

Andar un Paseo

2008-10-12T16:18:00.007+02:00

Last time I posted about how today is the giant celebration of all things Spanish, and how awesome Spain is. Since Meagan, Melanie and I do love Spain we decided we were going to participate in the celebrations. Our intention was to go see the military parade that goes down Paseo de la Castellana and passes the Royal Family at Plaza de Colón. Plaza de Colón is about a 10 minute walk from my apartment, so we just walked down. The parade started at 10:15, we didn't leave our place until 11:30. Needless to say, we missed all of the parade. What we did catch was the Royal Family driving back to the Palace. Each time a car sped past the crowd throngs of people would start whistling and yelling.

After we realized that the parade was a bust we started to walk to the Royal Palace. This took us through a series of book sellers on Paseo de Recoletos, which is adjacent to Paseo de la Castellana. For several blocks there were little stands set up to sell all kinds of new and used books. Meagan, who wrote her senior thesis on One Hundred Years of Solitude by Garcia Marquez, was on a hunt for a copy of it in Spanish. Unfortunately there were no copies in any of the stands. It was still a good time.

When we reached the end of the books we were at Plaza de Cibeles with the giant Post Office building. I honestly don't know if the building is actually used for postal services or not, but it is huge. Cibeles is also a transportation hub, including where the night buses depart from. When the metro closes down at 1 am, people use the buhos (Spanish for owls) to get around. The N3, N5 & N7 all service my neighborhood.

From Cibeles, we started up Gran Via towards the Palace. The walk up Gran Via was nice, though there were huge crowds everywhere. Gran Via is Melanie's old 'hood, and she was shocked when we passed by a vacant lot. Apparently in the past 2 years an entire building had been ripped down. To be honest, this was the first time that I encountered Spain changing while I was gone. Up to this point everything had felt oddly familiar; like I had never left.

Our walk built up a decent hunger, so our goal became food. We got stopped a few times to take pictures and then we swung past the Royal Palace; we saw the gardens attached to the back and caught the changing of the guards. We didn't know what was going on at the Royal Palace, but saw a huge crowd gathering. It has been my experience that when a large crowd gathers outside a hotel or a palace something is about to happen. Two years ago in Rome a group of us got a little lost on a walk and happened upon the hotel where Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes were staying for their wedding. We waited around, behind the fence, and ended up seeing a a handful of celebrities including Brooke Shields, the Beckhams and Will Smith.

Finally we stopped for Kebab, which was delicious. We saw several restaurants with a Menú del Día, but they were wicked over priced. Usually a Menú should run about 10 euro, we passed one place that was asking 17. Clearly we are not made of money, plus we love Turkish food.

After eating our fill, and letting the daze of the food coma wear off we were back on the road. We walked from Opera to Puerta del Sol. Along the way we stopped to check out a 5 piece strings group performing just down the street from our favorite churros location. We also noticed that many of the apartment buildings along this heavily traveled path had decorated their balconies with yellow and red flags, basically the Spanish flag without the crest in the middle.

Once we arrived at Puerta del Sol I took a photo of the Bear and the Strawberry Tree statue, but I really can't remember why that is the symbol for Madrid. I will google that for you and report back later.

This basically ended our walking tour of the city. Four hours later we were back in our apartment, discussing how lucky we are to have this opportunity.

3 Weeks down, 38 to Go!

2008-10-11T13:59:00.003+02:00

This is probably going to be a short post. I think the previous posts covered the main events of the week, like Eduardo throwing pens and the unintentional torture by instrumental U2.

Thursday I had planning time with both of the teachers. Neither session was the road map I want, I felt that it was productive. In Elena's class we are working on making visuals to go up around to the room, especially since the kids are having major trouble with spelling. Eduardo wants me to work with small groups of kids to cement their knowledge of comparative and superlative words (for example, older and oldest). Slowly but surely I think I will fit into this situation and the school.

I've said it before, but it is totally worth repeating, the teachers at Rosa Luxemburgo are really nice people. Last week I asked the first grade teacher about which laundry soap to buy and she not only answered my question, but was super excited to give me tips on anything and everything. The staff in the bilingual program will speak to us in either English or Spanish, which is fine; the rest of the staff on the other hand speaks only Spanish. I think since they work in a bilingual school they know how hard it is to learn a new language, so they speak really slow and more than happy to repeat things for us. When we have our morning coffee break the room fills up with excited chatter, but the monolingual staff does a great job of trying to engage us in conversations. I really feel lucky to be at such a welcoming school.

Things in general are going well. Sadly, the hours I spend at the school really knock me out. Thursday night I came home and watched some TV on my computer and put on my pajamas. When Tony called at 12:45 am to see if I wanted to go out I laughed out loud at the idea. By that point in the night I was getting ready to brush my teeth and go to bed, not put on my party shoes.

Friday Meagan and I tried to go to a free flamenco show in the Chamartin metro station. I said "tried" because even though we had arrived an hour early the line to get the free tickets was at least 150 deep, not counting the people who had already received tickets and were inside the tent. Slightly defeated we went to Bilbao area to see if we could find something else to do. This idea turned into a 2 hour walking tour of Madrid Center. It was nice to see Gran Via all lit up, and to pass the Royal Palace at night, it really made me wish I had brought the camera. No joke, I pulled it out of the little case and debated bringing it, but then decided against the idea. I guess that teaches me to just bring it and not kick myself later.

Hopefully this weekend I can get out and sacar unas fotos (to take pictures in Spanish). This morning/afternoon it was rainy, so we'll see if the weather lets up enough to take a good walk. Tomorrow is El Dia de la Hispanidad (The Day of Spanish-ness, basically), the day Spain celebrates itself and how Columbus found the new world (some people call it El Dia de la Raza [The Day of the Race] because it celebrates when the Spanish brought civilization to the natives of the Americas, but that is neither here nor there, just a fun fact to know and share). There is a large military parade and several other celebrations, which might give me a few good photo ops.

¡Caramba!

2008-10-08T18:07:00.006+02:00

In continuing with my previous post about the difference between American and Spanish schools I thought I'd put up a few observations, then continue with a bit of story telling.

All the kids have freaking rolling backpacks! I loathe the rolling suitcases in the airport; I can't stand them in the schools. The paths around the school are all brick, so when the kids come into the buildings from recess all I can hear is "thump! thump! thump! thump!" from a series of 30 rolling backpacks. Also, since the classrooms are all upstairs the kids have to stop at the bottom of the stairs and put the handles down so they can carry it up the stairs. It reminds me of being in the airport and someone with a rolling suitcase stops to put it on the x-ray belt; but it soon becomes obvious that person is not a frequent traveler and they are easily baffled by the suitcase. Yeah, that is my life. It grates on my last nerve. The last thing that pisses me off about the rolling backpacks is that I mostly see parents rolling them home from school. The thing has wheels! How difficult can it be for your 8 year-old to wheel home his notebooks?!
The pencil cases. Since the kids are moving from room to room they carry their pencils with them in little cases. About 90% of the time these cases become toys. They are thrown about the room, they are slid across the desks, they are chewed on (believe me it is the most disgusting thing to see a wet pencil case). Today I had to chastise someone for throwing a pencil case and hitting another kid in the ear. Really? In what language does pencil mean the same thing as toy? When I was in elementary school we had one desk and kept our pencils in there.
The scissors. Kids here have real scissors. No rounded safety edges in Spain. Seven year olds have scissors with pointy tips. Who thought this was a good idea? Though we haven't done a single activity that involved cutting, I've had to ask kids to put their scissors down or away. One boy was just wandering around the 3rd grade classroom with his 3-inch scissors yesterday. Honestly, lets rethink the scissor situation.

Today was not a bad day. I spent most of it with Elena, the 3rd grade teacher. While she hadn't given me much to prepare I got to fully participate with the class. They are learning about the solar system in Science and practicing talking about friends and family in English. For Science we did a word search, but the second time I got to explain a little about some of the things we find in the solar system, like asteroids and meteors. In English class I presented a picture of my family and told them about how Dad is the tallest and I am the shortest and about how both my parents wear glasses and that Jen has got dark hair. They were a little thrown by Jen's redish-brown dye job and by Mom's gray/blond hair; up to this point they were working off of black and white pictures in the work book. They also had never heard "bald" before, so I had to explain it.

The kids in the 3rd grade are generally really good. They get very out of control at times. Like this afternoon, when the 3B's had finished the word-search about the solar system there was a small fiesta, complete with yelling and running around. I think the majority of the problem is that they haven't been exposed to the serious side of school yet. First and 2nd grades were both focused around singing and playing games, but now they have to learn skills like studying. Tomorrow Elena and I have an hour to plan, so hopefully we can get things charted out a little bit. If so, I probably won't feel as useless!

I also had one section of 4th grade science today. Eduardo is splitting the science class up so that the kids can be grouped based on their level of English. The other person teaching it is Ana, who seems very nice, but also strict. When told that they would be split up, one of the 4th grade girls was very interested to know which group I would be with. To add to my confusion, i will be going between groups. Today I went with Ana and one half of the class. Since I had no idea I would be going with Ana I just followed her to the other room and watched and listened. Hopefully I can get on top of this 4th grade thing, I still feel a little lost. The most helpful I have been was when I kept score for a trivia game, clearly that utilizes my skills with the English language. Luckily, there is also 4th grade planning on my schedule for tomorrow, so maybe we can get on the same page... or even reading the same book.

Lastly, today Elena played music while the kids worked in their English workbooks. It was U2, but not just any U2... U2 as elevator music. Instrumental U2. I'm not sure if you all know this or not, but I HATE U2. This mostly stems from the fact that I detest Bono. I think he is a pompous egomaniac. A tour guide in Ireland once told us that he will go to the local pub in his small town and not take off his sunglasses and talk to the people. How messed up is that?! He claims to value the people of Africa, but won't show respect to his neighbors? Is it just not fashionable enough? The weekend before training, we were in an Irish themed pub in Madrid and we began chatting with a guy from Dublin. As this particular bar closes it plays U2's "With or Without You" even after 2 years. When the song came on he told us that everyone in Ireland hates U2 also. In the span of 20 seconds, this guy validated my whole point. Even the fecking Irish hate him. But I digress...

Another thing I also hate is elevator music. My uncle listened to "smooth jazz" in the car all the time. It drove me nuts. Thank God his favorite smooth jazz station was shut down. Now lets combine the two musical things I hate the most and push play. It was so bad I almost laughed out loud when she said she was going to "put on U2, but without the words." As in, I thought she had somehow learned about my hatred of these things and was challenging me. Oh no, she was for real.

The Day Eduardo Threw the Pens

2008-10-06T18:39:00.004+02:00

Spain is different than America. Quite an astute observation, I know. Anyone can tell you after a few days in Spain about their apparent love of ham, whereas Americans tend to value chicken. Or possibly about their notions of personal space (or lack thereof?) compared to our less touchy society. But one of the shocks I was not prepared for was the teaching style of elementary school teachers.

I told you before how we were encouraged to use physical means of praise in the classroom, that a pat on the back means more than just a simple "Good job!". What they did not prepare me for is the level of yelling in the classroom. I will do my best to explain what happened, but please remember that some of the importance of the story is lost without actually seeing it take place.

Today I spent my day in the 4th grade classroom with Eduardo, who is also the bilingual program coordinator. The first half of the day was spent with 4A. These kids were generally good. As expected there were a few chatter-boxes and some distracting behavior, but all in all not a bad morning. The first time I noticed a difference in teaching styles was the number of times Eduardo "called out" kids who either didn't have the homework, or were clearly not listening. This kind of public attention to their bad behavior is something that I hardly remember from elementary school. When I was younger, behavior and listening problems were dealt with one on one, not in front of the class. But this is Spain, and things are different here.

The afternoon though was when I got my first taste of Spanish classroom control. After lunch and recess the 4B's came into the classroom to get working. Eduardo did not walk them in, so as they came in on their own and took their seats they were chatting with one another. I've come to expect a certain level of noise from Spanish kids, and didn't think much of their chatting. Apparently I was wrong, because when Eduardo entered the room he did not waste time yelling about how they know how to enter a classroom and how that was not acceptable behavior. The yelling, though, wasn't enough to quiet them. While Eduardo was writing something on the board, his back half turned to them they insisted on continuing the chatter. Rather angry because they ignored his lecture he chucked the whiteboard markers to the ground and turned to face the class. This is when he began to yell in Spanish. Most of which I could follow, and it wasn't particularly pleasant.

I've learned very quickly that the upper level teachers do know how to discipline in English, so when they switch over to Spanish it is an indication of a serious level of anger. Kids whom were not listening to the Spanish lecture were instructed to put their names on the blackboard, step one in a three step process towards a note to the parents. Once the yelling was over, he asked them to get out the workbooks to correct the homework. About 5 of the kids did not have the homework, all of them put their names on the blackboard, and a second Spanish chastisement began.

After struggling through the homework check, it was time to read about Enrique Iglasias' family. For this part I read out loud while the kids followed along in their books. Eduardo had asked them to take out a pencil to follow along, but instead asked them to use a finger. Many of the kids began to fidget with the pencils. After a good number of dropped pencils and incidental noise he threatened to take their pencils, break them in half and throw them away. It was at this point I began to wonder just what I had gotten my self into.

As I continued to read the paragraphs about the Iglasias clan, I was forced to call Julio Jose Iglasias "good-looking" (believe me, Enrique, mole and all, is far more cute, but that is neither here nor there). In a class room of 8 year-olds, the discussion about what "good-looking" means comes with a few giggles, but one boy couldn't keep it under control. After a stern warning, he giggled again, which is when Eduardo flipped his shit and outright yelled at this kid in particular. I feel like we are going to be playing Good Cop, Bad Cop all year... Luckily I get to be the good one.

I should point out that the most frustrating part about this whole fiasco isn't exactly the yelling, but rather that I don't yet know what causes the yelling. I have no idea what Eduardo's breaking point is. Sometimes the same level of volume is ok, others it is way out of line. One second he is praising them for trying or for answering correctly, the next he is angry. I think I need to observe more in order to get a better feel for it, but it is still rather uncomfortable to watch kids get yelled at, to the point that would have made an 8 year old me cry.

In better news, I called about my residency card. This time the person could fully understand everything I was saying and it is all accurate. Now I just have to wait until January 27th to be an official resident!

2 Weeks Down, 39 to Go!

2008-10-03T20:18:00.002+02:00

Alright, I made it through a second week. The major events of this week were the orientation sessions for the Auxiliares program and the beginning of work in the schools. Since posting I went to work for one more day, which was kind of a mixed bag.

I really love the people who work at the school. Thus far they seem like very wonderful, nice people. As teachers, I'm still on the fence. Thursday my schedule included planning time with Elena, the 3rd grade teacher and Eduardo, the 4th grade teacher and bilingual program coordinator. Elena had no idea that I was supposed to be there at 10 to plan with her and had to run off to a meeting. She and I discussed the class briefly, as she doesn't quite have the lessons planed out she just gave me copies of the science and English books so I could see what was coming up. I flipped though them, but I'm still unclear what my roll in the classroom is going to be. During our discussion Elena told me that this is the first year that she has taught 3rd grade in a bilingual program, this leads me to believe that we will be figuring it out as we go. Given her newness to the subject, I was willing to let her lack of preparation go while hoping that Eduardo's experience will mean he has a plan for me.

I left Elana's room and thought I was going to Eduardo's, unfortunately when I arrived there he reminded me that we have a half hour break, so I kind of made myself look silly. We went into the staff room where I found a spread of breakfast pastries, fruit and coffee. Soon the room filled with the loud, excited chatter, of Spanish teachers. I'm typically a quiet person, so this kind of thing overwhelms me. I will need to learn to deal.

After our breakfast break, Eduardo and I returned to his room. Once the 4th graders had sat down and were relatively quiet Eduardo introduced me to them. After I tried to explain where Oregon is (I used the reference point of the basketball player Rudy Fernandez, but that pretty much fell flat), the floor opened for the kids to ask me questions. They asked about favorites, and if i have brothers and sisters, along with a few tough questions like what I want to be when I grow up.

Finally it was time for the 2 hour lunch extravaganza. Eimear and I went to the computer lab so she could print a passport application (hers were stolen, both the American and Irish, whilst she was in IKEA). The computers hardly worked, so we gave up and went across the street for a small beer. Yes, I can drink at lunch and it is acceptable. I still felt slightly guilty to walk back into school with a faint beer taste in my mouth, but this is Spain and things are different here.

After lunch I had prep time with Eduardo. In this time he told me to go upstairs to look at the text books while he had a quick meeting. He came in a few pages into the English book and basically explained that for the first week he wanted me to watch the kids and basically assess who needs help and who is more advanced. He also admitted that he hadn't decided yet what the exact lesson plans for the year were going to be. Great, more uncertainty. The best(please read with a fair amount of sarcasm) was when he asked if I was good with computers and requested that I go back to the computer lab to make word art pages with the question words. This task would normally take, oh, 5 minutes. When the computer is in Spanish it takes about 20. So my planning time in both grades was a complete bust. I don't exactly know where I fit in with this program. Ugh.

The kids are great. Overwhelmingly they want to practice English and are really excited to see a new face. They want to ask questions and to work with me. But so far, I haven't seen exactly how that is going to happen.

Today, we went to pay our rent. I think while paying the second month of rent it started to sink in that this is for real. I'm really living in Madrid. For 9 months. On the way home, Melanie and I swung into an accessories store and another low-priced clothing store. While we looked around we kept referring to our first pay-checks, and how we were going to spend them. This kind of planning only cements the idea of living here.

When we returned home Melanie got a call from MariCarmen at Mosaic. Let me back track, while paying the rent we basically interviewed so Mosaic to see how well we teach English and what level we could work with. It was a bit frustrating because all that happened was we received a paper about superlatives and comparing words and were told to take 20 minutes to prepare to explain it to one of the English speaking staff. The interviewer really liked Melanie, so they set her up teaching a group 2 hours a night, 5 nights a week. MariCarmen also said that they are working on finding groups that would be right for Audrey and me. Hopefully this works out!

It would be great to have the luxury or not being preoccupied with money. While sitting around the apartment I figured out that making an extra 125 euro per week under the table would cover my rent and bus pass, which would leave my whole stipend for food and fun. Please don't think that I am suffering or anything, it is probably just the fact that this month I have no money coming in, the program doesn't pay us until the end of the month and I will have to wait until the end of October, just in time to pay November rent... Welcome to being a grown up, in Spain.

Yet another tragedy in the process of getting settled in Spain occurred today. After we paid the rent and mentally spent our first paychecks, I called to get my residency card. This involved telling a native Spanish speaker, over the phone mind you, my passport number and how to spell my name. The words for 3 and 6 sound really similar. My passport number has four 3s in it. We spent a long time going back and forth about which number I said and how that compared to which number she heard. When she read it back to me it sounded right, but I had a sinking suspicion it could be wrong, given all the confusion. Then I spelled my first name, that went fine. Next I was asked to spell my last name. What I thought I spelled was TURNER, there was some confusion on the first letter I gave her and example of the first T-word I could think of "tarjeta". I wanted to verify if everything was done correctly, so I asked Melanie for the website where you can go online to verify your cita (Spanish for appointment).

Melanie didn't have it off the top of her head, but while I was at the corner store buying bread she offered to look it up for me. When I came back in she said "I have some good news and some bad news". The good news was that she found the website, the bad news was there is no appointment under my passport number. One of the 3s had turned into a 6. The worse news is that my last name is entered as "GVRNER", really? Is this actually happening to me? It appears so. Son of a Bitch! ...or in Spanish, Hijo de puta!

Don't worry, I'll update you on the NIE fiasco and any other noteworthy events.

First Day of School

2008-10-01T21:12:00.003+02:00

Today was the first day I worked at Rosa Luxemburgo. It took Eimear and me a long time to get there. When we looked up directions, the Internet said we could take either bus 160 or 161 from Moncloa station. I should have known the Internet tends to lie. We figured it would take us about 45 minutes total, 10 of them on the bus. Based on this estimate we decided to meet at 10:45 at Moncloa, that gave us about 45 minutes until the teacher break was over and we would make it in time to talk to Eduardo before our noon meeting. We took bus 161 because it was the first to arrive, unfortunately that one does not go anywhere near CEIP Rosa Luxemburgo. When we finally decided to get off the wrong bus and go into the regional train station to ask for directions, we found there was neither information booth nor a ticket booth to ask for help. We went back on the street and asked a woman at a near-by bus stop if she knew our school; she didn't but suggested we ask the bus driver of the next bus to come along. This bus driver was very friendly and helpful. He instructed us to cross the street and take the 160 back towards Moncloa, but to ask the driver to tell us exactly which stop was best. A few minutes later the doors to our savior bus opened and we were on our way.

We disembarked the bus when instructed, walked a few small blocks where we faced out next challenge, the door. To let you all know, CEIP Rosa Luxemburgo is actually an academic fortress. The whole thing is surrounded by a high, green, metal fence. We found some doors in the fence, but they were locked and it didn't seem that anyone was around. I surveyed the building and found there was a larger building with some flags hanging above it, maybe that was the entrance? We walked around the whole building trying to find a way in. When we returned to the first set of doors, Eimear noticed a call botton box. This box was probably our best bet. The numbers (or where they names?) had been written in felt-tip pen and blended together into large purple blobs. We pressed one, nothing happened. We pressed the other, the gate began to buzz, it was open! An hour and 20 minutes after we were supposed to meet up with Eduardo, we were inside.

Once inside we told the front office people that we were the Auxilares de Conversacion and one of them walked us to the real office. There we met a woman who had been in the US for several years and spoke fabulous English. She told us that Eduardo would be out of class at 12:30, so we'd have to wait 10 minutes, but in the mean time we should take a tour. She showed us the cafeterias, one for the 3 &4 year-olds, one for everyone else. Then she showed us to a few of the class rooms. We were on our way to the next building when we ran into the 2nd grade teacher for the bilingual program and she took us back for our meeting with the bilingual staff.

In the meeting Eduardo basically covered the same things as orientation about what we were expected to do, then he passed out the schedules. I asked for the 3rd and 4th graders, mostly because of my previous experience with 5th and 6th graders, but this could prove a poor life choice (read on for an explanation). Then it was time for lunch. What is FABULOUS about my school is that they have arranged for us to get lunch for free each day we are there, and the lunches in Spanish schools kick American School lunch ass. It was real food. Fresh made vegetable soup, steak, French fries, salad, fruit and coffee at the end. Aside from being tasty, this is going to save me a ton of euro. If I can have a big lunch for free that diminishes how much dinner I'll want to eat in the apartment and on my dime. (Please don't think that I am starving here, I just think it is better to spend my small stipend on more than groceries!)

After lunch I was with the 3rd graders for the rest of the day. They were little terrors. I am not exaggerating here. Terror came over me while I stood there and watched them. It took about 40 minutes for them to get through saying their names and their favorite colors. Granted, they did have to say the name and color of the previous people, but 40 minutes is a bit much. Once we had gone through the names, one of the boys presented a picture of his friends to the class, which took a good deal of time, between him speaking slowly and the kids continual interruption of their classmate. Then we started work on the solar system. They had a paragraph of text to listen to on the CD player, then they read it line by line with one kid taking each line. I stood in the back, where most of the rowdy kids were concentrated. A few of them noticed my presence and calmed down, others did not. After the reading, I had to draw Saturn on the board and write the sentence "My Very Excellent Mother Just Served Us Nachos" inside (The sentence obviously is a device for them to remember the order of the planets). If any of you know anything about my drawing and penmanship skills you know just how funny this image is. I feel like there should have been a workshop on how to write for English Language Learners, or at least a refresher course on cursive (i only print, and even that is bad...).

While they were supposed to be quietly coloring a diagram of the solar system there was lots of talking, and lots of kids out of their seats. Not to pass judgment, but I felt like the teacher hardly had control of the room. Even when she pulled one of the worst offenders out into the hallway, threatening to send him to the 3 & 4 year-old's class, because that is how he was acting, the fear only stopped them for a few minutes. Soon they were back to their old tricks. After class she told me this was the worst they had ever been. Nice that they set the bar so high... Hopefully once they get used to me being their, and the novelty has worn off, they will be better.

At 4 o'clock I took the bus and a few metros back to my house. I had to stop at the store for a few things, and this time the bags weighed a ton. They dragged my arms down. I was exhausted. Still am, but now I have spaghetti in my tummy, so I'm much better. Even though today was rough, I have hope for tomorrow and the coming weeks.

Two Days of Training

2008-09-30T20:07:00.004+02:00

For the last two days I was at training for my position as an Auxiliar de Conversacion. The first day was pointless. Typically trainings and orientations are by definition rather boring, but when the ladies in charge of the program began to explain the application process to a room of people who had been accepted I got the feeling this would be no different. We went over the duties, rights and responsibilities of an Auxiliar; they include working no more than 16 hours per week, not (officially) grading children, always speaking in English and justifying absences. The highlight of day one was the free steak lunch, even if it was a little more rare than I like. The low light was waiting around for an hour and a half for them to pass out the health insurance information, only to find the cards missing.

Day two was surprisingly more interesting. This time we listened to presentations by a director of one of the bilingual schools outside of the city and another man who teaches in a different bilingual school. The first presentation included many examples of projects previous Auxiliares had done to teach rhymes and stories to little kids. She did a great job explaining how to make things interesting to kids, but at the same time I felt slightly ill-prepared. No where along the preparation process did it come up that I should bring things from home, yet in these orientation sessions the idea of showing the kids things from your home country was repeated. Great, now where am I going to find pictures of Oregon or Washington DC. Sure the embassy did say they had a few resources, but I doubt that Oregon is an in-demand topic... though this might change since Rudy Fernandez now plays for the Trail Blazers. I smell a lesson plan brewing...

The second session went over more of the methodologies of teaching English. While rather technical it did provide some great insights about how Spanish kids really respond to physical praise like a pat on the head or shoulder as opposed to just telling them "good job". This notion really stirred up our class, as those of us with previous experience working with kids in the states were shocked at being encouraged to touch the kids. I remember when i started working at Boys & Girls Club we were encouraged to avoid most physical contact with kids, por ejemplo (for example in Spanish) when the kids try to hug you front-on you were supposed to slide them over into a side-hug, just to avoid any possible allegations of sexual touching. Here some of the kids kiss their teacher good-bye at the end of the day. This is going to take some getting used to.

Tomorrow is my first day of work, and in typical Spanish style I had to pry information about start times out of my coordinator. I emailed him yesterday, pointing out that Wednesday would be the first day of work and I didn't know where to meet him or even what time to be there. In even more typical Spanish style he responded with

For the first day, you shouldn´t worrry very much about the time you should be at school. Take your time to get used to the public transport you have to take everyday to get to the school. We start our classes at 9 am, and we have our break from 11 to 11.30 am, thats a good time to arrive to school. You can ask for Eduardo at the entrance of the school, there are 2 people at conserjería and they will tell you where to go. We will have a meeting at 12, midday. Hasta mañana.

Really? between 11 and 11:30? meeting at 12? I wonder what the full time schedule is going to be; Show up when you feel like it?! Oh well, it could be worse, they could ask me to be there at 9 am sharp, wearing a business suit. I get the feeling this is going to be a relaxed position. Now if only I could find some side teaching gigs to support my extravagant Coca Cola Light and Principe cookies habits...

My First Piece of Mail!

2008-09-27T19:33:00.005+02:00

Today was probably the best Saturday ever. I slept in late, lounged around until a little before 2, when my roommates and I tried to go to an open air market (even though we know everything closes at 2 for lunch, we still dawdled and missed the whole thing), I voted, then went to pet some puppies in Retiro park.

Yep, you read correctly, I voted today. Back in August I sent away for an absentee ballot but never received confirmation that my request was processed. As time passed I grew fearful that I wouldn't get to vote in this election; just to check, I emailed the county yesterday and they said my ballot was mailed the 19th. On the way to our failed market adventure, I peeked in the mailbox and saw a white envelope. I made a mental note to check the mail on the way home, sure enough it was my ballot. I can say that in this election I really didn't need to see the debates, my mind was pretty well made up when John McCain picked Sarah Palin. Clearly he is an idiot.

After I finished voting, I met up with my friends Theresa and Meagan to go to the fourth annual pet adoption fair in Retiro park. This is an event brings together organizations that help abandoned and homeless cats and dogs find homes and people looking for a pet. Little tents were set up along one of the main paths through the park with a few puppies in each pen. I tried to pet them, but was only successful a handful of times. Yes, the idea of homeless animals makes me sad, but this event was uplifting because many of the name tags on the pens said adoptado (adopted in Spanish). I was glad to see these little guys had homes. If only one of them could live with me...

One of my favorite pens was filled with 7 or 8 puppies, all of them about two months old. The first time I went to their pen (yes, i went back!) they wiggled and jumped around trying to get attention from the throngs of onlookers. When I put my hand in the pen the older, I assume mother of some of the puppies, dog came over and I got to give her a few pats on the head. Upon my return to take a photo, the pups had tuckered themselves out and were all sleeping. Hopefully even the iciest of hearts can be melted by their cuteness!

1 Week down, 40 to go!

2008-09-26T11:51:00.005+02:00

A few minutes ago it officially became my 7th day here in Madrid. Last Friday around 11:20 my flight touched down at Barajas airport and I began a very interesting adventure. I'm not talking about negotiating large amounts of luggage into tiny taxis, but rather a year of living and working in my favorite foreign country. Time and again I have admitted that I did this program because I didn't know what else to do after graduation, plus the time to do "crazy" things like this when you're young.

While ridiculously exciting, there have been some trying times (posts about the bank and at&t). This time around things are generally easier. Sure, it frustrates me when the bank stops working at 2, but thanks to my prior time in Spain, I was in some way prepared for this. Even with my history in Spain one thing that will constantly challenge me is the Spanish insistence on mumbling and/or speaking quickly. As much as it kills me to admit it, it is tan obvio (Spanish for "so obvious") that my native language is not Spanish. Yet I have experienced several instances where people continue to mumble or rush through what they have to say. Under no circumstances do I want them all to speak English and accommodate me (in fact it bothers me when people automatically revert to English instead of giving me a fair crack at Spanish), but rather I would like some recognition that I am trying with their language and that it would be helpful for them to speak clearly. In a few weeks, maybe even days, my listening skills will improve and this will be less of a problem.

In much better news, Monday is my first day of orientation for my job! I'm excited to get going and to have something to do most days, other than wander my neighborhood. Last night I met up with one of the other girls who will be working at the same school as me. Eimear and her friend Blair met me in Sol and we shared some tapas. We sat and chatted about prior times in Spain, about Washington DC (they attended Georgetown) and various other topics. Both girls are very nice, though I could tell that Eimear was stressed about apartment hunting. I can understand how that process would suck horribly, which makes me even more grateful for the place MariCarmen hooked us up with.

So, in summary, things are happening. Stay tunned for updates! Also, the picture is of my street, you can't really see my door, but I live about a half a block in.

Some Things Never Change

2008-09-24T18:09:00.003+02:00

Last night I was feeling a little restless, so I went for a walk around the neighborhood. About a block from my door a lady asked me for directions. Unfortunately for her, I did not know where the street she was looking for is located. This encounter reminded me of my first week of classes 2 years ago. Whilst in the metro I was asked for directions several times, I guess my host mom had taught me how to use the metro so well that I looked like a local. My other theory is that I just have a friendly face, and people think I am approachable. Either way you look at it I take it as a great complement. Being asked for directions became a common activity in my life in Spain, by the end of that semester I was really good at giving directions and helping people in the metro. It is nice to know that this fact didn't change, hopefully in the next few months I will be just as good at directions as I used to be.

Now on to the ranting portion of this blog post. Remember how I had such problems with the less than efficient way Spain conducts business? I found out why they move so slowly! The computers shut down at 2 o'clock for lunch. Care to find out how I learned this? Let me tell you about my trip to Santander Bank...

This afternoon my roommates and I went to pay September's rent. My mom suggested that I bring it in traveler's checks, which was a very good idea, until they had to be cashed and couldn't be handed over as-is. I went around the corner from the office where we were paying to a Santander Bank. I got in line at about 1:45, after fighting with the door for a good three minutes (it kept telling me to put my weapons in the boxes outside the door, and since i don't carry weapons in my purse I was very confused...). Soon after I got in the 6 or 7 person line I realized that it was moving incredibly slowly, but I figured that was OK because I was in line and they would clear the line before taking lunch. When it was finally my turn I told the teller that I wanted to exchange the travelers checks for dinero efectivo (Spanish for cash) and she just started shaking her head no.

No? What did she mean "no"? I had just seen her finish another man's transaction! The inside of my traveler's check envelope said they were a "fee-free partner"! How on Earth could she be telling me no?

When she finally interpreted my blank stare as utter confusion, she explained that at 2 o'clock the computer no longer is capable of doing those types of transactions; effectively that the computer takes a lunch break, and that I should come back tomorrow between 8:30 and 1:45. When I tried to explain that I needed the money for rent, she called the manager over and he re-explained that the bank computer could not, under any circumstances, process my request. When I gave him the same blank stare he asked if I understood him. I asked him to repeat it, not really because I hadn't processed the vocabulary, but more the concept that even though I was in the bank at 1:45 I couldn't do my transaction. I told him I understood and even thanked him for explaining it again.

Luckily, when I returned to the office it was no big deal that I couldn't pay right then. Maite told me to come back when I had the cash. She was obviously familiar with the computer's lunch break.

In other news, Maite told us that she could probably work out private English lessons with some of the students at Mosiac (the school she works at and the AU classes are now based out of) at a rate of 15 euros per hour. I hope she can find people! I would love a few extra euros, plus the school could easily be on my way home from my CEIP Rosa Luxemburgo. I've been keeping track, and it looks like the pay from the program is going to leave very little wiggle room, so a side job of some kind will be necessary.

Telefono Móvil

2008-09-23T17:57:00.003+02:00

Get ready for a rant!
Ok, so this time I would like to discuss how much I hate at&t. While I recognize that it would have been much easier to get this done in the US I still don't think the process of unlocking a cell phone to put an international SIM card in should take 5 days.

Day One, Friday September 19th: I call at&t and tell them I want to unlock my phone to put an international SIM card in. They ask for the last four digits of the Social Security Number on the account; since the account is in my mom's name I must contact her for the number, wait for a reply then try again.

Day Two, Saturday September 20th: I call at&t and tell them that I would like to unlock my phone so I can put a different SIM card in. The fist call gets dropped, but when I finally connect with someone they tell me there is "a past due balance on the account and customer service will probably reject my request" this individual suggests that I pay the bill first then try to unlock the phone. I contact my mom and she tells me the bill was due on the 18th. Yep, 2 days late and they will reject your request. Payment is posted on the bill.

Day Three, Sunday September 21st: I call at&t and tell them I want to unlock my phone so I can put an international SIM card in. The guy asks if I have the phone, and I tell him that I am talking to him on it. He tells me that I will need to hang up, press a series of keys and write down the number that pops up, then call back with said number so they can help me. I follow his instructions and call back. I explain to a new person what I want to do, and give her the number i collected. She takes my mom's email address (since it is technically her account) and tells me the code i need will be texted to my phone and sent to that email address.

Day Four, Monday September 22nd: I wait most of the day for a text from at&t, i'm guessing because of the time difference they didn't start working on my claim until mid-day Spain time.

Day Five, Tuesday September 23rd: 2 AM i get a text from at&t that my claim has been resolved, but it does not include the unlock code. Next I email my mom to see if they emailed it to her. Nope. She said she would call them and get back to me. In the afternoon I checked my email, but there was nothing from Mom. So I called the international customer service center for the billionth time. The woman who answered the phone told me the code had been emailed, but it was sent to the wrong email address. Thankfully she could give it to me over the phone. I stayed on the line with her until I knew my phone was unlocked and had accepted the Spanish SIM card Molly had given me.

The moral of this story is that I was an idiot and didn't take care of this simple task whilst in the US, which made it turn into a big freaking deal. Also I have a cell phone in Spain. My Spanish number is (including international dialing codes from the US) 011 34 634 011 413.

The First Couple of Days

2008-09-22T17:06:00.003+02:00

Alright everyone. While I really have nothing of great significance to report, I have a feeling a few of you are itching for more information. Let me recap the past 4 days for you...

Day 1: Friday.
Arrived in Madrid, got the keys to our apartment and picked bedrooms. Oddly enough there was no fighting over rooms and it all just fell into place. I have a room with an extra little alcove/nook that really isn't big enough to be of significance. I think I might find some floor pillows or something and turn it into a little reading spot... or I'll just keep the hamper in there. We'll see. After we picked rooms we took about a 2 hour siesta then walked around a little bit and found a small market to buy some food. Came home, ate the food, went to bed. Like I said no big deal.

Day 2: Saturday.
We ran some errands, like finding groceries to put in our cute little fridge. While at El Corte Ingles for Melanie to grab a hair dryer we asked if there was a market around, and the ladies asked what kind of food we wanted to buy. We explained that we wanted it all, fruit, meat, everything. They said no. This was a major lie, as we soon found out. After eating a quick sandwich we crossed the street to the other half of El Corte Ingles, and found a supermarket in the basement. Yep, a supermarket. The kind of place you could buy fruits and cereal and meat all in one stop. Needless to say we were kind of peeved by the "no" we had received earlier.

After stocking up on stuff we went to dinner with our friends Meagan and Theresa. They also were on our abroad semester and are in the same program. They actually live on the same street, just at number 103, which is supposed to be a 15 minute walk. We went to the Cuban restaurant that was popular among our abroad friends. A few things have changed, like they now have an English speaking waiter and a woman in a "traditional" cuban style dress as the server. I would be more pissed about the de-authentication if the food wasn't so fabulous.

After dinner Meagan and Theresa went home to battle their jet-lag but the three of us raged on.
We found a beer bar with a few hundred beers on the list, mostly German and Belgian. Because I went to the International Beer Festival in Portland this list wasn't near as scary as it could have been. We sat and drank and chatted for a little. Then moved on to see what we could see, we ended up at a second bar and continued chatting and whatnot. When we left the second place, Melanie realized that we were near a place we had gone when we were here 2 years ago. Sure enough a few blocks away was this bar. We went in, but it was way crowded and we only stayed about 30 minutes. It was at this point that we called it a night and walked home. The walk was pretty manageable, I think that our piso(Spanish for "apartment") is in a great location.

Day 3: Sunday.
I was rather lame and did not get up until about 1 in the afternoon. Then I proceeded to bum around my apartment until about 7 when the three of us went to an Irish pub to attempt to catch an American football game (Melanie is a New England Patriots/sports fan). We walked to this bar also, which was way further than the internet lead us to believe, but still a manageable walk. This was uphill, so it felt way worse going than it did coming home. We ended up watching the Real Madrid fútbol match. Just as one would expect, the bar was full of Spaniards who love the home team. For the majority of the match there was just a murmur of conversation, but when Real got close to scoring you could hear the fervor building until, finally, "GOOOOOAAAAAALLLLLLL!!!!!!!!!!" then a few minutes later things would be back to normal.

I tried to go to sleep early so I didn't waste the day sleeping, but it was probably the worst nights sleep I've had in a long time. I lightly slept from midnight til about 2 or 3, then I was up and stayed up through a thunder storm until about 5. I woke up at 11:45 and had some breakfast, but then went back to sleep for another hour.

Day 4: Monday
Like I said, last nights sleep was awful. I got ready to go out and get a few things, but as I was walking out Melanie was coming in and she told me that it was raining pretty heavily. Just as she finished telling me about the great locations she scouted out for us I could hear a downpour begin. I waited it out, then ran my errands. These were to buy an umbrella since the weather report indicated rain for the next week, and to get my Coca-Cola Light craving satisfied. Both were accomplished, but the second I walked out of H&M with my umbrella the rain had cleared and it was actually sunny. I guess that is the way these things work, when you don't have an umbrella you need one, but when you have one you don't need it.

So that is the excessively long report on what I have been up to. I'm pretty sure that once I've started working in the school there will be less time for these drawn out posts, along with probably having more interesting things to post about. Until then you can read about my errands! I hope to get out to IKEA sometime soon; I need to replace my desk lamp and the sheets on my bed. Plus who doesn't love some good Swedish design?

Pictures part 3

2008-09-20T20:22:00.001+02:00

These are of my little room in Spain. It is quite tiny, but will be cute; I want to get my own sheets and some wall art, but that will wait until I've been here a little while and can find an IKEA that is metro accessable.

Pictures part 2

2008-09-20T20:13:00.000+02:00

These are the bathroom and our living/dinning room.
Please note that every room really is as tiny as it looks.

Pictures part 1

2008-09-20T20:03:00.000+02:00

These pictures are of our front door (for those who are worried, please notice the 3 locks) and the kitchen.

Layover, eh?

2008-09-19T00:32:00.000+02:00

I am writing this from my layover in Toronto. The flight from Philly to Toronto was good, not too bumpy and fairly short.

I've been in Canada for about an hour and have learned that Canadians are probably the nicest people. Aside from the boarder security person (who I think are required to be less than friendly in every country) my experiences with Canadians have been wonderful. For example, I had a window seat and a disgustingly large/heavy carry on, when we landed the fellow in the isle seat offered to get my bag down and moved his stuff so that I could place my gargantuan bag on the seat. He might have also used the stereotypical "eh" at one point, which made my day.

Adding to my love of Canada is the fact that I have this free wifi access thanks to AirCanada. I don't know if I could have gone the whole layover without some email action, especially since Maite, the lady who has my keys because MariCarmen is in Athens with the AU kids, emailed me today to ask about arrival times. While I totally appreciate that she wants this info to be able to track/organize us, in typical American fashion I wish that she would have done it earlier! Seriously, I checked my email an hour and a half before leaving the house, subtract the time it took me to respond in Español and we're left with about an hour for her to read, understand my now feeble Spanish, and come up with a response. Needless to say, this did not happen. In fact I am still waiting on her response. Hopefully it arrives in the hour and a half I have left on my laptop battery.

The only down side to Canada, so far, is that I can't find an outlet to save my poor little apple. Oh well, I should count myself lucky to have free internet at all!

The next post will be from Madrid!

P.S. I've spotted some pretty awesome Eurotrash hanging out in the airport, which makes me all the more excited to go back to Spain. Any attempt to describe this cultural phenomenon will just fall short; think t-shirts with grafiti, aviator sunglasses and a ridiculous "too cool for school" attitude... I think later on a photo post with explanation will be necessary for this term.

One Week to Go!

2008-09-12T19:26:00.000+02:00

Just a quick update: One week from this very moment I will be in Madrid. Yep, just 7 short days. For the majority of the summer I kind of thought of moving to Spain as a cute party story or a pet project to keep me occupied, but now it is becoming real.

Many things need to get done before I leave, but true to this whole process I'm just going to assume that they will fall into place. Yes, I recognize that my suitcase is not self-packing nor are insurance companies self-calling, but these things will get done because they have to. But for now I have decided to spend my time hanging out with my friends and enjoying these last couple days in Oregon.

Things Fall into Place!

2008-08-29T18:23:00.000+02:00

In most of my previous posts I basically complained about how nothing is working out exactly the way I wanted, while recognizing the need to just chill and trust the universe to sort itself out in my favor. Looks like that has happened!

Lets go though a check-list:

Program that pays me to be in Spain- Check!
Furnished apartment- Check!
Ticket to Madrid- Check!
3rd Roommate in the Apartment- Check!
Visa back from the consulate- Check!

By this measure I am all set to move to Spain. I have my basic material and economic needs satisfied. I will have a place to live and a way to pay for it.

Now that I have pretty much solved for that set of needs I now spend my time having mini-panic attacks over the fact that I am moving to a new country. Usually these fits are prompted by an ad for a TV show or movie coming out after September 19th. When I hear them my gut reaction is "oh shit, that comes out once I'm in Madrid!" While the thought of being back in my favorite world capital thrills me, it is also terrifying.

Terrifying because I have some notion of what it is like to be separated from my friends and family for long periods of time. I went to university 3000 miles away from my hometown, which gave me the same mix of thrills and fears. I know what it is like not to see the people you want to see when you want to see them, I can deal with that (I hope!). I think the main difference between this time and all the other times I left home is the amount of communication. Lets face it people, constant calls home or texting funny things to friends are practically free from DC but ridiculously expensive from Madrid. Aside from cost, there is the 9 hour time difference between my apartment and my parents home in Oregon. Yes, thanks to the internet I can send emails and keep you updated with this blog, but there is a certain level of isolation that comes with crossing an ocean...

I'm sure this is the transatlantic version of cold feet, and once I touch down at Barajas Airport things will certainly look different. I'll probably end up having so much fun I won't have time to be homesick, at least that is what I am going to tell myself for now!

Mid-Month Update

2008-08-13T18:43:00.000+02:00

We are now about a month away from my departure to Madrid. To be honest, it still does not feel real. I guess most of that has to do with the virtual nature of the process. I have all kinds of emails that tell me I will be moving to Spain, but I don't have a physical ticket or keys to an apartment or my passport back for that matter. Maybe when my passport comes back in the mail the reality will start to settle in....

I have sent my documents and passport to California, but I am way nervous about this. I am glad I don't have to pay the money to fly down to California. At the same time, I think I would have liked to have the appearance of control that comes with handing over my documents and talking to a real person. Oh well, I guess I just have to get over that.

The new battle in the process of moving to Spain is finding a 3rd person to live with Melanie and me. I've placed ads with a Yahoo group for Auxiliares in Madrid and as a discussion topic on a Facebook group for us. From this 5 people have responded so far, but it seems that everyday more people pop up. Sadly, while there is a ton of interest in the place, I don't know how to pick someone.

How much can you learn about a person from a few paragraphs of email? I would like to meet people and really get to know them, but it would be silly/near impossible. I would love for one of them to come with some kind of chorus of angels singing how they would make the perfect roommate... somehow i doubt that it going to happen. For now Melanie and I are taking in all the information and trying to sift through it.

I think this decision feels much more important than it should because we found this apartment through MariCarmen. Since she is so amazing to us I want to find someone I can trust not to destroy the place. I would just feel awful if Melanie and I chose the wrong person and they damaged something. We don't have to pay a deposit because MC knows us, and I want to make sure everything in the apartment stays well maintained so that it doesn't reflect poorly on her.

It is starting to seem that I end every post with this, but it will all work out and I will move to Spain.

Plane Tickets

2008-08-03T22:17:00.000+02:00

I am now the proud owner of one round-trip, economy class ticket to Madrid, Spain.

Thursday my mom and I went online and finally bought my ticket to Spain. I leave the States on September 18th and arrive in Madrid the 19th.

This makes me nervous, because I haven't applied for a visa yet. I'm still waiting on the "certificate of good health" from my doctor on the East Coast. I asked her a few weeks ago to send one, and she said it was sent with the results of the blood tests I had done. Sadly, it was not in that envelope and I had to request it, again. That was about 5 days ago. I am still waiting...

Like all the other waiting I have done in the past months, the only thing I can do to make myself feel any better is think "it will work out... I am moving to Spain!"

Una Persona Muy Maja

2008-07-27T03:36:00.000+02:00

WARNING: This post is slightly sappy, sorry.
It was bound to happen sometime...

Upon rereading most of my blog entries it occurred to me that I forgot to talk about one of the most important people in my journey to Spain, MariCarmen. I can honestly say that her enthusiasm towards my semester abroad directly influenced me to apply to this Auxiliares program. She constantly reminded us one of the most important things we have in life is our proverbial box of memories, and encouraged us to fill that box with only the best. I never thought I'd move to a new country, I always saw myself as a traveler. But when I looked back on the memories I had collected from a little over 3 months in Spain I couldn't pass up the chance to triple them.

Along with her duties as the director of all of American University's Spain programs, MariCarmen helps the surprising number of AU students who couldn't get enough Spain while in school and now are finding ways to go back. So far MC has helped Melanie and me secure an apartment but she closed her email with, "I can't wait to give you and Melanie a very big hug. Please let me know if you need anything else." I know she means both parts, and a thought like that is super comforting when I start to think, "Holy Shit, I'm actually moving to Spain! WHAT WAS I THINKING?!?!!!?"

MariCarmen is the nicest person alive. Nice is not really a good word for her, there really aren't any words to describe MariCarmen. In reality, "nice" is how people describe someone they don't really know, but don't particularly hate. In this case, nice is general enough to cover the range of MariCarmen's fabulousness. If you are a reader who has never been on an American University abroad program with MariCarmen you probably won't get just how fantastic she is, sorry.

Documentos!

2008-07-12T02:27:00.001+02:00

Finally I have received some kind of documents from Madrid. Yes, they are PDFs and count for nothing when trying to fill out a visa application, but at least I now have some information!

First, dates. There is some sort of orientation from September 23rd to the 30th. I guess that means I'll be leaving sometime between the 15th and the 22nd. More to come on that front... Additionally, the documents say that my commitment to the school goes from October 1st to June 30th. I'm not sure how solid that 30th thing is since Jen's friend Molly was back in the states around the 20th when we had lunch in Brooklyn....

Second, the school. I have been placed in what would be the equivalent of an elementary school. Lord help me (or them?). For those of you who don't know, I spent two summers as a day camp counselor at a camp that served kids out of 1st grade through out of 6th grade. Lets just say there was a reason I requested to have the 5th/6th grade group. I just don't get small children, let alone little Spanish ones. I hope it goes alright, I mean what is the worst I could do? Curse at them in English? They wouldn't know the difference, would they?

After I found out where my school is located I looked up on the Spanish public transportation system how to get there and it looks like it should only take 45 minutes, which is much better than the hour and half horror stories I've heard about. I know if I looked around I could find a room for rent super close to my school, but I'd rather go with the place that is furnished and comes with an awesome roommate.

Along with getting these documents from Madrid, I have started the quest of collecting all the documents I need for my Visa. You might notice the addition of a "Cost of Getting a Spanish Visa" box on the left there. I added this because I'm a little astonished at how many incidental costs there are with getting this visa. I know it seems like $10 here and $7 there, but they start to add up! But I guess it will be worth it in the end, for I will be living in Spain and I love Spain.

Organized Chaos

2008-07-01T20:08:00.000+02:00

It seems that moving to Spain has turned into what I like to call organized chaos. Things are happening, some at a frantic pace others at a glacial pace. Some things are going really easily, while others couldn't be more difficult...

A friend who will also be in Madrid with the Auxiliares program has found an apartment through the mother of one of the program staff from our Fall '06 semester in Spain. She has also found a second apartment and offered myself and another friend the inside scoop on it. This place is in a good neighborhood, comes fully furnished down to towels and dishes and is a reasonable price. Looks like housing is falling into place.

I am still waiting on those documents from the autonomous community so that I can start the visa application. Even without the documents, I decided to go ahead and make an appointment with the Spanish Consulate in San Francisco about getting a visa. When i got to the website the first available appointment was August 18th. Lets think back to last time, and how my visa for my semester abroad arrived less than 36 hours before i took off for Spain, and that was after 6 or 7 weeks of processing time. I don't know if August 18th is enough time, but I guess it will have to be.

I also need to by airfare, as the prices just go up and up and up the closer I get to the September. I don't know what date I need to be in Spain by, that information is in these mysterious documents I'm told should be arriving soon... grrr.

I emailed the people who wrote to tell us that we would be getting documents soon to ask for things like dates and assignment info so that I could start planning. I'm still waiting on a reply. At this point, I don't hold my breath when it comes to communication from Spain...

Just as I predicted...

2008-06-27T01:43:00.000+02:00

Since there really is no way to rush the Spanish government I had to resign myself to the wait and see approach. My attempt at an email request for more information went nowhere, all they told me was that some of the auxiliares had received information and that I would get a letter shortly and I should just wait for mine. So that is was I had planned to do. At this point I felt pretty much powerless in my quest for information and the best solution was to heed the advice from the embassy and wait. This lasted until this past Friday when I ended up having lunch with the friend of my sister who recommended the program to me.

While in Brooklyn, fueling up for our trip to IKEA, Jen received a phone call from her friend Molly, the girl who gave me the name and website for this Auxiliares program. Molly offered to give me all kinds of information, including the name of the guy on the Spanish side who coordinates the program and the name of a yahoo group that many people have used in the past to find housing. With this new source of information my helplessness soon subsided; I could restart my pestering of Spaniards!

Since Jen and Molly hadn't seen each other in a while the exchange of information between her and myself was kind of secondary. A few days later, I sent Molly an email requesting this information and waited for her response. Just as fate would have it, while I was waiting for Molly's response I received an email from the Autonomous Community telling me that they would shortly be sending me the documents I need to fill out my visa application. Now I can use the info from Molly to join the yahoo group and get the housing ball rolling.

As predicted, things will fall in to place and I will move to Spain!

A Response from The Embassy

2008-06-16T19:52:00.001+02:00

This is the response I received:

Me consta que las comunidades autónomas han empezado a enviar las cartas, y algunos auxiliares ya las han recibido. No pueden tardar mucho. Mientras tanto puedes repasar las instrucciones sobre la solicitud del visado en nuestra página web.

¡Gracias por tu paciencia!

For those of you who are not Spanish speakers, here is a translation:

I am absolutely certain that the Autonomous Communities have begun to send out the letters and some Auxiliares have received them. They won't be much later. In the meantime you can review the instructions for the visa application on our web page.

Thanks for your patience!

I find this rather annoying, as it does not help in the slightest. How am I supposed to fill out a visa application or buy a plane ticket if I don't know what date i need to be there by? Really Spain, we can't all be as laid back as you are.

Hopefully I will get a letter sometime soon. As I told a friend yesterday, we aren't at the critical hour or anything yet, but it is getting close. I remember last time I applied for a visa to Spain the 4-5 week processing turned in to more like 6-8 weeks and i received my passport back a day and a half before my flight took off. That is a kind of stress I'd like to avoid the second time around.

I got all american about it...

2008-06-11T00:53:00.000+02:00

So much for "no pasa nada"

Instead of waiting around for the Spanish Ministry of Education to send me information I sent them an email. Now I shall wait for a response, while I'm pretty sure that this response will go something to the effect of "oh, yeah... we're working on that..." it makes me feel better to have done something about it.

I kindly wrote to them asking when we could expect to get information necessary for filling out a visa application, or buying airfare. Personally, I am in no real rush to start this whole thing but I know the lack of action is killing my dear mother. Several times I have had to deal with the questions, and when I respond that we are talking about a country with organized nap-time she is none too impressed.

Yes, I would like to know more about my placement and when I will be in Spain, but I get the impression that trying to rush the Spanish government is a lot like herding cats, that is to say impossible. Things will get done when they get done, but it probably helps to have us obnoxious American kids asking for information. You know, just to let them know that about 1,300 of us will need to fill out visa applications and would love the answers to pesky questions like "fecha de llegada" (date of arrival)...

Still waiting

2008-06-08T20:05:00.000+02:00

Just a quick update...

I'm still waiting to hear any sort of information from the Ministry of Ed. I guess all I really can do it continue waiting.

The other day I decided to check Profex (the online application site) and it said that the application was still open until the 10th of this month. Maybe they are waiting until it closes to send out more info? Or maybe working in Spain is a lesson in flexibility...

No Pasa Nada

2008-05-24T22:30:00.003+02:00

I love Spain. Let me say that up front. But sometimes I love the very American value of efficiency.

In the US, a common phrase is "if you're five minutes early, you're on time. if your on time, you're late." People show up to things early, expecting that they start and end on time. As a country, we Americans really value time and show that by ardently following deadlines and appointment schedules.

Spain is different. Rules about on time-ness are a more fluid. After we came back from Spain, those of us who studied there realized we had adopted a Spanish sense of time. Meeting friends at 10 really means meeting them sometime between 10 and 12. In the US this would not stand, but in Spain it is understood. I think this comes along with their cultural norm of "No pasa nada" which would translate to the English equivalent of "eh," as in the dismissive sound one might make when they realized there was nothing to be done but go with the flow of life. While back in the US I've tried to embrace no pasa nada when possible, but it is sometimes a major challenge.

According to the Ministry of Education website, we should get more information sometime after the 19th of May. It is now the 24th and nothing has arrived. Thankfully I know I'm not the only one. One of my fellow Auxiliares sent me a text yesterday asking if I got anything, which leads me to believe that she too is without further information.

When I told my mother about the lack of information, even though a date had been loosely set, she started to get frustrated. All I could do was tell her not to be so American about things.

I hope a school assignment will arrive soon, hell knowing my luck it will probably show up in my inbox minutes after posting this but really, who cares? I'm moving to Spain, the details will fall into place.

I'm Moving Back to Spain!

2008-05-05T00:20:00.001+02:00

For those of you who don't know, I will be moving back to Spain sometime in September.

I've been accepted to the Auxiliares de Conversación program through the Spanish Ministry of Education. This program places Americans and Canadians in schools across Spain to assist in their English language classrooms. I'm not super sure how I feel about this whole "helping people learn English" thing, but it is a great opportunity. Especially for someone who wants to put off being an adult for an extra year.

My hope for this blog is to track the months leading up to my departure. Once I get to Spain, it obviously will transform to a place to discuss my experiences there.

I hope you Enjoy!